Mother Goose in prose

by L. Frank Baum

Pictures By

TMaxfteicf

by L. Frank Baum

(author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz)

with pictures by
Maxfield Parrish

If ever a writer and an artist were an unbeat-
able team, it's on these pages. Put that team to
work on the most famous characters in the Eng-
lish language and the result can be nothing less
than classic.

Here two giant imaginations take on Little
Boy Blue, The Cat and the Fiddle, Old King
Cole, Mistress Mary, Jack Horner, The Man in
the Moon, Hickory, Dickory, Dock, Bo-Peep,
Tommy Tucker, Hurnpty Dumpty, The Woman
Who Lived in a Shoe, Miss Muffet and others.

To create Mother Goose in Prose, the man
who gave us The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
started with the bare bones of the celebrated
nursery rhymes and embroidered them as only a
master storyteller could. Now Mary Quite Con-
trary lives in a real house, has a mother and is
visited in her garden by a Squire. Humpty
Dumpty is far from just a five line verse here
and, once read, his will never be just a five line
story again. Did you ever wonder how the old
woman's house got to resemble a shoe? In case
the reader doesn't get the picture, Baum departs
from his storytelling to draw it himself.

This is a charming book, with a warm intro-
duction by Baum, who takes care to trace the
vague but fascinating history of the rhymes back
to 1650, through the three countries that claim
Mother Goose for their own. But "the songs that
cluster around her name are what we love," he
reminds us. "Many of these nursery rhymes,"
Baum says, "are complete tales in themselves,

(continued on back flap)

K^J •

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33333021551847

Mother Goose in Prose

"There was a little man and he had a little gun"

MOTHEILG0OSE1
IN PILOSE

BY L.FRANK BAUM

IffitsfrafeJ J5y MAXEIEED EMLRI5H

BOUNTY BOOKS
NEW VORIC

Copyright © MCMI by Geo. M. Hill Company
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 74-19434

All rights reserved.

This edition is published by Bounty Books
a division of Crown Publishers, Inc.

abcdefgh
Manufactured in the United States of America

Contents

Introduction 9

Sing a Song o' Sixpence 19

The Story of Little Boy Blue 31

The Cat and the Fiddle 45

The Black Sheep 55

Old King Cole 65

Mistress Mary 75

The Wond'rous Wise Man 89

What Jack Homer Did 99

The Man in the Moon 109

The Jolly Miller 119

The Little Man and His Little Gun 131

Hickory, Dickory, Dock 141

Little Bo-Peep 151

The Story of Tommy Tucker 163

Pussy-cat Mew 175

How the Beggars Came to Town 183

Tom, the Piper's Son 199

Humpty Dumpty 207

The Woman Who Lived in a Shoe 221

Little Miss Muffet 233

Three Wise Men of Gotham 245

Little Bun Rabbit 257

Illustrations

"There was a little man and he had a little gun" Frontispiece

Little Boy Blue 36

The Black Sheep 5 8

Old King Cole 68

The Wond'rous Wise Man 92

Jack Horner 102

The Man in the Moon 112

Little Bo-Peep if6

Tommy Tucker 166

Tom, the Piper's Son 200

Humpty Dumpty 212

Three Wise Men of Gotham 248

Introduction.

NONE of us, whether children or adults, needs an Intro-
introduction to Mother Goose. Those things faction
which are earliest impressed upon our minds
cling to them the most tenaciously. The snatches
sung in the nursery are never forgotten, nor are they
ever recalled without bringing back with them myriads
of slumbering feelings and half-forgotten images.

We hear the sweet, low voice of the mother,
singing soft lullabies to her darling, and see the kindly,
wrinkled face of the grandmother as she croons the
old ditties to quiet our restless spirits. One genera-
tion is linked to another by the everlasting spirit of
song; the ballads of the nursery follow us from child-
hood to old age, and they are readily brought from
memory's recesses at any time to amuse our children
or our grandchildren.

The collection of jingles we know and love as
the "Melodies of Mother Goose" are evidently drawn
from a variety of sources. While they are, taken
altogether, a happy union of rhyme, wit, pathos, satire
and sentiment, the research after the author of each
individual verse would indeed be hopeless. It would
be folly to suppose them all the composition of uned-

[9]

Mother ucated old nurses, for many of them contain much
Goose reflection, wit and melody. It is said that Shelley
m Prose wrotQ «Pussy-Cat Mew," and Dean Swift "Little Bo-
Peep," and these assertions are as difficult to disprove
as to prove. Some of the older verses, however, are
doubtless offshoots from ancient Folk Lore songs, and
have descended to us through many centuries.

The connection of Mother Goose with the
rhymes which bear her name is difficult to determine,
and, in fact, three countries claim her for their own:
France, England and America.

About the year 1650 there appeared in circulation
in London a small book, named "Rhymes of the
Nursery; or Lulla-Byes for Children," which contained
many of the identical pieces that have been handed
down to us; but the name of Mother Goose was evi-
dently not then known. In this edition were the
rhymes of "Little Jack Homer," "Old King Cole,"
"Mistress Mary," "Sing a Song o' Sixpence," and
« Little Boy Blue."

In 1697 Charles Perrault published in France a
book of children's tales entitled "Contes de ma Mere
Oye," and this is really the first time we find authentic
record of the use of the name of Mother Goose, al-
though Perrault's tales differ materially from those we
now know under this title. They comprised "The
Sleeping Beauty," "The Fairy," "Little Red Riding-
Hood," "Blue Beard," "Puss in Boots," "Riquetwith
the Tuft," "Cinderella," and "Little Thumb;" eight

[10]

stories in all. On the cover of the book was depicted Intro-
an old lady holding in her hand a distaff and sur-
rounded by a group of children listening eagerly. Mr.
Andrew Lang has edited a beautiful English edition
of this work (Oxford, 1888).

America bases her claim to Mother Goose upon
the following statement, made by the late John Fleet
Eliot, a descendant of Thomas Fleet, the printer:

At the beginning of the eighteenth century there
lived in Boston a lady named Eliza Goose (written
also Vergoose and Vertigoose) who belonged to a
wealthy family. Her eldest daughter, Elizabeth
Goose (or Vertigoose), was married by Rev. Cotton
Mather in 1715 to an enterprising and industrious
printer named Thomas Fleet, and in due time gave
birth to a son. Like most mothers-in-law in our
day, the importance of Mrs. Goose increased with
the appearance of her grandchild, and poor Mr.
Fleet, half distracted with her endless nursery ditties,
finding all other means fail, tried what ridicule could
effect, and actually printed a book under the title
"Songs of the Nursery; or, Mother Goose's Melodies
for Children." On the title page was the picture
of a goose with a very long neck and a mouth
ivide open, and below this, "Printed by T. Fleet, at
his Printing House in Pudding Lane, 1719. Price,
two coppers."

Mr. Wm. A. Wheeler, the editor of Hurd &
Houghton's elaborate edition of Mother Goose, (1870),

Mother reiterated this assertion, and a writer in the Boston
Goose Transcript of June 17, 1864, says: "Fleet's book
was partly a reprint of an English collection of songs,
(Barclay's), and the new title was doubtless a compli-
ment by the printer to his mother-in-law Goose for
her contributions. She was the mother of sixteen
children and a typical cOld Woman who lived in a
Shoe.'"

We may take it to be true that Fleet's wife was
of the Vergoose family, and that the name was often
contracted to Goose. But the rest of the story is un-
supported by any evidence whatever. In fact, all that
Mr. Eliot knew of it was the statement of the late
Edward A. Crowninshield, of Boston, that he had seen
Fleet's edition in the library of the American Anti-
quarian Society. Repeated researches at Worcester
having failed to bring to light this supposed copy, and
no record of it appearing on any catalogue there, we
may dismiss the entire story with the supposition that
Mr. Eliot misunderstood the remarks made to him.
Indeed, as Mr. William H. Whitmore points out in his
clever monograph upon Mother Goose (Albany,
1889), it is very doubtful whether in 1719 a Boston
printer would have been allowed to publish such
" trivial '' rhymes. " Boston children at that date,"
says Mr. Whitmore, " were fed upon Gospel food, and
it seems extremely improbable that an edition could
have been sold."

Singularly enough, England's claim to the vener-

[12]

able old lady is of about the same date as Boston's. Intro-
There lived in a town in Sussex, about the year 1704, faction
an old woman named Martha Gooch. She was a cap-
ital nurse, and in great demand to care for newly-
born babies; therefore, through long years of service
as nurse, she came to be called Mother Gooch. This
good woman had one peculiarity: she was accustomed
to croon queer rhymes and jingles over the cradles of
her charges, and these rhymes "seemed so senseless and
silly to the people who overheard them" that they
began to call her " Mother Goose," in derision, the
term being derived from Queen Goosefoot, the mother
of Charlemagne. The old nurse paid no attention to
her critics, but continued to sing her rhymes as before;
for, however much grown people might laugh at her,
the children seemed to enjoy them very much, and
not one of them was too peevish to be quieted and
soothed by her verses. At one time Mistress Gooch
was nursing a child of Mr. Ronald Barclay, a physician
residing in the town, and he noticed the rhymes she
sang and became interested in them. In time he
wrote them all down and made a book of them, which
it is said was printed by John Worthington & Son in
the Strand, London, in 1712, under the name of "Ye
Melodious Rhymes of Mother Goofe." But even this
story of Martha Gooch is based upon very meager and
unsatisfactory evidence.

The earliest English edition of Mother Goose's
Melodies that is absolutely authentic was issued by

[13]

Mother John Newbury of London about the year 1760, and

Goose tne £rst authentic American edition was a reprint of
' P

Newbury's made by Isaiah Thomas of Worcester,

Mass., in 1785.

None of the earlier editions, however, contained
all the rhymes so well known at the present day, since
every decade has added its quota to the mass of jingles
attributed to "Mother Goose." Some of the earlier
verses have become entirely obsolete, and it is well
they have, for many were crude and silly and others
were coarse. It is simply a result of the greater refine-
ment of modern civilization that they have been
relegated to oblivion, while the real gems of the col-
lection will doubtless live and grow in popular favor
for many ages.

While I have taken some pains to record the vari-
ous claims to the origin of Mother Goose, it does not
matter in the least whether she was in reality a myth, or
a living Eliza Goose, Martha Gooch or the "Mere Oye"
of Perrault. The songs that cluster around her name
are what we love, and each individual verse appeals
more to the childish mind than does Mother Goose
herself.

Many of these nursery rhymes are complete tales
in themselves, telling their story tersely but com-
pletely; there are others which are but bare sugges-
tions, leaving the imagination to weave in the details
of the story. Perhaps therein may lie part of their
charm, but however that may be I have thought the

children might like the stories told at greater length, Intro-
that they may dwell the longer upon their favorite faction
heroes and heroines.

For that reason I have written this book.

In making the stories I have followed mainly the
suggestions of the rhymes, and my hope is that the
little ones will like them, and not find that they
interfere with the fanciful creations of their own

imaginations.

L. FRANK BAUM.

Chicago, Illinois, July, 1899.

I'SJ

Sing a Song o' Sixpence

Sing a Song o' Sixpence

Sing a song o' sixpence, a handful of rye,
Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie;
When the pie was opened the birds began to sing,
Was n't that a dainty dish to set before the King?

IF you have never heard the legend of Gilligren and Sing a
the King's pie you will scarcely understand the Song o'
above verse; so I will tell you the whole story, lx^
and then you will be able to better appreciate the
rhyme.

Gilligren was an orphan, and lived with an uncle
and aunt who were very unkind to him. They cuffed
him and scolded him upon the slightest provocation,
and made his life very miserable indeed. Gilligren
never rebelled against this treatment, but bore their
cruelty silently and with patience, although often he
longed to leave them and seek a home amongst kinder
people.

It so happened that when Gilligren was twelve
years old the King died, and his son was to be pro-
claimed King in his place, and crowned with great
ceremony. People were flocking to London from all
parts of the country, to witness the festivities, and the
boy longed to go with them.

[19]

Mother One evening he said to his uncle,

*foose "If I had sixpence I could make my fortune."

"Pooh! nonsense!' exclaimed his uncle, "a six-
pence is a small thing. How then could you make a
fortune from it? '

" That I cannot tell you," replied Gilligren, " but
if you will give me the sixpence I will go to London,
and not return until I am a rich man."

"The boy is a fool!" said his uncle, with anger;
but the aunt spoke up quickly.

" Give him the money and let him go," she said,
" and then we shall be well rid of him and no longer
be obliged to feed and clothe him at our expense."

"Well," said her husband, after a moment's thought,
"here is the money; but remember, this is all I shall
ever give you, and when it is gone you must not come
to me for more."

" Never fear," replied Gilligren, joyfully, as he put
the sixpence in his pocket, " I shall not trouble you
again."

The next morning he cut a short stick to assist
him in walking, and after bidding good-bye to his
uncle and aunt he started upon his journey to London.

" The money will not last him two days," said the
man, as he watched Gilligren go down the turnpike
road, " and when it is gone he will starve to death."

" Or he may fall in with people who will treat him
worse than we did," rejoined the woman, "and then
he '11 wish he had never left us."

[20]

But Giiligren, nothing dismayed by thoughts of Sing a
the future, trudged bravely along the London road. $°?& °'
The world was before him, and the bright sunshine lxrence
glorified the dusty road and lightened the tips of the
dark green hedges that bordered his path. At the end
of his pilgrimage was the great city, and he never
doubted he would find therein proper work and proper
pay, and much better treatment than he was accus-
tomed to receive.

So, on he went, whistling merrily to while away
the time, watching the sparrows skim over the fields,
and enjoying to the full the unusual sights that met
his eyes. At noon he overtook a carter, who divided
with the boy his luncheon of bread and cheese, and
for supper a farmer's wife gave him a bowl of milk.
When it grew dark he crawled under a hedge and slept
soundly until dawn.

The next day he kept steadily upon his way, and
toward evening met a farmer with a wagon loaded
with sacks of grain.

"Where are you going, my lad? ' asked the man.

" To London," replied Giiligren, " to see the King
crowned."

"Have you any money?" enquired the farmer.

"Oh yes," answered Giiligren, "I have a sixpence."

" If you will give me the sixpence," said the man,
" I will give you a sack of rye for it."

"What could I do with a sack of rye?' asked
Giiligren, wonderingly.

[21]

Mother " Take it to the mill, and get it ground into flour.

Goose With the flour you could have bread baked, and that

in Prose 11 »»

you can sell.

" That is a good idea," replied Gilligren, " so here
is my sixpence, and now give me the sack of rye."

The farmer put the sixpence carefully into his
pocket, and then reached under the seat of the wagon
and drew out a sack, which he cast on the ground at
the boy's feet.

" There is your sack of rye," he said, with a laugh.

" But the sack is empty ! ' remonstrated Gilligren.

"Oh, no; there is some rye in it."

" But only a handful! " said Gilligren, when he had
opened the mouth of the sack and gazed within it.

" It is a sack of rye, nevertheless," replied the
wicked farmer, " and I did not say how much rye
there would be in the sack I would give you. Let
this be a lesson to you never again to buy grain with-
out looking into the sack!" and with that he whipped
up his horses and left Gilligren standing in the road
with the sack at his feet and nearly ready to cry at his
loss.

" My sixpence is gone," he said to himself, " and I
have received nothing in exchange but a handful of
rye! How can I make my fortune with that? '

He did not despair, however, but picked up the
sack and continued his way along the dusty road.
Soon it became too dark to travel farther, and Gilli-

[22]

gren stepped aside into a meadow, where, lying down Sing a
upon the sweet grass, he rolled the sack into a pillow s°n£ °'
for his head and prepared to sleep. tx**

The rye that was within the sack, however, hurt
his head, and he sat up and opened the sack.

"Why should I keep a handful of rye?' he
thought, " It will be of no value to me at all."

So he threw out the rye upon the ground, and
rolling up the sack again for a pillow, was soon sound
asleep.

When he awoke the sun was shining brightly over
his head and the twitter and chirping of many birds
fell upon his ears. Gilligren opened his eyes and saw
a large flock of blackbirds feeding upon the rye he
had scattered upon the ground. So intent were they
upon their feast they never noticed Gilligren at all.

He carefully unfolded the sack, and spreading wide
its opening threw it quickly over the flock of black-
birds. Some escaped and flew away, but a great many
were caught, and Gilligren put his eye to the sack and
found he had captured four and twenty. He tied the
mouth of the sack with a piece of twine that was in
his pocket, and then threw the sack over his shoulder
and began again his journey to London.

" I have made a good exchange, after all," he
thought, " for surely four and twenty blackbirds are
worth more than a handful of rye, and perhaps even
more than a sixpence, if I can find anyone who wishes
to buy them."

Mother He now walked rapidly forward, and about noon

Goose entered the great city of London.

in Prose Gilligren wandered about the streets until he came
to the King's palace, where there was a great con-
course of people and many guards to keep intruders
from the gates.

Seeing he could not enter from the front, the boy
walked around to the rear of the palace and found
himself near the royal kitchen, where the cooks and
other servants were rushing around to hasten the pre-
paration of the King's dinner.

Gilligren sat down upon a stone where he could
watch them, and laying the sack at his feet was soon
deeply interested in the strange sight.

Presently a servant in the King's livery saw him
and came to his side.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, roughly.

" I am waiting to see the King," replied Gilli-
gren.

"The King! The King never comes here," said
the servant; "and neither do we allow idlers about
the royal kitchen. So depart at once, or I shall be
forced to call a guard to arrest you."

Gilligren arose obediently and slung his sack over
his shoulder. As he did so the birds that were within
began to flutter.

"What have you in the sack?' asked the servant.

" Blackbirds," replied Gilligren.

" Blackbirds ! ' echoed the servant, in surprise,

" well, that is very fortunate indeed. Come with me Sing a
at once!' He seized the boy by the arm and drew Song o'
him hastily along until they entered the great kitchen x?
of the palace.

"Here, Mister Baker!' the man called, excitedly,
" I have found your blackbirds ! '

A big, fat man who was standing in the middle
of the kitchen with folded arms and a look of despair
upon his round, greasy face, at once came toward
them and asked eagerly,

"The blackbirds? are you sure you can get
them?"

"They are here already; the boy has a bag full of
them."

" Give them to me," said the cook, who wore a
square cap, that was shaped like a box, upon his head.

"What do you want with them?' asked Gilligren.

" I want them for a pie for the King's dinner,"
answered Mister Baker; "His Majesty ordered the dish,
and I have hunted all over London for the blackbirds,
but could not find them. Now that you have brought
them, however, you have saved me my position as
cook, and perhaps my head as well."

" But it would be cruel to put the beautiful birds
in a pie," remonstrated Gilligren, "and I shall not
give them to you for such a purpose."

"Nonsense!' replied the cook, "the King has
ordered it; he is very fond of the dish."

" Still, you cannot have them," declared the boy

[25]

Mother stoutly, " the birds are mine, and I will not have them
Goose killed."

in Prose a But what can I do?" asked the cook, in per-
plexity; "the King has ordered a blackbird pie, and
your birds are the only blackbirds in London."

Gilligren thought deeply for a moment, and con-
ceived what he thought to be a very good idea. If
the sixpence was to make his fortune, then this was
his great opportunity.

"You can have the blackbirds on two conditions,"
he said.

"What are they?" asked the cook.

" One is that you will not kill the birds. The
other condition is that you secure me a position in
the King's household."

"How can I put live birds in a pie?' enquired
the cook.

" Very easily, if you make the pie big enough to
hold them. You can serve the pie after the King has
satisfied his hunger with other dishes, and it will
amuse the company to find live birds in the pie when
they expected cooked ones."

" It is a risky experiment," exclaimed the cook,
" for I do not know the new King's temper. But the
idea may please His Majesty, and since you will not
allow me to kill the birds, it is the best thing I can
do. As for your other condition, you seem to be a
very bright boy, and so I will have the butler take

[a6]

you as his page, and you shall stand back of the Sing a
King's chair and keep the flies away while he eats." SonS °'

The butler being called, and his consent secured, lxPence
the cook fell to making the crusts for his novel pie,
while Gilligren was taken to the servants' hall and
dressed in a gorgeous suit of the King's livery.

When the dinner was served, the King kept look-
ing for the blackbird pie, but he said nothing, and at
last the pie was placed before him, its crusts looking
light and brown, and sprigs of myrtle being stuck in
the four corners to make it look more inviting.

Although the King had already eaten heartily, he
smacked his lips when he saw this tempting dish, and
picking up the carving-fork he pushed it quickly into
the pie.

At once the crust fell in, and all the four and
twenty blackbirds put up their heads and began to
look about them. And coming from the blackness of
the pie into the brilliantly lighted room they thought
they were in the sunshine, and began to sing merrily,
while some of the boldest hopped out upon the table
or began flying around the room.

At first the good King was greatly surprised; but
soon, appreciating the jest, he lay back in his chair and
laughed long and merrily. And his courtiers and the
fine ladies present heartily joined in the laughter, for
they also were greatly amused.

Then the King called for the cook, and when

Mother Mister Baker appeared, uncertain of his reception, and
Goose filled with many misgivings, His Majesty cried,

"Sirrah! how came you to think of putting live
birds in the pie?'

The cook, fearing that the King was angry, an-
swered,

"May it please your Majesty, it was not my
thought, but the idea of the boy who stands behind
your chair."

The King turned his head, and seeing Gilligren,
who looked very well in his new livery, he said,

" You are a clever youth., and deserve a better
position than that of a butler's lad. Hereafter you
shall be one of my own pages, and if you serve me
faithfully I will advance your fortunes with your
deserts."

And Gilligren did serve the King faithfully, and as
he grew older acquired much honor and great wealth.

"After all," he used to say, "that sixpence made
my fortune. And it all came about through such a
small thing as a handful of rye 1 '

[28]

The Story of
Little Boy Blue

The Story of Little Boy Blue

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn,
The sheep 's in the meadow, the cow 's in the corn;
Where's the little boy that minds the sheep?
He 's under the haystack, fast asleep !

THERE once lived a poor widow who supported The Story
herself and her only son by gleaning in the °J Ltt*j*
fields the stalks of grain that had been missed
by the reapers. Her little cottage was at the foot of
a beautiful valley, upon the edge of the river that
wound in and out among the green hills; and
although poor, she was contented with her lot, for
her home was pleasant and her lovely boy was a con-
stant delight to her.

He had big blue eyes, and fair golden curls, and
he loved his good mother very dearly, and was never
more pleased than when she allowed him to help her
with her work.

And so the years passed happily away till the boy
was eight years old, but then the widow fell sick, and
their little store of money melted gradually away.

" I do n't know what we shall do for bread," she
said, kissing her boy with tears in her eyes, " for I am
not yet strong enough to work, and we have no

money left."

[3']

Mother "But I can work," answered the boy; "and I'm

Goose sure if j g0 to the Squire up at the Hall he will give

in Prose i • j »

me something to do.

At first the widow was reluctant to consent to this,
since she loved to keep her child at her side, but
finally, as nothing else could be done, she decided to
let him go to see the Squire.

Being too proud to allow her son to go to the
great house in his ragged clothes, she made him a new
suit out of a pretty blue dress she had herself worn in
happier times, and when it was finished and the boy
dressed in it, he looked as pretty as a prince in a fairy
tale. For the bright blue jacket set off his curls to
good advantage, and the color just matched the blue of
his eyes. His trousers were blue, also, and she took
the silver buckles from her own shoes and put them
on his, that he might appear the finer. And then
she brushed his curls and placed his big straw hat upon
them and sent him away with a kiss to see the Squire.

It so happened that the great man was walking in
his garden with his daughter Madge that morning, and
was feeling in an especially happy mood, so that when
he suddenly looked up and saw a little boy before
him, he said, kindly,

"Well, my child, what can I do for you?'

" If you please, sir," said the boy, bravely, although
he was frightened at meeting the Squire face to face,
"I want you to give me some work to do, so that I
can earn money."

"Earn money!" repeated the Squire, "why do you The Story
wish to earn money?' of Little

"To buy food for my mother, sir. We are very
poor, and since she is no longer able to work for me I
wish to work for her."

"But what can you do?' asked the Squire; "you
are too small to work in the fields."

"I could earn something, sir, couldn't I?'

His tone was so pleading that mistress Madge was
unable to resist it, and even the Squire was touched.
The young lady came forward and took the boy's hand
in her own, and pressing back his curls, she kissed his
fair cheek.

"You shall be our shepherd," she said, pleasantly,
"and keep the sheep out of the meadows and the
cows from getting into the corn. You know, father,"
she continued, turning to the Squire, "it was only yes-
terday you said you must get a boy to tend the sheep,
and this little boy can do it nicely."

"Very well," replied the Squire, "it shall be as
you say, and if he is attentive and watchful he will be
able to save me a good bit of trouble and so really
earn his money."

Then he turned to the child and said,

"Come to me in the morning, my little man, and
I will give you a silver horn to blow, that you may
call the sheep and the cows whenever they go astray.
What is your name? '

"Oh, never mind his name, papa!' broke in the

[33]

Mother Squire's daughter; "I shall call him Little Boy Blue,

Goose since he is dressed in blue from head to foot, and his

dress but matches his eyes. And you must give him a

good wage, also, for surely no Squire before ever had

a prettier shepherd boy than this."

"Very good," said the Squire, cheerfully, as he
pinched his daughter's rosy cheek; "be watchful, Lit-
tle Boy Blue, and you shall be well paid."

Then Little Boy Blue thanked them both very
sweetly and ran back over the hill and into the valley
where his home lay nestled by the river-side, to tell
the good news to his mother.

The poor widow wept tears of joy when she heard
his story, and smiled when he told her that his name
was to be Little Boy Blue. She knew the Squire was
a kind master and would be good to her darling son.

Early the next morning Little Boy Blue was at the
Hall, and the Squire's steward gave him a new silver
horn, that glistened brightly in the sunshine, and a
golden cord to fasten it around his neck. And then
he was given charge of the sheep and the cows, and
told to keep them from straying into the meadow-
lands and the fields of grain.

It was not hard work, but just suited to Little Boy
Blue's age, and he was watchful and vigilant and made
a very good shepherd boy indeed. His mother needed
food no longer, for the Squire paid her son liberally
and the Squire's daughter made a favorite of the small
shepherd and loved to hear the call of his silver horn

[34]

echoing amongst the hills. Even the sheep and the The Stor*
cows were fond of him, and always obeyed the sound °f Little
of his horn; therefore the Squire's corn thrived finely,
and was never trampled.

Little Boy Blue was now very happy, and his
mother was proud and contented and began to im-
prove in health. After a few weeks she became strong
enough to leave the cottage and walk a little in the
fields each day; but she could not go far, because her
limbs were too feeble to support her long, so the most
she could attempt was to walk as far as the stile to
meet Little Boy Blue as he came home from work in
the evening. Then she would lean on his shoulder
and return to the cottage with him, and the boy was
very glad he could thus support his darling mother
and assist her faltering steps.

But one day a great misfortune came upon them,
since it is true that no life can be so happy but that
sorrow will creep in to temper it.

