Copyright, 1920, By
THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY INC.

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

Manufactured in the U. S. A.

This volume is devoted to a choice collection of the standard and new fairy-tales, wonder stories, and fables. They speak so truly and convincingly for themselves that we wish to use this introductory page only to emphasize their value to young children. There are still those who find no room in their own reading, and would give none in the reading of the young, except for facts. They confuse facts and truth, and forget that there is a world of truth that is larger than the mere facts of life, being compact of imagination and vision and ideals. Dr. Hamilton Wright Mabie convinced us of this in his cogent words.

“America,” he said, “has at present greater facility in producing ‘smart’ men than in producing able men; the alert, quick-witted money-maker abounds, but the men who live with ideas, who care for the principles of things, and who make life rich in resource and interest, are comparatively few. America needs poetry more than it needs industrial training, though the two ought never to be separated. The time to awaken the imagination, which is the creative faculty, is early childhood, and the most accessible material for this education is the literature which the race created in its childhood.”

The value of the fairy-tale and the wonder-tale is that they tell about the magic of living. Like the old woman in Mother Goose, they “brush the cobwebs out of the sky.” They enrich, not cheapen, life. Plenty of things do cheapen life for children. Most movies do. Sunday comic supplements do. Ragtime songs do. Mere gossip does. But fairy stories enhance life.

They are called “folk-tales,” that is, tales of the common folk. They were largely the dreams of the poor. They consist of fancies that have illumined the hard facts of life. They find animals, trees, flowers, and the stars friendly. They speak of victory. In them the child is master even of dragons. He can live like a prince, in disguise, or, if he be uncomely, he may hope to win Beauty after he is free of his masquerade.

Wonder-stories help make good children as well as happy children. In these stories witches, wolves, and evil persons are defeated or exposed. Fairy godmothers are ministers of justice. The side that the child wishes to triumph always does triumph, and so goodness always is made to seem worth-while.

Almost every fairy-tale contains a test of character or shrewdness or courage. Sharp distinctions are made, that require a child of parts to discern.

And the heroes of these nursery tales are much more convincing than precepts or golden texts, for they impress upon the child not merely what he ought to do, but what nobly has been done. And the small hero-worshiper will follow where his admirations lead.

Fables do much the same, and by imagining that the animals have arrived at human speech and wisdom, they help the child to think shrewdly and in a friendly way, as if in comradeship with his pets and with our brothers and sisters, the beasts of the field and forest.

[Pg 1]

[Pg 2]

The day is dull and dreary,
And chilly winds and eerie
Are sweeping through the tall oak trees that fringe the orchard lane.
They send the dead leaves flying,
And with a mournful crying
They dash the western window-panes with slanting lines of rain.
My little ’Trude and Teddy,
Come quickly and make ready,
Take down from off the highest shelf the book you think so grand.
We’ll travel off together,
To lands of golden weather,
For well we know the winding road that leads to Fairy Land.

A long, long road, no byway,
The fairy kings’ broad highway,
Sometimes we’ll see a castled hill stand up against the blue,
And every brook that passes,
A-whispering through the grasses,
Is just a magic fountain filled with youth and health for you;
And we’ll meet fair princesses
With shining golden tresses,
Some pacing by on palfreys white, some humbly tending sheep;
And merchants homeward faring,
With goods beyond comparing,
And in the hills are robber bands, who dwell in caverns deep.

Sometimes the road ascending,
Around a mountain bending,
Will lead us to the forests dark, and there among the pines
Live woodmen, to whose dwelling
Come wicked witches, telling
Of wondrous gifts of golden wealth. There, too, are lonely mines.
But busy gnomes have found them,
And all night work around them,
And sometimes leave a bag of gold at some poor cottage door.
There waterfalls are splashing,
And down the rocks are dashing,
But we can hear the sprites’ clear call above the torrent’s roar.

Where quiet rivers glisten
We’ll sometimes stop and listen
To tales a gray old hermit tells, or wandering minstrel’s song.
We’ll loiter by the ferries,
And pluck the wayside berries,
And watch the gallant knights spur by in haste to right a wrong.
Oh, little ’Trude and Teddy,
For wonders, then, make ready,
You’ll see a shining gateway, and, within, a palace grand,
Of elfin realm the center;
But pause before you enter
To pity all good folk who’ve missed the road to Fairy Land.
Cecil Cavendish

[Pg 3]

There was once a lovely Princess who had such beautiful golden hair that everyone called her Goldenlocks. She possessed everything that she wanted: she was lovely to look at, she had beautiful clothes, and great wealth, and besides all these, she was the Princess in a large kingdom.

In the country next to that of Goldenlocks there ruled a rich and handsome young King. When he heard about the charming Princess he decided that he wanted her for his Queen. The question was, of course, how to make her feel that she wanted him for her husband!

This young King did not go about his wooing after the manner of people that you and I know. He called one of the chief men of his court, and said: “You have heard of the lovely Princess Goldenlocks. I have determined that she shall be my bride. I want you to go and see her; tell her about me, and beg her to become my Queen.”

Then the King ordered a great number of horses brought for the ambassador, and he directed his men to send more than a hundred servants also. You see, in that way he hoped to be able to impress the Princess with his wealth and importance.

The King was conceited, and did not think for a moment that any Princess, no matter how beautiful, would refuse to become his wife. So he ordered his servants to make great preparations for her coming, and to refurnish the palace. He told his ambassador to be sure to bring the Princess back with him.

The King waited with great impatience for the return of the ambassador, who had quite a long journey to make before he could get to the court of the Princess Goldenlocks. Then one day he appeared in the King’s court.

“Where is my lovely bride?” the King asked eagerly, expecting the ambassador to say that she was in the next room, and would come in at once.

“Your Majesty,” replied the ambassador, very sadly, “I could not bring the Princess to you. She sent you her thanks for your offer, but she could not accept the gifts which you sent her, and she will not marry you.”

“What!” the King exclaimed indignantly, as he fingered the pearls and diamonds which he had sent Goldenlocks, and which she had sent back. “I and my jewels are not good enough for the Princess Goldenlocks!” And the King cried and cried, just as if he had not been grown up.

All the people in the court were greatly disturbed because the ambassador had failed in his mission. They felt themselves injured to think that Goldenlocks would not marry their King. There was one courtier, named Charming, who felt especially bad, for he was very fond of the King. He even said one day that he was certain that if the King had only let him go to Goldenlocks, she would have consented to a royal marriage.

Now, there were in that court some very jealous men, who thought that Charming was altogether too great a favorite with the King. When they heard him say that he could have won Goldenlocks for his master, they got together and agreed to tell the King that Charming was making silly boasts.

“Your majesty,” one of them said, “Charming told us that if you had let him go to Goldenlocks she would never have refused to marry you. He thinks that he is so attractive that the Princess would have fallen in love with him immediately, and would have consented to go anywhere he wished with him.”

“Villain!” the King exclaimed. “And I thought he was my friend.”

Of course, you and I know that if the King himself had been any sort of a friend he would never have doubted the good faith of Charming just because someone else spoke evil of him. But what did the King do but order Charming put into a dungeon and given no food or water, so that the poor fellow should die of hunger!

Poor Charming was bewildered when the King’s guards came to carry him off to prison. He could not imagine why the King had turned against him in this unfair way. It made him miserable enough to be in a cold, damp cell, with no food to eat, and no water to drink except that from a little stream which flowed through the cell. He had no bed—just a dirty pile of straw. But all these discomforts were as nothing to the worry he had as to why the King, whom he had always liked, had treated him so unjustly. He used to talk to himself about it. One day he said, as he had thought dozens of times before:

“What have I done that my kindest friend, to whom I have always been faithful, should have turned against me and left me to die in this prison cell?”

As luck would have it, the King himself was passing by the dungeon where Charming was confined when he spoke these words, and the King heard them. Perhaps the King’s better self had [Pg 4] been telling him that he ought at least to have given Charming a chance to tell his side of the story before condemning him to die. I do not know. At any rate when he heard this voice coming out of the dungeon he insisted on going in at once to see Charming.

“Your Gracious Majesty,” said Charming, “I could not believe that it was really your wish that I be confined in this cell. All my life I have had no wish but to serve you faithfully.”

“Charming!” the King exclaimed, “can this be true! They told me that you have made fun of me because the Princess Goldenlocks had refused to marry me.”

“I, Your Majesty, mocked you?” Charming was astonished. “That is not true. It is true, however, that I said that if you would send me to Goldenlocks I believed I could persuade her to become your wife, because I know so many good things about you which I would tell her. I could paint such a lovely picture of you that she could not possibly help falling in love with your Majesty.”

Then the King knew that he had been deceived by his courtiers, and he felt that he had been very silly to believe them. He took Charming with him to the palace right away, and, after having the best supper which the cooks could prepare served for Charming, the King asked him to go and see whether it was not yet possible to persuade Goldenlocks to marry him.

Charming did not set off with any such retinue of servants as had the other ambassador. The King gave him letters to the Princess, and Charming picked out one present for her—a lovely scarf embroidered with pearls.

The next morning Charming started out. He had armed himself with a notebook and pencil. As he rode along he thought much about what he might say to the Princess that would make her want to marry his King.

One day as he rode along he saw a deer stretching out its neck to reach the leaves of the tree above it. “What a graceful creature!” thought Charming. “I will tell Goldenlocks that the King is as graceful as a deer.” Then on the road ahead he saw a great shadow, cast by an eagle in its flight. “How swift and strong that eagle is,” he mused. “I will tell the Princess that the King is like the eagle in strength and swiftness and majesty.”

Charming got off his horse and sat down by a brook to jot down his thoughts in his notebook. As he opened his book to write he saw, struggling in the grass by his side, a golden carp. The fish had jumped too high when it tried to catch a fly, and had landed on the ground. The poor creature was helpless to get back into the water, and was gasping for breath; fish, you know, cannot live long out of water. Charming felt so sorry for the carp that he could not write until he had put it carefully back into the brook.

“Thank you, Charming,” said a voice from the water. Charming had never heard a fish speak before, and you can imagine that he was mightily surprised. “Some day I will repay this kindness.”

For several days after this adventure Charming journeyed on. Then, one morning, he heard a great crying in the air, above him. A huge vulture was pursuing a raven. The vulture was drawing closer and closer to its prey—was almost upon it. Charming could not stand idly by and watch the helpless little raven fight against its enormous enemy. He drew his bow, and shot an arrow straight into the vulture’s heart. The raven flew down, and as it passed Charming it said gratefully: “I have you to thank that I am not now in that great vulture’s beak. I will remember your great kindness.”

Not long afterward, Charming came upon a great net which men had stretched in the woods in order to catch birds. A poor owl was caught in it. “Men are cruel creatures,” thought Charming. “I don’t think it is very kind or praiseworthy to set a trap for these creatures who do no one any harm.” And Charming proceeded to cut the net and set the owl free.

The owl flapped its wings noisily as it flew out of the net. “Thank you, Charming,” it said. “You know I can’t see well in the daylight, and I did not notice this trap. I shall never forget that I have you to thank for my being alive.”

Charming found Goldenlocks surrounded by a splendor greater than any he had ever seen before. Pearls and diamonds were so plentiful that he began to think they must grow on trees in this kingdom! It worried him a little, for he thought he would have to be very clever to persuade Goldenlocks to leave so much luxury.