Little Boy Blue came homeward one evening very
light of heart and whistled merrily as he walked, for
he thought he should find his mother awaiting him at
the stile and a good supper spread upon the table in
the little cottage. But when he came to the stile his
mother was not in sight, and in answer to his call a
low moan of pain reached his ears.

Little Boy Blue sprang over the stile and found
lying upon the ground his dear mother, her face white
and drawn with suffering, and tears of anguish running

[35]

Mother down her cheeks. For she had slipped upon the stile

.. Iff and fallen, and her leg was broken !
tn Prose . '

Little Boy Blue ran to the cottage tor water and
bathed the poor woman's face, and raised her head that
she might drink. There were no neighbors, for the
cottage stood all alone by the river, so the child was
obliged to support his mother in his arms as best he
could while she crawled painfully back to the cottage.
Fortunately, it was not far, and at last she was safely
laid upon her bed. Then Little Boy Blue began to
think what he should do next.

" Can I leave you alone while I go for the doctor,
mamma?' he asked, anxiously, as he held her clasped
hands tightly in his two little ones. His mother drew
him towards her and kissed him.

" Take the boat, dear," she said, " and fetch the
doctor from the village. I shall be patient till you
return."

Little Boy Blue rushed away to the river bank and
unfastened the little boat; and then he pulled sturdily
down the river until he passed the bend and came to
the pretty village below. When he had found the
doctor and told of his mother's misfortune, the good
man promised to attend him at once, and very soon
they were seated in the boat and on their way to the
cottage.

It was very dark by this time, but Little Boy Blue
knew every turn and bend in the river, and the doctor
helped him pull at the oars, so that at last they came

[36]

mmmmmm

Little Boy Blue

to the place where a faint light twinkled through the The Story
cottage window. They found the poor woman in °f Little
much pain, but the doctor quickly set and bandaged
her leg, and gave her some medicine to ease her suffer-
ing. It was nearly midnight when all was finished and
the doctor was ready to start back to the village.

"Take good care of your mother," he said to the
boy, " and do n't worry about her, for it is not a bad
break and the leg will mend nicely in time; but she
will be in bed many days, and you must nurse her as
well as you are able."

All through the night the boy sat by the bedside,
bathing his mother's fevered brow and ministering to
her wants. And when the day broke she was resting
easily and the pain had left her, and she told Little
Boy Blue he must go to his work.

" For," said she, " more than ever now we need
the money you earn from the Squire, as my misfortune
will add to the expenses of living, and we have the
doctor to pay. Do not fear to leave me, for I shall
rest quietly and sleep most of the time while you are
away."

Little Boy Blue did not like to leave his mother all
alone, but he knew of no one he could ask to stay
with her; so he placed food and water by her bedside,
and ate a little breakfast himself, and started off to
tend his sheep.

The sun was shining brightly, and the birds sang
sweetly in the trees, and the crickets chirped just as

[37]

Mother merrily as if this great trouble had not come to Little

Goose Boy Blue to make him sad.

m Prose gut ^ went bravely to his work, and for several
hours he watched carefully; and the men at work in
the fields, and the Squire's daughter, who sat embroid-
ering upon the porch of the great house, heard often
the sound of his horn as he called the straying sheep
to his side.

But he had not slept the whole night, and he was
tired with his long watch at his mother's bedside, and
so in spite of himself the lashes would droop occasion-
ally over his blue eyes, for he was only a child, and
children feel the loss of sleep more than older people.
Still, Little Boy Blue had no intention of sleeping
while he was on duty, and bravely fought against the
drowsiness that was creeping over him. The sun shone
very hot that day, and he walked to the shady side of
a big haystack and sat down upon the ground, leaning
his back against the stack.

The cows and sheep were quietly browsing near
him, and he watched them earnestly for a time, listen-
ing to the singing of the birds, and the gentle tinkling
of the bells upon the wethers, and the far-away songs
of the reapers that the breeze brought to his ears.
And before he knew it the blue eyes had closed fast,
and the golden head lay back upon the hay, and
Little Boy Blue was fast asleep and dreaming that his
mother was well again and had come to the stile to
meet him.

[38]

The sheep strayed near the edge of the meadow The Story
and paused, waiting for the warning sound of the horn, of Little
And the breeze carried the fragrance of the growing
corn to the nostrils of the browsing cows and tempted
them nearer and nearer to the forbidden feast. But
the silver horn was silent, and before long the cows
were feeding upon the Squire's pet cornfield and the
sheep were enjoying themselves amidst the juicy grasses
of the meadows.

The Squire himself was returning from a long,
weary ride over his farms, and when he came to the
cornfield and saw the cows trampling down the grain
and feeding upon the golden stalks he was very angry.

" Little Boy Blue I ' he cried ; " ho ! Little Boy
Blue, come blow your horn 1 ' But there was no
reply. He rode on a way and now discovered that
the sheep were deep within the meadows, and that
made him more angry still.

" Here, Isaac," he said to a farmer's lad who
chanced to pass by, " where is Little Boy Blue ? '

" He 's under the hay-stack, your honor, fast
asleep ! ' replied Isaac with a grin, for he had passed
that way and seen that the boy was lying asleep.

"Will you go and wake him?' asked the Squire;
" for he must drive out the sheep and the cows before
they do more damage."

" Not I," replied Isaac, " if I wake him he '11 surely
cry, for he is but a baby, and not fit to mind the
sheep. But I myself will drive them out for your

[39]

Mother honor," and away he ran to do so, thinking that now
Goose the Squire would give him Little Boy Blue's place,
and make him the shepherd boy, for Isaac had long
coveted the position.

The Squire's daughter, hearing the angry tones of
her father's voice, now came out to see what was
amiss, and when she heard that Little Boy Blue had
failed in his trust she was deeply grieved, for she had
loved the child for his pretty ways.

The Squire dismounted from his horse and came to
where the boy was lying.

" Awake ! ' said he, shaking him by the shoulder,
" and depart from my lands, for you have betrayed my
trust, and let the sheep and the cows stray into the
fields and meadows ! '

Little Boy Blue started up at once and rubbed his
eyes; and then he did as Isaac prophesied, and began
to weep bitterly, for his heart was sore that he had
failed in his duty to the good Squire and so forfeited
his confidence.

But the Squire's daughter was moved by the child's
tears., so she took him upon her lap and comforted
him, asking,

"Why did you sleep, Little Boy Blue, when you
should have watched the cows and the sheep ? '

" My mother has broken her leg," answered the
boy, between his sobs, " and I did not sleep all last
night, but sat by her bedside nursing her. And I tried
hard not to fall asleep, but could not help myself;

[40]

and oh, Squire I I hope you will forgive me this once, The Story
for my poor mother's sake ! ' Cf'

"Where does your mother live?" asked the Squire,
in a kindly tone, for he had already forgiven Little
Boy Blue.

" In the cottage down by the river," answered the
child; "and she is all alone, for there is no one near to
help us in our trouble."

" Come," said Mistress Madge, rising to her feet and
taking his hand; "lead us to your home, and we will
see if we cannot assist your poor mother."

So the Squire and his daughter and Little Boy
Blue all walked down to the little cottage, and the
Squire had a long talk with the poor widow. And
that same day a big basket of dainties was sent to the
cottage, and Mistress Madge bade her own maid go
to the widow and nurse her carefully until she
recovered.

So that after all Little Boy Blue did more for his
dear mother by falling asleep than he could had he
kept wide awake; for after his mother was well again
the Squire gave them a pretty cottage to live in very
near to the great house itself, and the Squire's daughter
was ever afterward their good friend, and saw that
they wanted for no comforts of life.

And Little Boy Blue did not fall asleep again at
his post, but watched the cows and the sheep faithfully
for many years, until he grew up to manhood and had
a farm of his own.

[41]

Mother He always said his mother's accident had brought

Goose m'm good luck, but I think it was rather his own

loving heart and his devotion to his mother that made

him friends. For no one is afraid to trust a boy who

loves to serve and care for his mother.

[4*3

'he Cat and the Fiddle

The Cat and the Fiddle

Hey, diddle, diddle,

The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon!

The little dog laughed

To see such sport,
And the dish ran off with the spoon!

PERHAPS you think this verse is all nonsense, and The Cat
that the things it mentions could never have .,„

j j-j i. -11

happened; but they did happen, as you will

understand when I have explained them all to you
clearly.

Little Bobby was the only son of a small farmer
who lived out of town upon a country road. Bobby's
mother looked after the house and Bobby's father took
care of the farm, and Bobby himself, who was not very
big, helped them both as much as he was able.

It was lonely upon the farm, especially when his
father and mother were both busy at work, but the
boy had one way to amuse himself that served to pass
many an hour when he would not otherwise have
known what to do. He was very fond of music, and
his father one day brought him from the town a small
fiddle, or violin, which he soon learned to play upon.
I don't suppose he was a very fine musician, but the

[45]

Mother tunes he played pleased himself, as well as his father

Goose ancj mother, and Bobby's fiddle soon became his con-
in Prose

stant companion.

One day in the warm summer the farmer and his
wife determined to drive to the town to sell their
butter and eggs and bring back some groceries in
exchange for them, and while they were gone Bobby
was to be left alone.

" We shall not be back till late in the evening,"
said his mother, •< for the weather is too warm to drive
very fast. But I have left you a dish of bread and
milk for your supper, and you must be a good boy
and amuse yourself with your fiddle until we return."

Bobby promised to be good and look after the
house, and then his father and mother climbed into
the wagon and drove away to the town.

The boy was not entirely alone, for there was the
big black tabby-cat lying upon the floor in the
kitchen, and the little yellow dog barking at the
wagon as it drove away, and the big moolie-cow low-
ing in the pasture down by the brook. Animals are
often very good company, and Bobby did not feel
nearly as lonely as he would had there been no living
thing about the house.

Besides he had some work to do in the garden,
pulling up the weeds that grew thick in the carrot-
bed, and when the last faint sounds of the wheels had
died away he went into the garden and began his task.

The little dog went too, for dogs love to be with

[46]

people and to watch what is going on; and he sat The Cat
down near Bobby and cocked up his ears and wagged and the
his tail and seemed to take a great interest in the
weeding. Once in a while he would rush away to
chase a butterfly or bark at a beetle that crawled
through the garden, but he always came back to the
boy and kept near his side.

By and by the cat, which found it lonely in the
big, empty kitchen, now that Bobby's mother was
gone, came walking into the garden also, and lay
down upon a path in the sunshine and lazily watched
the boy at his work. The dog and the cat were good
friends, having lived together so long that they did
not care to fight each other. To be sure Towser, as
the little dog was called, sometimes tried to tease
pussy, being himself very mischievous; but when the
cat put out her sharp claws and showed her teeth,
Towser, like a wise little dog, quickly ran away, and
so they managed to get along in a friendly manner.

By the time the carrot-bed was all weeded, the
sun was sinking behind the edge of the forest and the
new moon rising in the east, and now Bobby began
to feel hungry and went into the house for his dish of
bread and milk.

" I think I '11 take my supper down to the brook,"
he said to himself, " and sit upon the grassy bank
while I eat it. And I '11 take my fiddle, too, and
play upon it to pass the time until father and mother
come home."

[47]

Mother It was a good idea, for down by the brook it was

Goose cool and pleasant; so Bobby took his fiddle under his
arm and carried his dish of bread and milk down to
the bank that sloped to the edge of the brook. It
was rather a steep bank, but Bobby sat upon the edge,
and placing his fiddle beside him, leaned against a
tree and began to eat his supper.

The little dog had followed at his heels, and the
cat also came slowly walking after him, and as Bobby
ate, they sat one on either side of him and looked
earnestly into his face as if they too were hungry. So
he threw some of the bread to Towser, who grabbed
it eagerly and swallowed it in the twinkling of an eye.
And Bobby left some of the milk in the dish for the
cat, also, and she came lazily up and drank it in a
dainty, sober fashion, and licked both the dish and
spoon until no drop of the milk was left.

Then Bobby picked up his fiddle and tuned it and
began to play some of the pretty tunes he knew.
And while he played he watched the moon rise higher
and higher until it was reflected in the smooth, still
water of the brook. Indeed, Bobby could not tell
which was the plainest to see, the moon in the sky or
the moon in the water. The little dog lay quietly on
one side of him, and the cat softly purred upon the
other, and even the moolie-cow was attracted by the
music and wandered near until she was browsing the
grass at the edge of the brook.

After a time, when Bobby had played all the tunes

[48]

he knew, he laid the fiddle down beside him, near to The Cat

where the cat slept, and then he lay down upon the andthe

111 i • T Fiddle

bank and began to think.

It is very hard to think long upon a dreamy sum-
mer night without falling asleep, and very soon
Bobby's eyes closed and he forgot all about the dog
and the cat and the cow and the fiddle, and dreamed
he was Jack the Giant Killer and was just about to
slay the biggest giant in the world.

And while he dreamed, the cat sat up and yawned
and stretched herself, and then began wagging her
long tail from side to side and watching the moon that
was reflected in the water.

But the fiddle lay just behind her, and as she
moved her tail, she drew it between the strings of the
fiddle, where it caught fast. Then she gave her tail a
jerk and pulled the fiddle against the tree, which
made a loud noise. This frightened the cat greatly,
and not knowing what was the matter with her tail,
she started to run as fast as she could. But stili the
fiddle clung to her tail, and at every step it bounded
along and made such a noise that she screamed with
terror. And in her fright she ran straight towards the
cow, which, seeing a black streak coming at her, and
hearing the racket made by the fiddle, became also
frightened and made such a jump to get out of the
way that she jumped right across the brook, leaping
over the very spot where the moon shone in the
water !

[49]

Mother Bobby had been awakened by the noise, and

Goose opened his eyes in time to see the cow jump; and at

first it seemed to him that she had actually jumped

over the moon in the sky, instead of the one in the

brook.

The dog was delighted at the sudden excitement
caused by the cat, and ran barking and dancing along
the bank, so that he presently knocked against the
dish, and behold! it slid down the bank, carrying the
spoon with it, and fell with a splash into the water of
the brook.

As soon as Bobby recovered from his surprise he
ran after the cat, which had raced to the house, and
soon came to where the fiddle lay upon the ground,
it having at last dropped from the cat's tail. He
examined it carefully, and was glad to find it was
not hurt, in spite of its rough usage. And then he
had to go across the brook and drive the cow back
over the little bridge, and also to roll up his sleeve
and reach into the water to recover the dish and the
spoon.

Then he went back to the house and lighted a
lamp, and sat down to compose a new tune before his
father and mother returned.

The cat had recovered from her fright and lay
quietly under the stove, and Towser sat upon the
floor panting, with his mouth wide open, and looking
so comical that Bobby thought he was actually laugh-
ing at the whole occurrence.

[50]

And these were the words to the tune that Bobby The Cat

and thi
Fiddle

composed that night: and the

Hey, diddle, diddle,

The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon!

The little dog laughed

To see such sport,
And the dish ran away with the spoon!

[$•]

The Black Sheep

The Black Sheep

Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes, my little master, three bags full;
One for my master and one for his dame,
And one for the little boy that lives in the lane.

IT was a bright spring day, and the sun shone very The
warm and pleasant over the pastures, where the -^^
new grass was growing so juicy and tender that
all the sheep thought they had never tasted anything
so delicious.

The sheep had had a strange experience that
morning, for the farmer had taken them down to the
brook and washed them, and then he tied their legs
together and laid them on the grass and clipped all
the heavy, soft wool from their bodies with a great
pair of shears.

The sheep did not like this very well, for every
once in a while the shears would pull the wool and
hurt them; and when they were sheared they felt
very strange, for it was almost as if someone took off
all your clothes and let you run around naked. None
of them were in a very good temper this morning,
although the sun shone so warmly and the grass was
so sweet, and as they watched the farmer and his man

[55]

Mother carry their wool up to the house in great bags, the
Goose 0}d ram ^id crossly,

* D

" I hope they are satisfied, now that they have
stolen from us all our soft, warm fleece."

"What are they going to do with it?' asked one
of the sheep.

" Oh, they will spin it into threads and make coats
for the men and dresses for the women. For men are
such strange creatures that no wool grows on them at
all, and that is why they selfishly rob us of our fleece
that they may cover their own skinny bodies!'

" It must be horrid to be a man," said the Black
Sheep, " and not to have any wool grow on you at
all. I 'm sorry for that little boy that lives in the
lane, for he will never be able to keep warm unless
we give him some of our wool."

" But what a shame it is," continued the ram, "for
the farmer to steal all the wool from us when we have
taken all the trouble to grow it ! '

" I do n't mind," bleated a young lamb named
Frisky, as it kicked up its heels and gambolled about
upon the grass; "it 's nice to have all that heavy wool
cut off my back, for I sha' n't have to carry it around
wherever I go."

"Oh, indeed!" sneered the ram, "you like it, do
you? Have you any idea what you look like, all
sheared down to your skin? How would you like to
have someone come along and see you, now that you
are all head and legs? '

[56]

"Oh, I wouldn't mind," said the lamb again; "I The

shall grow more wool by winter-time, and I 'm sure I •?, f*
i i i i »» ' Sheep

do n t look any worse than you do.

Some of the sheep looked at the ram and began to
titter, for he was old and thin, and looked very com-
ical indeed without any wool. And this made him so
angry that he went off by himself and began eating
grass, and would not speak to the others at all.

" I do n't know why sheep should feel badly about
having their fleeces cut," remarked the Black Sheep,
thoughtfully, " for the farmer is very kind to us, and
so is his dame, and I am glad my wool serves to keep
them warm in the winter. For before the snow
comes our wool will grow out again, and we shall not
be any the worse for our loss."

" What do those people who have n't any sheep do
for clothes?" asked the lamb.

" I 'm sure I do n't know. They must nearly
freeze in the winter. Perhaps the ram can tell us."

But the ram was still angry, and refused to say
anything, so the sheep stopped talking and began
to scatter over the pasture and eat the tender, new
grass.

By and by the Black Sheep wandered near the
lane, and looking up, saw the little boy watching it
through the bars.

" Good morning, Black Sheep," said the boy; "why
do you look so funny this morning? '

"They have cut off my wool," answered the sheep.

[57]

Mother "What will they do with it, Black Sheep?" en-

Goose quired the little boy.

" They will make coats of it, to keep themselves

warm."

" I wish I had some wool," said the boy, " for I
need a new coat very badly, and mamma is so poor
she cannot buy me one."

"That is too bad," replied the Black Sheep; "but
I shall have more wool by and by, and then I will
give you a bagful to make a new coat from."

" Will you really ? ' asked the boy, looking very
much pleased.

" Indeed I will," answered the sheep, " for you are
always kind and have a pleasant word for me. So
you watch until my wool grows again, and then you
shall have your share of it."

" Oh, thank you ! ' ' said the boy, and he ran away
to tell his mother what the Black Sheep had said.

When the farmer came into the field again the
Black Sheep said to him,

" Master, how many bags of wool did you cut
from my back ? '

"Two bags full," replied the farmer; "and it was
very nice wool indeed."

" If I grow three bags full the next time, may I
have one bag for myself? " asked the sheep.

" Why, what could you do with a bag of wool ? '
questioned the farmer.

[58]

Pile Rlark Sheep

" I want to give it to the little boy that lives in The
the lane. He is very poor and needs a new coat." Black

"Very well," answered the master; "if you can fe?
grow three bags full I will give one to the little boy."

So the Black Sheep began to grow wool, and tried
in every way to grow the finest and heaviest fleece in
all the flock. She always lay in the sunniest part of the
pastures, and drank from the clearest part of the
brook, and ate only the young and juicy shoots of
grass and the tenderest of the sheep-sorrel. And each
day the little boy came to the bars and looked at the
sheep and enquired how the wool was growing.

" I am getting along finely," the Black Sheep
would answer, " for not one sheep in the pasture has
so much wool as I have grown already."

"Can I do anything to help you?" asked the little
boy.

"Not that I think of," replied the sheep, "unless
you could get me a little salt. I believe salt helps the
wool to grow."

So the boy ran to the house and begged his
mother for a handful of salt, and then he came back
to the bars, where the Black Sheep licked it out of
his hand.

Day by day the wool on the sheep grew longer
and longer, and even the old ram noticed it and said,

"You are foolish to grow so much wool, for the
farmer will cut it all off, and it will do you no good.
Now I am growing just as little as possible, for since

[59]

Mother he steals what I have I am determined he shall get
Goose very little wool from my back."

The Black Sheep did not reply to this, for she
thought the old ram very ill-tempered and selfish, and
believed he was doing wrong not to grow more wool.

Finally the time came to shear the sheep again,
and the farmer and his man came into the pasture to
look at them, and were surprised to see what a fine,
big fleece the Black Sheep had grown.

" There will be three bagsful at the least," said
the master, " and I will keep my promise and give
one to the little boy in the lane. But, my goodness!
how scraggly and poor the old ram looks. There is
scarcely any wool on him at all. I think I must sell
him to the butcher!'

And, in truth, although the ram kicked and strug-
gled and bleated with rage, they tied his legs and put
him into the cart and carried him away to the butcher.
And that was the last the sheep ever saw of him.

But the Black Sheep ran up to the bars by the lane
and waited with a glad heart till the little boy came.
When he saw the sheep waiting for him he asked,

" Black Sheep, Black Sheep, have you any wool ? "

And the sheep replied,

"Yes my little master, three bags full!"

"That is fine!" said the boy; "but who are the
three bags for ? '

[60]

" One for my master, one for his dame,
And one for the little boy that lives in the lane."

"Thank you, Black Sheep," said the little boy; ee*
"you are very kind, and I shall always think of you
when I wear my new coat."

The next day the sheep were all sheared, and the
Black Sheep's fleece made three big bagsful. The
farmer kept his promise and carried one bag to the
little boy that lived in the lane, and the wool was so
soft and so heavy that there was enough not only for
the new coat, but to make his mother a warm dress
as well.

The Black Sheep was very proud and happy when
the mother and her little boy came down to the bars
and showed the new clothes that had been made from
the wool.

" This pays me for all my trouble," said the Black
Sheep, and the little boy reached his hand through the
bars and patted her gently upon the head.

[61]

Old King Cole

Old King Cole

Old King Cole was a merry old soul,

And a merry old soul was he;
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl

And he called for his fiddlers three.

OLD KING COLE was not always a king, nor Old
was he born a member of any royal family, ^in
It was only chance — "hard luck' he used
to call it — that made him a king at all.

He had always been a poor man, being the son of
an apple peddler, who died and left him nothing but
a donkey and a fiddle. But that was enough for
Cole, who never bothered his head about the world's
goods, but took things as they came and refused to
worry about anything.

So, when the house he lived in, and the furniture,
and even the apple-cart were sold to pay his father's
debts, and he found himself left with the old fiddle
that nobody wanted and the old donkey that no one
would have — it being both vicious and unruly — he
uttered no word of complaint. He simply straddled
the donkey and took the fiddle under his arm and
rode out into the world to seek his fortune.

When he came to a village he played a merry tune

[65]

Mother upon the fiddle and sang a merry song with it, and
Goose {he people gave him food most willingly. There was
no trouble about a place to sleep, for if he was denied
a bed he lay down with the donkey in a barn, or even
on the village green, and making a pillow of the don-
key's neck he slept as soundly as anyone could in a
bed of down.

And so he continued riding along and playing
upon his fiddle for many years, until his head grew
bald and his face was wrinkled and his bushy eyebrows
became as white as snow. But his eyes never lost their
merry twinkle, and he was just as fat and hearty as in
his younger days, while, if you heard him singing his
songs and scraping upon the old fiddle, you would
know at once his heart was as young as ever.

He never guided the donkey, but let the beast go
where it would, and so it happened that at last they
came to Whatland, and entered one day the city where
resided the King of that great country.

Now, even as Cole rode in upon his donkey the
King of Whatland lay dying in his palace, surrounded
by all the luxury of the court. And as he left no
heir, and was the last of the royal line, the councilors
and wise men of Whatland were in a great quandary
as to who should succeed him. But finally they be-
thought themselves of the laws of the land, and upon
looking up the records they found in an old book a
law that provided for just such a case as this.

" If the King dies," so read the law, " and there be

[66]

no one to succeed to the throne, the prime minister Old
shall be blinded and led from the palace into the main
street of the city. And he shall stretch out his arms
and walk about, and the first person he touches shall
be crowned as King of the land."

The councilors were greatly pleased when they
found this law, for it enabled them to solve the prob-
lem that confronted them. So when the King had
breathed his last they blindfolded the prime minister
and led him forth from the palace, and he began walk-
ing about with outstretched arms seeking someone to
touch.

Of course the people knew nothing of this law, nor
even that the old King was dead, and seeing the prime
minister groping about blindfolded they kept out of
his way, fearing they might be punished if he stum-
bled against them. But Cole was then riding along
on the donkey, and did not even know it was the
prime minister who was feeling about in such a funny
way. So he began to laugh, and the minister, who
had by this time grown tired of the game, heard
the laugh and came toward the stranger and touched
him, and immediately all the wise men and the coun-
cilors fell down before him and hailed him as King
of Whatland!

Thus did the wandering fiddler become King
Cole, and you may be sure he laughed more merrily
than ever when they explained to him his good
fortune.

[67]

Mother They carried him within the palace and dressed

Goose fam jn purple ancj £ne Hnen, and placed a crown of
gold upon his bald head and a jeweled scepter in his
wrinkled hand, and all this amused old King Cole very
much. When he had been led to the great throne-
room and placed upon the throne of gold (where the
silken cushions felt very soft and pleasant after his
long ride upon the donkey's sharp back) the courtiers
all knelt before him and asked what commands he
wished to give, since everyone in the kingdom must
now obey his slightest word.

" Oh well," said the new King, " I think the first
thing I would like is my old pipe. You '11 find it in
the pocket of the ragged coat I took off."

One of the officers of the court at once ran for the
pipe, and when it was brought King Cole filled il
with tobacco from his greasy pouch and lighted it, and
you can imagine what a queer sight it was to see the
fat King sitting upon the rich throne, dressed in silks
and satins and a golden crown, and smoking at the
same time an old black pipe!

The councilors looked at each other in dismay,
and the ladies of the court sneezed and coughed and
seemed greatly shocked, and all this pleased old King
Cole so much that he lay back in his throne and
roared with laughter.

Then the prime minister came forward very gravely,
and bowing low he said,

"May it please your Majesty, it is not the custom

[68]

Old King Cole

of Kings to smoke a pipe while seated upon the Old
throne." Kin&

" But it is my custom," answered Cole.

"It is impolite, and — unkingly!' ventured the
minister.

"Now, see here, old fellow," replied his Majesty,
"I didn't ask to be King of this country; it's all
your own doing. All my life I have smoked when-
ever I wished, and if I can't do as I please here, why,
I won't be king — so there!'

" But you must be the King, your Majesty, whether
you want to or not. The law says so."

"If that's the case," returned the King, "I can do
as I please in other things. So you just run and get
me a bowl of punch, there 's a good fellow."