With fear and trembling Charming presented himself at the door of Princess Goldenlocks’ palace on the morning after his arrival. He had dressed himself with the greatest care in a handsome suit of crimson velvet. On his head was a hat of the same brocaded material, trimmed with waving ostrich plumes, which were fastened to his hat with a clasp set with flashing diamonds. A messenger was sent at once to the Princess to announce his arrival.

“Your Majesty,” the messenger said. “There is the most handsome gentleman sent from a King [Pg 5] awaiting you below. He is dressed like a Prince, and he is the most charming person I have ever seen. In fact, his very name is Charming.”

“His name sounds as if I would like him,” said the Princess, musingly. “I will see him presently. Honora, bring me my best blue satin gown—the one embroidered with pearls.”

Then the Princess had a fresh wreath of pink roses made to wind in her lovely golden hair; Honora pushed tiny blue satin slippers on the feet of her mistress, and handed her an exquisite silver lace fan. Then Goldenlocks was all ready. She assumed her most princess-like manner, and entered the great throne room. You may be sure, however, that she stopped on the way, in the hall of mirrors, to see that she really deserved all the compliments which her handmaids gave her.

When Goldenlocks was seated on the throne of gold and ivory, and her handmaids were posed gracefully about her, playing idly on guitars, Charming was brought in. He was as though struck dumb by the beauty which greeted his eyes. He forgot for the moment all that he had intended to say—all the long harangue prepared so carefully on the way. Then he took a deep breath, and began, just as he had intended, with:

“Most lovely Princess Goldenlocks, I have come to ask your hand in marriage for the most noble King in the world.”

I think his speech must have been very interesting, for Goldenlocks did not take her eyes from Charming’s face during the hour in which Charming described the glories of his King.

“What, O most gracious Princess, may I take to the King as an answer to his plea?” Charming finally inquired.

“Tell him,” said Goldenlocks kindly, “I believe that no King who was not worthy and charming himself could have an ambassador like you.”

“But,” she added after a pause, “tell him also that Goldenlocks may not marry. I have taken a solemn vow that I will not marry until a ring which I lost in the brook a month ago is found. I valued that ring more than my whole kingdom, but it cannot be found.”

Charming went away disheartened, because he did not have the slightest idea how to go about finding the Princess’s ring. Luckily for him, he had brought with him a cunning little dog named Frisk. Frisk was a light-hearted creature. He always was hopeful. So he said to Charming:

“Why, master, let us not give up hope without even trying. Let’s go down to the brook to-morrow morning and see if we can’t find the Princess’s bothersome ring.”

So, bright and early the next day, Charming and Frisk walked slowly along the edge of the brook which flowed near the palace, hunting for the ring. They walked for about half an hour, when a voice spoke to them out of nowhere:

“Well, Charming, I have kept my promise. You once saved my life, you know. Now I have brought you the Princess Goldenlocks’ ring.”

Charming looked up and down and all around in great amazement. Then, at his very feet, he saw the golden carp which he had rescued a few days before; and, best of all, in the carp’s mouth was the Princess’s gold ring.

With joy in his heart Charming rushed to the palace, with Frisk dancing along at his heels. Goldenlocks was disappointed to hear that he had come back so soon. “He must have given up already,” she told her handmaids, as she made ready to receive Charming.

When Charming entered the Princess’s throne room he did not say a word; he simply handed her the ring.

“My ring!” the Princess called out in amazement. “You have found it!” And she seemed delighted that Charming had succeeded.

“Now,” said Charming, with something of assurance, “you will make ready to return to my King with me, will you not?”

“Oh, no!” the Princess cried, as if she had never thought of such a thing. “I can never marry until an awful enemy of mine is killed. There is a fierce giant who lives near here. He once asked me to marry him, and I, of course, refused. It made him very angry. He swore vengeance upon me, and I am afraid to leave my kingdom while he is alive. I think the creature—his name is Galifron—can really have no human heart at all, for he can kill two or three or four persons a day without feeling anything but joy in his crimes.”

Charming shuddered at this appalling picture of his enemy-to-be.

“If it be in my power so to do, Princess Goldenlocks, I will slay your enemy.” With these words Charming turned on his heels and left the palace.

Frisk realized that Charming was worried about the difficult new task which Goldenlocks had given him. “Never you worry, Master,” he said cheerfully. “If you will but attack the monster I will bark and bite at his heels until he won’t know what he is doing. He will be so confused that I know you will be able to conquer him.”

Charming rode up to the giant’s castle boldly enough. He knew the monster was coming toward him, because he could hear the crash of [Pg 6] trees which broke under the huge feet. Then he heard a voice roaring like thunder:

“Poof, woof, clear the way!
Bing, bang, ’tis to-day!
Zip, zook, I must slay!
Whizz, fizz, the King’s pet, Charming!
Pish, tush, isn’t it alarming!”

Charming trembled, and he could feel the cold perspiration stand out on his brow. But he took a deep breath, and shouted as loud as he could (which was not nearly as loud as the giant could):

“Galifron, take warning,
For your day is ending.
Prepare to find that Charming
Is really quite alarming!”

Galifron was so high above Charming that he had to hunt quite hard before he could discover who was saying these words. When he saw the little fellow standing ready to fight him he laughed, and yet he was angry. He lifted his great club and would have knocked the life out of Charming in a trice, but suddenly he could not see. He roared with pain, for a raven had plucked out his eyes. Galifron beat wildly in the air, trying to protect himself from the bird; meanwhile Charming seized his opportunity, and it was only a moment until Galifron lay at Charming’s feet. Only Galifron was so big that Charming had to stand on top of him in order to make sure that he was really dead.

To the Princess, Charming rode back as fast as his horse could carry him. In front of him, on his saddle, he carried the giant’s head. The Princess was taking her afternoon nap, when she was awakened by loud shouts of “Hail, Charming! Hail, conqueror of hideous Galifron!”

Goldenlocks could scarcely believe her ears. She rushed to the front of the palace, and sure enough, there she was greeted by Charming, bearing her enemy’s head.

It seemed as if such a feat of daring should have been enough to satisfy even Goldenlocks.

“Now, fair Princess, will you not return with me to my King?”

“Charming, I cannot,” said the Princess; and to Charming her words sounded like the stroke of doom. “Before I marry I must have some water from the spring of eternal youth. This spring is at the bottom of Gloomy Cavern—a great cave not far from here, which is guarded by two fierce dragons. If I have a flask from that spring I shall always remain young and beautiful. I should never dare to marry without its protection.”

“Beautiful Goldenlocks, you could never be anything but young and beautiful; but I will none the less try to fulfill your mission.”

Even though Charming had just conquered a giant he did not feel very comfortable at the idea of having to find his way past two dragons into a dark and gloomy cavern. He approached the cavern with much determination, but with many misgivings. When Frisk saw the black smoke belching out of the rocks at the entrance of the cavern the dog shook all over with fear; and I have been told that when Charming saw Frisk run off and try to hide, he himself would have been very glad if he could have run away, too. But being a man, he, of course, had to be brave; so he set his teeth and approached the cave.

Then he saw the first dragon—a huge, slimy creature, all yellow and green, with great red claws, and a tail which seemed to Charming to be nearly a mile long.

Charming turned back and called to Frisk. “Dear Frisk,” he said sadly, “I know I shall never see the light of day again if I enter this cavern. Wait here for me until nightfall; then, if I have not come back, go and tell the Princess that I have lost my life trying to win for her eternal youth and beauty. Then tell the King that I did my best for him, but failed.”

Charming turned again to attack the dragon.

“Wait a minute, Charming!”

Charming looked around to see who spoke these words. “It’s I, Charming, the owl you rescued from the net the fowlers set for us poor birds. Let me take Goldenlocks’ flask, and I will fetch the water for you. I know every turn of that dark cavern, and the dragons will not notice whether I pass them or not.” And the owl took the flask out of Charming’s hand, fluttered into the cavern, and disappeared.

“Here you are, Charming. You see I did not forget your kindness to me.” With these words the owl handed to Charming the flask full of water from the magic spring. Charming was so happy that he could hardly find words to thank the owl. He rode straight to Goldenlocks with the wonderful liquid.

“Beautiful Goldenlocks, here is the water you asked me to get for you. My mind cannot conceive of anything, however, which would add to your beauty. I do know, however, something which would add to your happiness. I have found your ring, slain your enemy, brought you [Pg 7] the secret of youth and health; now will you not come with me to my King, who loves you so much that he will make you the happiest woman on earth?”

“Yes,” said Goldenlocks, softly. Her answer really surprised Charming very much, because he had come to think that she would never cease to find new tasks for him to perform. She gave orders at once for the necessary preparations for the journey, and in a few days she and Charming and little Frisk set out for home, with a great retinue of servants, of course.

The King greeted them with the greatest enthusiasm. He proclaimed a holiday throughout his kingdom, and every one feasted and danced.

But, strange to say, the Princess Goldenlocks found herself daily thinking more and more, not of the King, but of Charming.

One day Charming found himself once more in prison, bound hand and foot. The King thought this would be a good way to rid himself of his rival.

Goldenlocks used to beg the King to set Charming free, but that only made things worse. Little Frisk was Charming’s only comfort; he used to take him all the court news.

“Maybe,” said the King to himself one day, “the reason Goldenlocks prefers Charming to me is that I am not beautiful enough to suit her. I believe I will try some of that water of eternal beauty and health that she is always talking about.”

Without a word to anyone the King stole into the Queen’s room and hunted about until he found the flask of water. He bathed his face in the water and stood in front of a mirror to watch the change. A few hours later the Queen found him sound asleep. She could not awaken him, and they sent for the court physician; he could not rouse the King. “The King,” the physician told the Queen, “is dead.”

Now this is what had happened. One day when the Princess’s maid Honora was cleaning her room she knocked over the flask which contained the precious water, and broke it in a thousand pieces. Honora was terribly frightened. She would not have let the Princess know what had occurred for anything. She remembered seeing a flask in the King’s room just like the one she had broken, and she put it in the very spot from which she had knocked the other.

Unluckily for the King, the maid took a flask which contained a deadly water which was used to “do away” with criminals.

“Woof, woof!” said Frisk in the Queen’s ear. “Please have pity on my poor master, good Queen! Remember all he did for you, and how he is suffering for your sake now!”

Goldenlocks at once left the room where the King’s body lay in state and went to the tower where Charming was confined. She opened his cell and set him free. She put a golden crown on his head, and removed the chains from his wrists and ankles.

“King Charming!” said the Queen, “now you and I shall be married, and—live happily ever after!”

BY MADAME LEPRINCE DE BEAUMONT

Once upon a time there lived a King who was deeply in love with a Princess, but she could not marry anyone, because she was under an enchantment. So the King set out to seek a fairy, and asked what he could do to win the Princess’s love. The Fairy said to him:

“You know that the Princess has a great cat which she is very fond of. Whoever is clever enough to tread on that cat’s tail is the man she is destined to marry.”

The King said to himself that this would not be very difficult; and he left the Fairy, determined to grind the cat’s tail to powder rather than not tread on it at all.

You may imagine that it was not long before he went to see the Princess; and puss, as usual, marched in before him, arching its back. The King took a long step, and quite thought he had the tail under his foot, but the cat turned round so sharply that he trod only on air. And so it went on for eight days, till the King began to think that this fatal tail must be full of quick-silver—it was never still for a moment.

At last, however, he was lucky enough to come upon puss fast asleep and with its tail conveniently spread out. So the King, without losing a moment, set his foot upon it heavily.