The aged minister did not like to be addressed
thus, but the King's commands must be obeyed; so,
although the court was greatly horrified, he brought
the bowl of punch, and the King pushed his crown
onto the back of his head and drank heartily, and
smacked his lips afterwards.

"That 's fine!' he said; "but say — what do you
people do to amuse yourselves? '

"Whatever your Majesty commands," answered
one of the councilors.

"What! must I amuse you as well as myself?
Methinks it is no easy task to be a King if so many
things are required of me. But I suppose it is useless
to fret, since the law obliges me to reign in this great

[69]

Mother country against my will. Therefore will I make the

Goose best of my misfortune, and propose we have a dance,

and forget our cares. Send at once for some fiddlers,

and clear the room for our merry-making, and for

once in our lives we shall have a jolly good time!'

So one of the officers of the court went out and
soon returned with three fiddlers, and when at the
King's command they struck up a tune, the monarch
was delighted, for every fiddler had a very fine fiddle
and knew well how to use it.

Now, Old King Cole was a merry old soul, so he
soon set all the ladies and gentlemen of the court to
dancing, and he himself took off his crown and his
ermine robe and laid them upon the throne, while he
danced with the prettiest lady present till he was all
out of breath.

Then he dismissed them, and they were all very
well pleased with the new King, for they saw that, in
spite of his odd ways, he had a kind heart, and would
try to make every one about him as merry as he was
himself.

The next morning the King was informed that
several of his subjects craved audience with him, as
there were matters of dispute between them that must
be settled. King Cole at first refused to see them,
declaring he knew nothing of the quarrels of his sub-
jects and they must manage their own affairs; but
when the prime minister told him it was one of his
duties as king, and the law required it, he could not

do otherwise than submit. So he put on his crown Old

and his ermine robe and sat upon the throne, although
he grumbled a good deal at the necessity; for never
having had any business of his own to attend to he
thought it doubly hard that in his old age he must
attend to the business of others.

The first case of dispute was between two men
who each claimed to own a fine cow, and after hear-
ing the evidence, the King ordered the cow to be
killed and roasted and given to the poor, since that
was the easiest way to decide the matter. Then fol-
lowed a quarrel between two subjects over ten pieces
of gold, one claiming the other owed him that sum.
The King, thinking them both rascals, ordered the
gold to be paid, and then he took it and scattered it
amongst the beggars outside the palace.

By this time King Cole decided he had transacted
enough business for one day, so he sent word to those
outside that if anyone had a quarrel that was not just
he should be severely punished; and, indeed, when the
subjects learned the manner in which the King settled
disputes, they were afraid to come to him, as both
sides were sure to be losers by the decision. And that
saved King Cole a lot of trouble thereafter, for the
people thought best to settle their own differences.

The King, now seeing he was free to do as he
pleased, retired to his private chamber, where he called
for the three fiddlers and made them play for him
while he smoked his pipe and drank a bowl of punch.

Mother Every evening he had a dance in the palace, and

Goose every day there were picnics and merry-makings of all
kinds, and before long King Cole had the reputation
of having the merriest court in all the world.

He loved to feast and to smoke and to drink his
punch, and he was never so merry as when others
were merry with him, so that the three fiddlers were
almost always by his side, and at any hour of the day
you could hear sweet strains of music echoing through
the palace.

Old King Cole did not forget the donkey that had
been his constant companion for so long. He had a
golden saddle made for him, with a saddle-cloth broid-
ered in gold and silver, and the bridle was studded
with diamonds and precious stones, all taken from the
King's treasury.

And when he rode out, the old fat King always
bestrode the donkey, while his courtiers rode on either
side of him upon their prancing chargers.

Old King Cole reigned for many years, and was
generally beloved by his subjects; for he always gave
liberally to all who asked, and was always as merry
and happy as the day was long.

When he died the new King was found to be of a
very different temper, and ruled the country with great
severity; but this only served to make the memory of
Old King Cole more tenderly cherished by his people,
and they often sighed when they recalled his merry
pranks, and the good times they enjoyed under his rule.

Mistress Mary

Mistress Mary

Mistress Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?
With dingle bells and cockle shells

And cowslips, all in a row.

HIGH upon a cliff that overlooked the sea was a Mistress
little white cottage, in which dwelt a sailor Mary
and his wife, with their two strong sons and a
little girl. The sons were also sailors, and had made
several voyages with their father in a pretty ship
called the "Skylark." Their names were Hobart and
Robart. The little girl's name was Mary, and she
was very happy indeed when her father and her
brothers were at home, for they petted her and played
games with, her and loved her very dearly. But when
the "Skylark" went to sea, and her mother and her-
self were left alone in the little white cottage, the
hours were very dull and tedious, and Mary counted
the days until the sailors came home again.

One spring, just as the grasses began to grow green
upon the cliff and the trees were dressing their stiff,
barren branches in robes of delicate foliage, the father
and brothers bade good-bye to Mary and her mother,
for they were starting upon a voyage to the Black Sea.

"And how long will you be gone, papa?' asked

[753

Mother Mary, who was perched upon her father's knee, where

Goose sne could nestle her soft cheek against his bushy
in Prose 1-1 J

whiskers.

" How long?' he repeated, stroking her curls
tenderly as he spoke; "well, well, my darling, it will
be a long time indeed! Do you know the cowslips
that grow in the pastures, Mary?'

" Oh, yes; I watch for them every spring," she an-
swered.

" And do you know the dingle-bells that grow
near the edge of the wood ? ' he asked again.

"I know them well, papa," replied Mary, "for
often I gather their blue blossoms and put them in a
vase upon the table."

"And how about the cockle-shells?'

" Them also I know," said Mary eagerly, for she
was glad her father should find her so well acquainted
with the field flowers; "there is nothing prettier than
the big white flowers of the cockle-shells. But tell
me, papa, what have the flowers to do with your com-
ing home? '

"Why, just this, sweetheart," returned the sailor
gravely; "all the time that it takes the cowslips
and dingle-bells and cockle-shells to sprout from the
ground, and grow big and strong, and blossom into
flower, and, yes — to wither and die away again — all
that time shall your brothers and I sail the seas. But
when the cold winds begin to blow, and the flowers
are gone, then, God willing, we shall come back to

[76]

you; and by that time you may have grown wiser and Mistress
bigger, and I am sure you will have grown older. So Mary
one more kiss, sweetheart, and then we must go, for
our time is up."

The next morning, when Mary and her mother
had dried their eyes, which had been wet with grief
at the departure of their loved ones, the little girl
asked earnestly,

" Mamma, may I make a flower-garden ? '

" A flower-garden ! ' repeated her mother in sur-
prise; "why do you wish a flower-garden, Mary?'

" I want to plant in it the cockle-shells and the
cowslips and the dingle-bells," she answered.

And her mother, who had heard what the sailor
had said to his little girl, knew at once what Mary
meant; so she kissed her daughter and replied,

"Yes, Mary, you may have the flower-garden, if
you wish. We will dig a nice little bed just at the
side of the house, and you shall plant your flowers and
care for them yourself."

" I think I 'd rather have the flowers at the front
of the house," said Mary.

"But why?' enquired her mother; "they will be
better sheltered at the side."

"I want them in front," persisted Mary, "for the
sun shines stronger there."

" Very well," answered her mother, " make your
garden at the front, if you will, and I will help you to
dig up the ground."

[77]

Mother " But I do n't want you to help," said Mary, " for

Goose this is to be mv own little flower-garden, and I want
to do all the work myself."

Now I must tell you that this little girl, although
very sweet in many ways, had one serious fault. She
was inclined to be a bit contrary, and put her own
opinions and ideas before those of her elders. Perhaps
Mary meant no wrong in this; she often thought she
knew better how to do a thing than others did; and
in such a case she was not only contrary, but anxious
to have her own way.

And so her mother, who did not like her little
daughter to be unhappy, often gave way to her in
small things, and now she permitted Mary to make
her own garden, and plant it as she would.

So Mary made a long, narrow bed at the front of
the house, and then she prepared to plant her flowers.

" If you scatter the seeds," said her mother, " the
flower-bed will look very pretty."

Now this was what Mary was about to do; but
since her mother advised it, she tried to think of
another way, for, as I said, she was contrary at times.
And in the end she planted the dingle-bells all in one
straight row, and the cockle-shells in another straight
row the length of the bed, and she finished by plant-
ing the cowslips in another long row at the back.

Her mother smiled, but said nothing; and now, as
the days passed by, Mary watered and tended her
garden with great care; and when the flowers began

[78]

to sprout she plucked all the weeds that grew among Mistress
them, and so in the mild spring weather the plants
grew finely.

"When they have grown up big and strong," said
Mary one morning, as she weeded the bed, "and when
they have budded and blossomed and faded away
again, then papa and my brothers will come home.
And I shall call the cockle-shells papa, for they are
the biggest and strongest; and the dingle-bells shall
be brother Hobart, and the cowslips brother Robart.
And now I feel as if the flowers were really my dear
ones, and I must be very careful that they come to
no harm ! '

She was filled with joy when one morning she ran
out to her flower-garden after breakfast and found the
dingle-bells and cowslips were actually blossoming,
while even the cockle-shells were showing their white
buds. They looked rather comical, all standing in
stiff, straight rows, one after the other; but Mary did
not mind that.

While she was working she heard the tramp of a
horse's hoofs, and looking up saw the big bluff Squire
riding toward her. The big Squire was very fond of
children, and whenever he rode near the little white
cottage he stopped to have a word with Mary. He
was old and bald-headed, and he had side-whiskers
that were very red in color and very short and stubby;
but there was ever a merrry twinkle in his blue eyes,
and Mary well knew him for her friend.

[79]

Mother Now, when she looked up and saw him coming

Goose toward her flower-garden, she nodded and smiled at

' n o

him, and the big bluff Squire rode up to her side, and
looked down with a smile at her flowers.

Then he said to her in rhyme (for it was a way of
speaking the jolly Squire had),

" Mistress Mary, so contrary,

How does your garden grow?
With dingle-bells and cockle-shells
And cowslips all in a row!"

And Mary, being a sharp little girl, and knowing
the Squire's queer ways, replied to him likewise in
rhyme, saying,

"I thank you, Squire, that you enquire
How well the flowers are growing;
The dingle-bells and cockle-shells
And cowslips all are blowing!"

The Squire laughed at this reply, and patted her
upon her head, and then he continued,

" 'T is aptly said. But prithee, maid,

Why thus your garden fill
When ev'ry field the same flowers yield
To pluck them as you will ? "

"That is a long story, Squire," said Mary; "but
this much I may tell you,

"The cockle-shell is father's flower,

The cowslip here is Robart,
The dingle-bell, I now must tell,
I Ve named for Brother Hobart.
[80]

"And when the flowers have lived their lives Mistress

In sunshine and in rain, Mart

And then do fade, why, papa said *

He'd sure come home again."

"Oh, that's the idea, is it?' asked the big bluff
Squire, forgetting his poetry. " Well, it 's a pretty
thought, my child, and I think because the flowers
are strong and hearty that you may know your father
and brothers are the same; and I 'm sure I hope
they '11 come back from their voyage safe and sound.
I shall come and see you again, little one, and watch
the garden grow." And then he said " gee-up' to
his gray mare, and rode away.

The very next day, to Mary's great surprise and
grief, she found the leaves of the dingle-bells curling
and beginning to wither.

"Oh, mamma," she called, "come quick! Some-
thing is surely the matter with brother Hobart!'

"The dingle-bells are dying," said her mother,
after looking carefully at the flowers; "but the reason
is that the cold winds from the sea swept right over
your garden last night, and dingle-bells are delicate
flowers and grow best where they are sheltered by the
woods. If you had planted them at the side of the
house, as I wished you to, the wind would not have
killed them."

Mary did not reply to this, but sat down and
began to weep, feeling at the same time that her
mother was right and it was her own fault for being

so contrary.

[81]

Mother While she sat thus the Squire rode up, and called

Goose to her

" Fie, Mary, fie ! Why do you cry,

And blind your eyes to knowing
How dingle-bells and cockle-shells
And cowslips all are growing?"

"Oh, Squire!' sobbed Mary, "I am in great
trouble.

" Each dingle-bell I loved so well

Before my eyes is dying,
And much I fear my brother dear
In sickness now is lying!"

"Nonsense!' said the Squire; "because you
named the flowers after your brother Hobart is no
reason he should be affected by the fading of the
dingle-bells. I very much suspect the real reason they
are dying is because the cold sea wind caught them
last night. Dingle-bells are delicate. If you had
scattered the cockle-shells and cowslips all about
them, the stronger plants would have protected the
weaker; but you see, my girl, you planted the dingle-
bells all in a row, and so the wind caught them
nicely."

Again Mary reproached herself for having been
contrary and refusing to listen to her mother's advice;
but the Squire's words comforted her, nevertheless,
and made her feel that brother Hobart and the flowers
had really nothing to do with each other.

The weather now began to change, and the cold

sea winds blew each night over Mary's garden. She

[82]

did not know this, for she was always lying snugly Mistress
tucked up in her bed, and the warm morning sun
usually drove away the winds; but her mother knew
it, and feared Mary's garden would suffer.

One day Mary came into the house where her
mother was at work and said, gleefully,

" Papa and my brothers will soon be home now."

"Why do you think so?' asked her mother.

" Because the cockle-shells and cowslips are both
fading away and dying, just as the dingle-bells did,
and papa said when they faded and withered he and
the boys would come back to us."

Mary's mother knew that the harsh winds had
killed the flowers before their time, but she did not like
to disappoint her darling, so she only said, with a sigh,

" I hope you are right, Mary, for we both shall be
glad to welcome our dear ones home again."

But soon afterward the big bluff Squire came rid-
ing up, as was his wont, to where Mary stood by her
garden, and he at once asked,

" Pray tell me, dear, though much I fear

The answer sad I know,
How grow the sturdy cockle-shells
And cowslips, all in a row?"

And Mary looked up at him with her bright smile
and answered,

" Dingle-bells and cockle-shells
And cowslips are all dead,
And now my papa 's coming home,
For so he surely said."

[83]

Mother "Ah," said the Squire, looking at her curiously,

Goose t( j 'm afraid yOU are getting way ahead of time. See
here, Mary, how would you like a little ride with me
on my nag? '

" I would like it very much, sir," replied Mary.

"Then reach up your hand. Now! — there you
are, little one!' and Mary found herself seated safely
in front of the Squire, who clasped her with one strong
arm so that she could not slip off.

"Now, then," he said, "we'll take a little ride
down the hill and by the path that runs beside the
wood."

So he gave the rein to his mare and they rode
along, chatting merrily together, till they came to the
wood. Then said the Squire,

"Take a look within that nook
And tell me what is there."

And Mary exclaimed,

"A dingle-bell, and truth to tell
In full bloom, I declare!"

The Squire now clucked to his nag, and as they
rode away he said,

" Now come with me and you shall see

A field with cowslips bright,
And not a garden in the land
Can show so fair a sight."

And so it was, for as they rode through the pas-

'

tures the cowslips bloomed on every hand, and Mary's Mistress
eyes grew bigger and bigger as she thought of her poor Mary
garden with its dead flowers.

And then the Squire took her toward the little
brook that wandered through the meadows, flowing
over the pebbles with a soft, gurgling sound that was
very nearly as sweet as music; and when they reached
it the big Squire said,

" If you will look beside the brook

You '11 see, I know quite well,
That hidden in each mossy nook
Is many a cockle-shell."

This was indeed true, and as Mary saw them she
suddenly dropped her head and began to weep.

"What's the matter, little one?' asked the Squire
in his kind, blufF voice. And Mary answered,

"Although the flowers I much admire,

You know papa did say
He won't be home again, Squire,
Till all have passed away."

" You must be patient, my child," replied her
friend; "and surely you would not have been thus
disappointed had you not tried to make the field
flowers grow where they do not belong. Gardens are
all well enough for fancy flowers to grow in, but the
posies that God gave to all the world, and made to
grow wild in the great garden of Nature, will never
thrive in other places. Your father meant you to
watch the flowers in the field; and if you will come

[85] '

Mother and visit them each day, you will find the time of
Goose waiting very short indeed."

Mary dried her eyes and thanked the kindly old
Squire, and after that she visited the fields each day
and watched the flowers grow.

And it was not so very long, as the Squire said,
before the blossoms began to wither and fall away; and
finally one day Mary looked out over the sea and saw
a little speck upon the waters that looked like a sail.
And when it came nearer and had grown larger, both
she and her mother saw that it was the "Skylark"
come home again, and you can imagine how pleased
and happy the sight of the pretty little ship made
them.

And soon after, when Mary had been hugged by
her two sunburned brothers and was clasped in her
father's strong arms, she whispered,

" I knew you were coming soon, papa."

" And how did you know, sweetheart?' he asked,
giving her an extra kiss.

"Because I watched the flowers; and the dingle-
bells and cowslips and cockle-shells are all withered
and faded away. And did you not say that, God

willing, when this happened you would come back to

^ * '
us r

" To be sure I did," answered her father, with a
happy laugh; "and I must have spoken truly, sweet-
heart, for God in His goodness was willing, and here

I am!"

[86]

The Wond'rous
Wise Man

The Wond'rous Wise Man

There was a man in our town

And he was wond'rous wise;
He jumped into a bramble bush

And scratched out both his eyes.
And when he saw his eyes were out,

With all his might and main
He jumped into another bush

And scratched them in again!

OUR town is a quiet little town, and lies nestling The Won-
in a little valley surrounded by pretty green ^rous

1-11 T j ^\,- i ij i. Wise Man

hills. I do not think you would ever have

heard our town mentioned had not the man lived
there who was so wise that everyone marvelled at his
great knowledge.

He was not always a wise man; he was a wise boy
before he grew to manhood, and even when a child
he was so remarkable for his wisdom that people
shook their heads gravely and said, " when he grows
up there will be no need of books, for he will know
everything! '

His father thought he had a wond'rous wise look
when he was born, and so he named him Solomon,
thinking that if indeed he turned out to be wise the
name would fit him nicely, whereas, should he be mis-

[89]

Mother taken, and the boy grow up stupid, his name could be
Goose easily changed to Simon.

But the father was not mistaken, and the boy's
name remained Solomon.

When he was still a child Solomon confounded the
schoolmaster by asking, one day,

" Can you tell me, sir, why a cow drinks water
from a brook? '

"Well really," replied the abashed schoolmaster,
"I have never given the subject serious thought. But
I will sleep upon the question, and try to give you an

answer to-morrow."

But the schoolmaster could not sleep; he remained
awake all the night trying to think why a cow drinks
water from a brook, and in the morning he was no
nearer the answer than before. So he was obliged to
appear before the wise child and acknowledge that he
could not solve the problem.

" I have looked at the subject from every side,"
said he, "and given it careful thought, and yet I can-
not tell why a cow drinks water from a brook."

"Sir," replied the wise child, "it is because the
cow is thirsty."

The shock of this answer was so great that the
schoolmaster fainted away, and when they had
brought him to he made a prophecy that Solomon
would grow up to be a wond'rous wise man.

It was the same way with the village doctor. Solo-
mon came to him one day and asked,

[90]

" Tell me, sir, why has a man two eyes ? ' The Won-

« Bless me!" exclaimed the doctor, "I must think
a bit before I answer, for I have never yet had my at-
tention called to this subject."

So he thought for a long time, and then he said,

" I must really give it up. I cannot tell, for the
life of me, why a man has two eyes. Do you know?'

"Yes, sir," answered the boy.

" Then," said the doctor, after taking a dose of
quinine to brace up his nerves, for he remembered the
fate of the schoolmaster, "then please tell me why a
man has two eyes."

"A man has two eyes, sir," returned Solomon,
solemnly, "because he was born that way."

And the doctor marvelled greatly at so much wis-
dom in a little child, and made a note of it in his
note-book.

Solomon was so full of wisdom that it flowed from
his mouth in a perfect stream, and every day he gave
new evidence to his friends that he could scarcely hold
all the wise thoughts that came to him. For instance,
one day he said to his father,

" I perceive our dog has six legs."

"Oh, no!" replied his father, "our dog has only
four legs."

"You are surely mistaken, sir," said Solomon, with
the gravity that comes from great wisdom, "these are
our dog's fore legs, are they not?' pointing to the
front legs of the dog.

Mother "Yes," answered his father.

Goose « Well, continued Solomon, " the dog has two

in Prose othcr i besides, and two and four are six; there-
fore the dog has six legs."

" But that is very old," exclaimed his father.

"True," replied Solomon, "but this is a young

dog."

Then his father bowed his head in shame that his

own child should teach him wisdom.

Of course Solomon wore glasses upon his eyes — all
wise people wear them,- -and his face was ever grave
and solemn, while he walked slowly and stiffly so that
people might know he was the celebrated wise man,
and do him reverence.

And when he had grown to manhood the fame of
his wisdom spread all over the world, so that all the
other wise men were jealous, and tried in many ways
to confound him; but Solomon always came out
ahead and maintained his reputation for wisdom.

Finally a very wise man came from Cumberland,
to meet Solomon and see which of them was the
wisest. He was a very big man, and Solomon was a
very little man, and so the people all shook their
heads sadly and feared Solomon had met his match,
for if the Cumberland man was as full of wisdom as
Solomon, he had much the advantage in size.

They formed a circle around the two wise men,

and then began the trial to see which was the wisest.

"Tell me," said Solomon, looking straight up into

[9*]

The VVond'rous Wise Man

the big man's face with an air of confidence that reas- The Won-
sured his friends, "how many sisters has a boy who has ^'rous
one father, one mother, and seven brothers?" WiseMan

The big wise man got very red in the face, and
scowled and coughed and stammered, but he could
not tell.

"I do not know," he acknowledged; "nor do you
know, either, for there is no rule to go by."

"Oh, yes, I know," replied Solomon; "he has
two sisters. I know this is the true answer, because I
know the boy and his father and his mother and his
brothers and his sisters, so that I cannot be mistaken."

Now all the people applauded at this, for they
were sure Solomon had got the best of the man from
Cumberland.

But it was now the big man's turn to try Solomon,
so he said,

"Fingers five are on my hand;
All of them upright do stand.
One a dog is, chasing kittens ;
One a cat is, wearing mittens;
One a rat is, eating cheese ;
One a wolf is, full of fleas;
One a fly is, in a cup —
How many fingers do I hold up?"

"Four," replied Solomon, promptly, "for one of
them is a thumb ! '

The wise man from Cumberland was so angry at
being outwitted that he sprang at Solomon and would
no doubt have injured him had not our wise man
turned and run away as fast as he could go. The

[93]

Mother man from Cumberland at once ran after him, and
Goose chased him through the streets and down the lanes and
in Prose ^ ^^ of tne hill where the bramble-bushes grow.

Solomon ran very fast, but the man from Cumber-
land was bigger, and he was just about to grab our
wise man by his coat-tails when Solomon gave a great
jump, and jumped right into the middle of a big
bramble-bush !

The people were all coming up behind, and as the
big man did not dare to follow Solomon into the
bramble-bush, he turned away and ran home to Cum-
berland.

All the men and women of our town were horrified
when they came up and found their wise man in the
middle of the bramble-bush, and held fast by the bram-
bles, which scratched and pricked him on every side.

"Solomon! are you hurt?' they cried.

"I should say I am hurt!' replied Solomon, with
a groan; "my eyes are scratched out!'

"How do you know they are?' asked the village
doctor.

"I can see they are scratched out!' replied Solo-
mon; and the people all wept with grief at this, and
Solomon howled louder than any of them.

Now the fact was that when Solomon jumped into
the bramble-bush he was wearing his spectacles, and
the brambles pushed the glasses so close against his
eyes that he could not open them; and so, as every
other part of him was scratched and bleeding, and he

[94]

could not open his eyes, he made sure they were TheWon-
scratched out. d'rous

« How am I to get out of here? " he asked at last. wiseMan

"You must jump out," replied the doctor, "since
you have jumped in."

So Solomon made a great jump, and although the
brambles tore him cruelly, he sprang entirely out of
the bush and fell plump into another one.

This last bush, however, by good luck, was not a
bramble-bush, but one of elderberry, and when he
jumped into it his spectacles fell off, and to his sur-
prise he opened his eyes and found that he could see
again.

"Where are you now? " called out the doctor.

" I 'm in the elderberry bush, and I 've scratched
my eyes in again ! ' answered Solomon.

When the people heard this they marvelled greatly
at the wisdom of a man who knew how to scratch his
eyes in after they were scratched out; and they lifted
Solomon from the bush and carried him home, where
they bound up the scratches and nursed him carefully
until he was well again.

And after that no one ever questioned the won-
d'rous wisdom of our wise man, and when he finally
died, at a good old age, they built a great monument
over his grave, and on one side of it were the words,

"Solomon; the Man who was Wond'rous Wise."

and on the other side was a picture of a bramble-bush.

[95]

What Jack Horner Did

What Jack Horner Did

Little Jack Horner sat in a corner,

Eating a Christmas pie;
He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum

And said, " What a good boy am I !"

LITTLE JACK HORNER lived in an old, turn- What
ble-down house at the edge of a big wood; 4?
and there many generations of Homers had
lived before him, and had earned their living by chop-
ping wood. Jack's father and mother were both
dead, and he lived with his grandfather and grand-
mother, who took great pains to teach him all that a
boy should know.

They lived very comfortably and happily together
until one day a great tree fell upon Grandpa Horner
and crushed his legs; and from that time on he could
not work at all, but had to be nursed and tended
very carefully.

This calamity was a great affliction to the Horners.
Grandma Horner had a little money saved up in an
old broken teapot that she kept in the cupboard, but
that would not last them a great time, and when it
was gone they would have nothing with which to buy
food.

[99]

Mother " I 'm sure I do n't know what is to become of

Goose US)" she said to Jack, " for I am too old to work, and

m Prose ^^ too yOungt" she always told her troubles to

Jack now; small though he was, he was the only one

she could talk freely with, since it would only bother

the poor crippled grandfather to tell him how low the

money was getting in the teapot.

" It is true," replied Jack, " that you are too old
to work, for your rheumatism will barely allow you
to care for the house and cook our meals; and there
is grandpa to be tended. But I am not too young to
work, grandma, and I shall take my little hatchet and
go into the wood. I cannot cut the big trees, but J
can the smaller ones, and I am sure I shall be able to.
pile up enough wood to secure the money we need
for food."

" You are a good boy, dear," said grandma Homer,
patting his head lovingly, "but you are too young for
the task. We must think of some other way to keep
the wolf from the door."

But Jack was not shaken in his resolve, although
he saw it was useless to argue further with his grand-
mother. So the next morning he rose very early and
took his little axe and went into the wood to begin
his work. There were a good many branches scat-
tered about, and these he was able to cut with ease;
and then he piled them up nicely to be sold when the
wood-carter next came around. When dinner-time
came he stopped long enough to eat some of the

bread and cheese he had brought with him, and then What
he resumed his work.

But scarcely had he chopped one branch when a
faint cry from the wood arrested his attention. It
seemed as if some one was shouting for help. Jack
listened a moment, and again heard the cry.

Without hesitation he seized his axe and ran to-
ward the place from whence the cry had proceeded.
The underbrush was very thick and the thorns caught
in his clothing and held him back, but with the aid of
his sharp little axe he overcame all difficulties and
presently reached a place where the wood was more
open.

He paused here, for often he had been told by
Grandpa Horner that there were treacherous bogs in
this part of the wood, which were so covered with
mosses and ferns that the ground seemed solid enough
to walk upon. But woe to the unlucky traveler who
stepped unawares upon their surface; for instantly he
found himself caught by the clinging moist clay, to sink
farther and farther into the bog until, swallowed up
in the mire, he would meet a horrible death beneath
its slimy surface. His grandfather had told him never
to go near these terrible bogs, and Jack, who was an
obedient boy, had always kept away from this part of
the wood. But as he paused, again that despairing
cry came to his ears, very near to him now, it seemed:

"Help!"

Forgetful of all save a desire to assist this unknown

[101]

Mother sufferer, Jack sprang forward with an answering cry,
Goose ancj Only halted when he found himself upon the edge

itt Prose of a vast bog.

"Where are you?' he then shouted.

"Here!" answered a voice, and, looking down,
Jack saw, a few feet away, the head and shoulders of
a man. He had walked into the bog and sunk into
its treacherous depths nearly to his waist, and, although
he struggled bravely, his efforts only seemed to draw
him farther down toward a frightful death.

For a moment, filled with horror and dismay, Jack
stood looking at the man. Then he remembered a
story he had once heard of how a man had been saved
from the bog.

"Be quiet, sir!' he called to the unfortunate
stranger; "save all your strength, and I may yet be
able to rescue you."

He then ran to a tall sapling that stood near and
began chopping away with his axe. The keen blade
speedily cut through the young but tough wood, and,
then Jack dragged it to the edge of the bog, and,
exerting all his strength, pushed it out until the sap-
ling was within reach of the sinking man.

"Grab it, sir!' he called out, "and hold on
tightly. It will keep you from sinking farther into
the mire, and when you have gained more strength
you may be able to pull yourself out."

"You are a brave boy," replied the stranger, "and
I shall do as you tell me."

[ 102]

Jack Horner

It was a long and tedious struggle, and often Jack What
thought the stranger would despair and be unable to Jack
drag his body from the firm clutch of the bog; but
little by little the man succeeded in drawing himself
up by the sapling, and at last he was saved, and sank
down exhausted upon the firm ground by Jack's side.

The boy then ran for some water that stood in a
slough near by, and with this he bathed the stranger's
face and cooled his parched lips. Then he gave him
the remains of his bread and cheese, and soon the
gentleman became strong enough to walk with Jack's
help to the cottage at the edge of the wood.

Grandma Homer was greatly surprised to see the
strange man approaching, supported by her sturdy
little grandson; but she ran to help him, and after-
ward gave him some old clothing of Grandpa Horner's
to replace his own muddy garments. When the man
had fully rested, she brewed him her last bit of tea,
and by that time the stranger declared he felt as good
as new.

"Is this your son, ma'am?' he asked, pointing to
Jack.

" He is my grandson, sir," answered the woman.

" He is a good boy," declared the stranger, "and a
brave boy as well, for he has saved my life. I live far
away in a big city, and have plenty of money. If
you will give Jack to me I will take him home and
educate him, and make a great man of him when he

grows up."

[103]

Mother Grandma Homer hesitated, for the boy was very

Goose dear to ner and the pride of her old age; but Jack
in Prose spoke up for himself.

"I'll not go," he said, stoutly; "you are very
kind, and mean well by me, but grandma and grandpa
have only me to care for them now, and I must stay
with them and cut the wood, and so keep them sup-
plied with food."

The stranger said nothing more, but he patted
Jack's head kindly, and soon after left them and took
the road to the city.

The next morning Jack went to the wood again,
and began chopping as bravely as before. And by
hard work he cut a great deal of wood, which the
wood-carter carried away and sold for him. The pay
was not very much, to be sure, but Jack was glad that
he was able to earn something to help his grandparents.

And so the days passed rapidly away until it was
nearly Christmas time, and now, in spite of Jack's
earnings, the money was very low indeed in the broken
teapot.

One day, just before Christmas, a great wagon
drove up to the door of the little cottage, and in it
was the stranger Jack had rescued from the bog. The
wagon was loaded with a store of good things which
would add to the comfort of the aged pair and their
grandson, including medicines for grandpa and rare
teas for grandma, and a fine suit of clothes for Jack,
who was just then away at work in the wood.

When the stranger had brought all these things What
into the house, he asked to see the old teapot. Trem-
bling with the excitement of their good fortune,
Grandma Homer brought out the teapot, and the
gentleman drew a bag from beneath his coat and filled
the pot to the brim with shining gold pieces.

"If ever you need more," he said, "send to me,
and you shall have all you wish to make you comfort-
able."

Then he told her his name, and where he lived, so
that she might find him if need be, and then he drove
away in the empty wagon before Grandma Homer
had half finished thanking him.

You can imagine how astonished and happy little
Tack was when he returned from his work and found
all the good things his kind benefactor had brought.
Grandma Horner was herself so delighted that she
caught the boy in her arms, and hugged and kissed
him, declaring that his brave rescue of the gentleman
had brought them all this happiness in their hour of
need.

"To-morrow is Christmas," she said, "and we
shall have an abundance with which to celebrate the
good day. So I shall make you a Christmas pie, Jack
dear, and stuff it full of plums, for you must have your
share of our unexpected prosperity."

And Grandma Horner was as good as her word,
and made a very delicious pie indeed for her darling

grandson.

[105]

Mother And this was how it came that

Goose

in Prose "Little Jack Horner sat in a corner

Eating a Christmas pie;
He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum,

And said, "What a good boy am I!"

And he was — a very good boy. Don't you think
so?

[106]

The Man in the Moon

The Man in the Moon

The Man in the Moon came tumbling down,

And enquired the way to Norwich;
He went by the south and burned his mouth

With eating cold pease porridge!

WHAT! have you never heard the story of the The
Man in the Moon ? Then I must surely tell Man in
it, for it is very amusing, and there is not a °°n

word of truth in it.

The Man in the Moon was rather lonesome, and
often he peeked over the edge of the moon and
looked down upon the earth and envied all the people
who lived together, for he thought it must be vastly
more pleasant to have companions to talk to than to
be shut up in a big planet all by himself, where he
had to whistle to keep himself company.

One day he looked down and saw an alderman
sailing up through the air towards him. This alder-
man was being translated (instead of being transported,
owing to a misprint in the law) and as he came near
the Man in the Moon called to him and said,

"How is everything down on the earth?'

"Everything is lovely," replied the alderman, "and
I wouldn't leave it if I was not obliged to."

[109]

Mother " What 's a good place to visit down there ? '

Goose enquired the Man in the Moon.

" Oh, Norwich is a mighty fine place," returned
the alderman, "and it's famous for its pease porridge;"
and then he sailed out of sight and left the Man in
the Moon to reflect upon what he had said.

The words of the alderman made him more
anxious than ever to visit the earth, and so he walked
thoughtfully home, and put a few lumps of ice in the
stove to keep him warm, and sat down to think how
he should manage the trip.

You see, everything went by contraries in the
Moon, and when the Man wished to keep warm he
knocked off a few chunks of ice and put them in his
stove; and he cooled his drinking water by throwing
red-hot coals of fire into the pitcher. Likewise, when
he became chilly he took off his hat and coat, and
even his shoes, and so became warm; and in the hot
days of summer he put on his overcoat to cool off.

All of which seems very queer to you, no doubt;
but it was n't at all queer to the Man in the Moon,
for he was accustomed to it.

Well, he sat by his ice-cool fire and thought about
his journey to the earth, and finally he decided the
only way he could get there was to slide down a
moonbeam.

So he left the house and locked the door and put
the key in his pocket, for he was uncertain how long
he should be gone; and then he went to the edge of

[no]

the moon and began to search for a good strong The
moonbeam. Man in

At last he found one that seemed rather substantial n

and reached right down to a pleasant-looking spot on
the earth; and so he swung himself over the edge of
the moon, and put both arms tight around the moon-
beam and started to slide down. But he found it
rather slippery, and in spite of all his efforts to hold
on he found himself going faster and faster, so that
just before he reached the earth he lost his hold and
came tumbling down head over heels and fell plump
into a river.

The cool water nearly scalded him before he could
swim out, but fortunately he was near the bank and
he quickly scrambled upon the land and sat down to
catch his breath.

By that time it was morning, and as the sun rose
its hot rays cooled him off somewhat, so that he began
looking about curiously at all the strange sights and
wondering where on earth he was.

By and by a farmer came along the road by the
river with a team of horses drawing a load of hay, and
the horses looked so odd to the Man in the Moon
that at first he was greatly frightened, never before
having seen horses except from his home in the moon,
from whence they looked a good deal smaller. But
he plucked up courage and said to the farmer,

"Can you tell me the way to Norwich, sir?'

"Norwich?" repeated the farmer musingly; "I

[in]

Mother don't know exactly where it be, sir, but it's some-
Goose where away to the south."

inPnse a Thank you," said the Man in the Moon. — But
stop! I must not call him the Man in the Moon any
longer, for of course he was now out of the moon; so
I '11 simply call him the Man, and you '11 know by
that which man I mean.

Well, the Man in the — I mean the Man (but I
nearly forgot what I have just said) — the Man turned
to the south and began walking briskly along the
road, for he had made up his mind to do as the alder-
man had advised and travel to Norwich, that he might
eat some of the famous pease porridge that was made
there. And finally, after a long and tiresome journey,
he reached the town and stopped at one of the first
houses he came to, for by this time he was very hun-
gry indeed.

A good-looking woman answered his knock at the
door, and he asked politely,

"Is this the town of Norwich, madam?'

"Surely this is the town of Norwich," returned the
woman.

" I came here to see if I could get some pease
porridge," continued the Man, "for I hear you make
the nicest porridge in the world in this town."

"That we do, sir," answered the woman, "and if
you '11 step inside I '11 give you a bowl, for I have
plenty in the house that is newly made."

[112]

The Man in the Moon

So he thanked her and entered the house, and she The
asked, Man in

« Will you have it hot or cold, sir? " the Moon

"Oh, cold, by all means," replied the Man, "for I
detest anything hot to eat."

She soon brought him a bowl of cold pease por-
ridge, and the Man was so hungry that he took a big
spoonful at once.

But no sooner had he put it into his mouth than
he uttered a great yell, and began dancing frantically
about the room, for of course the porridge that was
cold to earth folk was hot to him, and the big spoon-
ful of cold pease porridge had burned his mouth to a
blister !

"What 's the matter?" asked the woman.

"Matter!' screamed the Man; "why, your por-
ridge is so hot it has burned me."

"Fiddlesticks! " she replied, "the porridge is quite
cold."

" Try it yourself! ' he cried. So she tried it and
found it very cold and pleasant. But the Man was so
astonished to see her eat the porridge that had blis-
tered his own mouth that he became frightened and
ran out of the house and down the street as fast as he
could go.

The policeman on the first corner saw him run-
ning, and promptly arrested him, and he was marched
off to the magistrate for trial.

"What is your name?' asked the magistrate.

["3]

Mother " I have n't any," replied the Man; for of course as

Goose ne was the only Man in the Moon it wasn't necessary
in Prose ^ ^Q^ haye a name>

" Come, come, no nonsense ! ' said the magistrate,
"you must have some name. Who are you?'

"Why, I'm the Man in the Moon."

"That's rubbish!' said the magistrate, eyeing the
prisoner severely, "you may be a man, but you're not
in the moon — you're in Norwich."

" That is true," answered the Man, who was quite
bewildered by this idea.

"And of course you must be called something,"
continued the magistrate.

"Well, then," said the prisoner, "if I'm not the
Man in the Moon I must be the Man out of the
Moon; so call me that."

"Very good," replied the judge; "now, then,
where did you come from?'

" The moon."

"Oh, you did, eh? How did you get here?'

" I slid down a moonbeam."

"Indeed! Well, what were you running for?'

" A woman gave me some cold pease porridge, and
it burned my mouth."

The magistrate looked at him a moment in sur-
prise, and then he said,

"This person is evidently crazy; so take him to
the lunatic asylum and keep him there."

This would surely have been the fate of the Man

04]

had there not been present an old astronomer who The
had often looked at the moon through his telescope, Man in
and so had discovered that what was hot on earth was om

cold in the moon, and what was cold here was hot
there; so he began to think the Man had told the
truth. Therefore he begged the magistrate to wait a
few minutes while he looked through his telescope to
see if the Man in the Moon was there. So, as it was
now night, he fetched his telescope and looked at the
Moon, — and found there was no man in it at all!

"It seems to be true," said the astronomer, "that
the Man has got out of the Moon somehow or other.
Let me look at your mouth, sir, and see if it is really
burned."

Then the Man opened his mouth, and everyone
saw plainly it was burned to a blister! Thereupon
the magistrate begged his pardon for doubting his
word, and asked him what he would like to do next.

" I 'd like to get back to the Moon," said the
Man, " for I do n't like this earth of yours at all.
The nights are too hot."

"Why, it's quite cool this evening!' said the
magistrate.

" I '11 tell you what we can do," remarked the
astronomer; "there's a big balloon in town which
belongs to the circus that came here last summer, and
was pawned for a board bill. We can inflate this bal-
loon and send the Man out of the Moon home in it."

"That's a good idea," replied the judge. So the

Mother balloon was brought and inflated, and the Man got
Goose jnto tne basket and gave the word to let go. and then

• ¥J O '

the balloon mounted up into the sky in the direction
of the moon.

The good people of Norwich stood on the earth
and tipped back their heads, and watched the balloon
go higher and higher, until finally the Man reached
out and caught hold of the edge of the moon, and
behold! the next minute he was the Man in the
Moon again !

After this adventure he was well contented to stay
at home; and I Ve no doubt if you look through a
telescope you will see him there to this day.

[1,6 ]

The Jolly Miller

The Jolly Miller

There was a jolly miller

Lived on the river Dee;
He sang and worked from morn till night,

No lark so blithe as he.
And this the burden of his song

Forever seemed to be:
I care for nobody, no ! not I,

Since nobody cares for me.

uy^REE-E-EEKETY-CRUCK-CRICK! cree-e- The
\^_J( eekety-cruck-crick ! ' sang out the big wheel Miller

of the mill upon the river Dee, for it was old
and ricketty and had worked many years grinding
corn for the miller; so from morning till night it
creaked and growled and complained as if rebelling
against the work it must do. And the country
people, at work in the fields far away, would raise their
heads when the soft summer breezes wafted the sound
of the wheel to their ears and say,

"The jolly miller is grinding his -corn." And
again, at the times when the mill was shut down and
no sound of the wheel reached them, they said to one
another,

"The jolly miller has no corn to grind to-day,"
or, " The miller is oiling the great wheel." But they

Mother would miss the creaking, monotonous noise, and feel
Goose more content when the mill started again and made
m Prose mus'c for ^Qm as they worked.

But no one came to the mill unless they brought
corn to grind, for the miller was a queer man, and
liked to be alone. When people passed by the mill
and saw the miller at his work, they only nodded their
heads, for they knew he would not reply if they spoke
to him.

He was not an old man, nor a sour man, nor a
bad man; on the contrary he could be heard singing at
his work most of the time. But the words of his song
would alone have kept people away from him, for
they were always these:

"I care for nobody, no! not I,
Since nobody cares for me."

He lived all alone in the mill-house, cooking his
own meals and making his own bed, and neither ask-
ing nor receiving help from anyone. It is very certain
that if the jolly miller had cared to have friends many
would have visited him, since the country people were
sociable enough in their way; but it was the miller
himself who refused to make friends, and old Farmer
Dobson used to say,

" The reason nobody cares for the miller is because
he won't let them. It is the fault of the man himself,
not the fault of the people!"

However this may have been, it is true the miller

had no friends, and equally sure that he cared to have The
none, for it did not make him a bit unhappy. Miller

Sometimes, indeed, as he sat at evening in the
doorway of the mill and watched the moon rise in the
sky, he grew a bit lonely and thoughtful, and found
himself longing for some one to love and cherish, for
this is the nature of all good men. But when he
realized how his thoughts were straying he began to
sing again, and he drove away all such hopeless
longings.

At last a change came over the miller's life. He
was standing one evening beside the river, watching
the moonbeams play upon the water, when something
came floating down the stream that attracted his
attention. For a long time he could not tell what it
was, but it looked to him like a big black box; so he
got a long pole and reached it out towards the box
and managed to draw it within reach just above the
big wheel. It was fortunate he saved it when he did,
for in another moment it would have gone over the
wheel and been dashed to pieces far below.

When the miller had pulled the floating object
upon the bank he found it really was a box, the lid
being fastened tight with a strong cord. So he lifted
it carefully and carried it into the mill-house, and
then he placed it upon the floor while he lighted a
candle. Then he cut the cord and opened the box,
and behold 1 a little babe lay within it, sweetly sleep-
ing upon a pillow of down.

Mother The miller was so surprised that he stopped sing-

Goose ing an(l gazed with big eyes at the beautiful face of

in Prose ^ ^\Q stranger. And while he gazed its eyes

opened — two beautiful, pleading blue eyes, — and the

little one smiled and stretched out her arms toward

him.

"Well, well!" said the miller, "where on earth
did you come from ? '

The baby did not reply, but she tried to, and
made some soft little noises that sounded like the coo-
ing of a pigeon.

The tiny arms were still stretched upwards, and
the miller bent down and tenderly lifted the child
from the box and placed her upon his knee, and then
he began to stroke the soft, silken ringlets that clus-
tered around her head, and to look upon her won-
deringly. The baby leaned against his breast and
fell asleep again, and the miller became greatly
troubled, for he was unused to babies and did not
know how to handle them or care for them. But he
sat very still until the little one awoke, and then,
thinking it must be hungry, he brought some sweet
milk and fed her with a spoon.

The baby smiled at him and ate the milk as if it
liked it, and then one little dimpled hand caught hold
of the miller's whiskers and pulled sturdily, while the
baby jumped its little body up and down and cooed
its delight.

Do you think the miller was angry? Not a bit of

[122]

itl He smiled back into the laughing face and let The Jolly
her pull his whiskers as much as she liked. For his Miller
whole heart had gone out to this little waif that he
had rescued from the river, and at last the solitary-
man had found something to love.

The baby slept that night in the miller's own bed,
snugly tucked in beside the miller himself; and in the
morning he fed her milk again, and then went out to
his work singing more merrily than ever.

Every few minutes he would put his head into the
room where he had left the child, to see if it wanted
anything, and if it cried even the least bit he would
run in and take it in his arms and soothe the little
girl until she smiled again.

That first day the miller was fearful some one
would come and claim the child, but when evening
came without the arrival of any stranger he decided
the baby had been cast adrift and now belonged to
nobody but him.

"I shall keep her as long as I live," he thought,
" and never will we be separated for even a day. For
now that I have found some one to love I could not
bear to let her go again."

He cared for the waif very tenderly; and as the
child was strong and healthy she was not much
trouble to him, and to his delight grew bigger day by
day.

The country people were filled with surprise when
they saw a child in the mill-house, and wondered

Mother where it came from; but the miller would answer no

Goose questions, and as year after year passed away they

in Prose forgOt to enquire how the child came there and

looked upon her as the miller's own daughter.

She grew to be a sweet and pretty child, and was
the miller's constant companion. She called him
"papa," and he called her Nathalie, because he had
found her upon the water, and the country people
called her the Maid of the Mill.

The miller worked harder than ever before, for
now he had to feed and clothe the little girl; and he
sang from morn till night, so joyous was he, and still
his song was:

"I care for nobody, no! not I,
Since nobody cares for me."

One day, while he was singing this, he heard a sob
beside him, and looked down to see Nathalie weeping.

" What is it, my pet?' he asked, anxiously.

" Oh, papa," she answered, "why do you sing that
nobody cares for you, when you know I love you so
dearly?"

The miller was surprised, for he had sung the song
so long he had forgotten what the words meant.

"Do you indeed love me, Nathalie?' he asked.

"Indeed, indeed! You know I do!" she replied.

" Then," said the miller, with a happy laugh, as
he bent down and kissed the tear-stained face, "I shall
change my song."

And after that he sang: The 'Jolly

Miller

"I love sweet Nathalie, that I do,
For Nathalie she loves me."

The years passed by and the miller was very
happy. Nathalie grew to be a sweet and lovely
maiden, and she learned to cook the meals and tend
the house, and that made it easier for the miller, for
now he was growing old.

One day the young Squire, who lived at the great
house on the hill, came past the mill and saw Nathalie
sitting in the doorway, her pretty form framed in the
flowers that climbed around and over the door.

And the Squire loved her after that first glance,
for he saw that she was as good and innocent as she
was beautiful. The miller, hearing the sound of voices,
came out and saw them together, and at once he
became very angry, for he knew that trouble was in
store for him, and he must guard his treasure very
carefully if he wished to keep her with him. The
young Squire begged very hard to be allowed to pay
court to the Maid of the Mill, but the miller ordered
him away, and he was forced to go. Then the miller
saw there were tears in Nathalie's eyes, and that made
him still more anxious, for he feared the mischief was
already done.

Indeed, in spite of the miller's watchfulness, the
Squire and Nathalie often met and walked together in
the shady lanes or upon the green banks of the river.

Mother It was not long before they learned to love one an-
Goose other very dearly, and one day they went hand in hand
m Prose ^ ^ m{\\QT and asked his consent that they should wed.

"What will become of me?' asked the miller,
with a sad heart.

"You shall live in the great house with us,"
replied the Squire, "and never again need you labor
for bread."

But the old man shook his head.

"A miller I have lived," quoth he, "and a miller
will I die. But tell me, Nathalie, are you willing to
leave me? '

The girl cast down her eyes and blushed sweetly.

"I love him," she whispered, "and if you separate
us I shall die."

"Then," said the miller, kissing her with a heavy
heart, "go; and may God bless you! '

So Nathalie and the Squire were wed, and lived in
the great house, and the very day after the wedding
she came walking down to the mill in her pretty new
gown to see the miller.

But as she drew near she heard him singing, as was
his wont; and the song he sung she had not heard
since she was a little girl, for this was it:

"I care for nobody, no! not I,
Since nobody cares for me."

She came up softly behind him, and put her arms
around his neck.

[126]

"Papa," said she, "you must not sing that song. The Jo
Nathalie loves you yet, and always will while she Miller
lives; for my new love is complete in itself, and has
not robbed you of one bit of the love that has always
been your very own."

The miller turned and looked into her blue eyes,
and knew that she spoke truly.

"Then I must learn a new song again," he said,
" for it is lonely at the mill, and singing makes the
heart lighter. But I will promise that never again,
till you forget me, will I sing that nobody cares for

me.'

And the miller did learn a new song, and sang it
right merrily for many years; for each day Nathalie
came down to the mill to show that she had not for-
gotten him.

[127]

The Little Man and
His Little Gun

The Little Man and His Little Gun

There was a little man and he had a little gun,

And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.
He went to the brook and shot 3 little duck,

And the bullet went right through its head, head, head.

THERE was once a little man named Jimson, The Little
who had stopped growing when he was a boy, Man and
and never started again. So, although he was *
old enough to be a man he was hardly big enough,
and had he not owned a bald head and gray whiskers
you would certainly have taken him for a boy when-
ever you saw him.

This little man was very sorry he was not bigger,
and if you wanted to make him angry you had but to
call attention to his size. He dressed just as big men
do, and wore a silk hat and a long-tailed coat when
he went to church, and a cap and top-boots when he
rode horseback. He walked with a little cane and
had a little umbrella made to carry when it rained.
In fact, whatever other men did this little man was
anxious to do also, and so it happened that when the
hunting season came around, and all the men began
to get their guns ready to hunt for snipe and duck,
Mr. Jimson also had a little gun made, and determined
to use it as well as any of them.

[I3O

Mother When he brought it home and showed it to his

Goose wife, who was a very big woman, she said,
in Prose «jimson, you 'd better use bullets made of bread,
and then you won't hurt anything."

« Nonsense, Joan," replied the little man, "I shall
have bullets made of lead, just as other men do, and
every duck I see I shall shoot and bring home to you."

" I 'm afraid you won't kill many," said Joan.

But the little man believed he could shoot with
the best of them, so the next morning he got up
early and took his little gun and started down to the
brook to hunt for duck.

It was scarcely daybreak when he arrived at the
brook, and the sun had not yet peeped over the
eastern hill-tops, but no duck appeared anywhere in
sight, although Mr. Jimson knew this was the right
time of day for shooting them. So he sat down
beside the brook and begun watching, and before he
knew it he had fallen fast asleep.

By and by he was awakened by a peculiar noise.

"Quack, quack, quack!" sounded in his ears; and
looking up he saw a pretty little duck swimming in
the brook and popping its head under the water in
search of something to eat. The duck belonged to
Johnny Sprigg, who lived a little way down the brook,
but the little man did not know this. He thought it
was a wild duck, so he stood up and carefully took
aim.

" I 'm afraid I can't hit it from here," he thought,

"so I'll just step upon that big stone in the brook, The Little
and shoot from there." Man and

So he stepped out upon the stone, and took aim at p/J tttl
the duck again, and fired the gun.

The next minute the little man had tumbled head
over heels into the water, and he nearly drowned
before he could scramble out again; for, not being
used to shooting, the gun had kicked, or recoiled, and
had knocked him off the round stone where he had
been standing.

When he had succeeded in reaching the bank he
was overjoyed to see that he had shot the duck, which
lay dead upon the water a short distance away. The
little man got a long stick, and, reaching it out, drew
the dead duck to the bank. Then he started joyfully
homeward to show the prize to his wife.

"There, Joan," he said, as he entered the house,
"is a nice little duck for our dinner. Do you now
think your husband cannot shoot?'

" But there 's only one duck," remarked his wife,
"and it's very small. Can't you go and shoot
another? Then we shall have enough for dinner."

"Yes, of course I can shoot another," said the little
man, proudly; "you make a fire and get the pot
boiling, and I '11 go for another duck."

"You 'd better shoot a drake this time," said Joan,
" for drakes are bigger."

She started to make the fire, and the little man
took his gun and went to the brook; but not a duck

Mother did he see, nor drake neither, and so ne was forced to
Goose come home without any game.

" There 's no use cooking one duck," said his wife,
" so we '11 have pork and beans for dinner and I '11
hang the little duck in the shed. Perhaps you '11 be
able to shoot a drake to-morrow, and then we '11 cook
them both together."

So they had pork and beans, to the great disap-
pointment of Mr. Jimson, who had expected to eat
duck instead; and after dinner the little man lay
down to take a nap while his wife went out to tell the
neighbors what a great hunter he was.

The news spread rapidly through the town, and
when the evening paper came out the little man was
very angry to see this verse printed in it:

There was a little man and he had a little gun,
And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.