With one terrific yell the cat sprang up and instantly changed into a tall man, who, fixing his angry eyes upon the King, said:

“You shall marry the Princess because you have been able to break the enchantment, but I will have my revenge. You shall have a son, [Pg 8] who will never be happy until he finds out that his nose is too long, and if you ever tell anyone what I have just said to you, you shall vanish away instantly, and no one shall ever see you or hear of you again.”

Though the King was horribly afraid of the enchanter, he could not help laughing at this threat.

“If my son has such a long nose as that,” he said to himself, “he must always see it or feel it; at least, if he is not blind or without hands.”

But, as the enchanter had vanished, he did not waste any more time in thinking, but went to seek the Princess, who very soon consented to marry him. But after all, they had not been married very long when the King died, and the Queen had nothing left to care for but her little son, who was called Hyacinth. The little Prince had large blue eyes, the prettiest eyes in the world, and a sweet little mouth, but, alas! his nose was so enormous that it covered half his face. The Queen was inconsolable when she saw this great nose, but her ladies assured her that it was not really as large as it looked; that it was a Roman nose, and you had only to open any history book to see that every hero has a large nose. The Queen, who was devoted to her baby, was pleased with what they told her, and when she looked at Hyacinth again, his nose certainly did not seem to her quite so large.

The Prince was brought up with great care; and, as soon as he could speak, they told him all sorts of dreadful stories about people who had short noses. No one was allowed to come near him whose nose did not more or less resemble his own, and the courtiers, to get into favor with the Queen, took to pulling their babies’ noses several times every day to make them grow long. But, do what they would, they were nothing by comparison with the Prince’s.

When he grew older he learned history; and whenever any great prince or beautiful princess was spoken of, his teachers took care to tell him that they had long noses.

His room was hung with pictures, all of people with very large noses; and the Prince grew up so convinced that a long nose was a great beauty that he would not on any account have had his own a single inch shorter!

When his twentieth birthday was past, the Queen thought it was time that he should be married, so she commanded that the portraits of several princesses should be brought for him to see, and among the others was a picture of the Dear Little Princess!

Now, she was the daughter of a great King, and would some day possess several kingdoms herself; but Prince Hyacinth had not a thought to spare for anything of that sort, he was so much struck with her beauty. The Princess, whom he thought quite charming, had, however, a little saucy nose, which, in her face, was the prettiest thing possible, but it was a cause of great embarrassment to the courtiers, who had got into such a habit of laughing at little noses that they sometimes found themselves laughing at hers before they had time to think; but this did not do at all before the Prince, who quite failed to see the joke, and actually banished two of his courtiers who had dared to mention disrespectfully the Dear Little Princess’s tiny nose!

The others, taking warning from this, learned to think twice before they spoke, and one even went so far as to tell the Prince that, though it was quite true that no man could be worth anything unless he had a long nose, still, a woman’s beauty was a different thing, and he knew a learned man who understood Greek and had read in some old manuscripts that the beautiful Cleopatra herself had a “tip-tilted” nose!

The Prince made him a splendid present as a reward for this good news, and at once sent ambassadors to ask the Dear Little Princess in marriage. The King, her father, gave his consent; and Prince Hyacinth, who, in his anxiety to see the Princess, had gone three leagues to meet her, was just advancing to kiss her hand when, to the horror of all who stood by, the enchanter appeared as suddenly as a flash of lightning, and, snatching up the Dear Little Princess, whirled her away out of their sight!

The Prince was left quite inconsolable, and declared that nothing should induce him to go back to his kingdom until he had found her again, and refusing to allow any of his courtiers to follow him, he mounted his horse and rode sadly away, letting the animal choose its own path.

So it happened that he came presently to a great plain, across which he rode all day long without seeing a single house, and horse and rider were terribly hungry, when, as the night fell, the Prince caught sight of a light.

He rode up to it, and saw a little old woman, who appeared to be at least a hundred years old.

She put on her spectacles to look at Prince Hyacinth, but it was quite a long time before she could fix them securely, because her nose was so very short.

The Prince and the Fairy (for that was who she was) had no sooner looked at one another than they went into fits of laughter, and cried at the same moment, “Oh, what a funny nose!” [Pg 9]

“Not so funny as your own,” said Prince Hyacinth to the Fairy; “but, madam, I beg you to leave the consideration of our noses—such as they are—and to be good enough to give me something to eat, for I am starving, and so is my poor horse.”

“With all my heart!” said the Fairy. “Though your nose is so ridiculous, you are, nevertheless, the son of my best friend. I loved your father as if he had been my brother. Now he had a very handsome nose!”

“And pray, what does mine lack?” said the Prince.

“Oh! it doesn’t lack anything,” replied the Fairy. “On the contrary quite, there is only too much of it. But never mind, one may be a very worthy man though his nose is too long. I was telling you that I was your father’s friend; he often came to see me in the old times, and you must know that I was very pretty in those days; at least, he used to say so. I should like to tell you of a conversation we had the last time I ever saw him.”

“Indeed,” said the Prince, “when I have supped it will give me the greatest pleasure to hear it; but consider, madam, I beg of you, that I have had nothing to eat to-day.”

“The poor boy is right,” said the Fairy; “I was forgetting. Come in, then, and I will give you some supper, and while you are eating I can tell you my story in a very few words—for I don’t like endless tales myself. Too long a tongue is worse than too long a nose, and I remember when I was young that I was so much admired for not being a great chatterer. They used to tell the Queen, my mother, that it was so. For though you see what I am now, I was the daughter of a great king. My father—”

“Your father, I dare say, got something to eat when he was hungry!” interrupted the Prince.

“Oh! certainly,” answered the Fairy, “and you also shall have supper directly. I only just wanted to tell you—”

“But I really cannot listen to anything until I have had something to eat,” cried the Prince, who was getting quite angry; but then, remembering that he had better be polite as he much needed the Fairy’s help, he added:

“I know that in the pleasure of listening to you I should quite forget my own hunger; but my horse, who cannot hear you, must really be fed!”

The Fairy was very much flattered by this compliment, and said, calling to her servants:

“You shall not wait another minute, you are so polite, and in spite of the enormous size of your nose you are really very agreeable.”

“Plague take the old lady! How she does go on about my nose!” said the Prince to himself. “One would almost think that mine had taken all the extra length that hers lacks! If I were not so hungry I would soon have done with this chatterpie who thinks she talks very little! How stupid people are not to see their own faults! That comes of being a princess; she has been spoilt by flatterers, who have made her believe that she is quite a moderate talker!”

Meanwhile the servants were putting the supper on the table, and the Prince was much amused to hear the Fairy, who asked them a thousand questions simply for the pleasure of hearing herself speak; especially he noticed one maid who, no matter what was being said, always contrived to praise her mistress’s wisdom.

“Well!” he thought, as he ate his supper. “I’m very glad I came here. This just shows me how sensible I have been in never listening to flatterers. People of that sort praise us to our faces without shame, and hide our faults or change them into virtues. For my part I never will be taken in by them. I know my own defects, I hope.”

Poor Prince Hyacinth! He really believed what he said, and hadn’t an idea that the people who had praised his nose were laughing at him, just as the Fairy’s maid was laughing at her; for the Prince had seen her laugh slyly when she could do so without the Fairy’s noticing her.

However, he said nothing, and presently, when his hunger began to be appeased, the Fairy said:

“My dear Prince, might I beg you to move a little more that way, for your nose casts such a shadow that I really cannot see what I have on my plate. Ah! thanks. Now let us speak of your father. When I went to his Court he was only a little boy, but that is forty years ago, and I have been in this desolate place ever since. Tell me what goes on nowadays; are the ladies as fond of amusement as ever? In my time one saw them at parties, theaters, balls, and promenades every day. Dear me! What a long nose you have! I cannot get used to it!”

“Really, madam,” said the Prince, “I wish you would leave off mentioning my nose. It cannot matter to you what it is like. I am quite satisfied with it, and have no wish to have it shorter. One must take what is given one.”

“Now you are angry with me, my poor Hyacinth,” said the Fairy, “and I assure you that I didn’t mean to vex you; on the contrary, I wished to do you a service. However, though I really cannot help your nose being a shock to me, I will [Pg 10] try not to say anything about it. I will even try to think that you have an ordinary nose. To tell the truth, it would make three reasonable ones.”

The Prince, who was no longer hungry, grew so impatient at the Fairy’s continual remarks about his nose that at last he threw himself upon his horse and rode hastily away. But wherever he came in his journey he thought the people were mad, for they all talked of his nose, and yet he could not bring himself to admit that it was too long, he had been so used all his life to hear it called handsome.

The old Fairy, who wished to make him happy, at last hit upon a plan. She shut the Dear Little Princess up in a palace of crystal, and put this palace down where the Prince could not fail to find it. His joy at seeing the Princess again was extreme, and he set to work with all his might to try to break her prison, but in spite of all his efforts he failed utterly. In despair he thought at least that he would try to get near enough to speak to the Dear Little Princess, who, on her part, stretched out her hand that he might kiss it; but turn which way he might, he never could raise it to his lips, for his long nose always prevented it. For the first time he realized how long it really was, and exclaimed:

“Well, it must be admitted that my nose is too long!”

In an instant the crystal prison flew into a thousand splinters, and the old Fairy, taking the Dear Little Princess by the hand, said to the Prince:

“Now, say if you are not very much obliged to me. Much good it was for me to talk to you about your nose! You would never have found out how extraordinary it was if it hadn’t hindered you from doing what you wanted to. You see how self-love keeps us from knowing our own defects of mind and body. Our reason tries in vain to show them to us; we refuse to see them till we find them in our way.”

Prince Hyacinth, whose nose was now just like anyone else’s, did not fail to profit by the lesson he had received. He married the Dear Little Princess, and they lived happily ever after.

BY CHARLES PERRAULT

Once there was a gentleman who married, for his second wife, the proudest and most haughty woman that was ever seen. She had, by a former husband, two daughters of her own humor, who were, indeed, exactly like her in all things. He had likewise, by his first wife, a young daughter, but of unparalleled goodness and sweetness of temper, which she took from her mother, who was the best creature in the world.

No sooner were the ceremonies of the wedding over but the step-mother began to show herself in her true colors. She could not bear the good qualities of this pretty girl, and the less because they made her own daughters appear the more odious. She employed her in the meanest work of the house: the young girl scoured the dishes, tables, etc., and scrubbed madam’s chamber, and those of misses, her daughters; she lay up in a sorry garret, upon a wretched straw bed, while her sisters lay in fine rooms, with floors all inlaid, upon beds of the very newest fashion, and where they had looking glasses so large that they might see themselves at their full length from head to foot.

The poor girl bore all patiently, and dared not tell her father, who would have rattled her off; for his wife governed him entirely. When she had done her work, she used to go into the chimney-corner, and sit down among cinders and ashes, which made her commonly be called Cinderwench; but the youngest, who was not so rude and uncivil as the eldest, called her Cinderella. However, Cinderella, notwithstanding her mean apparel, was a hundred times handsomer than her sisters, though they were always dressed very richly.

It happened that the King’s son gave a ball, and invited all persons of fashion to it. Our young misses were also invited, for they cut a very grand figure among the quality. They were mightily delighted at this invitation, and wonderfully busy in choosing out such gowns, petticoats, and head-clothes as might become them. This was a new trouble to Cinderella; for it was she who ironed her sister’s linen, and plaited their ruffles; they talked all day long of nothing but how they should be dressed.

“For my part,” said the eldest, “I will wear my red velvet suit with French trimming.”

“And I,” said the youngest, “shall have my usual petticoat; but then, to make amends for that, I will put on my gold-flowered manteau, and my diamond stomacher, which is far from being the most ordinary one in the world.”

They sent for the best tire-woman they could [Pg 11] get to dress their hair and to adjust their double pinners.

Cinderella was likewise called up to them to be consulted in all these matters, for she had excellent notions, and advised them always for the best, nay, and offered her services to dress their heads, which they were very willing she should do. As she was doing this, they said to her:

“Cinderella, would you not be glad to go to the ball?”

“Alas!” said she, “you only jeer at me; it is not for such as I am to go thither.”

“Thou art in the right of it,” replied they; “it would make the people laugh to see a Cinderwench at a ball.”

Anyone but Cinderella would have dressed their heads awry, but she was very good, and did them perfectly well. They were almost two days without eating, so much they were transported with joy. They broke above a dozen of laces in trying to be laced up close, that they might have a fine slender shape, and they were continually at their looking-glasses. At last the happy day came; they went to Court, and Cinderella followed them with her eyes as long as she could, and when she had lost sight of them, she fell a-crying.

Her godmother, who saw her all in tears, asked her what was the matter.

“I wish I could—I wish I could—” she was not able to speak the rest, being interrupted by her tears and sobbing.

This godmother of hers, who was a fairy, said to her, “Thou wishest thou couldst go to the ball; is it not so?”

“Y—es,” cried Cinderella, with a great sigh.

“Well,” said her godmother, “be but a good girl, and I will contrive that thou shalt go.” Then she took her into her chamber, and said to her, “Run into the garden, and bring me a pumpkin.”

Cinderella went immediately to gather the finest she could get, and brought it to her godmother, not being able to imagine how this pumpkin could make her go to the ball. Her godmother scooped out all the inside of it, having left nothing but the rind; which done, she struck it with her wand, and the pumpkin was instantly turned into a fine coach, gilded all over with gold.

She then went to look into the mouse-trap, where she found six mice, all alive, and ordered Cinderella to lift up a little the trap-door, when, giving each mouse, as it went out, a little tap with her wand, the mouse was that moment turned into a fine horse, which altogether made a very fine set of six horses of a beautiful mouse-colored dapple-gray. Being at a loss for a coachman,

“I will go and see,” says Cinderella, “if there should be a rat in the rat-trap—we may make a coachman of him.”

“Thou art in the right,” replied her godmother; “go and look.”

Cinderella brought the trap to her and in it there were three huge rats. The fairy made choice of one of the three which had the largest beard, and, having touched him with her wand, he was turned into a fat, jolly coachman, who had the smartest whiskers eyes ever beheld. After that, she said to her:

“Go again into the garden, and you will find six lizards behind the watering-pot, bring them to me.”

She had no sooner done so than her godmother turned them into six footmen, who skipped up immediately behind the coach, with their liveries all bedaubed with gold and silver, and clung as close behind each other as if they had done nothing else their whole lives. The Fairy then said to Cinderella:

“Well, you see here an equipage fit to go to the ball with; are you not pleased with it?”

“Oh! yes,” cried she; “but must I go thither as I am, in these nasty rags?”

Her godmother only just touched her with her wand, and, at the same instant, her clothes were turned into cloth of gold and silver, all beset with jewels. This done, she gave her a pair of glass slippers, the prettiest in the whole world. Being thus decked out, she got up into her coach; but her godmother, above all things, commanded her not to stay till after midnight, telling her, at the same time, that if she stayed one moment longer, the coach would be a pumpkin again, her horses mice, her coachman a rat, her footmen lizards, and her clothes become just as they were before.

She promised her godmother she would not fail of leaving the ball before midnight; and then away she drove, scarce able to contain herself for joy. The King’s son, who was told that a great princess, whom nobody knew, was come, ran out to receive her; he gave her his hand as she alighted out of the coach, and led her into the hall, among all the company. There was immediately a profound silence, they left off dancing and the violins ceased to play, so attentive was everyone to contemplate the singular beauties of the unknown new-comer. Nothing was then heard but a confused noise of:

“Ah! how handsome she is! Ah! how handsome she is!”

The King himself, old as he was, could not help watching her, and telling the Queen softly [Pg 12] that it was a long time since he had seen so beautiful and lovely a creature.

All the ladies were busied in considering her clothes and head-dress, that they might have some made next day after the same pattern, provided they could meet with such fine materials and as able hands to make them.

The King’s son conducted her to the most honorable seat, and afterward took her out to dance with him; she danced so very gracefully that they all more and more admired her. A fine collation was served up, whereof the young Prince ate not a morsel, so intently was he busied in gazing on her.

She went and sat down by her sisters, showing them a thousand civilities, giving them part of the oranges and citrons which the Prince had presented her with, which very much surprised them, for they did not know her. While Cinderella was thus amusing her sisters, she heard the clock strike eleven and three-quarters, whereupon she immediately made a courtesy to the company and hastened away as fast as she could.

Arrived at home, she ran to seek out her godmother, and, after having thanked her, she said she could not but heartily wish she might go next day to the ball, because the King’s son had desired her.

As she was eagerly telling her godmother whatever had passed at the ball, her two sisters knocked at the door, which Cinderella ran and opened.

“How long you have stayed!” cried she, gaping, rubbing her eyes and stretching herself as if she had been just waked out of her sleep; she had not, however, any manner of inclination to sleep since they went from home.

“If thou hadst been at the ball,” says one of her sisters, “thou wouldst not have been tired with it. There came thither the finest princess, the most beautiful ever seen with mortal eyes; she showed us a thousand civilities, and gave us oranges and citrons.”

Cinderella seemed very indifferent in the matter. She did ask them the name of that princess; but they told her they did not know it, and that the King’s son was very uneasy on her account and would give all the world to know who she was. At this Cinderella, smiling, replied:

“She must, then, be very beautiful indeed; how happy you have been! Could not I see her? Ah! dear Miss Charlotte, do lend me your yellow suit of clothes which you wear every day.”

“Ay, to be sure!” cried Miss Charlotte; “lend my clothes to such a dirty Cinderwench as thou art! I should be a fool.”

Cinderella, indeed, expected well such an answer, and was very glad of the refusal; for she would have been sadly put to it if her sister had lent her what she asked for jestingly.

The next day the two sisters were at the ball, and so was Cinderella, but dressed more magnificently than before. The King’s son was always by her, and never ceased his compliments and kind speeches to her. All this was so far from being tiresome that she quite forgot what her godmother had recommended to her; so that she, at last, counted the clock striking twelve when she took it to be no more than eleven. She then rose up and fled, as nimble as a deer. The Prince followed, but could not overtake her. She left behind one of her glass slippers, which the Prince took up most carefully. She got home, but quite out of breath, and in her nasty old clothes, having nothing left her of all her finery but one of the little slippers, fellow to that she dropped.

The guards at the palace gate were asked if they had not seen a princess go out. To this they replied that they had seen nobody go out but a young girl, very meanly dressed, and who had more the air of a poor country wench than a gentlewoman.

When the two sisters returned from the ball Cinderella asked them whether they had had a good time, and if the fine lady had been there.

They told her: “Yes, but she hurried away [Pg 13] immediately when it struck twelve, and with so much haste that she dropped one of her little glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which the King’s son picked up; he did nothing but look at her all the time at the ball, and most certainly he is very much in love with the beautiful person who owned the glass slipper.”

What they said was very true; for a few days after the King’s son caused it to be proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, that he would marry her whose foot this slipper would just fit. They whom he employed began to try it upon the princesses, then the duchesses and all the Court, but in vain; it was brought to the two sisters, who did all they possibly could to thrust their foot into the slipper, but they could not effect it. Cinderella, who saw all this, and knew her slipper, said to them, laughing:

“Let me see if it will not fit me.”

Her sisters burst out a-laughing, and began to banter her. The gentleman who was sent to try the slipper looked earnestly at Cinderella, and, finding her very handsome, said:

“It is but just that she should try, and I have orders to let everyone make trial.”

He obliged Cinderella to sit down, and, putting the slipper to her foot, he found it went on very easily, and fitted her as if it had been made of wax. The astonishment her two sisters were in was excessively great, but still abundantly greater when Cinderella pulled out of her pocket the other slipper, and put it on her foot. Thereupon, in came her godmother, who, having touched with her wand Cinderella’s clothes, made them richer and more magnificent than any of those she had before.

And now her two sisters found her to be that fine, beautiful lady whom they had seen at the ball. They threw themselves at her feet to beg pardon for all the ill-treatment they had made her undergo. Cinderella took them up, and, as she embraced them, cried:

“I forgive you with all my heart, and I want you to love me always.”

She was conducted to the young Prince, dressed as she was; he thought her more charming than ever, and, a few days after, married her. Cinderella, who was no less good than beautiful, gave her two sisters lodgings in the palace, and that very same day matched them with two great lords of the Court.

ADAPTED FROM THE BROTHERS GRIMM

The King and Queen of a faraway country once had a little daughter, who was more beautiful than any child that had ever before been seen. Her father and mother were so delighted that they proclaimed a public holiday on her christening, and invited to act as godmothers the seven good fairies who lived in the kingdom. Unfortunately, they forgot to ask one ugly old fairy, who had remained shut up in her tower so many years that people really had forgotten about her.

When the night of the christening arrived the castle was beautiful to behold. Lights shone even to the highest tower; beautiful music sounded from behind masses of fragrant flowers; splendidly dressed knights and ladies were there to honor the little Princess; and the seven good fairies smilingly gave her their gifts.

So excited and happy were all that no one noticed an old creature who had slipped in and stood in the shadow looking on. This was the fairy who had not been invited; and, in anger at the slight, she was waiting her chance to make trouble.

“For my gift,” said the first fairy, “I grant that the Princess shall be the most beautiful person in the world.”

“I give her the mind of an angel,” said the second.

“She shall be grace itself,” said the third.

“She shall dance like a goddess,” said the fourth.

“Her voice shall equal the nightingale’s,” said the fifth.

“The art of playing on all musical instruments shall be hers,” said the sixth.

Now the wicked old enchantress thought that all seven good fairies had spoken, so she stepped forth, her face distorted with hatred and envy, and said: “So I am not thought good enough to be a guest here: you despise me because I am old and ugly. I shall make a gift, and it shall be a curse. When your fine young lady becomes sixteen she shall fall asleep, and nothing you can do will be able to waken her.”

Then with a horrid laugh the hag disappeared.

Horror seized the guests, and the party, which had been so gay, became solemn indeed.

Then the seventh good fairy sprang up and [Pg 14] said in silvery tones: “My gift is yet to be laid before the Princess. I am young, and I can not undo the evil that has befallen. But be not unhappy, for I grant that on the day when the curse falls, every living thing in the castle shall also fall asleep. Moreover, I grant that whenever there is a Prince who is brave enough to be worthy of this lovely Princess, he shall find a way to break the spell.”

As the little girl grew older the words of the good fairies came true. Not only was she beautiful and gifted, but she was so kind and thoughtful that everyone loved her dearly.

At first they were very careful to tell her nothing of the wicked fairy’s curse, and then there were so many other things to think about that people forgot all about the old fairy and her gift.

The sixteenth birthday arrived, and there was a very special celebration to please the Princess. The castle was decorated more beautifully, if possible, than on the night of the christening, and everyone was dancing or laughing and as happy as could be. Suddenly the old fairy stepped out from a shadow, as she had done years before, and looking at the beautiful girl said, “Sleep.” Immediately not one sound or stir was in that gorgeous castle.