He went to the brook and shot a little duck,
And the bullet went right through its head, head, head.

He carried it home to his good wife Joan,
And bade her a fire to make, make, make,

While he went to the brook where he shot the little duck,
And tried for to shoot the drake, drake, drake.

" There 's no use putting it into the paper,"
exclaimed the little man, much provoked, "and Mr.
Brayer, the editor, is probably jealous because he him-
self cannot shoot a gun. Perhaps people think I
cannot shoot a drake, but I '11 show them to-morrow
that I can!"

So the next morning he got up early again, and

took his gun, and loaded it with bullets made of lead. The Little
Then he said to his wife, Man and

"What does a drake look like, my love? " His Hub

"Why," she replied, "it's much like a duck, only
it has a curl on its tail and red on its wing."

"All right," he answered, "I '11 bring you home a
drake in a short time, and to-day we shall have some-
thing better for dinner than pork and beans."

When he got to the brook there was nothing in
sight, so he sat down on the bank to watch, and again
fell fast asleep.

Now Johnny Sprigg had missed his little duck, and
knew some one had shot it; so he thought this morn-
ing he would go the brook and watch for the man
who had killed the duck, and make him pay a good
price for it. Johnny was a big man, whose head was
very bald; therefore he wore a red curly wig to cover
his baldness and make him look younger.

When he got to the brook he saw no one about,
and so he hid in a clump of bushes. After a time
the little man woke up, and in looking around for
the drake he saw Johnny's red wig sticking out of the
top of the bushes.

"That is surely the drake," he thought, "for I can
see a curl and something red;" and the next minute
"bang!" went the gun, and Johnny Sprigg gave a
great yell and jumped out of the bushes. As for his
beautiful wig, it was shot right off his head, and fell
into the water of the brook a good ten yards away!

Mother " What are you trying to do ? ' he cried, shaking

Goose his £st at the little man.

"Why, I was only shooting at the drake," replied
Jimson; "and I hit it, too, for there it is in the

water."

"That 's my wig, sir!' said Johnny Sprigg, "and
you shall pay for it, or I '11 have the law on you,
Are you the man who shot the duck here yesterday
morning? '

"I am, sir," answered the little man, proud that
he had shot something besides a wig.

" Well, you shall pay for that also," said Mr.
Sprigg; "for it belonged to me, and I '11 have the
money or I '11 put you in jail! '

The little man did not want to go to jail, so with
a heavy heart he paid for the wig and the duck, and
then took his way sorrowfully homeward.

He did not tell Joan of his meeting with Mr.
Sprigg; he only said he could not find a drake. But
she knew all about it when the paper came out, for
this is what it said on the front page:

There was a little man and he had a little gun,
And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.

He shot Johnny Sprigg through the middle of his wig,
And knocked it right off from his head, head, head.

The little man was so angry at this, and at the
laughter of all the men he met, that he traded his gun
off for a lawn-mower, and resolved never to go hunt-
ing again.

He had the little duck he had shot made into a The Little

pie. and he and loan ate it; but he did not eniov it Man and

i His Little

very much. Gm

" This duck cost me twelve dollars," he said to his
loving wife, "for that is the sum Johnny Sprigg made
me pay; and it 's a very high price for one little duck
— do n't you think so, Joan? '

Hickory, Dickory, Dock

Hickory, Dickory, Dock

Hickory, Dickory, Dock!
The mouse ran up the clock.

The clock struck one,

The mouse ran down,
Hickory, Dickory, Dock!

WITHIN the hollow wall of an old brick man- Hickory,
sion, away up the near the roof, there lived a Dickay,
family of mice. It was a snug little home,
pleasant and quiet, and as dark as any mouse could
desire. Mamma Mouse liked it because, as she said,
the draught that came through the rafters made it
cool in summer, and they were near enough to the
chimney to keep warm in winter-time.

Besides the Mamma Mouse there were three chil-
dren, named Hickory and Dickory and Dock. There
had once been a Papa Mouse as well; but while he
was hunting for food one night he saw a nice piece
of cheese in a wire box, and attempted to get it. The
minute he stuck his head into the box, however, it
closed with a snap that nearly cut his head off, and
when Mamma Mouse came down to look for him he
was quite dead.

Mamma Mouse had to bear her bitter sorrow all
alone, for the children were too young at that time to

[HI]

Mother appreciate their loss. She felt that people were very
Goose cruel to kill a poor mouse for wishing to get food for
in Prose himseif an(j foss family. There is nothing else for a
mouse to do but take what he can find, for mice can-
not earn money, as people do, and they must live in

some way.

But Mamma Mouse was a brave mouse, and knew
that it was now her duty to find food for her little
ones; so she dried her eyes and went bravely to work
gnawing through the base-board that separated the
pantry from the wall. It took her some time to do
this, for she could only work at night. Mice like to
sleep during the day and work at night, when there
are no people around to interrupt them, and even the
cat is fast asleep. Some mice run about in the day-
time, but they are not very wise mice who do this.

At last Mamma Mouse gnawed a hole through the
base-board large enough for her to get through into
the pantry, and then her disappointment was great to
find the bread jar covered over with a tin pan.

" How thoughtless people are to put things where
a hungry mouse cannot get at them," said Mamma
Mouse to herself, with a sigh. But just then she
espied a barrel of flour standing upon the floor; and
that gave her new courage, for she knew she could
easily gnaw through that, and the flour would do to
eat just as well as the bread.

It was now nearly daylight, so she decided to leave
the attack upon the flour barrel until the next night;

and gathering up for the children a few crumbs that Hickory,
were scattered about, she ran back into the wall and Dickory,
scrambled up to her nest.

Hickory and Dickory and Dock were very glad to
get the crumbs, for they were hungry; and when they
had breakfasted they all curled up alongside their
mother and slept soundly throughout the day.

" Be good children," said Mamma Mouse the next
evening, as she prepared for her journey to the pantry,
" and do n't stir out of your nest till I come back. I
am in hopes that after to-night we shall not be hungry
for a long time, as I shall gnaw a hole at the back of
the flour barrel, where it will not be discovered."

She kissed each one of them good-bye and ran
down the wall on her errand.

When they were left alone Hickory wanted to go
to sleep again, but little Dock was wide awake, and
tumbled around so in the nest that his brothers were
unable to sleep.

"I wish I could go with mother some night," said
Dock, "it's no fun to stay here all the time."

"She will take us when we are big enough,"
replied Dickory.

"We are big enough now," declared Dock, "and
if I knew my way I would go out into the world and
see what it looks like."

"I know a way out," said Hickory, "but mamma
would n't like it if we should go without her permis-

sion."

C'43]

Mother "She needn't know anything about it," declared

Goose the naughty Dock, "for she will be busy at the flour-
in Prose ^^j ajj ^ night> Ta^e us out for a little WSL\k,

Hick, if you know the way."

"Yes do," urged Dickory.

"Well," said Hickory, "I'd like a little stroll
myself, so if you'll promise to be very careful, and
not get into any mischief, I '11 take you through the
hole that I have discovered."

So the three little mice started off, with Hickory
showing the way, and soon came to a crack in the
wall. Hickory stuck his head through, and finding
everything quiet, for the family of people that lived in
the house were fast asleep, he squeezed through the
crack, followed by his two brothers. Their little
hearts beat very fast, for they knew if they were dis-
covered they would have to run for their lives; but
the house was so still they gained courage, and crept
along over a thick carpet until they came to a stair-
way.

"What shall we do now?' whispered Hickory to
his brothers.

"Let's go down," replied Dock.

So, very carefully, they descended the stairs and
reached the hallway of the house, and here they were
much surprised by all they saw.

There was a big rack for hats and coats, and an
umbrella stand, and two quaintly carved chairs, and,
most wonderful of all, a tall clock that stood upon

[144]

the floor and ticked out the minutes in a grave and Hickory,
solemn voice. Dickory,

When the little mice first heard the ticking of the Dock
clock they were inclined to be frightened, and huddled
close together upon the bottom stair.

"What is it? " asked Dickory, in an awed whisper.

" I do n't know," replied Hickory, who was him-
self rather afraid.

"Is it alive?" asked Dock.

"I don't know," again answered Hickory.

Then, seeing that the clock paid no attention to
them, but kept ticking steadily away and seemed to
mind its own business, they plucked up courage and
began running about.

Presently Dickory uttered a delighted squeal that
brought his brothers to his side. There in a corner
lay nearly the half of a bun which little May had
dropped when nurse carried her upstairs to bed. It
was a great discovery for the three mice, and they ate
heartily until the last crumb had disappeared.

"This is better than a cupboard or a pantry," said
Dock, when they had finished their supper, "and I
should n't be surprised if there were plenty more good
things around if we only hunt for them."

But they could find nothing more, for all the
doors leading into the hall were closed, and at last
Dock came to the clock and looked at it curiously.

"It doesn't seem to be alive," he thought, "al-

Mother though it does make so much noise. I 'm going

Goose behind it to see what I can find."

in Prose Hg foun(j nothing except a hole that led to the
inside of the clock, and into this he stuck his head.
He could hear the ticking plainer than ever now, but
looking way up to the top of the clock he saw some-
thing shining brightly, and thought it must be good
to eat if he could only get at it. Without saying
anything to his brothers, Dock ran up the sides of the
clock until he came to the works, and he was just
about to nibble at a glistening wheel, to see what it
tasted like, when suddenly "Bang!' went the clock.
It was one o'clock, and the clock had only struck
the hour, but the great gong was just beside Dock's
ear and the noise nearly deafened the poor little
mouse. He gave a scream of terror and ran down
the clock as fast as he could go. When he reached
the hall he heard his brothers scampering up the stairs,
and after them he ran with all his might.

It was only when they were safe in their nest again
that they stopped to breathe, and their little hearts
beat fast for an hour afterward, so great had been their
terror.

When Mamma Mouse came back in the morning,
bringing a quantity of nice flour with her for break-
fast, they told her of their adventure.

She thought they had been punished enough
already for their disobedience, so she did not scold
them, but only said,

[146]

" You see, my dears, your mother knew best when Hickory,
she told you not to stir from the nest. Children Dickoryt
sometimes think they know more than their parents,
but this adventure should teach you always to obey
your mother. The next time you run away you may
fare worse than you did last night; remember your
poor father's fate."

But Hickory and Dickory and Dock did not run
away again.

[•47]

Little Bo-Peep

Little Bo -Peep

ON the beautiful, undulating hills of Sussex feed Little
many flocks of sheep, which are tended by Bo-Peep
many shepherds and shepherdesses, and one of
these flocks used to be cared for by a poor woman
who supported herself and her little girl by this means.

They lived in a small cottage nestled at the foot
of one of the hills, and each morning the mother took
her crook and started out with her sheep, that they
might feed upon the tender, juicy grasses with which
the hills abounded. The little girl usually accom-
panied her mother and sat by her side upon the grassy
mounds and watched her care for the ewes and lambs,
so that in time she herself grew to be a very proficient
shepherdess.

So when the mother became too old and feeble to
leave her cottage, Little Bo-Peep (as she was called)
decided that she was fully able to manage the flocks
herself. She was a little mite of a child, with flowing
nut-brown locks and big gray eyes that charmed all
who gazed into their innocent depths. She wore a
light gray frock, fastened about the waist with a pretty
pink sash, and there were white ruffles around her
neck and pink ribbons in her hair.

Mother All the shepherds and shepherdesses upon the hills,

Goose botn young and old, soon came to know Little Bo-

m Prose pee_ very we}} indeed, and there were many willing

hands to aid her if (which was not often) she needed

their assistance.

Bo-Peep usually took her sheep to the side of a
high hill above the cottage, and allowed them to eat
the rich grass while she herself sat upon a mound and,
laying aside her crook and her broad straw hat with
its pink ribbons, devoted her time to sewing and
mending stockings for her aged mother.

One day, while thus occupied, she heard a voice
beside her say:

"Good morning, Little Bo-Peep!' and looking
up the girl saw a woman standing near her and lean-
ing upon a short stick. She was bent nearly double
by weight of many years, her hair was white as snow
and her eyes as black as coals. Deep wrinkles seamed
her face and hands, while her nose and chin were so
pointed that they nearly met. She was not pleasant
to look upon, but Bo-Peep had learned to be polite
to the aged, so she answered, sweetly,

" Good morning, mother. Can I do anything for
you?"

"No, dearie," returned the woman, in a cracked
voice, "but I will sit by your side and rest for a
time."

The girl made room on the mound beside her, and
the stranger sat down and watched in silence the busy

fingers sew up the seams of the new frock she was Little
making. Bo-Peep

By and by the woman asked,

"Why do you come out here to sew?'

" Because I am a shepherdess," replied the girl.

" But where is your crook? '

" On the grass beside me."

"And where are your sheep?1

Bo-Peep looked up and could not see them.

" They must have strayed over the top of the hill,"
she said, "and I will go and seek them."

"Do not be in a hurry," croaked the old woman;
" they will return presently without your troubling to
find them."

"Do you think so?" asked Bo-Peep.

"Of course; do not the sheep know you?

"Oh, yes; they know me every one.'

"And do not you know the sheep?

" I can call every one by name," said Bo-Peep,
confidently; "for though I am so young a shepherdess
I am fond of my sheep and know all about them."

The old woman chuckled softly, as if the answer
amused her, and replied,

" No one knows all about anything, my dear."

" But I know all about my sheep," protested Little
Bo-Peep.

" Do you, indeed? Then you are wiser that most
people. And if you know all about them, you also
know they will come home of their own accord, and

Mother I have no doubt they will all be wagging their tails

Goose behind them, as usual."

m Prose (t QJ^" saij Little Bo-Peep, in surprise, " do they
wag their tails ? I never noticed that ! '

"Indeed!" excaimed the old woman, "then you
are not very observing for one who knows all about
sheep. Perhaps you have never noticed their tails at

all."

"No," answered Bo-Peep, thoughtfully, "I don't
know that I ever have."

The woman laughed so hard at this reply that she
began to cough, and this made the girl remember that
her flock had strayed away.

" I really must go and find my sheep," she said,
rising to her feet, "and then I shall be sure to notice
their tails, and see if they wag them."

"Sit still, my child," said the old woman, "I am
going over the hill- top myself, and I will send the
sheep back to you."

So she got upon her feet and began climbing the
hill, and the girl heard her saying, as she walked
away,

"Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,

And does n't know where to find 'em.
But leave 'em alone, and they '11 come home,
All wagging their tails behind 'em."

Little Bo-Peep sat still and watched the old
woman toil slowly up the hill-side and disappear over
the top. By and by she thought, "very soon I

[154]

shall see the sheep coming back;" but time passed Little
away and still the errant flock failed to make its Bo-Peep
appearance.

Soon the head of the little shepherdess began to
nod, and presently, still thinking of her sheep,

Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep,

And dreamt she heard them bleating;
But when she awoke she found it a joke,

For still they were a-fleeting.

The girl now became quite anxious, and wondered
why the old woman had not driven her flock over the
hill. But as it was now time for luncheon she opened
her little basket and ate of the bread and cheese and
cookies she had brought with her. After she had
finished her meal and taken a drink of cool water
from a spring near by, she decided she would not wait
any longer.

So up she took her little crook,
Determined for to find them,

and began climbing the hill.

When she got to the top there was never a sight
of sheep about — only a green valley and another hill
beyond.

Now really alarmed for the safety of her charge,
Bo-Peep hurried into the valley and up the farther
hill-side. Panting and tired she reached the summit,
and, pausing breathlessly, gazed below her.

Quietly feeding upon the rich grass was her truant

Mother flock, looking as peaceful and innocent as if it had
Goose never strayed away from its gentle shepherdess.

Bo-Peep uttered a cry of joy and hurried toward
them; but when she came near she stopped in amaze-
ment and held up her little hands with a pretty
expression of dismay. She had

Found them, indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
For they 'd left their tails behind them !

Nothing was left to each sheep but a wee little
stump where a tail should be, and Little Bo-Peep was
so heart-broken that she sat down beside them and
sobbed bitterly.

But after awhile the tiny maid realized that all her
tears would not bring back the tails to her lambkins;
so she plucked up courage and dried her eyes and
arose from the ground just as the old woman hobbled
up to her.

" So you have found your sheep, dearie," she said,
in her cracked voice.

" Yes," replied Little Bo-Peep, with difficulty
repressing a sob; "but look, mother! They've all
left their tails behind them ! "

"Why, so they have!' exclaimed the old woman;
and then she began to laugh as if something pleased
her.

"What do you suppose has become of their tails?"
asked the girl.

" Oh, some one has probably cut them ofF. They

[156]

*$*'*%^;SSa 11

.; J" .558:\'* ---**> '<?>%, "*« ^T???

^ '.^. ' ..--jSfc&^-WS.

Little Bo-Peep

make nice tippets in winter- time, you know;" and Little
then she patted the child upon her head and walked Bo -Peep
away down the valley.

Bo-Peep was much grieved over the loss that had
befallen her dear sheep, and so, driving them before
her, she wandered around to see if by any chance she
could find the lost tails.

But soon the sun began to sink over the hill-tops,
and she knew she must take her sheep home before
night overtook them.

She did not tell her mother of her misfortune, for
she feared the old shepherdess would scold her, and
Bo-Peep had fully decided to seek for the tails and
find them before she related the story of their loss to
any one.

Each day for many days after that Little Bo-Peep
wandered about the hills seeking the tails of her sheep,
and those who met her wondered what had happened
to make the sweet little maid so anxious. But there
is an end to all troubles, no matter how severe they
may seem to be, and

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!

The little shepherdess was overjoyed at this discov-
ery, and, reaching up her crook, she knocked the row
of pretty white tails off the tree and gathered them
up in her frock. But how to fasten them onto her

[i57]

Mother sheep again was the question, and after pondering the
Goose matter for a time she became discouraged, and, think-
tn Prose . ^ was no better off than before the tails were

found, she began to weep and to bewail her mis-
fortune.

But amidst her tears she bethought herself of her
needle and thread.

" Why," she exclaimed, smiling again, " I can sew
them on, of course! ' Then

She heaved a sigh and wiped her eye
And ran o'er hill and dale, oh,

And tried what she could

As a shepherdess should,
To tack to each sheep its tail, oh.

But the very first sheep she came to refused to
allow her to sew on the tail, and ran away from her,
and the others did the same, so that finally she was
utterly discouraged.

She was beginning to cry again, when the same
old woman she had before met came hobbling to her
side and asked,

" What are you doing with my cat tails ? '

"Your cat tails!' replied Bo-Peep, in surprise;
"what do you mean? '

" Why, these tails are all cut from white pussy-
cats, and I put them on the tree to dry. What are
you doing with them? "

" I thought they belonged to my sheep," answered
Bo-Peep, sorrowfully; "but if they are really your

pussy-cat tails, I must hunt until I find those that Little
belong to my sheep." Bo -Peep

"My dear," said the old woman, "I have been
deceiving you; you said you knew all about your
sheep, and I wanted to teach you a lesson. For,
however wise we may be, no one in this world knows
all about anything. Sheep do not have long tails —
there is only a little stump to answer for a tail.
Neither do rabbits have tails, nor bears, nor many
other animals. And if you had been observing you
would have known all this when I said the sheep
would be wagging their tails behind them, and then
you would not have passed all those days in searching
for what is not to be found. So now, little one, run
away home, and try to be more thoughtful in the
future. Your sheep will never miss the tails, for they
have never had them."

And now

Little Bo-Peep no more did weep;
My tale of tails ends here.

Each cat has one,

But sheep have none;
Which, after all, is queer!

[159]

The Story of
Tommy Tucker

The Story of Tommy Tucker

Little Tommy Tucker sang for his supper.
What did he sing for? white bread and butter.
How could he cut it, without any knife?
How could he marry, without any wife?

LITTLE TOMMY TUCKER was a waif of the The Story
streets. He never remembered having a father °f Tommy
O *T* i

or mother or any one to care for him, and so
he learned to care for himself. He ate whatever he
could get, and slept wherever night overtook him — in
an old barrel, a cellar, or, when fortune favored him,
he paid a penny for a cot in some rude lodging-house.

His life about the streets taught him early how to
earn a living by doing odd jobs, and he learned to be
sharp in his speech and wise beyond his years.

One morning Tommy crawled out from a box in
which he had slept over night, and found that he was
hungry. His last meal had consisted of a crust of
bread, and he was a growing boy with an appetite.

He had been unable to earn any money for several
days, and this morning life looked very gloomy to
him. He started out to seek for work or to beg
a breakfast; but luck was against him, and he was
unsuccessful. By noon he had grown more hungry

Mother than before, and stood before a bake-shop for a long
Goose time, looking wistfully at the good things behind the
ose window-panes, and wishing with all his heart he had a
ha'penny to buy a bun.

And yet it was no new thing for Little Tommy
Tucker to be hungry, and he never thought of
despairing. He sat down upon a curb-stone, and
thought what was best to be done. Then he remem-
bered he had frequently begged a meal at one of the
cottages that stood upon the outskirts of the city, and
so he turned his steps in that direction.

" I have had neither breakfast nor dinner," he said
to himself, "and I must surely find a supper some-
where, or I shall not sleep much to-night. It is no
fun to be hungry."

So he walked on until he came to a dwelling-
house where a goodly company sat upon a lawn and
beneath a veranda. It was a pretty place, and was
the home of a fat alderman who had been married
that very day.

The alderman was in a merry mood, and seeing
Tommy standing without the gate he cried to him,

" Come here, my lad, and sing us a song."

Tommy at once entered the grounds, and came to
where the fat alderman was sitting beside his blushing
bride.

"Can you sing?" enquired the alderman.

"No," answered Tommy, earnestly, "but I can

eat.'

[164]

"Ho, ho!' laughed the alderman, "that is a very The Story
ordinary accomplishment. Anyone can eat." of Tommy

" If it please you, sir, you are wrong," replied Tucker
Tommy, "for I have been unable to eat all day."

"And why is that?" asked the alderman.

" Because I have had nothing to put to my mouth.
But now that I have met so kind a gentleman, I am
sure that I shall have a good supper."

The alderman laughed again at this shrewd answer,
and said,

"You shall have supper, no doubt; but you must
sing a song for the company first, and so earn your
food."

Tommy shook his head sadly.

" I do not know any song, sir," he said.

The alderman called a servant and whispered
something in his ear. The servant hastened away, and
soon returned bearing upon a tray a huge slice of
white bread and butter. White bread was a rare treat
in those days, as nearly all the people ate black bread
baked from rye or barley flour.

" Now," said the alderman, placing the tray beside
him, " you shall have this slice of white bread and
butter when you have sung us a song, and complied
with one condition."

"And what is that condition?" asked Tommy.

" I will tell you when we have heard the song,"
replied the fat alderman, who had decided to have
some amusement at the boy's expense.

Mother Tommy hesitated, but when he glanced at the

Goose white bread and butter his mouth watered in spite of
in Prose himself, and he resolved to compose a song, since he

did not know how to sing any other.

So he took off his cap, and standing before the

company he sang as follows:

"A bumble-bee lit on a hollyhock flower
That was wet with the rain of a morning shower.
While the honey he sipped
His left foot slipped,
And he couldn't fly again for half an hour!"

" Good ! ' cried the alderman, after the company
had kindly applauded Tommy. "I can't say much
for the air, nor yet for the words; but it was not so
bad as it might have been. Give us another verse."

So Tommy pondered a moment, and then sang
again :

"A spider threw its web so high
It caught on a moon in a cloudy sky.

The moon whirled round,

And down to the ground
Fell the web, and captured a big blue fly!"

"Why, that is fine!' roared the fat alderman.
"You improve as you go on, so give us another verse."

"I don't know any more," said Tommy, "and I
am very hungry."

"One more verse," persisted the man, "and then
you shall have the bread and butter upon the con-
dition."

So Tommy sang the following verse:

C'66]

"A big frog lived in a slimy bog, T, „

And caught a cold in an awfiil fog.

The cold got worse, of Tommy

The frog got hoarse, Tucker

Till croaking he scared a polliwog!"

"You are quite a poet," declared the alderman;
"and now you shall have the white bread upon one
condition."

"What is it?" said Tommy, anxiously.

"That you cut the slice into four parts."

" But I have no knife 1 ' ' remonstrated the boy.

" But that is the condition," insisted the alderman.
"If you want the bread you must cut it."

" Surely you do not expect me to cut the bread
without any knife ! ' ' said Tommy.

"Why not?' asked the alderman, winking his eye
at the company.

" Because it cannot be done. How, let me ask
you, sir, could you have married without any wife?'

"Ha, ha, ha!' laughed the jolly alderman; and
he was so pleased with Tommy's apt reply that he
gave him the bread at once, and a knife to cut it
with.

"Thank you, sir," said Tommy; "now that I
have the knife it is easy enough to cut the bread, and
I shall now be as happy as you are with your beauti-
ful wife."

The alderman's wife blushed at this, and whispered
to her husband. The alderman nodded in reply, and
watched Tommy carefully as he ate his supper. When

Mother the boy had finished his bread — which he did very
Goose quickly, you may be sure, — the man said,

" How would you like to live with me and be my
servant? '

Little Tommy Tucker had often longed for just
such a place, where he could have three meals each
day to eat and a good bed to sleep in at night, so he
answered,

" I should like it very much, sir."

So the alderman took Tommy for his servant, and
dressed him in a smart livery; and soon the boy
showed by his bright ways and obedience that he was
worthy any kindness bestowed upon him.

He often carried the alderman's wig when his
master attended the town meetings, and the mayor of
the city, who was a good man, was much taken with
his intelligent face. So one day he said to the alder-
man,

" I have long wanted to adopt a son, for I have no
children of my own; but I have not yet been able to
find a boy to suit me. That lad of yours looks bright
and intelligent, and he seems a well-behaved boy into
the bargain."

" He is all that you say," returned the alderman,
"and would be a credit to you should you adopt
him."

" But before I adopt a son," continued the mayor,
"I intend to satisfy myself that he is both wise and
shrewd enough to make good use of my money when

[168]

I am gone. No fool will serve my purpose; there- The Story
fore I shall test the boy's wit before I decide." of Tommy

"That is fair enough," answered the alderman; Tucker
"but in what way will you test his wit?'

" Bring him to my house to-morrow, and you shall
see," said the mayor.

So the next day the alderman, followed by Tommy
and a little terrier dog that was a great pet of his
master, went to the grand dwelling of the mayor.
The mayor also had a little terrier dog, which was
very fond of him and followed him wherever he went.

When Tommy and the alderman reached the
mayor's house the mayor met them at the door and
said:

" Tommy, I am going up the street, and the
alderman is going in the opposite direction. I want
you to keep our dogs from following us; but you
must not do it by holding them."

"Very well, sir," replied Tommy; and as the
mayor started one way and the alderman the other,
he took out his handkerchief and tied the tails of the
two dogs together. Of course each dog started to
follow its master; but as they were about the same size
and strength, and each pulled in a different direction,
the result was that they remained in one place, and
could not move either one way or the other.