Now, you must forget for a bit all about the Sleeping Beauty, and hear about a noble Prince who was born many years later in a kingdom not far from this one. Not only was this Prince handsome and brave, but he was so kind and good that people called him “Prince Winsome.”

All his life he had heard terrible stories about an enchanted castle, whose towers could be seen on a clear day far off above a dense forest. It was said that the trees grew so close together in this forest that when a knight attempted to force his way through, he always became entangled in the branches and perished. Many young men were said to have met this fate; so little by little people stopped trying to reach the castle.

But the little Prince was courageous. “When I am sixteen, I shall start out for the magic forest and rescue the beautiful maiden, whom, I am sure, I shall find in the castle,” he said.

True to his word, on his sixteenth birthday our Prince set off eagerly on his adventure. His courtiers urged him not to go, and his subjects pleaded [Pg 15] with him, for they did not wish to lose their Prince. They were afraid he would die in the forest they so dreaded. They did not realize how difficulties and dangers give way before a brave, true-hearted youth.

When Prince Winsome reached the edge of the dense forest it looked as if no man could ever enter. Great trees grew close together with their branches intertwined. So thick were they that the place looked as dark as night. When Winsome came near, a marvelous thing happened. The branches slowly untwined and the trees seemed to bend apart and make a narrow pathway for his entrance. They closed immediately after him, so that his followers were closed out and he went on alone. After a long time he found himself in the courtyard of a great castle. There was not a sound or a stir; the watchman stood sleeping at the gate, and the guards were standing as if playing a game of dice, but all were sound asleep.

Prince Winsome entered the castle hall and found it full of noble ladies and knights, servants, waiting maids, flower girls, all motionless and yet the flush of life on their cheeks. The dancers seemed about to whirl away in the waltz; the musicians bent over their violins; and a servant was in the act of passing cakes to the guests—yet they all held the same fixed position, and had since that day years before when sleep overcame them.

Advancing from room to room the same sight everywhere met our hero’s eyes, but his heart began to beat faster and faster, and he knew that the object of his search was near. At last he entered the throne room and there on an ivory throne, her head resting against a satin pillow, was his longed-for Princess. She was so much more beautiful than he had even imagined that he paused in rapture; then, crossing to her, he knelt by her side and kissed her tenderly on the brow.

Then what do you think happened? The Princess smiled, drew a long breath, opened her eyes slowly, and said: “Oh, my Prince! I knew you would come.” At the same moment the musicians went on just where they had stopped playing so many years before; the dancers finished their waltz; the servant offered the cakes; and no one but the Prince seemed to think the proceeding strange at all.

The Sleeping Beauty and Prince Winsome were married at once, and lived long and happily.

There was once a merchant who was extremely rich. He had six children—three boys and three girls; and as he was a very sensible man, he spared nothing on their education, but gave them all kinds of masters. His daughters were beautiful, but the youngest had such a peculiar charm about her that even from her birth she had been called Beauty; and this name caused her sisters to feel jealous and envious of her. The reason she was so much more admired than they were, was that she was much more amiable. Her sweet face beamed with good temper and cheerfulness. No frown ever spoiled her fair brow, or bowed the corners of her mouth. She possessed the charm of good temper, which is in itself beauty.

The merchant’s elder daughters were idle, ill-tempered, and proud; therefore people soon forgot that they were beautiful, and only remembered them as very disagreeable.

The pride of these young ladies was so great that they did not care to visit the daughters of men in their father’s own rank of life, but wished to be the friends of great ladies and princesses.

They were always busy trying to get great acquaintances, and met with many mortifications in the effort; however, it pleased them to go out and endeavor to be people of fashion. Every day they drove in the parks, and went in the evening to balls, operas, and plays.

Meantime, Beauty spent almost all her days in studying. Her recreation was to do good. She was to be found in every poor cottage where there was trouble or sickness, and the poor loved her as much as the rich admired her. As it was known that their father was very rich, many merchants asked the girls in marriage; but all these offers were refused, because the two eldest thought they ought at least to be wives of a rich nobleman or a prince.

As for Beauty, she thanked those who asked her to share their fortunes, but told them that she was too young; that she wished to be her father’s companion, and cheer his old age by her loving care.

One unhappy day the merchant returned home in the evening, and told them that he was ruined; that his ships had gone down at sea, and that the firms with which he had been dealing were bankrupt.

Beauty wept for grief, because her father was unhappy and unfortunate, and asked him what was to be done.

“Alas! my child,” he replied, “we must give up our house, and go into the country. There I can get a cottage to shelter us; and we must live by [Pg 16] the work of our own hands.”

“Ah!” said Beauty eagerly, “I can spin and knit, and sew very well. I dare say I shall be able to help you, my dear father.”

But the elder daughters did not speak. They had made up their minds to marry one or the other of their rejected lovers, and did not intend to share their father’s fallen fortunes.

They found themselves, however, greatly mistaken. The merchants who had wished to marry them when rich cared nothing for them when poor, and never came to see them again. But those who had loved Beauty crowded to the house, and begged and besought her to marry them and share their fortunes. Beauty was grateful, but she told them that she could not leave her father in his sorrow; she must go with him to console him and work for him. The poor girl was very sorry to lose her fortune, because she could not do so much good without it; but she knew that her place was ordered for her, and that she might be quite as happy poor as rich.

Very soon the merchant’s family had to leave their noble mansion, to sell off all their costly furniture, and to go into the country, where the father and his sons got work; the former as a bailiff, the latter as farm laborers. And now Beauty had to think and work for all.

She rose at four o’clock every morning. She cleaned the house; prepared the breakfast; spread it neatly, and decked the board with the sweetest flowers. Then she cooked the dinner, and when evening came and brought the laborers home, Beauty had always a cheerful welcome for them, a clean home, and a savory supper. During the hours of the afternoon she used to read and keep up her knowledge of languages; and all the time she worked she sang like a bird. Her taste made their poor home look nice, even elegant.

She was happy in doing her duty. Her early rising revealed to her a thousand beauties in nature of which she had never before dreamed.

Beauty acknowledged to herself that sunrise was finer than any picture she had ever seen; that no perfumes equalled those of the flowers; that no opera gave her so much enjoyment as the song of the lark and the serenade of the nightingale.

Her sleep was as happy and peaceful as that of a child; her awakening, cheerful, contented, and blest by heaven.

Meantime her sisters grew peevish, cross, and miserable. They would not work, and as they had nothing else to amuse them, the days dragged along, and seemed as if they would never end. They did nothing but regret the past and bewail the present. As they had no one to admire them, they did not care how they looked, and were as dirty and neglected in appearance as Beauty was neat and fresh and charming.

Perhaps they had some consciousness of the contrast between her and themselves, for they disliked the poor girl more than ever, and were always mocking her, and jesting about her wonderful fitness for being a servant.

“It is quite plain,” they would say, “that you are just where you ought to be: We are ladies; but you are a low-minded girl, who have found your right place in the world.”

Beauty only answered her sisters’ unkind words with soft and tender ones, so there was no quarrelling, and by-and-by they became ashamed to speak to her harshly.

At the expiration of a year the merchant received intelligence of the arrival of one of his richest ships, which had escaped the storm. He prepared to set off to a distant port to claim his property; but before he went he asked each daughter what gift he should bring back for her. The eldest wished for pearls; the second for diamonds; but the third said, “Dear father, bring me a white rose.”

Now it is no easy task to find a white rose in that country, yet, as Beauty was his kindest daughter, and was very fond of flowers, her father said he would try what he could do. So he kissed all three, and bade them good-by. And when the time came for him to go home, he had bought pearls and jewels for the two eldest, but he had sought everywhere in vain for the white rose; and when he went into any garden and asked for such a thing, the people laughed at him, and asked him who had ever heard of a white rose. This grieved him very much, for his third daughter was his dearest child; and as he was journeying home, thinking what he should bring her, he lost his way in a wood. The night was closing in, and as the merchant was aware that there were many bears in that country, he became very anxious to find a shelter for the night.

By-and-by he perceived afar off a light, which appeared to come from a human dwelling, and he urged on his tired horse till he gained the spot. Instead of the woodman’s hut on a hill which he had expected to see, he found himself in front of a magnificent castle, built of white marble. Approaching the door, he blew a golden horn which hung from a chain by the side of it, and as the blast echoed through the wood, the door slowly unclosed, and revealed to him a wide and noble hall, illuminated by myriads of golden lamps.

He looked to see who had admitted him, but perceiving no one, he said:

“Sir porter, a weary traveler craves shelter for [Pg 17] the night.”

To his amazement, two hands, without any body, moved from behind the door, and taking hold of his arm drew him gently into the hall.

He perceived that he was in a fairy palace, and putting his own hands in a friendly pressure on one of the ghostly hands, said:

“You are very kind, but I cannot leave my horse out in the cold.”

The hand beckoned, and another pair of shadowy hands crossed the hall, and went outside and led away the horse to the stable.

Then the merchant’s first friends led him gently onwards till he stood in a large and splendid dining-room, where a costly banquet was spread, evidently intended for him, for the hands placed a chair for him and handed him the dishes, and poured out a refreshing drink for him, and waited on him while he supped.

When his repast was over, they touched him, and beckoned to him; and following them, he found himself in a bedroom furnished with great elegance; the curtains were made of butterflies’ wings sewn together.

The hands undressed the stranger, prepared him a bath of rose-water, lifted him into bed and put out the light.

Then the merchant fell asleep. He did not awake till late the next morning. The sun was streaming in through the beautiful window-curtains, and the birds were uttering their shrill cries in the woods. In that country a singing bird is as rare as a white rose.

As he sprang out of bed some bells rang a silvery chime, and he perceived that he had shaken them by his own movements, for they were attached to the golden bed-rail, and tinkled as he shook it.

At the sound the bedroom door opened, and the hands entered bearing a costly suit of clothes, all embroidered with gold and jewels. Again they prepared a bath of rose-water, and attended on and dressed the merchant. And when his toilette was completed, they led him out of his room and downstairs to a pretty little room, where breakfast awaited him.

When he had quite finished eating he thought that it was time to resume his journey; therefore, laying a costly diamond ring on the table, he said:

“Kind fairy, whoever you may be to whom I owe this hospitality, accept my thanks and this small token of my gratitude.”

The hands took the gift up, and the merchant therefore considered that it was accepted. Then he left the castle and proceeded to the stables to find and saddle his horse.

The path led through a most enchanting garden full of the fairest flowers, and as the merchant proceeded, he paused occasionally to glance at the wonderful plants and choice flowers around him. Suddenly his eyes rested on a white rose-tree, which was quite weighed down by its wealth of blossoms.

He remembered his promise to his youngest daughter.

“Ah!” he thought, “at last I have found a white rose. The fairy who has been so generous to me already will not grudge me a single flower from amongst so many.”

And bending down, he gathered a white rose.

At that moment he was startled by a loud and terrific roar, and a fierce lion sprang on him and exclaimed in tones of thunder:

“Whoever dares to steal my roses shall be eaten up alive.”

Then the merchant said: “I knew not that the garden belonged to you; I plucked only a rose as a present for my daughter; can nothing save my life?”

“No!” said the Lion, “nothing, unless you undertake to come back in a month, and bring me whatever meets you first on your return home. If you agree to this, I will give you your life; and the rose, too, for your daughter.”

But the man was unwilling to do so, and said, “It may be my youngest daughter, who loves me most, and always runs to meet me when I go home.” But then he thought again, “It may, perhaps, be only a cat or a dog.” And at last he yielded with a heavy heart, and took the rose, and said he would give the Lion whatever should meet him first on his return.

As he came near home, it was his youngest and dearest daughter that met him; she came running out and kissed him, and welcomed him home; and when she saw that he had brought her the rose, she was still more glad.

But her father began to be very sorrowful, and to weep, saying, “Alas! my dearest child! I have bought this flower at a high price, for I have said I would give you to a wild lion, and when he has you, he will, perhaps, tear you in pieces and eat you.”

And he told her all that had happened, and said she should not go, let what would come of it.

But she comforted him, and said, “Dear father, the word you have given must be kept; I will go with you to the Lion and coax him; perhaps he will let us both return safe home again.”

The time now arrived for the merchant to return to the Lion’s palace, and he made preparations for his dreadful journey. Beauty had so fully made up her mind to accompany him, that nothing could turn her from her purpose. Her [Pg 18] father, seeing this, determined to take her, and they accordingly set out on their journey. The horses galloped swiftly across the forest, and speedily reached the palace. As they entered they were greeted with the most enchanting music; but no living creature was to be seen. On entering the salon, the furniture of which was of the most costly kind, they found a rich repast prepared for them, consisting of every delicacy. Beauty’s heart failed her, for she feared something strange would soon happen. They, however, sat down, and partook freely of the various delicacies. As soon as they had finished, the table was cleared by the hands. Shortly afterward there was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” replied the merchant; and immediately the door flew open, and the same monster that had seized the merchant entered the room.

The sight of his form terrified both the merchant and his daughter; as for Beauty, she almost fainted with fright.

But the Lion, having a handsome mantle thrown over him, advanced toward them, and seating himself opposite Beauty, said: “Well, merchant, I admire your fidelity in keeping your promise; is this the daughter for whom you gathered the rose?”

“Yes,” replied the merchant; “so great is my daughter’s love to me that she met me first on my return home, and she is now come here in fulfillment of my promise.”

“She shall have no reason to repent it,” said the Lion, “for everything in this palace shall be at her command. As for yourself, you must depart on the morrow, and leave Beauty with me. I will take care that no harm shall happen to her. You will find an apartment prepared for her.” Having said this, he arose, wished them good-night, and departed.

Poor Beauty heard all that passed, and she trembled from head to foot with fear. As the night was far advanced the merchant led Beauty to the apartment prepared for her, and she retired to rest. This room was furnished in the richest manner. The chairs and sofas were magnificently adorned with jewels. The hangings were of the finest silk and gold, and on all sides were mirrors reaching from the floor to the ceiling; it contained, in fact, everything that was rich and splendid.

Beauty and her father slept soundly, notwithstanding their sorrow at the thought of so soon parting. In the morning they met in the salon, where a handsome breakfast was ready prepared, of which they partook. When they had concluded, the merchant prepared for his departure; but Beauty threw herself on his neck and wept. He also wept at the thought of leaving her in this forlorn state, but he could not delay his return forever, so at length he rushed into the courtyard, mounted his horse, and soon disappeared.

Poor Beauty, now left to herself, resolved to be as happy as she could. She amused herself by walking in the gardens and gathering the white roses, and when tired of that she read and played on the harp which she found in her room. On her dressing-table she found these lines, which greatly comforted her:

“Welcome, Beauty! dry your tears,
Banish all your sighs and fears;
You are queen and mistress here,
Whate’er you ask for shall appear.”

After amusing herself thus for some time she returned to the salon, where she found dinner ready prepared. The most delightful music was played during the whole of dinner. When Beauty had finished, the table was cleared, and the most delicious fruits were produced. At the same hour as on the preceding day the Lion rapped at the door, and asked permission to enter. Beauty was terrified, and with a trembling voice she said: “Come in.” He then entered, and advancing toward Beauty, who dared not look up, he said: “Will you permit me to sit with you?” “That is as you please,” replied she. “Not so,” said the Lion, “for you are mistress here; and if my company is disagreeable I will at once retire.”

Beauty, struck with the courtesy of the Lion, and with the friendly tone of his voice, began to feel more courageous; and she desired him to be seated. He then entered into the most agreeable conversation, which so charmed Beauty that she ventured to look up; but when she saw his terrible face she could scarcely avoid screaming aloud. The Lion, seeing this, got up, and making a respectful bow, wished her good-night. Soon after, Beauty herself retired to rest.

On the following day she amused herself as before, and began to feel more reconciled to her condition; for she had everything at her command which could promote her happiness. As evening approached she anticipated the visit of the Lion; for, notwithstanding his terrible looks, his conversation and manners were very pleasing. He continued to visit her every day, till at length she began to think he was not so terrible as she once thought him. One day when they were seated together the Lion took hold of her hand, and said in a gentle voice: “Beauty, will you marry me?” She hastily withdrew her hand, but made no reply; at which the Lion sighed deeply and withdrew. On his next visit he appeared sorrowful and dejected, but said nothing. Some weeks after he [Pg 19] repeated the question, when Beauty replied: “No, Lion, I cannot marry you, but I will do all in my power to make you happy.” “This you cannot do,” replied he, “for unless you marry me I shall die.” “Oh, say not so,” said Beauty, “for it is impossible that I can ever marry you.” The Lion then departed, more unhappy than ever.

Amidst all this, Beauty did not forget her father. One day she felt a strong desire to know how he was, and what he was doing; at that instant she cast her eyes on a mirror and saw her father lying on a sick-bed, in the greatest pain, whilst her sisters were trying on some fine dresses in another room. At this sad sight poor Beauty wept bitterly.

When the Lion came as usual he perceived her sorrow, and inquired the cause. She told him what she had seen, and how much she wished to go and nurse her father. He asked her if she would promise to return at a certain time if she went. Beauty gave him her promise, and he immediately presented her with a rose, like that which her father had plucked, saying: “Take this rose, and you may be transported to whatever place you choose; but, remember, I rely on your promise to return.” He then withdrew.

Beauty felt very grateful for his kindness. She wished herself in her father’s cottage, and immediately she was at the door.

Full of joy, she entered the house, ran to her father’s room, and fell on her knees by his bedside and kissed him. His illness had been much increased by fretting for poor Beauty, who he thought had long since died, either from fear or by the cruel monster. He was overcome with joy on finding her still alive. He now soon began to recover under the affectionate nursing of Beauty. The two sisters were very much annoyed at Beauty’s return, for they had hoped that the Lion would have destroyed her. They were greatly annoyed to see her so superbly dressed, and felt extremely vexed to think that Beauty [Pg 20] should have clothes as splendid as a queen’s, whilst they could not get anything half so fine.

Beauty related all that had passed in the Beast’s palace, and told them of her promise to return on such a day. The two sisters were so very jealous that they determined to ruin her prospects if possible. The eldest said to the other: “Why should this minx be better off than we are? Let us try to keep her here beyond the time; the monster will then be so enraged with her for breaking her promise, that he will destroy her at once when she returns.” “That is well thought of,” replied the sister. “We will keep her.”

In order to succeed, they treated Beauty with the greatest affection, and the day before her intended departure they stole the rose which she had told them was the means of conveying her in an instant wherever she might wish. Beauty was so much affected by their kindness that she was easily persuaded to remain a few days. In the meantime the envious sisters thought of enriching themselves by means of the rose, and they accordingly wished themselves in some grand place. Instead of being carried away as they expected, the rose withered, and they heard a most terrible noise, which so alarmed them that they threw down the flower and hid themselves.

Beauty was greatly troubled at the loss of her rose, and sought everywhere for it, but in vain. She happened, however, to enter her sisters’ room, and, to her great joy, saw it lying withered on the floor; but as soon as she picked it up, it at once recovered all its freshness and beauty. She then remembered her broken promise, and, after taking leave of her father, she wished herself in the Beast’s palace, and in an instant she was transported thither. Everything was just as she had left it; but the sweet sounds of music which used to greet her were now hushed, and there was an air of apparent gloom hanging over everything. She herself felt very melancholy, but she knew not why.

At the usual time she expected a visit from the Lion, but no Lion appeared. Beauty, wondering what all this could mean, now reproached herself for her ingratitude in not having returned as she promised. She feared the poor Beast had died of grief, and she thought that she could have married him rather than suffer him to die. She resolved to seek him in the morning in every part of the palace. After a miserable and sleepless night, she arose early and ran through every apartment, but no Lion could be seen. With a sorrowful heart she went into the garden, saying, “Oh that I had married the poor Lion who has been so kind to me; for, terrible though he is, I might have saved his life. I wish I could once more see him.”

At that moment she arrived at a plot of grass where the poor Lion lay as if dead. Beauty ran toward him, and knelt by his side, and seized his paw.

He opened his eyes and said: “Beauty, you forgot your promise, in consequence of which I must die.”

“No, dear Lion,” exclaimed Beauty, weeping, “no, you shall not die. What can I do to save you?”

“Will you marry me?” asked he.

“Yes,” replied Beauty, “to save your life.”

No sooner had these words passed her lips than the lion-form disappeared, and she saw at her feet a handsome Prince, who thanked her for having broken his enchantment. He told her that a wicked magician had condemned him to wear the form of a lion until a beautiful lady should consent to marry him; a kind fairy had, however, given him the magic rose to help him.

At the same instant that the Prince was changed the whole palace became full of courtiers, all of whom had been rendered invisible when the Prince was enchanted.

The Prince now led Beauty into the palace, where she found her father. The Prince related all to him, and asked him to allow Beauty to become his wife, to which he cheerfully assented, and the nuptials were solemnized with great rejoicing.

The good fairy appeared to congratulate the Prince on his deliverance and on his marriage with Beauty. As for the two sisters, she punished them severely for their jealous and unkind behavior. But the Prince and his wife Beauty lived happily together in the royal palace for many, many years.

Once upon a time there was a young Prince who was so well liked by everyone in the kingdom where he lived that they named him Prince Darling.

This boy’s father, the King, was a very good man, and his subjects loved and respected him for his justness and kindness. The King loved his son greatly, and he loved his subjects, too. He was very anxious to have his son grow up to be a splendid man, and a just ruler for his people. The King was no longer young, and he [Pg 21] knew that it would not be many years before his son would be left without a father’s advice. He knew, too, that the boy would succeed to the throne, and would have to see that everyone in the kingdom was treated justly and kindly.

One day a strange thing happened. The King was out hunting, when suddenly a little white rabbit leaped into his arms. The rabbit seemed to think that in the King’s arms it would find protection from the dogs that were chasing it, and had nearly run it down. And the rabbit was right; for the King stroked the trembling creature gently, and said:

“The dogs shan’t get you now, poor bunny!” Then the King took the rabbit home, and saw that the best care was given it.

That night, after everyone else had gone to bed, the King sat alone thinking about Prince Darling. Suddenly a beautiful lady seemed to come into the room. She was dressed in pure white, and wore a wreath of white roses on her golden hair.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” she asked in a lovely, clear voice. “I am the rabbit you rescued from the dogs in the forest this afternoon. The rabbit was really the Fairy Truth. I took the shape of a rabbit to see whether you were really as good as everyone said. Now I know you are, and I shall always be your friend. Isn’t there something you want, above everything else in the world, which I can give you to repay you for your goodness to me?”

The King was amazed by the lovely Fairy and her wonderful offer. He thought at once that if only he could win the friendship of the Fairy Truth for Prince Darling, all would be well. So he said:

“Good Fairy, above all things I should like to know that you would be my son’s friend. Will you?”