"That was well done," said the mayor, coming
back again; "but tell me, can you put my cart before

my horse and take me to ride? '

[169]

Mother " Certainly, sir," replied Tommy; and going to

Goose tne mayor's stable he put the harness on the nag and

ose then led him head-first into the shafts, instead of

backing him into them, as is the usual way. After

fastening the shafts to the horse, he mounted upon

the animal's back, and away they started, pushing the

cart before the horse.

" That was easy," said Tommy. " If your honor
will get into the cart I '11 take you to ride." But the
mayor did not ride, although he was pleased at
Tommy's readiness in solving a difficulty.

After a moment's thought he bade Tommy follow
him into the house, where he gave him a cupful
of water, saying,

" Let me see you drink up this cup of water."

Tommy hesitated a moment, for he knew the
mayor was trying to catch him; then, going to a
corner of the room, he set down the cup and stood
upon his head in the corner. He now carefully raised
the cup to his lips and slowly drank the water until
the cup was empty. After this he regained his feet,
and, bowing politely to the mayor, he said,

" The water is drunk up, your honor."

"But why did you stand on your head to do it?"
enquired the alderman, who had watched the act in
astonishment.

" Because otherwise I would have drunk the water
down, and not up," replied Tommy.

The mayor was now satisfied that Tommy was

shrewd enough to do him honor, so he immediately The Story
took him to live in the great house as his adopted son, of Tommy
and he was educated by the best masters the city
afforded.

And Tommy Tucker became in after years not
only a great, but a good man, and before he died was
himself mayor of the city, and was known by the
name of Sir Thomas Tucker.

Pussy-cat Mew

Pussy-cat Mew

" Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where do you go f '

" To London, to visit the palace, you know"

" Pussy-cat Mew, will you come back again f '

" Oh, yes ! I '// scamper with might and with main I y

PUSSY-CAT MEW set off on her way, Pussy-cat

Stepping quite softly and feeling quite gay.
Smooth was the road, so she traveled at ease,
Warmed by the sunshine and fanned by the breeze.

Over the hills to the valleys below,

Through the deep woods where the soft mosses grow,

Skirting the fields, with buttercups dotted,

Swiftly our venturesome Pussy-cat trotted.

Sharp watch she kept when a village she neared,
For boys and their mischief our Pussy-cat feared.
Often she crept through the grasses so deep
To pass by a dog that was lying asleep.

Once, as she walked through a sweet-clover field,
Something beside her affrightedly squealed,
And swift from her path there darted away
A tiny field-mouse, with a coat of soft gray.

Mother "Nowhere," thought our Pussy, "is chance for a dinner;
The one that runs fastest must surely be winner! '
So quickly she started the mouse to give chase,
And over the clover they ran a great race.

But just when it seemed that Pussy would win,
The mouse spied a hole and quickly popped in;
And so he escaped, for the hole was so small
That Pussy-cat could n't squeeze in it at all.

So, softly she crouched, and with eyes big and round
Quite steadily watched that small hole in the ground.
"This mouse really thinks he 's escaped me," she said,
"But I '11 catch him sure if he sticks out his head! '

But while she was watching the poor mouse's plight,
A deep growl behind made her jump with affright;
She gave a great cry, and then started to run
As swift as a bullet that 's shot from a gun !

"Meow! Oh, meow!' our poor Puss did say;
"Bow-wow!" cried the dog, who was not far away.
O'er meadows and ditches they scampered apace,
O'er fences and hedges they kept up the race!

Then Pussy-cat Mew saw before her a tree,
And knew that a safe place of refuge 'twould be;
So far up the tree with a bound she did go,
And left the big dog to growl down below.

[176]

But now, by good fortune, a man came that way, Pussy-cat

And called to the dog, who was forced to obey;
But Puss did not come down the tree till she knew
That the man and the dog were far out of view.

Pursuing her way, at nightfall she came
To London, a town you know well by name;
And wandering 'round in byway and street,
A strange Pussy-cat she happened to meet.

"Good evening," said Pussy-cat Mew. "Can you tell
In which of these houses the Queen may now dwell?
I 'm a stranger in town, and I 'm anxious to see
What sort of a person a real Queen may be."

"My friend," said the other, "you really must know
It is n't permitted that strangers should go
Inside of the palace, unless they 're invited,
And stray Pussy-cats are apt to be slighted.

" By good luck, however, I 'm quite well aware

Of a way to the palace by means of a stair

That never is guarded; so just come with me,

And a glimpse of the Queen you shall certainly see."

Puss thanked her new friend, and together they stole
To the back of the palace, and crept through a hole
In the fence, and quietly came to the stair
Which the stranger Pussy-cat promised was there.

Mother " Now here I must leave you," the strange Pussy said,
Goose « go do n't be 'fraid-cat, but go straight ahead,
in Prose ^n ^ JQ n»t ke aiarmeci if by chance you are seen,

For people will think you belong to the Queen."

So Pussy-cat Mew did as she had been told,
And walked through the palace with manner so bold
She soon reached the room where the Queen sat in state,
Surrounded by lords and by ladies so great.

And there in the corner our Pussy sat down,
And gazed at the scepter and blinked at the crown,
And eyed the Queen's dress, all purple and gold;
Which was surely a beautiful sight to behold.

But all of a sudden she started, for there

Was a little gray mouse, right under the chair

Where her Majesty sat, and Pussy well knew

She 'd scream with alarm if the mouse met her view.

So up toward the chair our Pussy-cat stole,

But the mouse saw her coming and ran for its hole;

But Pussy ran after, and during the race

A wonderful, terrible panic took place!

The ladies all jumped on their chairs in alarm,
The lords drew their swords to protect them from harm,
And the Queen gave a scream and fainted away —
A very undignified act, I must say.

And some one cried "Burglars!' and some one cried Pussy-cat
" Treason ! ' Mew

And some one cried "Murder!' but none knew the
reason;

And some one cried "Fire! they are burning the house!"

And some one cried "Silence! it's only a mouse!'

But Pussy-cat Mew was so awfully scared
By the shouting and screaming, no longer she dared
To stay in the room; so without more delay
She rushed from the palace and scampered awayl

So bristling her fur, and with heart beating fast,
She came to the road leading homeward at last.
"What business," she thought, "has a poor country cat
To visit a city of madmen like that?

"Straight homeward I '11 go, where I am well fed,
Where mistress is kind, and soft is my bed;
Let other cats travel, if they wish to roam,
But as for myself, I shall now stay at home."

And now over hills and valleys she ran,
And journeyed as fast as a Pussy-cat can;
Till just as the dawn of the day did begin
She, safely at home, stole quietly in.

[»79]

Mother And there was the fire, with the pot boiling on it,
Goose And there was the maid, in the blue checkered bonnet,

* D

And there was the corner where Pussy oft basked,
And there was the mistress, who eagerly asked:

" Pussy-cat^ Pussy-cat, where have you beenf
" / *ve been to London, to visit the tSfueen"
"Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, what did you theref
" 1 frightened a little mouse under her chair!''

[180]

How the Beggars
Came to Town

How the Beggars Came to Town

Hark, hark, the dogs do bark,
The beggars are coming to town:
Some in rags, and some in tags,
And some in velvet gown.

VERY fair and sweet was little Prince Lilimond, How the
and few could resist his soft, pleading voice and Bfggarf
gentle blue eyes. And as he stood in the pres- T
ence of the King, his father, and bent his knee grace-
fully before His Majesty, the act was so courteous
and dignified it would have honored the oldest noble-
man of the court.

The King was delighted, and for a time sat silently
regarding his son and noting every detail of his appear-
ance, from the dark velvet suit with its dainty ruffles
and collar to the diamond buckles on the little shoes,
and back again to the flowing curls that clustered
thick about the bright, childish face.

Well might any father be proud of so manly and
beautiful a child, and the King's heart swelled within
him as he gazed upon his heir.

" Borland," he said to the tutor, who stood mod-
estly behind the Prince, "you may retire. I wish to
speak privately with his royal highness."

[183]

Mother The tutor bowed low and disappeared within the

Goose ante-room, and the King continued, kindly,

" Come here, Lilimond, and sit beside me. Me-
thinks you seem over-grave this morning."

"It is my birthday, Your Majesty," replied the
Prince, as he slowly obeyed his father and sat beside
him upon the rich broidered cushions of the throne.
"I am twelve years of age."

"So old!' said the King, smiling into the little
face that was raised to his. "And is it the weight of
years that makes you sad ? '

"No, Your Majesty; I long for the years to pass,
that I may become a man, and take my part in the
world's affairs. It is the sad condition of my country
which troubles me."

" Indeed ! ' exclaimed the King, casting a keen
glance at his son. "Are you becoming interested in
politics, then; or is there some grievous breach of
court etiquette which has attracted your attention?'

" I know little of politics and less of the court,
sire," replied Lilimond; "it is the distress of the peo-
ple that worries me."

" The people ? Of a surety, Prince, you are better
posted than am I, since of the people and their affairs
I know nothing at all. I have appointed officers to
look after their interests, and therefore I have no
cause to come into contact with them myself. But
what is amiss? '

"They are starving," said the Prince, looking at his

[184]

father very seriously; "the country is filled with How the
beggars, who appeal for charity, since they are unable Beggars

otherwise to procure food." Came to

1 own
"Starving! repeated the King; "surely you are

misinformed. My Lord Chamberlain told me but this
morning the people were loyal and contented, and my
Lord of the Treasury reports that all taxes and tithes
have been paid, and my coffers are running over."

"Your Lord Chamberlain is wrong, sire," returned
the Prince; "my tutor, Borland, and I have talked
with many of these beggars the past few days, and we
find the tithes and taxes which have enriched you
have taken the bread from their wives and children."

" So ! ' exclaimed the King. " We must examine
into this matter." He touched a bell beside him, and
when a retainer appeared directed his Chamberlain
and his Treasurer to wait upon him at once.

The Prince rested his head upon his hand and
waited patiently, but the King was very impatient
indeed till the high officers of the court stood before
him. Then said the King, addressing his Chamberlain,

" Sir, I am informed my people are murmuring at
my injustice. Is it true?'

The officer cast an enquiring glance at the Prince,
who met his eyes gravely, before he replied,

" The people always murmur, Your Majesty. They
are many, and not all can be content, even when
ruled by so wise and just a King. In every land and
in every age there are those who rebel against the

[185]

Mother laws, and the protests of the few are ever heard above
Goose the contentment of the many."

* D

"I am told," continued the King, severely, "that
my country is overrun with beggars, who suffer for
lack of the bread we have taken from them by our
taxations. Is this true ? '

"There are always beggars, Your Majesty, in every
country," replied the Chamberlain, "and it is their
custom to blame others for their own misfortunes."

The King thought deeply for a moment; then he
turned to the Lord of the Treasury.

"Do we tax the poor?" he demanded.

"All are taxed, sire," returned the Treasurer, who
was pale from anxiety, for never before had the King
so questioned him, "but from the rich we take much,
from the poor very little."

" But a little from the poor man may distress him,
while the rich subject would never feel the loss. Why
do we tax the poor at all?"

"Because, Your Majesty, should we declare the
poor free from taxation all your subjects would at
once claim to be poor, and the royal treasury would
remain empty. And as none are so rich but there are
those richer, how should we, in justice, determine
which are the rich and which are the poor?"

Again the King was silent while he pondered upon
the words of the Royal Treasurer. Then, with a
wave of his hand, he dismissed them, and turned to
the Prince, saying,

[186]

" You have heard the wise words of my councilors, How the
Prince. What have you to say in reply ? ' Beggars

" If you will pardon me, Your Majesty, I think ~,ame '
you are wrong to leave the affairs of the people to
others to direct. If you knew them as well as I do,
you would distrust the words of your councilors, who
naturally fear your anger more than they do that of
your subjects."

" If they fear my anger they will be careful to do
no injustice to my people. Surely you cannot expect
me to attend to levying the taxes myself," continued
the King, with growing annoyance. "What are my
officers for, but to serve me ? '

"They should serve you, it is true," replied the
Prince, thoughtfully, " but they should serve the peo-
ple as well."

"Nonsense!" answered the King; "you are too
young as yet to properly understand such matters.
And it is a way youth has to imagine it is wiser than
age and experience combined. Still, I will investigate
the subject further, and see that justice is done the
poor."

"In the meantime," said the Prince, "many will
starve to death. Can you not assist these poor beg-
gars at once ? '

"In what way?" demanded the King.

" By giving them money from your full coffers."

"Nonsense!" again cried the King, this time with
real anger; "you have heard what the Chamberlain

[-87]

Mother said: we always have beggars, and none, as yet, have
Goose starved to death. Besides, I must use the money for
m Prose ^ gmnj |3a}} an(£ tourney next month, as I have

promised the ladies of the court a carnival of unusual
magnificence."

The Prince did not reply to this, but remained in
silent thought, wondering what he might do to ease
the suffering he feared existed on every hand amongst
the poor of the kingdom. He had hoped to persuade
the King to assist these beggars, but since the inter-
view with the officers of the court he had lost heart and
despaired of influencing his royal father in any way.

Suddenly the King spoke.

"Let us dismiss this subject, Lilimond, for it only
serves to distress us both, and no good can come of it.
You have nearly made me forget it is your birthday.
Now listen, my son: I am much pleased with you,
and thank God that he has given me such a successor
for my crown, for I perceive your mind is as beautiful
as your person, and that you will in time be fitted to
rule the land with wisdom and justice. Therefore I
promise, in honor of your birthday, to grant any desire
you may express, provided it lies within my power.
Nor will I make any further condition, since I rely
upon your judgment to select some gift I may be glad
to bestow."

As the King spoke, Lilimond suddenly became
impressed with an idea through which he might succor
the poor, and therefore he answered,

[188]

" Call in the ladies and gentlemen of the court, How the
my father, and before them all will I claim your Beggars
promise." Came to

" Good ! ' exclaimed the King, who looked for
some amusement in his son's request; and at once he
ordered the court to assemble.

The ladies and gentlemen, as they filed into the
audience chamber, were astonished to see the Prince
seated upon the throne beside his sire, but being too
well bred to betray their surprise they only wondered
what amusement His Majesty had in store for them.

When all were assembled, the Prince rose to his
feet and addressed them.

" His Majesty the King, whose kindness of heart
and royal condescension is well known to you all, hath
but now promised me, seeing that it is my birthday,
to grant any one request that I may prefer. Is it not
true, Your Majesty?'

"It is true," answered the King, smiling upon his
son, and pleased to see him addressing the court so
gravely and with so manly an air; "whatsoever the
Prince may ask, that will I freely grant."

"Then, oh sire," said the Prince, kneeling before
the throne, " I ask that for the period of one day I
may reign as King in your stead, having at my com-
mand all kingly power and the obedience of all who
owe allegiance to the crown ! '

For a time there was perfect silence in the court,
the King growing red with dismay and embarrassment

[189]

Mother and the courtiers waiting curiously his reply. Lili-

Goose mond still remained kneeling before the throne, and

in Prose as ^ £mg looked upon him he realized it would be

impossible to break his royal word. And the affair

promised him amusement after all, so he quickly

decided in what manner to reply.

"Rise, oh Prince," he said, cheerfully, "your
request is granted. Upon what day will it please you
to reign ? '

Lilimond arose to his feet.

"Upon the seventh day from this," he answered.

"So be it," returned the King. Then, turning to
the royal herald he added, " Make proclamation
throughout the kingdom that on the seventh day from
this Prince Lilimond will reign as King from sunrise
till sunset. And whoever dares to disobey his com-
mands will be guilty of treason and shall be punished
with death!"

The court was then dismissed, all wondering at
this marvellous decree, and the Prince returned to his
own apartment where his tutor, Borland, anxiously
awaited him.

Now this Borland was a man of good heart and
much intelligence, but wholly unused to the ways of
the world. He had lately noted, with much grief,
the number of beggars who solicited alms as he walked
out with the Prince, and he had given freely until his
purse was empty. Then he talked long and earnestly
with the Prince concerning this shocking condition in

[190]

the kingdom, never dreaming that his own generosity How the
had attracted all the beggars of the city toward him

and encouraged them to become more bold than usual. ^

Thus was the young and tender-hearted Prince
brought to a knowledge of all these beggars, and
therefore it was that their condition filled him with
sadness and induced him to speak so boldly to the
King, his father.

When he returned to Borland with the tidings that
the King had granted him permission to rule for a
day the kingdom, the tutor was overjoyed, and at
once they began to plan ways for relieving all the
poor of the country in that one day.

For one thing, they dispatched private messengers
to every part of the kingdom, bidding them tell each
beggar they met to come to the Prince on that one

DO /

day he should be King and he would relieve their
wants, giving a broad gold piece to every poor man
or woman who asked.

For the Prince had determined to devote to this
purpose the gold that filled the royal coffers; and as
for the great ball and tourney the King had planned,
why, that could go begging much better than the
starving people.

On the night before the day the Prince was to
reign there was a great confusion of noise within the
city, for beggars from all parts of the kingdom began
to arrive, each one filled with joy at the prospect of
receiving a piece of gold.

Mother There was a continual tramp, tramp of feet, and a

Goose great barking of dogs, as all dogs in those days were
tn Prose tra'nej to bark: at every beggar they saw, and now it
was difficult to restrain them.

And the beggars came to town singly and by twos
and threes, until hundreds were there to await the
morrow. Some few were very pitiful to behold, being
feeble and infirm from age and disease, dressed in rags
and tags, and presenting an appearance of great dis-
tress. But there were many more who were seem-
ingly hearty and vigorous; and these were the lazy
ones, who, not being willing to work, begged for a
livelihood.

And some there were dressed in silken hose and
velvet gowns, who, forgetting all shame, and, eager for
gold, had been led by the Prince's offer to represent
themselves as beggars, that they might add to their
wealth without trouble or cost to themselves.

The next morning, when the sun arose upon the
eventful day, it found the Prince sitting upon the
throne of his father, dressed in a robe of ermine and
purple, a crown upon his flowing locks and the King's
scepter clasped tightly in his little hand. He was
somewhat frightened at the clamor of the crowd with-
out the palace, but Borland, who stood behind him,
whispered,

" The more you can succor the greater will
be your glory, and you will live in the hearts of
your people as the kind Prince who relieved their suf-

[192]

ferings. Be of good cheer, Your Majesty, for all is Now the
well." Beggars

Then did the Prince command the Treasurer to C"me *
bring before him the royal coffers, and to stand ready
to present to each beggar a piece of gold. The
Treasurer was very unwilling to do this, but he was
under penalty of death if he refused, and so the coffers
were brought forth.

"Your Majesty," said the Treasurer, "if each of
those who clamor without is to receive a piece of gold,
there will not be enough within these coffers to go
around. Some will receive and others be denied,
since no further store of gold is to be had."

At this news the Prince was both puzzled and
alarmed.

"What are we to do?' he asked of the tutor; but
Borland was unable to suggest a remedy.

Then said the aged Chamberlain, coming forward,
and bowing low before the little King,

"Your Majesty, I think I can assist you in your
difficulty. You did but promise a piece of gold to
those who are really suffering and in need, but so
great is the greed of mankind that many without are
in no necessity whatever, but only seek to enrich
themselves at your expense. Therefore I propose you
examine carefully each case that presents itself, and
unless the beggar is in need of alms turn him away
empty-handed, as being a fraud and a charlatan."

"Your counsel is wise, oh Chamberlain," replied

[ 193 ]

Mother the Prince, after a moment's thought; "and by turn-
Goose mg away the impostors we shall have gold enough for
m Prose ^ neG£yt Therefore bid the guards to admit the
beggars one by one."

When the first beggar came before him the Prince
asked,

"Are you in need? '

"I am starving, Your Majesty," replied the man,
in a whining tone. He was poorly dressed, but
seemed strong and well, and the Prince examined him
carefully for a moment. Then he answered the fel-
low, saying,

" Since you are starving, go and sell the gold ring
I see you are wearing upon your finger. I can assist
only those who are unable to help themselves."

At this the man turned away muttering angrily,
and the courtiers murmured their approval of the
Prince's wisdom.

The next beggar was dressed in velvet, and the
Prince sent him away with a sharp rebuke. But the
third was a woman, old and feeble, and she blessed
the Prince as she hobbled joyfully away with a broad
gold-piece clasped tightly within her withered hand.

The next told so pitiful a story that he also
received a gold-piece; but as he turned away the
Prince saw that beneath his robe his shoes were
fastened with silver buckles, and so he commanded
the guards to take away the gold and to punish the
man for attempting to deceive his King.

[ 194]

And so many came to him that were found to be How the
unworthy that he finally bade the guards proclaim to Beggars

all who waited that any who should be found unde- ^ame to

1111 -1 •

serving would be beaten with stripes.

That edict so frightened the imposters that they
quickly fled, and only those few who were actually in
want dared to present themselves before the King.

And lo! the task that had seemed too great for
one day was performed in a few hours, and when all
the needy had been provided for but one of the royal
coffers had been opened, and that was scarcely empty!

"What think you, Borland?' asked the Prince,
anxiously, "have we done aright?'

" I have learned, Your Majesty," answered the
tutor, "that there is a great difference between those
who beg and those who suffer for lack of bread. For,
while all who needed aid were in truth beggars, not
all the beggars needed aid; and hereafter I shall only
give alms to those I know to be honestly in want."

" It is wisely said, my friend," returned the Prince,
"and I feel I was wrong to doubt the wisdom of my
father's councilors. Go, Borland, and ask the King
if he will graciously attend me here."

The King arrived and bowed smilingly before the
Prince whom he had set to reign in his own place,
and at once the boy arose and presented his sire with
the scepter and crown, saying,

" Forgive me, oh my King, that I presumed to
doubt the wisdom of your rule. For, though the sun

[195]

Mother has not yet set, I feel that I am all unworthy to sit in

Goose your place, and so I willingly resign my power to

ose your more skillful hands. And the coffers which I,

in my ignorance, had determined to empty for the

benefit of those unworthy, are still nearly full, and

more than enough remains for the expenses of the

carnival. Therefore forgive me, my father, and let me

learn wisdom in the future from the justness of your

rule."

Thus ended the reign of Prince Lilimond as King,
and not till many years later did he again ascend the
throne upon the death of his father.

And really there was not much suffering in the
kingdom at any time, as it was a prosperous country
and well governed; for, if you look for beggars in any
land you will find many, but if you look only for
the deserving poor there are less, and these all the
more worthy of succor.

I wish all those in power were as kind-hearted as
little Prince Lilimond, and as ready to help the needy,
for then there would be more light hearts in the
world, since it is "better to give than to receive."

[196]

Tom, the Piper's Son

Tom, Tom, the piper's son,

Stole a pig and away he run;

The pig was eat and Tom was beat

And Tom ran crying down the street.

1

"^HERE was not a worse vagabond in Shrewsbury Torn, the

than old Barney the piper. He never did any
work except to play the pipes, and he played
so badly that few pennies ever found their way into
his pouch. It was whispered around that old Barney
was not very honest, but he was so sly and cautious
that no one had ever caught him in the act of steal-
ing, although a good many things had been missed
after they had fallen into the old man's way.

Barney had one son, named Tom; and they lived
all alone in a little hut away at the end of the village
street, for Tom's mother had died when he was a
baby. You may not suppose that Tom was a very
good boy, since he had such a queer father; but
neither was he very bad, and the worst fault he had
was in obeying his father's wishes when Barney wanted
him to steal a chicken for their supper or a pot of
potatoes for their breakfast. Tom did not like to
steal, but he had no one to teach him to be honest,

[ 199]

Mother and so, under his father's guidance, he fell into bad

Goose ways.

in Prose One morning

Tom, Tom, the piper's son,

Was hungry when the day begun;

He wanted a bun and asked for one,

But soon found out that there were none.

"What shall we do? " he asked his father.

" Go hungry," replied Barney, " unless you want
to take my pipes and play in the village. Perhaps
they will give you a penny."

"No," answered Tom, shaking his head; "no one
will give me a penny for playing; but Farmer Bowser
might give me a penny to stop playing, if I went to
his house. He did last week, you know."

"You'd better try it," said his father; "it's
mighty uncomfortable to be hungry."

So Tom took his father's pipes and walked over
the hill to Farmer Bowser's house; for you must
know that

Tom, Tom, the piper's son,
Learned to play when he was young;
But the only tune that he could play
Was "Over the hills and far away."

And he played this one tune as badly as his father
himself played, so that the people were annoyed when
they heard him, and often begged him to stop.

When he came to Farmer Bowser's house, Tom
started up the pipes and began to play with all his

[200]

Tom, the Piper's Son

might. The farmer was in his woodshed, sawing Tom, the
wood, so he did not hear the pipes; and the farmer's Pipa**
wife was deaf, and could not hear them. But a little
pig that had strayed around in front of the house
heard the noise, and ran away in great fear to the
pigsty.

Then, as Tom saw the playing did no good, he
thought he would sing also, and therefore he began
bawling, at the top of his voice,

" Over the hills, not a great ways off,
The woodchuck died with the whooping-cough!"

The farmer had stopped sawing to rest, just then;
and when he heard the singing he rushed out of the
shed, and chased Tom away with a big stick of wood.

The boy went back to his father, and said, sorrow-
fully, for he was more hungry than before,

"The farmer gave me nothing but a scolding; but
there was a very nice pig running around the yard."

" How big was it?" asked Barney.

" Oh, just about big enough to make a nice dinner
for you and me."

The piper slowly shook his head;
"'Tis long since I on pig have fed,
And though I feel it's wrong to steal,
Roast pig is very nice," he said.

Tom knew very well what he meant by that, so
he laid down the pipes, and went back to the farmer's

house.

[201 ]

Mother When he came near he heard the farmer again

Goose sawing wood in the woodshed, and so he went softly

in Prose ^ tQ ^ pig-sty and reached over and grabbed the

little pig by the ears. The pig squealed, of course,

but the farmer was making so much noise himself that

he did not hear it, and in a minute Tom had the pig

tucked under his arm and was running back home

with it.

The piper was very glad to see the pig, and said to
Tom,

" You are a good son, and the pig is very nice and
fat. We shall have a dinner fit for a king."

It was not long before the piper had the pig killed
and cut into pieces and boiling in the pot. Only the
tail was left out, for Tom wanted to make a whistle
of it, and as there was plenty to eat besides the tail his
father let him have it.

The piper and his son had a fine dinner that day,
and so great was their hunger that the little pig was
all eaten up at one meal !

Then Barney lay down to sleep, and Tom sat on
a bench outside the door and began to make a whistle
out of the pig's tail with his pocket-knife.

Now Farmer Bowser, when he had finished sawing
the wood, found it was time to feed the pig, so he
took a pail of meal and went to the pigsty. But when
he came to the sty there was no pig to be seen, and
he searched all round the place for a good hour with-
out finding it.

[ 202 ]

" Piggy > piggX' Piggy*" he called, but no piggy Tom, the
came, and then he knew his pig had been stolen. He Pip
was very angry, indeed, for the pig was a great pet, Son
and he had wanted to keep it till it grew very big.

So he put on his coat and buckled a strap around
his waist, and went down to the village to see if he
could find out who had stolen his pig.