“Gladly. I will make him the richest or the handsomest or the most powerful Prince in the world. Which shall it be?” the Fairy inquired.

“I would not ask any of those things, good Fairy, but I would have him good, the best instead of the richest of princes. If he is good and his conscience does not trouble him, I am sure he will be happy. Riches and power and good looks, without goodness, cannot make him happy.”

“That is all true,” said the Fairy, “and I will do all I can to make Prince Darling good. He will have to do most of it himself, though. I can only advise him, praise him when he is good, and scold him when he is bad. But I will do all I can.”

Not long after this strange happening the King died, and Prince Darling became King in his father’s place. The Fairy Truth remembered her promise, and came to the palace with a present for Prince Darling.

“This little gold ring,” she said, as she slipped it on his finger, “is my gift to you. I promised your father that I would be your friend. This ring will help you to keep my friendship. When it pricks you, you will know you have done something mean or unkind. It will warn you to stop doing such things. If you stop, I will be your friend; if you keep on doing wicked things, I will become your enemy.”

Before Prince Darling could say a word the Fairy vanished.

The Prince was curious to know whether the ring really would do as the Fairy said. But he never felt a single prick from the ring. Then one day he was badly pricked. He came home from hunting in a horrid temper, and kicked his unoffending little dog, that was trying to be friendly, until it howled with pain.

“Really, Prince Darling, that is too bad of you.” The Fairy’s voice sounded quietly in his ear. “You lost your temper because things did not go just to suit you. Even if you are a prince, the world cannot always run just to suit your whims. What’s worse, you hurt a poor creature who loves you. I don’t think that’s being the sort of a prince your father would be proud of, do you?”

The Prince was greatly embarrassed, and thrust his hands deep into his pockets to make himself seem full-grown up—so he would not cry! He promised to be good forever after.

But he wasn’t, and the ring pricked him often. After a time he paid hardly any attention to the ring at all. Finally he made up his mind that a prince ought to be able to decide for himself what was right or wrong. Besides, the ring pricked so hard and so often that it made his finger bleed. So he threw it away entirely.

Just after this he met Celia, the loveliest girl he had ever seen. It seemed to him he could never be happy until he had made her his wife; and he lost no time in asking her to marry him.

“Sire, I cannot,” said the girl.

The Prince was indignant, for he thought any girl should be proud to have him offer to marry her and make her Queen.

“Sire,” Celia went on, “you are handsome and rich and powerful, I know; but the man I marry must be good.”

This speech made the Prince so angry that he ordered his men to take Celia off to the palace as a prisoner.

Now, the Prince had a foster-brother who was a very wicked man. When the Prince told him [Pg 22] about Celia, he said:

“What! a peasant girl refuse to marry the Prince! How ridiculous! The whole kingdom would laugh if they knew about it.”

This speech hurt the Prince’s pride, and he decided to make Celia consent to marry him at any cost. He rushed off to find her. His men had given him the key to the cell where they had imprisoned her. But the cell was quite empty.

The Prince was terribly angry, and swore that he would put to death the person who had helped Celia to escape. It happened that this threat gave some of the Prince’s wicked friends the very chance they wanted to get rid of the Prince’s tutor, an old nobleman whom they all hated because he was good.

Soon these wicked men had everyone in the court whispering: “Yes, it was Suliman who helped Celia escape.” Some men even were found who swore that Suliman himself had told them about it. When the Prince heard it he was still more angry. To think that his old tutor could treat him so! He ordered his men to arrest the supposed offender, put him in chains, as if he were a murderer, and bring him to court.

No sooner was the order given than there was a tremendous roar of thunder. The ground was still shaking when the Fairy Truth appeared.

“Until now, Prince Darling,” the fairy said sternly, “I have been very gentle with you. You have been very wicked, but I have done no more than warn you that you were doing wrong and becoming the very sort of man your father, the good King, wanted you NOT to be. Now I must take stronger measures, for you have paid no attention to my warnings.

“Really you are more like the wild animals than a man and a prince. You roar with anger like a lion. You are greedy for fine food and clothes and a good time, as a wolf is greedy for its prey. You are untrue to your friends, like a treacherous snake. You even turn upon the kind tutor who was your father’s firmest friend, and who would like to help you, too, if you would let him. You are as disagreeable as an angry bull, that keeps everyone out of its neighborhood, because everyone knows it is not safe to go near.”

The Fairy’s voice now roared forth in terrible tones, which made Prince Darling shake from head to heel:

“Therefore, I condemn you to have a hideous body like your ugly character—part lion, part [Pg 23] wolf, part snake, and part bull.”

The Prince put his hand to his head, because he felt as if he should weep at this awful sentence. He found his face covered with a lion’s shaggy beard; a bull’s horns had grown out of his skull. He looked at his feet: they were those of a wolf. His body was the long slimy body of a snake.

The palace had disappeared, and he stood beside a clear lake in a deep forest. He shuddered with horror when he saw his reflection in the lake. His horror turned to rage when he heard the Fairy Truth say:

“Your punishment has just begun. Your pride will be hurt still more when you fall into the hands of your own subjects. And that is what is going to happen to you.”

Just as the Fairy said the Prince fell into the hands of his subjects, and in a most humiliating way, for he was caught in a trap which had been set to catch bears. Thus he was captured alive and led into the chief city of the kingdom.

There was no mourning in the town because of the Prince’s death, by a thunderbolt, as they supposed. Instead, there was great rejoicing, for Suliman had been made King by the people, who were sick and tired of the way Prince Darling had misruled them.

“Long live King Suliman!” they shouted. “His rule will bring us peace and prosperity.”

In the middle of the public park sat King Suliman. Just as the Prince, in his ugly disguise came up, Suliman was saying:

“Prince Darling is not dead, as you suppose. I have accepted the crown only until he comes back, for the Fairy Truth says he may still return, a good and just man like his father. For myself, I want nothing more than to see Prince Darling come back a worthy ruler for this mighty kingdom.”

This speech made the Prince feel very much ashamed of himself, for it showed plainly that the Fairy was right, and that he himself had misjudged Suliman.

Meantime the Prince was put in the menagerie, and people pointed him out as a most strange beast, the only one of his sort ever found anywhere. The Prince was beginning to feel like his old, gentle self. He was even good to his keeper, although the keeper was anything but good to him.

One day a tiger broke through his cage and attacked the keeper. At first the Prince was pleased to see the keeper in danger of his life, and mused: “When he’s dead and out of the way I can easily escape.”

But the Prince’s punishment had not been in vain, for suddenly he began to think, “Well, the poor old keeper; after all I’m sorry for him!”

Then as if by magic the bars of the Prince’s cage seemed to melt away, and he rushed out to rescue the keeper who had treated him so badly. The man was more terrified than ever when he saw the huge monster loose. But imagine his amazement when the beast fell upon the tiger, instead of crushing his (the keeper’s) life out, as he had feared.

Naturally the keeper was filled with gratitude. The strange beast’s kindness made him feel ashamed when he remembered how badly he had treated the animal.

The keeper now tried to stroke the beast’s head, by way of gratitude, when to his amazement he found himself stroking, not a wild animal, but a gentle little dog.

The keeper picked up the dog in his arms and took him to the King, to whom he told the strange story of his rescue. The Queen liked the dog, and decided to keep him for a pet. Unluckily for Prince Darling, however, she took him to the court doctor, who decided that too much food would be very bad for the dog, and ordered that he be fed nothing but bread, and very little at that! So Prince Darling prized the small amount of bread he got very highly indeed.

Once Prince Darling trotted off with his little loaf of bread—all he would get to eat that day—to a brook some distance away. Strange to tell, the brook was gone, and in its place was a huge house. Prince Darling thought the persons who lived there must be fabulously rich, because the house was made of precious stones and gold, and the people were dressed in the most elegant and expensive clothes. He heard music, and saw people feasting and dancing.

Yet the people who came out of the house presented the most forlorn appearance—ragged, and sick, and half starved. Prince Darling saw a poor young girl, and his heart was filled with pity. She was eating grass and leaves, she was so hungry. Prince Darling was hungry himself, but he thought:

“I can’t be as hungry as that poor girl, and to-morrow I’ll have another loaf.” So he gave the bread to her, and she ate it eagerly.

Suddenly there was a great outcry, and the Prince, running in the direction whence the noise came, saw Celia being dragged against her will into this mysterious house. The poor little dog could do nothing to help her. Then he thought sadly: “I am very angry now with these terrible people who treat Celia so badly; but not long ago I was myself threatening to have her killed!”

And the little dog, feeling quite forlorn, put [Pg 24] its tail between its legs, as dogs often do, and went off to watch the house where Celia was imprisoned.

An upper window was opened, and a girl threw out some food. The dog thought this was because the girl had a kind heart. But when it started to eat, the one to whom it had given the bread but a short time before cried out: “Stop! If you touch that you will die! That food came from the house of pleasure, and is deadly poison.”

So once again the Prince found that his good action had been rewarded. And the Fairy Truth, to show her approval, transformed the little dog into a lovely white dove.

The dove flew straight into the house of pleasure, searching for Celia. No sign of her could it find there, as she had escaped. Therefore it decided to fly and fly all around the world until it did get her.

One day it came to a desert island, where no living person could be seen, nor any green tree to light upon. It searched about, and after a time found a cavern, and in it was Celia, sharing a simple meal with an old hermit.

Prince Darling flew right up to Celia, lighted on her shoulder, and tried in all the ways a dove knows to show its affection for her. Celia in return stroked it gently, although she, of course, had no idea who it was. Indeed, Celia seemed delighted to have found a new friend, and said softly:

“I am glad you have come to me, and I will care for you and love you always.”

Celia did not expect the dove to understand what she said. The hermit understood, however, and asked her whether she really meant it.

“Ah! Celia,” Prince Darling exclaimed, “with my whole heart I hope you do mean it!” And the astonished Celia turned and saw Prince Darling himself standing before her.

“Celia will not stop loving you now, Prince Darling,” said Fairy Truth, who had been disguised as the hermit all this time. “She has loved you from the beginning, and now that you have started on the road to goodness I know she will gladly join her fate with yours.”

Then Celia and Prince Darling threw themselves at the Fairy’s feet, and thanked her a thousand times over for bringing them together again after all their trials.

“Come, my children,” said the Fairy, “if you had not helped me I could not have brought this to pass. And now, let’s go back to Prince Darling’s kingdom, for I know King Suliman is waiting eagerly for a chance to give back the throne.”

The Fairy had scarcely stopped speaking when they found themselves in the royal palace. King Suliman was overjoyed to see the Prince return, and gladly yielded the throne to him again.

When the Prince was crowned King for the second time he also put on again the little gold ring which he had thrown away so long before. He and Celia gave their whole hearts to the effort to govern the kingdom justly and kindly. You will know that they succeeded very well, when I tell you that the magic ring never again pricked Prince Darling’s finger.

[Pg 25]

[Pg 26]

ADAPTED FROM THE GRIMM BROTHERS

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away from here, there lived a miller who was very proud, and a King who was exceedingly fond of money.

The miller had a lovely daughter, and he could not say enough about her beauty and cleverness. He used to tell all the men who brought their wheat to his mill, to be ground into flour, of the wonderful things this daughter could do “to perfection.”

One day, in a fit of boasting, the miller told the servant who had brought flour from the King’s household, that he had a daughter who could actually turn straw into pure gold by spinning it.