Up and down the street he went, and in and
out the lanes, but no traces of the pig could he
find anywhere. And that was no great wonder, for
the pig was eaten by that time and its bones picked
clean.

Finally the farmer came to the end of the street
where the piper lived in his little hut, and there he
saw Tom sitting on a bench and blowing on a whistle
made from a pig's tail.

" Where did you get that tail ? ' asked the farmer.

" I found it," said naughty Tom, beginning to be
frightened.

" Let me see it," demanded the farmer; and when
he had looked at it carefully he cried out,

"This tail belonged to my little pig, for I know
very well the curl at the end of it! Tell me, you
rascal, where is the pig? '

Then Tom fell in a tremble, for he knew his
wickedness was discovered.

" The pig is eat, your honor," he answered.

The farmer said never a word, but his face grew
black with anger, and, unbuckling the strap that was

[203]

Mother about his waist, he waved it around his head, and

Goose whack! came the strap over Tom's back.

in Prose u QW^ QW j » cried the boy, and started to run

down the street.

Whack! whack! fell the strap over his shoulders,
for the farmer followed at his heels half-way down the
street, nor did he spare the strap until he had given
Tom a good beating. And Tom was so scared that
he never stopped running until he came to the end
of the village, and he bawled lustily the whole way
and cried out at every step as if the farmer was still at
his back.

It was dark before he came back to his home, and
his father was still asleep; so Tom crept into the hut
and went to bed. But he had received a good lesson,
and never after that could the old piper induce him
to steal.

When Tom showed by his actions his intention of
being honest he soon got a job of work to do, and
before long he was able to earn a living more easily,
and a great deal more honestly, than when he stole
the pig to get a dinner and suffered a severe beating
as a punishment.

Tom, Tom, the piper's son
Now with stealing pigs was done,
He 'd work all day instead of play,
And dined on tart and currant bun.

[204]

Humpty, Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the King's horses

And all the King's men
Cannot put Humpty together again.

AT the very top of the hay-mow in the barn, the Humpty
Speckled Hen had made her nest, and each
day for twelve days she had laid in it a pretty
white egg. The Speckled Hen had made her nest in
this out-of-the-way place so that no one would come
to disturb her, as it was her intention to sit upon the
eggs until they were hatched into chickens.

Each day, as she laid her eggs, she would cackle to
herself, saying, "This will in time be a beautiful chick,
with soft, fluffy down all over its body and bright little
eyes that will look at the world in amazement. It will
be one of my children, and I shall love it dearly."

She named each egg, as she laid it, by the name
she should call it when a chick, the first one being
"Cluckety-Cluck," and the next "Cadaw-Cut," and
so on; and when she came to the twelfth egg she
called it " Humpty Dumpty."

This twelfth egg was remarkably big and white
and of a very pretty shape, and as the nest was now so

[207]

Mother full she laid it quite near the edge. And then the
Goose Speckled Hen, after looking proudly at her work,
in Prose went Qff to ^ barn-yard, clucking joyfully,in search

of something to eat.

When she had gone, Cluckety-Cluck, who was in
the middle of the nest and the oldest egg of all, called
out, angrily,

"It's getting crowded in this nest; move up there,
some of you fellows ! ' And then he gave Cadaw-
Cut, who was above him, a kick.

"I can't move unless the others do; they're
crowding me down!" said Cadaw-Cut; and he kicked
the egg next above him. And so they continued
kicking one another and rolling around in the nest
until one kicked Humpty Dumpty, and as he lay on
the edge of the nest he was kicked out and rolled
down the hay-mow until he came to a stop near the
very bottom.

Humpty did not like this very well, but he was a
bright egg for one so young, and after he had recovered
from his shaking up he began to look about to see
where he was. The barn door was open, and he
caught a glimpse of trees and hedges, and green grass
with a silvery brook running through it. And he saw
the waving grain and the tasselled maize and the sun-
shine flooding it all.

The scene was very enticing to the young egg, and
Humpty at once resolved to see something of this
great world before going back to the nest.

[208 ]

He began to make his way carefully through the Humpty
hay, and was getting along fairly well when he heard a
voice say,

"Where are you going?'

Humpty looked around and found he was beside a
pretty little nest in which was one brown egg.

"Did you speak?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the brown egg; "I asked where
you were going."

"Who are you?' enquired Humpty; "do you
belong in our nest? '

"Oh, no!' answered the brown egg; "my name
is Coutchie-Coulou, and the Black Bantam laid me
about an hour ago."

"Oh," said Humpty, proudly; "I belong to the
Speckled Hen, myself."

"Do you, indeed!' returned Coutchie-Coulou.
"I saw her go by a little while ago, and she's much
bigger than the Black Bantam."

"Yes, and I 'm much bigger than you," replied
Humpty. "But I 'm going out to see the world, and
if you like to go with me I '11 take good care of you."

" Is n't it dangerous for eggs to go about all by
themselves?" asked Coutchie, timidly.

"Perhaps so," answered Humpty; "but it's dan-
gerous in the nest, too; my brothers might have
smashed me with their kicking. However, if we are
careful we can't come to much harm; so come along,

little one, and I '11 look after you."

[209]

Mother Coutchie-Coulou gave him her hand while he

Goose helped her out of the nest, and together they crept

ose over the hay until they came to the barn floor. They

made for the door at once, holding each other tightly

by the hand, and soon came to the threshold, which

appeared very high to them.

"We must jump," said Humpty.

" I 'm afraid ! ' cried Coutchie-Coulou. " And I
declare! there's my mother's voice clucking, and
she 's coming this way."

"Then hurry!" said Humpty. "And do not trem-
ble so or you will get yourself all mixed up; it
does n't improve eggs to shake them. We will jump,
but take care not to bump against me or you may
break my shell. Now, — one, — two, — three!'

They held each other's hand and jumped, alight-
ing safely in the roadway. Then, fearing their moth-
ers would see them, Humpty ran as fast as he could
go until he and Coutchie were concealed beneath a
rose-bush in the garden.

" I 'm afraid we 're bad eggs," gasped Coutchie,
who was somewhat out of breath.

" Oh, not at all," replied Humpty; "we were laid
only this morning, so we are quite fresh. But now,
since we are in the world, we must start out in search
of adventure. Here is a roadway beside us which will
lead us somewhere or other; so come along, Coutchie-
Coulou, and do not be afraid."

The brown egg meekly gave him her hand, and

[210]

together they trotted along the roadway until they Humpty
came to a high stone wall, which had sharp spikes
upon its top. It seemed to extend for a great dis-
tance, and the eggs stopped and looked at it curiously.

" I 'd like to see what is behind that wall," said
Humpty, "but I don't think we shall be able to
climb over it."

" No, indeed," answered the brown egg, "but just
before us I see a little hole in the wall, near the
ground; perhaps we can crawl through that."

They ran to the hole and found it was just large
enough to admit them. So they squeezed through
very carefully, in order not to break themselves, and
soon came to the other side.

They were now in a most beautiful garden, with
trees and bright-hued flowers in abundance and pretty
fountains that shot their merry sprays far into the air.
In the center of the garden was a great palace, with
bright golden turrets and domes, and many windows
that glistened in the sunshine like the sparkle of
diamonds.

Richly dressed courtiers and charming ladies strolled
through the walks, and before the palace door were a
dozen prancing horses, gaily caparisoned, awaiting
their riders.

It was a scene brilliant enough to fascinate anyone,
and the two eggs stood spellbound while their eyes
feasted upon the unusual sight.

"See!" whispered Coutchie-Coulou, "there are

[211]

Mother some birds swimming in the water yonder. Let us
Goose go an(l look at them, for we also may be birds some

inProse day."

"True," answered Humpty, "but we are just as
likely to be omelets or angel's-food. Still, we will
have a look at the birds."

So they started to cross the drive on their way to
the pond, never noticing that the King and his cour-
tiers had issued from the palace and were now coming
down the drive riding upon their prancing steeds.
Just as the eggs were in the middle of the drive the
horses dashed by, and Humpty, greatly alarmed, ran
as fast as he could for the grass.

Then he stopped and looked around, and behold!
there was poor Coutchie-Coulou crushed into a shape-
less mass by the hoof of one of the horses, and her
golden heart was spreading itself slowly over the white
gravel of the driveway !

Humpty sat down upon the grass and wept griev-
ously, for the death of his companion was a great
blow to him. And while he sobbed, a voice said to
him,

"What is the matter, little egg?"

Humpty looked up, and saw a beautiful girl bend-
ing over him.

" One of the horses has stepped upon Coutchie-
Coulou," he said; "and now she is dead, and I have
no friend in all the world."

The girl laughed.

[212]

" Do not grieve," she said, "for eggs are but short- Humpty
lived creatures at best, and Coutchie-Coulou has at D
least died an honorable death and saved herself from
being fried in a pan or boiled in her own shell. So
cheer up, little egg, and I will be your friend — at
least so long as you remain fresh. A stale egg I
never could abide."

" I was laid only this morning," said Humpty, dry-
ing his tears, "so you need have no fear. But do not
call me < little egg,' for I am quite large, as eggs go,
and I have a name of my own."

"What is your name?" asked the Princess.

" It is Humpty Dumpty," he answered, proudly.
"And now, if you will really be my friend, pray show
me about the grounds, and through the palace; and
take care I am not crushed."

So the Princess took Humpty in her arms and
walked with him all through the grounds, letting him
see the fountains and the golden fish that swam in
their waters, the beds of lilies and roses, and the pools
where the swans floated. Then she took him into
the palace, and showed him all the gorgeous rooms,
including the King's own bedchamber and the room
where stood the great ivory throne.

Humpty sighed with pleasure.

"After this," he said, "I am content to accept any
fate that may befall me, for surely no egg before me
ever saw so many beautiful sights."

"That is true," answered the Princess; "but now

Mother I have one more sight to show you which will be

Goose grander than all the others; for the King will be rid-

m Prose . home shortly with all his horses and men at his

back, and I will take you to the gates and let you see

them pass by."

"Thank you," said Humpty.

So she carried him to the gates, and while they
awaited the coming of the King the egg said,

" Put me upon the wall, Princess, for then I shall
be able to see much better than in your arms."

"That is a good idea," she answered; "but you
must be careful not to fall."

Then she sat the egg gently upon the top of the
stone wall, where there was a little hollow; and
Humpty was delighted, for from his elevated perch
he could see much better than the Princess herself.

"Here they come!' he cried; and, sure enough,
the King came riding along the road with many
courtiers and soldiers and vassals following in his wake,
all mounted upon the finest horses the kingdom could
afford.

As they came to the gate and entered at a brisk
trot, Humpty, forgetting his dangerous position, leaned
eagerly over to look at them. The next instant the
Princess heard a sharp crash at her side, and, looking
downward, perceived poor Humpty Dumpty, who lay
crushed and mangled among the sharp stones where
he had fallen!

The Princess sighed, for she had taken quite a

fancy to the egg; but she knew it was impossible to Humpty
gather it up again or mend the matter in any way,
and therefore she returned thoughtfully to the palace.

Now it happened that upon this evening several
young men of the kingdom, who were all of high rank,
had determined to ask the King for the hand of the
Princess; so they assembled in the throne room and
demanded that the King choose which of them was
most worthy to marry his daughter.

The King was in a quandary, for all the suitors
were wealthy and powerful, and he feared that all but
the one chosen would become his enemies. There-
fore he thought long upon the matter, and at last said,

" Where all are worthy it is difficult to decide
which most deserves the hand of the Princess. There-
fore I propose to test your wit. The one who shall
ask me a riddle I cannot guess, can marry my
daughter."

At this the young men looked thoughtful, and
began to devise riddles that his Majesty should be
unable to guess. But the King was a shrewd mon-
arch, and each one of the riddles presented to him he
guessed with ease.

Now there was one amongst the suitors whom the
Princess herself favored, as was but natural. He was
a slender, fair-haired youth, with dreamy blue eyes
and a rosy complexion, and although he loved the
Princess dearly he despaired of rinding a riddle that
the King could not guess.

Mother But while he stood leaning against the wall the

Goose Princess approached him and whispered in his ear a

m Prose ^^ ^ jjad just thought of. Instantly his face

brightened, and when the King called, "Now, Master

Gracington, it is your turn," he advanced boldly to

the throne.

"Speak your riddle, sir," said the King, gaily; for
he thought this youth would also fail, and that he
might therefore keep the Princess by his side for a
time longer.

But Master Gracington, with downcast eyes, knelt
before the throne and spoke in this wise:
"This is my riddle, oh, King:

"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King's horses
And all the King's men
Cannot put Humpty together again!"

" Read me that, sire, an' you will ! "

The King thought earnestly for a long time, and
he slapped his head and rubbed his ears and walked
the floor in great strides; but guess the riddle he
could not.

"You are a humbug, sir!" he cried out at last;
"there is no answer to such a riddle."

"You are wrong, sire," answered the young man;
" Humpty Dumpty was an egg."

"Why did I not think of that before! " exclaimed

[216]

the King; but he gave the Princess to the young man Humpty
to be his bride, and they lived happily together. Dumpty

And thus did Humpty Dumpty, even in his death,
repay the kindness of the fair girl who had shown him
such sights as an egg seldom sees.

The Woman Who
Lived in a Shoe

The Woman Who Lived in a Shoe

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,
And whipped them all soundly

And sent them to bed.

ALONG time ago there lived a woman who had The
four daughters, and these in time grew up and Woman
married and went to live in different parts of Lt-vej ;„
the country. And the woman, after that, lived all a Shoe
alone, and said to herself, " I have done my duty to
the world, and now shall rest quietly for the balance
of my life. When one has raised a family of four
children and has married them all
happily, she is surely entitled to pass
her remaining days in peace and
comfort."

She lived in a peculiar little house,
that looked something like this pic-
ture. It was not like most of the
houses you see, but the old woman
had it built herself, and liked it, and so it did not
matter to her how odd it was. It stood upon the top

[221 ]

Mother of a little hill, and there was a garden at the back and
Goose a pretty green lawn in front, with white gravel paths
in Prose ^ j many beds of bright colored flowers.

The old woman was very happy and contented
there until one day she received a letter saying that her
daughter Hannah was dead and had sent her family of
five children to their grandmother to be taken care of.
This misfortune ruined all the old woman's dreams
of quiet; but the next day the children arrived — three
boys and two girls, — and she made the best of it and
gave them the beds her own daughters had once occu-
pied, and her own cot as well; and she made a bed
for herself on the parlor sofa.

The youngsters were like all other children, and
got into mischief once in awhile; but the old woman
had much experience with children and managed to
keep them in order very well, while they quickly
learned to obey her, and generally did as they were
bid.

But scarcely had she succedeed in getting them
settled in their new home when Margaret, another of
her daughters, died, and sent four more children to
her mother to be taken care of.

The old woman scarcely knew where to keep this
new flock that had come to her fold, for the house
was already full; but she thought the matter over and
finally decided she must build an addition to her
house.

So she hired a carpenter and built what is called a

[ 222 ]

" lean-to" at the right of her cottage, making it just The
big enough to accommodate the four new members of Woman

MS L

her family. When it was completed T • ° ,

* Lii'ved

her house looked very much as it a Shoe

does in this picture.

She put four little cots in her
~. new part of the house, and then she

sighed contentedly, and said, "Now

all the babies are taken care of and
will be comfortable until they grow up." Of course
it was much more difficult to manage nine small
children than five; and they often led each other into
mischief, so that the flower beds began to be trampled
upon and the green grass to be worn under the con-
stant tread of little feet, and the furniture to show a
good many scratches and bruises.

But the old woman continued to look after them,
as well as she was able, until Sarah, her third daughter,
also died, and three more children were sent to their
grandmother to be brought up.

The old woman was nearly
distracted when she heard of this
new addition to her family, but
she did not give way to despair.
She sent for the carpenter again,
and had him build another addi-
tion to her house, as the picture

shows. Then she put three new cots in the new
part for the babies to sleep in, and when they arrived

[223]

in

Mother
Goose
in Prose

they were just as cozy and comfortable as peas in
a pod.

The grandmother was a lively old woman for one
of her years, but she found her time now fully occu-
pied in cooking the meals for her twelve small grand-
children, and mending their clothes, and washing their
faces, and undressing them at night and dressing them
in the morning. There was just a dozen of the
babies now, and when you consider they were about
the same age you will realize what a large family the
old woman had, and how fully her time was occupied
in caring for them all.

And now, to make the matter worse, her fourth
daughter, who had been named Abigail, suddenly
took sick and died, and she also had four small chil-
dren that must be cared for in some way.

The old woman, having taken the other twelve,

could not well refuse to adopt these little orphans also.

" I may as well have sixteen as a dozen," she said,

with a sigh; "they will drive
me crazy some day, anyhow,
so a few more will not matter
at all!"

Once more she sent for
the carpenter, and bade him
build a third addition to the
house; and when it was com-
pleted she added four more cots to the dozen that
were already in use. The house presented a very queer

[224]

appearance now, but she did not mind that so long as The
the babies were comfortable. " I shall not have to Woman

build again," she said; " and that is one satisfaction. I r . ° , .

Lived in

have now no more daughters to die and leave me their a Shoe
children, and therefore I must make up my mind to
do the best I can with the sixteen that have already
been inflicted upon me in my old age."

It was not long before all the grass about the
house was trodden down, and the white gravel of the
walks all thrown at the birds, and the flower beds
trampled into shapeless masses by thirty-two little feet
that ran about from morn till night. But the old
woman did not complain at this; her time was too
much taken up with the babies for her to miss the
grass and the flowers.

It cost so much money to clothe them that she
decided to dress them all alike, so that they looked
like the children of a regular orphan asylum. And it
cost so much to feed them that she was obliged to
give them the plainest food; so there was bread-and-
milk for breakfast and milk-and-bread for dinner aixl
bread-and-broth for supper. But it was a good and
wholesome diet, and the children thrived and grew fat
upon it.

One day a stranger came along the road, and when
he saw the old woman's house he began to laugh.

"What are you laughing at, sir?" asked the grand-
mother, who was sitting upon her door-steps engaged

in mending sixteen pairs of stockings.

[225]

Mother "At your house," the stranger replied; "it looks

Goose for all the world like a big shoe!'

"A shoe!" she said, in surprise.

"Why, yes. The chimneys are shoe-straps, and
the steps are the heel, and all those additions make
the foot of the shoe."

"Never mind," said the woman; "it may be a
shoe, but it is full of babies, and that makes it different
from most other shoes."

But the stranger went on to the village and told
all he met that he had seen an old woman who lived
in a shoe; and soon people came from all parts of the
country to look at the queer house, and they usually
went away laughing.

The old woman did not mind this at all; she was
too busy to be angry. Some of the children were
always getting bumped heads or bruised shins, or fall-
ing down and hurting themselves, and these had to be
comforted. And some were naughty and had to be
whipped; and some were dirty and had to be washed;
and some were good and had to be kissed. It was
"Gran'ma, do this!' and "Gran'ma, do that!" from
morning to night, so that the poor grandmother was
nearly distracted. The only peace she ever got was
when they were all safely tucked in their little cots
and were sound asleep; for then, at least, she was free
from worry and had a chance to gather her scattered
wits.

" There are so many children," she said one day to

[226]

the baker-man, " that I often really do n't know what The
to do ! ' Woman

"If they were mine, ma'am," he replied, " I 'd send ^h° , •
i i 1 i ' 1 i JLtvea in

them to the poor-house, or else they d send me to the a Shoe

mad-house."

Some of the children heard him say this, and they
resolved to play him a trick in return for his ill-
natured speech.

The baker-man came every day to the shoe-house,
and brought two great baskets of bread in his arms for
the children to eat with their milk and their broth.

So one day, when the old woman had gone to the
town to buy shoes, the children all painted their faces,
to look as Indians do when they are on the war-path;
and they caught the roosters and the turkey-cock and
pulled feathers from their tails to stick in their hair.
And then the boys made wooden tomahawks for the
girls and bows-and-arrows for their own use, and then
all sixteen went out and hid in the bushes near the
top of the hill.

By and by the baker-man came slowly up the
path with a basket of bread on either arm; and just
as he reached the bushes there sounded in his ears a
most unearthly war-whoop. Then a flight of arrows
came from the bushes, and although they were blunt
and could do him no harm, they rattled all over his
body, and one hit his nose, and another his chin,
while several stuck fast in the loaves of bread.

Altogether, the baker-man was terribly frightened;

[227]

Mother and when all the sixteen small Indians rushed from the
Goose bushes and flourished their tomahawks, he took to his
heels and ran down the hill as fast as he could go !

When the grandmother returned she asked,

"Where is the bread for your supper? '

The children looked at one another in surprise,
for they had forgotten all about the bread. And then
one of them confessed, and told her the whole story of
how they had frightened the baker-man for saying he
would send them to the poor-house.

" You are sixteen very naughty children ! ' ex-
claimed the old woman; "and for punishment you
must eat your broth without any bread, and after-
wards each one shall have a sound whipping and be
sent to bed."

Then all the children began to cry at once, and
there was such an uproar that their grandmother had
to put cotton in her ears that she might not lose her
hearing.

But she kept her promise, and made them eat their
broth without any bread; for, indeed, there was no
bread to give them.

Then she stood them in a row and undressed
them, and as she put the night-dress on each one she
gave it a sound whipping and sent it to bed.

They cried some, of course, but they knew very
well they deserved the punishment, and it was not
long before all of them were sound asleep.

They took care not to play any more tricks on

[228]

the baker-man, and as they grew older they were The
naturally much better behaved. Woman

Before many years the boys were old enough to r- ^ •
work for the neighboring farmers, and that made the a Shoe
woman's family a good deal smaller. And then the
girls grew up and married, and found homes of their
own, so that all the children were in time well pro-
vided for.

But not one of them forgot the kind grandmother
who had taken such good care of them, and often
they tell their children of the days when they lived
with the old woman in a shoe and frightened the
baker-man almost into fits with their wooden toma-
hawks.

[229]

Little Miss Muffet

Little Miss Muffet

Little Miss Muffet

Sat on a tuffet,
Eating of curds and whey.

There came a great spider

And sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

LITTLE MISS MUFFET'S father was a big Little

banker in a big city, and he had so much *"*

j ' Muffet
money that the house he lived in was almost

as beautiful as a king's palace. It was built of granite
and marble, and richly furnished with every luxury
that money can buy. There was an army of servants
about the house, and many of them had no other
duties than to wait upon Miss Muffet, for the little
girl was an only child and therefore a personage
of great importance. She had a maid to dress her
hair and a maid to bathe her, a maid to serve her at
table and a maid to tie her shoestrings, and several
maids beside. And then there was Nurse Holloweg
to look after all the maids and see they did their tasks
properly.

The child's father spent his days at his office and
his evenings at his club; her mother was a leader in
society, and therefore fully engaged from morning till

[233]

Mother night and from night till morn; so that Little Miss
Goose Muffet seldom saw her parents and scarce knew them
in Prose when she did see them.

I have never known by what name she was chris-
tened. Perhaps she did not know herself, for every-
one had called her "Miss Muffet' since she could
remember. The servants spoke of her respectfully as
Miss Muffet. Mrs. Muffet would say, at times, " By
the way, Nurse, how is Miss Muffet getting along?'
And Mr. Muffet, when he met his little daughter by
chance on the walk or in the hallway, would stop
and look at her gravely and say, " So this is Miss
Muffet. Well, how are you feeling, little one?"
And then, without heeding her answer, he would walk
away.

Perhaps you think that Miss Muffet, surrounded
by every luxury and with a dozen servants to wait
upon her, was happy and contented; but such was
not the case. She wanted to run and romp, but they
told her it was unladylike; she wished to play with
other children, but none were rich enough to be
proper associates for her; she longed to dig in the dirt
in the garden, but Nurse Holloweg was shocked at
the very thought. So Miss Muffet became sullen and
irritable, and scolded everyone about her, and lived a
very unhappy life. And her food was too rich and
gave her dyspepsia, so that she grew thin and pale and
did not sleep well at night.

One afternoon her mother, who happened to be at

[234]

home for an hour, suddenly thought of her little Little
daughter; so she rang the bell and asked for Nurse Miss
Holloweg. Muffet

"How is Miss Muffet, Nurse?' enquired the lady.

"Very badly, ma'am," was the reply.

"Badly! What do you mean? Is she ill?"

" She 's far from well, ma'am," answered the
Nurse, "and seems to be getting worse every day."

"Well," replied the lady; "you must have the
doctor to see her; and do n't forget to let me know
what he says. That is all, Nurse."

She turned to her novel again, and the Nurse
walked away and sent a servant for the doctor. That
great man, when he came, shook his head solemnly
and said,

" She must have a change. Take her away into
the country as soon as possible."

" And very good advice it was, too," remarked the
Nurse to one of the maids; "for I feel as if I needed
a change myself."

When she reported the matter to Mrs. Muffet the
mother answered,

"Very well; I will see Mr. Muffet and have him
write out a cheque."

And so it was that a week later Little Miss Muffet
went to the country, or rather to a small town where
there was a summer hotel that had been highly recom-
mended to Nurse Holloweg; and with her went the
string of maids and a wagon-load of boxes and trunks.

O35]

Mother The morning after their arrival the little girl asked

Goose to g0 out upon the lawn.

in Prose u Well," replied Nurse Holloweg, "Sarah can take
you out for half an hour. But remember you are
not to run and get heated, for that will ruin your
complexion; and you must not speak to any of the
common children you meet, for your mother would
object; and you must not get your shoes dusty nor
your dress soiled, nor disobey Sarah in any way."

Little Miss Muffet went out in a very angry and
sulky mood.

"What's the use of being in the country," she
thought, "if I must act just as I did in the city? I
hate Nurse Holloweg, and Sarah, and all the rest of
them! and if I dared I 'd just — just run away."

Indeed, a few minutes later, when Sarah had fallen
asleep upon a bench under a big shade tree, Miss
Muffet decided she would really run away for once in
her life, and see how it seemed.

There was a pretty lane near by, running between
shady trees far out into the country, and, stealing
softly away from Sarah's side, the little girl ran as fast
as she could go, and never stopped until she was all
out of breath.

While she rested and wondered what she could do
next, a farmer came along, driving an empty cart.

"I'll catch on behind," said Miss Muffet, glee-
fully, "just as I Ve seen the boys do in the city.
Won't it be fun!"

[236]

So she ran and caught on the end of the cart, and Little
actually climbed into it, falling all in a heap upon Mlss
the straw that lay upon the bottom. But it did n't
hurt her at all, and the next minute the farmer
whipped up his horses, and they went trotting along
the lane, carrying Miss Muffet farther and farther
away from hated Nurse Holloweg and the dreadful
maids.

She looked around upon the green fields and the
waving grain, and drew in deep breaths of the fresh
country air, and was happy for almost the first time in
her little life. By and by she lay back upon the
straw and fell asleep; and the farmer, who did not
know she was in his cart, drove on for many miles,
until at last he stopped at a small wooden farm-house,
and jumped to the ground.

A woman came to the door to greet him, and he

said to her,

"Well, mother, we 're home again, you see."

"So I see," she answered; "but did you bring my
groceries? '

"Yes," he replied, as he began to unharness the
horses; "they are in the cart."

So she came to the cart and looked within, and
saw Miss Muffet, who was still asleep.

"Where did you get the little girl?' asked the
farmer's wife, in surprise.

"What little girl? " asked he.

" The one in the cart."

[-37]

Mother He came to the cart and looked in, and was as

Goose surprised as his wife.

* D ^

« She must have climbed into the cart when I left
the town," he said; "but waken her, wife, and we
will hear what she has to say."

So the farmer's wife shook the girl by the arm,
and Miss Muffet sat up in the cart and rubbed her
eyes and wondered where she was.

"How came you in my cart?" asked the farmer.

"I caught on behind, and climbed in," answered
the girl.

"What is your name, and where do you live?'
enquired the farmer's wife.

" My name is Miss Muffet, and I live in a big city,
— but where, I do not know."

And that was all she could tell them, so the
woman said at last,

" We must keep her till some one comes to claim
her, and she can earn her living by helping me make
the cheeses."

" That will be nice," said Miss Muffet, with a
laugh, "for Nurse Holloweg never lets me do any-
thing, and I should like to help somebody do some-
thing."

So they led her into the house, where the farmer's
wife wondered at the fine texture of her dress
and admired the golden chain that hung around her
neck.

" Some one will surely come for her," the woman

[238]

said to her husband, " for she is richly dressed and Little
must belong to a family of some importance."

Nevertheless, when they had eaten dinner, for *&*
which Little Miss Muffet had a wonderful appetite,
the woman took her into the dairy and told her how
she could assist her in curdling the milk and preparing
it for the cheese-press.

" Why, it 's really fun to work," said the girl, at
first, " and I should like to live here always. I do
hope Nurse Holloweg will not find me."

After a time, however, she grew weary, and wanted
to rest; but the woman had not yet finished her
cheese-making, so she bade the girl keep at her tasks.

" It 's time enough to rest when the work is done,"
she said, " and if you stay with me you must earn
your board. No one is allowed to idle in this
house."

So Little Miss Muffet, though she felt like crying
and was very tired, kept at her work until at length
all was finished and the last cheese was in the press.

"Now," said the farmer's wife, "since you have
worked so well I shall give you a dish of curds and
whey for your supper, and you may go out into the
orchard and eat it under the shade of the trees."

Little Miss Muffet had never eaten curds and
whey before, and did not know how they tasted; but
she was very hungry, so she took the dish and went
into the orchard.

She first looked around for a place to sit down,

[239]

Mother and finally discovered a little grassy mound, which is
Goose called a tuffet in the country, and seated herself upon
m Prose .^ ^ ^^ ^ taste(j ^g curcjs and whey and found

them very good.

But while she was eating she chanced to look
down at her feet, and there was a great black spider
coming straight towards her. The girl had never seen
such an enormous and hideous-looking spider before,
and she was so frightened that she gave a scream and
tipped backward off the tuffet, spilling the curds and
whey all over her dress as she did so. This frightened
her more than ever, and as soon as she could get
upon her feet she scampered away to the farm-house
as fast as she could go, crying bitterly as she ran.

The farmer's wife tried to comfort her, and Miss
Muffet, between her sobs, said she had seen " the
awfulest, biggest, blackest spider in all the world ! '

This made the woman laugh, for she was not
afraid of spiders.

Soon after they heard a sound of wheels upon the
road and a handsome carriage came dashing up to
the gate.

" Has anyone seen a little girl who has run away?'
asked Nurse Holloweg, leaning out of the carriage.

"Oh, yes," answered Little Miss Muffet; "here I
am, Nurse." And she ran out and jumped into the
carriage, for she was very glad to get back again to
those who would care for her and not ask her to work
making cheeses.

[240]

When they were driving back to the town the Little
Nurse said, Miss

"You must promise me, Miss Muffet, never to run Muffet
away again. You have frightened me nearly into
hysterics, and had you been lost your mother would
have been quite disappointed."

The little girl was silent for a time; then she
answered,

" I will promise not to run away if you will let
me play as other children do. But if you do not
allow me to run and romp and dig in the ground, I
shall keep running away, no matter how many horrid
spiders come to frighten me! '

And Nurse Holloweg, who had really been much
alarmed at so nearly losing her precious charge,
thought it wise to agree to Miss Muffet's terms.

She kept her word, too, and when Little Miss
Muffet went back to her home in the city her cheeks
were as red as roses and her eyes sparkled with health.
And she grew, in time, to be a beautiful young lady,
and as healthy and robust as she was beautiful. See-
ing which, the doctor put an extra large fee in his bill
for advising that the little girl be taken to the coun-
try; and Mr. Muffet paid it without a word of protest.

Even after Miss MufFet grew up and was married
she never forgot the day that she ran away, nor the
curds and whey she ate for her supper, nor the great
spider that frightened her away from the tuffet.

Three Wise Men of
Gotham

Three Wise Men of Gotham

Three Wise Men of Gotham
Went to sea in a bowl.
If the bowl had been stronger
My tale had been longer.

THERE lived in the great city of Gotham, over Three
against the north gate, a man who possessed a
very wise aspect, but very little else. He was
tall and lean, and had a fine large head, bald and
smooth upon the top, with a circle of white hair
behind the ears. His beard was pure white, and
reached to his waist; his eyes were small, dark, and so
piercing that they seemed to read your every thought.
His eyebrows were very heavy, and as white as his
beard. He dressed in a long black mantle with a
girdle corded about the middle, and he walked slowly
and majestically, and talked no more than he was
obliged to.

When this man passed down the street with his
stately tread the people all removed their hats and
bowed to him with great reverence, saying within
themselves,

" He is very wise, this great man; he is a second
Socrates."

Mother And soon this was the only name he was called

Goose by, and every one in Gotham knew him as "Socrates."

To be sure this man was not really wise. Had
they realized the truth, not one he met but knew
more than Socrates; but his venerable appearance
certainly betokened great wisdom, and no one ap-
peared to remember that things are seldom what they
seem.

Socrates would strut about with bowed head and
arms clasped behind him, and think:

" My ! how wise these people take me to be.
Every one admires my beautiful beard. When I look
into their faces they drop their eyes. I am, in truth,
a wonderful man, and if I say nothing they will be-
lieve I am full of wisdom. Ah, here comes the
schoolmaster; I shall frown heavily and refuse to
notice him, for then he also will be deceived and
think I am pondering upon matters of great import."

Really, the one wise thing about this Socrates was
his ability to keep quiet. For, saying no word, it was
impossible he should betray his ignorance.

Singularly enough, over by the south gate of
Gotham there dwelt another wise man, of much the
same appearance as Socrates. His white beard was a
trifle longer and he had lost his left eye, which was
covered by a black patch; but in all other ways his
person betokened as much wisdom as that of the
other.

He did not walk about, being lazy and preferring

[246]

his ease; but he lived in a little cottage with one Three
room, where the people came to consult him in regard wise
to all their troubles.

They had named him Sophocles, and when any-
thing went wrong they would say,

" Let us go and consult Sophocles, for he is very
wise and will tell us what to do."

Thus one man, who had sued his neighbor in the
courts, became worried over the outcome of the mat-
ter and came to consult the wise man.

"Tell me, O Sophocles!' he said, as he dropped
a piece of money upon a plate, "shall I win my law-
suit or not?'

Sophocles appeared to ponder for a moment, and
then he looked at his questioner with his one eye and
replied,

" If it is not decided against you, you will cer-
tainly win your suit."

And the man was content, and went away feeling
that his money had been well invested.

At another time the mother of a pair of baby
twins came to him in great trouble.

"O most wise Sophocles!' she said, "I am in
despair! For my little twin girls are just alike, and I
have lost the ribbon that I placed on one that I might
be able to tell them apart. Therefore I cannot deter-
mine which is Amelia and which is Ophelia, and as
the priest has christened them by their proper names
it would be a sin to call them wrongly."

[247]

Mother "Cannot the priest tell?" asked the wise man.

Goose "No one can tell," answered the woman; "neither

m Prose ^ prjest nor tneir father nor myself, for they are just

alike. And they are yet too young to remember their

own names. Therefore your great wisdom is our only

resource."

" Bring them to me," commanded Sophocles.

And when they were brought he looked at them
attentively and said,

"This is Ophelia and this Amelia. Now tie a
red ribbon about Ophelia's wrist and put a blue ribbon
on Amelia, and so long as they wear them you will
not be troubled to tell them apart."

Everyone marvelled greatly that Sophocles should
know the children better than their own mother, but
he said to himself,

" Since no no one can prove that I am wrong I
am sure to be right; ' and thus he maintained his
reputation for wisdom.

In a little side street near the center of Gotham
lived an old woman named Deborah Smith. Her
home was a wretched little hut, for she was poor, and
supported herself and her husband by begging in the
streets. Her husband was a lazy, short, fat old man,
who lay upon a ragged blanket in the hut all day and
refused to work.

"One beggar in the family is enough," he used to
grumble, when his wife upbraided him, "and I am

[248]

^P^MPSK^ v >i^<t^.

B^iiiWliiti'visS!!

Three Wise Men of Gotham

really too tired to work. So let me alone, my Three
Deborah, as I am about to take another nap." Wlse

Nothing she could say would arouse him to action,
and she finally allowed him to do as he pleased.

But one day she met Socrates walking in the street,
and after watching him for a time made up her mind
he was nothing more than a fool. Other people cer-
tainly thought him wise, but she was a shrewd old
woman, and could see well enough that he merely
looked wise. The next day she went to the south of
the city to beg, and there she heard of Sophocles.
When the people repeated his wise sayings she thought
" Here is another fool, for any one could tell as
much as this man does."

Still, she went to see Sophocles, and, dropping a
penny upon his plate, she asked,

" Tell me, O wise man, how shall I drive my hus-
band to work?'

"By starving him," answered Sophocles; " if you
refuse to feed him he must find a way to feed
himself."

"That is true," she thought, as she went away;
"but any fool could have told me that. This wise
man is a fraud; even my husband is as wise as he."

Then she stopped short and slapped her hand
against her forehead.

"Why," she cried, "I will make a Wise Man of
Perry, my husband, and then he can earn money
without working!'

[249]

Mother So she went to her husband and said,

Goose « Get up, Perry Smith, and wash yourself; for I

°se am going to make a Wise Man of you."

" I won't," he replied.

"You will," she declared, "for it is the easiest way
to earn money I have ever discovered."

Then she took a stick and beat him so fiercely
that at last he got up, and agreed to do as she
said.

She washed his long beard until it was as white as
snow, and she shaved his head to make him look bald
and venerable. Then she brought him a flowing
black robe with a girdle at the middle; and when he
was dressed, lo! he looked fully as wise as either
Socrates or Sophocles.

" You must have a new name," she said, " for no
one will ever believe that Perry Smith is a Wise Man.
So I shall hereafter call you Pericles, the Wisest Man
of Gotham!"

She then led him into the streets, and to all they
met she declared,

" This is Pericles, the wisest man in the world."

"What does he know?' they asked.

"Everything, and much else," she replied.

Then came a carter, and putting a piece of money
in the hand of Pericles, he enquired,

" Pray tell me of your wisdom what is wrong
with my mare? '

"How should I know?" asked Pericles.

[250]

"I thought you knew everything," returned the Three
carter, in surprise. Wise

"I do," declared Pericles; "but you have not ™e"
U -L L » Gotham

told me what her symptoms are.

" She refuses to eat anything," said the carter.

"Then she is not hungry," returned Pericles; "for
neither man nor beast will refuse to eat when hungry."

And the people who heard him whispered together
and said,

" Surely this is a wise man, for he has told the
carter what is wrong with his mare."

After a few days the fame of Pericles' sayings came
to the ears of both Socrates and Sophocles, and they
resolved to see him, for each feared he would prove
more wise than they were, knowing themselves to be
arrant humbugs. So one morning the three wise men
met together outside the hut of Pericles, and they sat
themselves down upon stools, facing each other, while
a great crowd of people gathered around to hear the
words of wisdom that dropped from their lips.

But for a time all three were silent, and regarded
one another anxiously, for each feared he might betray
himself.

Finally Sophocles winked his one eye at the others
and said, in a grave voice,

"The earth is flat; for, were it round, as some
fools say, all the people would slide off the surface."

Then the people, who had listened eagerly, clapped
their hands together and murmured,

Mother " Sophocles is wisest of all. What he says is truth."

Goose This provoked Socrates greatly, for he felt his

ose reputation was in danger; so he said with a frown,

"The world is shallow, like a dish; were it flat
the water would all run over the edges, and we should
have no oceans."

Then the people applauded more loudly than
before, and cried,

"Socrates is right! he is wisest of all."

Pericles, at this, shifted uneasily upon his stool, for
he knew he must dispute the matter boldly or his
fame would depart from him. Therefore he said,
with grave deliberation,

" You are wrong, my friends. The world is hol-
low, like the shell of a cocoanut, and we are all inside
the shell. The sky above us is the roof, and if you
go out upon the ocean you will come to a place, no
matter in which direction you go, where the sky and
the water meet. I know this is true, for I have been

to sea."

The people cheered loudly at this, and said,
"Long live Pericles, the wisest of the wise men!'
"I shall hold I am right," protested Sophocles,
"until Pericles and Socrates prove that I am wrong."
" That is fair enough," said the people.
"And I also shall hold myself to be right until
they prove me wrong," declared Socrates, firmly.

"I know I am right," said Pericles, "for you can-
not prove me wrong."

"We can take a boat and sail over the sea," Three
remarked Socrates, "and when we come to the edge Wise

we will know the truth. Will you 20?" ^en

-\T 11 i o 1 Gotham

Yes, answered Sophocles; and Pericles, because

he did not dare refuse, said "Yes" also.

Then they went to the shore of the sea, and the
people followed them. There was no boat to be
found anywhere, for the fishers were all away upon
the water; but there was a big wooden bowl lying
upon the shore, which the fishermen used to carry
their fish to market in.

" This will do," said Pericles, who, because he
weighed the most, was the greatest fool of the three.

So the wise men all sat within the bowl, with their
feet together, and the people pushed them out into
the water.

The tide caught the bowl and floated it out to
sea, and before long the wise men were beyond sight
of land.

They were all greatly frightened, for the bowl was
old and cracked, and the water leaked slowly through
until their feet were covered. They clung to the
edge with their hands and looked at one another with
white faces. Said Pericles,

" I was a fool to come to sea in this bowl."

"Ah," remarked Socrates, "if you are a fool, as
you confess, then you cannot be a wise man."

" No," answered Pericles, "but I 'II soon be a dead

man.'

053]

Mother " I also was a fool," said Sophocles, who was

Goose weeping from his one eye and trembling all over, " for
if I had stayed upon land I would not have been
drowned."

"Since you both acknowledge it," sighed Socrates,
" I will confess that I also am a fool, and have always
been one; but I looked so wise the people insisted I
must know everything!'

"Yes, yes," Sophocles groaned, "the people have
murdered us I*

" My only regret," said Pericles, " is that my wife
is not with me. If only she were here" —

He did not finish what he was saying, for just then
the bowl broke in two. And the people are still wait-
ing for the three wise men to come back to them.

Little Bun Rabbit

Little Bun Rabbit

"Oh, Little Bun Rabbit, so soft and so shy,
Say, what do you see with your big, round eye?"
"On Christmas we rabbits," says Bunny so shy,
" Keep watch to see Santa go galloping by."

LITTLE Dorothy had passed all the few years of Little
her life in the country, and being the only Bun
child upon the farm she was allowed to roam
about the meadows and woods as she pleased. On
the bright summer mornings Dorothy's mother would
tie a sun-bonnet under the girl's chin, and then she
romped away to the fields to amuse herself in her
own way.

She came to know every flower that grew, and to
call them by name, and she always stepped very care-
fully to avoid treading on them, for Dorothy was a
kind-hearted child and did not like to crush the
pretty flowers that bloomed in her path. And she
was also very fond of all the animals, and learned to
know them well, and even to understand their lan-
guage, which very few people can do. And the
animals loved Dorothy in turn, for the word passed
around amongst them that she could be trusted to do
them no harm. For the horse, whose soft nose

[257]

Mother Dorothy often gently stroked, told the cow of her
Goose kindness, and the cow told the dog, and the dog told
m Prose ^ cat^ anj tke cat tojj jier biack kitten, and the

black kitten told the rabbit when one day they met
in the turnip patch.

Therefore when the rabbit, which is the most timid
of all animals and the most difficult to get acquainted
with, looked out of a small bush at the edge of the
wood one day and saw Dorothy standing a little way
off, he did not scamper away, as is his custom, but sat
very still and met the gaze of her sweet eyes boldly,
although perhaps his heart beat a little faster than
usual.

Dorothy herself was afraid she might frighten him
away, so she kept very quiet for a time, leaning
silently against a tree and smiling encouragement at
her timorous companion until the rabbit became re-
assured and blinked his big eyes at her thoughtfully.
For he was as much interested in the little girl as she
in him, since it was the first time he had dared to
meet a person face to face.

Finally Dorothy ventured to speak, so she asked,
very softly and slowly,

"Oh, Little Bun Rabbit, so soft and so shy,
Say, what do you see with your big, round eye?"

"Many things," answered the rabbit, who was
pleased to hear the girl speak in his own language;
"in summer-time I see the clover-leaves that I love

to feed upon and the cabbages at the end of the Little
farmer's garden. I see the cool bushes where I can -?»",
hide from my enemies, and I see the dogs and the
men long before they can see me, or know that I am
near, and therefore I am able to keep out of their
way."

"Is that the reason your eyes are so big?" asked
Dorothy.

"I suppose so," returned the rabbit; "you see we
have only our eyes and our ears and our legs to
defend ourselves with. We cannot fight, but we can
always run away, and that is a much better way to
save our lives than by fighting."

"Where is your home, bunny?" enquired the girl.

" I live in the ground, far down in a cool, pleasant
hole I have dug in the midst of the forest. At the
bottom of the hole is the nicest little room you can
imagine, and there I have made a soft bed to rest in
at night. When I meet an enemy I run to my hole
and jump in, and there I stay until all danger is over."

"You have told me what you see in summer,'*
continued Dorothy, who was greatly interested in the
rabbit's account of himself, " but what do you see in
the winter?'

"In winter we rabbits," said Bunny so shy,
" Keep watch to see Santa go galloping by."

"And do you ever see him?' asked the girl,
eagerly,

[259]

Mother "Oh, yes; every winter. I am not afraid of him,

Goose nor Of his reindeer. And it is such fun to see him
come dashing along, cracking his whip and calling out
cheerily to his reindeer, who are able to run even
swifter than we rabbits. And Santa Claus, when he
sees me, always gives me a nod and a smile, and then
I look after him and his big load of toys which he is
carrying to the children, until he has galloped away
out of sight. I like to see the toys, for they are so
bright and pretty, and every year there is something
new amongst them. Once I visited Santa, and saw
him make the toys."

"Oh, tell me about it!' pleaded Dorothy.

"It was one morning after Christmas," said the
rabbit, who seemed to enjoy talking, now that he had
overcome his fear of Dorothy, " and I was sitting by
the road-side when Santa Claus came riding back in
his empty sleigh. He does not come home quite so
fast as he goes, and when he saw me he stopped for a
word.

"'You look very pretty this morning, Bun Rab-
bit,' he said, in his jolly way; 'I think the babies
would love to have you to play with.'

" ' I do n't doubt it, your honor,' I answered; * but
they 'd soon kill me with handling, even if they did
not scare me to death; for babies are very rough with
their playthings.'

"'That is true,' replied Santa Claus; <and yet
you are so soft and pretty it is a pity the babies can't

[260]

have you. Still, as they would abuse a live rabbit I Little
think I shall make them some toy rabbits, which they Sun
cannot hurt; so if you will jump into my sleigh with Rabl>tt
me and ride home to my castle for a few days, I '11 see
if I can't make some toy rabbits just like you.'

" Of course I consented, for we all like to please
old Santa, and a minute later I had jumped into the
sleigh beside him and we were dashing away at full
speed toward his castle. I enjoyed the ride very
much, but I enjoyed the castle far more; for it was
one of the loveliest places you could imagine. It
stood on the top of a high mountain and is built of
gold and silver bricks, and the windows are pure dia-
mond crystals. The rooms are big and high, and
there is a soft carpet upon every floor and many
strange things scattered around to amuse one. Santa
Claus lives there all alone, except for old Mother
Hubbard, who cooks the meals for him; and her cup-
board is never bare now, I can promise you ! At the
top of the castle there is one big room, and that is
Santa's work-shop, where he makes the toys. On one
side is his work-bench, with plenty of saws and ham-
mers and jack-knives; and on another side is the
paint-bench, with paints of every color and brushes of
every size and shape. And in other places are great
shelves, where the toys are put to dry and keep new
and bright until Christmas comes and it is time to
load them all into his sleigh.

"After Mother Hubbard had given me a good

[261]

Mother dinner, and I had eaten some of the most delicious
Goose clover I have ever tasted, Santa took me up into his
in Prose wor|c_room and sat me upon the table.

" * If I can only make rabbits half as nice as you
are,' he said, * the little ones will be delighted.' Then
he lit a big pipe and began to smoke, and soon he
took a roll of soft fur from a shelf in a corner and
commenced to cut it out in the shape of a rabbit.
He smoked and whistled all the time he was working,
and he talked to me in such a jolly way that I sat
perfectly still and allowed him to measure my ears
and my legs so that he could cut the fur into the
proper form.

" 'Why, I 've got your nose too long, Bunny,' he
said once; and so he snipped a little off the fur he
was cutting, so that the toy rabbit's nose should be
like mine. And again he said, 'Good gracious! the
ears are too short entirely!' So he had to get a
needle and thread and sew on more fur to the ears, so
that they might be the right size. But after a time it
was all finished, and then he stuffed the fur full of
sawdust and sewed it up neatly; after which he put
in some glass eyes that made the toy rabbit look won-
derfully life-like. When it was all done he put it on
the table beside me, and at first I did n't know
whether I was the live rabbit or the toy rabbit, we
were so much alike.

" < It 's a very good job,' said Santa, nodding his
head at us pleasantly; « and I shall have to make a

[262]

lot of these rabbits, for the little children are sure to Little
be greatly pleased with them.'

" So he immediately began to make another, and
this time he cut the fur just the right size, so that it
was even better than the first rabbit.

" < I must put a squeak in it,' said Santa.

" So he took a box of squeaks from a shelf and
put one into the rabbit before he sewed it up.
When it was all finished he pressed the toy rabbit
with his thumb, and it squeaked so naturally that
I jumped off the table, fearing at first the new rab-
bit was alive. Old Santa laughed merrily at this,
and I soon recovered from my fright and was
pleased to think the babies were to have such pretty
playthings.

" < After this,' said Santa Glaus, * I can make
rabbits without having you for a pattern; but if you
like you may stay a few days longer in my castle and
amuse yourself.'

"I thanked him and decided to stay. So for
several days I watched him making all kinds of toys,
and I wondered to see how quickly he made them,
and how. many new things he invented.

«<I almost wish I was a child,' I said to him one
day, * for then I too could have playthings.'

" < Ah, you can run about all day, in summer and
in winter, and enjoy yourself in your own way,' said
Santa; * but the poor little children are obliged to
stay in the house in the winter and on rainy days in

Mother the summer, and then they must have toys to amuse
Goose them and keep them contented.'

* 7~)

" I knew this was true, so I only said, admiringly,

"<You must be the quickest and the best work-
man in all the world, Santa.'

"<I suppose I am,' he answered; < but then, you
see, I have been making toys for hundreds of years,
and I make so many it is no wonder I am skillful.
And now, if you are ready to go home, I '11 hitch up
the reindeer and take you back again.'

" < Oh, no,' said I, * I prefer to run by myself, for
I can easily find the way and I want to see the
country.' 2

" < If that is the case,' replied Santa, < I must give
you a magic collar to wear, so that you will come to
no harm.'

" So, after Mother Hubbard had given me a good
meal of turnips and sliced cabbage, Santa Glaus put
the magic collar around my neck and I started for
home. I took my time on the journey, for I knew
nothing could harm me, and I saw a good many
strange sights before I got back to this place again."

"But what became of the magic collar?' asked
Dorothy, who had listened with breathless interest to
the rabbit's story.

"After I got home," replied the rabbit, "the
collar disappeared from around my neck, and I knew
Santa had called it back to himself again. He did
not give it to me, you see; he merely let me take it

[264]

on my journey to protect me. The next Christmas, Little
when I watched by the road-side to see Santa, I was Bun
pleased to notice a great many of the toy rabbits Rabbit
sticking out of the loaded sleigh. The babies must
have liked them, too, for every year since I have seen
them amongst the toys.

" Santa never forgets me, and every time he passes
he calls out, in his jolly voice,

"<A merry Christmas to you, Bun Rabbit! The
babies still love you dearly.'

The Rabbit paused, and Dorothy was just about to
£sk another question when Bunny raised his head and
seemed to hear something coming.

"What is it?" enquired the girl.

" It 's the farmer's big shepherd dog," answered the
Rabbit, " and I must be going before he sees me, or I
shall shall have to run for my life. So good bye,
Dorothy; I hope we shall meet again, and then I will
gladly tell you more of my adventures."

The next instant he had sprung into the wood,
and all that Dorothy could see of him was a gray
streak darting in and out amongst the trees.

[265]

(continued from front //

telling their story tersely but com;
are others which are but bate luggesti
ing the imagination to weave in tin- d< t..
the story. Perhaps therein m.iy 1'u- pait ..1 U
charm, but however that may be 1 have thought
the children might like the -old at greu(< i

length, that they may dwell the lonuei upon
their favorite heroes and heroines.

"For that reason I have written this I

LYMAN FRANK BAUM, born in 1856 in
York State, was an American fantasist, drama-
tist and juvenile writer. His only formal educ;
tion was -ekskill Military Academy,

edited a n Aberdeen, South Dakota,

~A o PViw orators,

and a i^mc <..b- .

The needs of his family led him to cast ab«
other sources of income, and his Father
His Book became a best seller in 1899. It <
just after Mother Goose (published in
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz was published
1900, and the sensationally successful musica
extravaganza was produced in Chicago the nn
year. He died in 1919 at the age of sixty-threi

MAXFIELD PARRISH was an American illus-
trator and painter whose work is being nev
and greatly - - appreciated. He is known
original and highly decorative posters, ma,
covers and book illustrations and for his mv
He was a native of Philadelphia and
the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts
Drexel Institute. An early attack of
fever forced him to live in healthier dimal
a result, Arizona and Italy formed the unl
combination that would influence his

became a member of the National Acaden

1906 He lived from 1870 to 1

Jacket Design
Joseph M.Regina

Bounty Books

A Division of Crown Publishers, I

419 Park Avenue South

New York, N.Y. 10016

ISBN: 0-51 7-519046