The messenger was astonished, and could hardly wait to get back to the palace and see the King. He knew how mad the King was about money, and wanted to be the first to tell him of the miller’s extraordinary daughter, who could make him vastly rich so easily.

The King was tremendously excited by the story, just as his servant had hoped. He sent at once for the miller.

“My man,” the King said, “I hear you have a daughter who can spin straw into gold. That’s a fine story, but you can hardly expect me to believe it without seeing it. Have your daughter come here this evening.”

So the miller went home and told his daughter that the King wanted to see her. He dared not tell her why. Naturally, the girl was pleased and flattered. She put on her best dress and braided her hair very carefully. Then she went to the palace.

“So you’re the miller’s daughter,” said the King. “Now we’ll see whether you can really spin straw into gold.”

The girl thought the King must be crazy. She felt even surer of it when he took her into a great room full of straw with a spinning wheel in one corner.

A spinning wheel, you know, is an old-fashioned machine for making flax and cotton into yarn and thread.

“If you don’t spin all this straw into gold before the night is over, you will die,” the King said, and closed the door.

The poor little miller’s daughter sat down in front of the spinning wheel and cried and cried. She didn’t know how to spin straw into gold any more than you or I do, and she didn’t want to die a bit.

“Well, well, what’s all this crying for?” said a tiny voice at her ear.

So many queer things had happened that night that it did not seem at all strange to have a man appear out of nowhere. He was not exactly a man, though. He was just a tiny little Dwarf. And the miller’s daughter told him all her troubles.

“Why, that’s nothing,” the little man said; “I can spin that straw into gold myself. But I won’t do it for nothing. What will you give me for doing it?”

The girl had a necklace she was very proud of. She hated to part with it, but she gave it to the little man. He sat promptly down at the spinning wheel, and in a jiffy the golden straws were flying through his hands, and turning into threads of pure gold. Long before daybreak the room was full of gold instead of straw.

Early in the morning the King came. He could hardly wait to learn whether the girl had done her difficult task. When he saw the room heaped with gold he fairly danced with joy, although that was not very dignified for a King. Having one room full of gold only made him want another. So he took the miller’s daughter to a larger room, where there was even more straw. Once more he told her that if she wanted to live she must turn the straw to gold.

The little Dwarf helped her out again. This time she had to pay him with her ring.

In the morning, when the King saw all the gold, he was still not satisfied. He was getting rich so easily that he hated to stop. So he had the miller’s daughter led to the largest room in the palace, and had it filled with straw for her to spin into gold.

This time, however, he told the girl that if she succeeded for the third time in her task she should become his wife. “She’s only the poor miller’s daughter,” he said to himself, “but look how rich she is.”

The girl was not surprised to see the Dwarf come in. He was quite disagreeable, though, when she said she had nothing to give him this time for spinning the gold.

“What!” he said, “have you no reward for me? Then you must promise me your first child after you become Queen.”

There seemed nothing to do but to promise the little fellow what he asked. “Lots of things may happen before the promise is fulfilled,” she thought.

So the straw was spun into gold, and the King was greatly pleased. Soon after this the miller’s [Pg 27] daughter became Queen.

A year passed, and the whole kingdom was celebrating the birth of a son to the King and Queen. The Queen was so happy about her child that she quite forgot the promise she had made to the manikin who had saved her life. But he had not forgotten.

“Give me that child,” said he one day, appearing, as was his habit, out of nowhere. The Queen was frightened, yet refused to give up her child. She offered him anything else he would name, but the child he could never have.

“The child,” he answered, “is the only thing I want.” Yet he was sorry for the Queen.

“Well,” he said finally, “I’ll let you have the child for three days. If you can tell me my name before this time is up, you can keep your little one.”

The Queen sent messengers to search the country and bring her all the unusual names they could discover.

After one day the manikin came back to find out whether his name had been discovered.

“Is your name Kasper, or Melchior, or Belshayzar?” the Queen asked in a worried manner.

“Oh, no!” the little fellow said to each name she suggested.

The second day the Queen tried him with some names she had made up herself. “Perhaps they call you Sheepshanks, or Cruickshanks, or Spindleshanks?” she suggested eagerly. But each time the manikin shook his head haughtily and answered, “No!”

The poor Queen was nearly crazy with worry on the third day, and the messengers could find no more queer names. One of them, however, told this story:

“I was drawing to the top of a high hill, and the road where I was riding went through a thick wood. Not a new name had I learned all day. But suddenly I came upon a hut, and before it was a big fire. A little man was hopping madly about the fire, and singing at the top of his voice:

“‘Now a feast I must prepare,
Of the finest royal fare.
Soon the Queen must give her son
To me, for I’m the lucky one.
That Rumpelstiltskin is my name,
She will never guess—the silly dame.’”

The Queen was so delighted she did not even mind being called silly. Soon the manikin came in.

[Pg 28] “Well,” he said defiantly, “I guess you don’t know my name yet, do you? Remember, this is your last chance.”

“Oh, dear,” said the Queen, pretending to be very anxious. “Is it John?”

“No!” thundered the manikin. “Give me the child.”

“Is it,” the Queen asked softly, “by any chance Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Some witch has told you that! Some witch had told you that!” cried the little man; and he dashed his left foot in a rage so deep into the floor that he was forced to lay hold of it with both hands to pull it out. Then he made the best of his way off, while everybody laughed at him for having had all his trouble for nothing.

BY THE BROTHERS GRIMM

There were once a man and a woman who wished very much to have a little child. Now, these people had a small window in their cottage which looked out into a beautiful garden full of the most lovely flowers and vegetables. There was a high wall round it, but even had there not been no one would have ventured to enter the garden, because it belonged to a sorceress, whose power was so great that every one feared her.

One day the woman stood at the window looking into the garden, and she saw a bed which was planted full of most beautiful lettuces. As she looked at them she began to wish she had some to eat, but she could not ask for them.

Day after day her wish for these lettuces grew stronger, and the knowledge that she could not get them so worried her that at last she became so pale and thin that her husband was quite alarmed.

“What is the matter with you, dear wife?” he asked one day.

“Ah!” she said, “if I do not have some of that nice lettuce which grows in the garden behind our house, I feel that I shall die.”

The husband, who loved his wife dearly, said to himself: “Rather than my wife should die, I will get some of this lettuce for her, cost what it may.”

So in the evening twilight he climbed over the wall into the garden of the Witch, hastily gathered a handful of the lettuces, and brought them to his [Pg 29] wife. She made a salad, and ate it with great eagerness.

It pleased her so much and tasted so good that, after two or three days had passed, she gave her husband no rest till he promised to get her some more. So again in the evening twilight he climbed the wall, but as he slid down into the garden on the other side he was terribly alarmed at seeing the Witch standing near him.

“How came you here?” she said with a fierce look. “You have climbed over the wall into my garden like a thief and stolen my lettuces; you shall pay dearly for this!”

“Ah!” replied the poor man, “let me entreat for mercy; I have only taken it in a case of extreme need. My wife has seen your lettuces from her window, and she wished for them so much that she said she should die if she could not have some of them to eat.”

Then the Witch’s anger cooled a little, and she replied: “If what you tell me is true, then I will give you full permission to take as many lettuces as you like, on one condition: you must give up to me the child which your wife may bring into the world. I will be very kind to it, and be as careful of it as a mother could be.”

The husband in his alarm promised everything the Witch asked, and took away with him as many lettuces as his wife wanted.

Not many weeks after this the wife became the mother of a beautiful little girl, and in a short time the Witch appeared and claimed her according to the husband’s promise. Thus they were obliged to give up their child, which she took away with her directly, and gave her the name of Letitia, but she was always called Lettice, after the name of the vegetable which grew in the garden.

Lettice was the most beautiful child under the sun, and as soon as she reached the age of twelve years the Witch locked her up in a tower that stood in a forest, and this tower had no steps, nor any entrance, excepting a little window. When the Witch, wished to visit Lettice, she would place herself under this window and sing:

“Lettice, Lettice, let down your hair,
That I may climb without a stair.”

Lettice had the most long and beautiful hair like spun-gold; and when she heard the voice of the Witch she would unbind her golden locks and let them fall loose over the window sill, from which they hung down to such a length that the Witch could draw herself up by them into the tower.

Two years passed in this manner, when it happened one day that the King’s son rode through the forest. While passing near the tower he heard such a lovely song that he could not help stopping to listen. It was Lettice, who tried to lighten her solitude by the sound of her own sweet voice.

The King’s son was very eager to obtain a glimpse of the singer, but he sought in vain for a door to the tower; there was not one to be found.

So he rode home, but the song had made such an impression on his heart that he went daily into the forest to listen. Once, while he stood behind a tree, he saw the Witch approach the tower, and heard her say:

“Lettice, Lettice, let down your hair,
That I may climb without a stair.”

Presently he saw a quantity of long golden hair hanging down low over the window sill, and the Witch climbing up by it.

“Oh!” said the young Prince, “if that is the ladder on which persons can mount and enter, I will take the first opportunity of trying my luck that way.”

So on the following day, as it began to grow dark, he placed himself under the window, and cried:

“Lettice, Lettice, let down your hair,
That I may climb without a stair.”

Immediately the hair fell over the window, and the young Prince quickly climbed up and entered the room where the young maiden lived.

Lettice was dreadfully frightened at seeing a strange man come into the room through the window; but the King’s son looked at her with such friendly eyes, and began to converse with her so kindly, that she soon lost all fear.

He told her that he had heard her singing, and that her song had excited such a deep emotion in his heart that he could not rest till he had seen her. On hearing this Lettice ceased to fear him, and they talked together for some time, till at length the Prince asked her if she would take him for a husband. For a time she hesitated, although she saw that he was young and handsome, and he had told her he was a prince.

At last she said to herself: “He will certainly love me better than old Mother Grethel does.” So she placed her hand in his, and said: “I would willingly go with you and be your wife, but I do not know in the least how to get away from this place. Unless,” she added, after a pause, “you will bring me every day some strong silk cord; then I will weave a ladder of it, and when [Pg 30] it is finished I will descend upon it, and you shall take me away on your horse.”

The Prince readily agreed to this, and promised to come and see her every evening till the ladder was finished, for the old Witch always came in the daytime.

The Witch had never seen the Prince; she knew nothing of his visits till one day Lettice said innocently: “I shall not have such a heavy weight as you to draw up much longer, Mother Grethel, for the King’s son is coming very soon to fetch me away.”

“You wicked child!” cried the Witch; “what do I hear you say? I thought I had hidden you from all the world, and now you have betrayed me!” In her wrath she caught hold of Lettice’s beautiful hair, and struck her several times with her left hand. Then she seized a pair of scissors and cut Lettice’s hair, while the beautiful locks, glistening like gold, fell to the ground. And she was so hard-hearted after this that she dragged poor Lettice out into the forest, to a wild and desert place, and left her there in sorrow and great distress.

On the same day on which the poor maiden had been exiled the Witch tied the locks of hair which she had cut off poor Lettice’s golden head into a kind of tail, and hung it over the window sill.

In the evening the Prince came and cried:

“Lettice, Lettice, let down your hair,
That I may climb without a stair.”

Then the Witch let the hair down, and the King’s son climbed up; but at the open window he found not his dear Lettice, but a wicked witch who looked at him with cruel and malicious eyes.

“Ah!” she cried with a sneer, “you are come to fetch your loving bride, I suppose; but the beautiful bird has flown from the nest, and will never sing any more. The cat has fetched it away, and she intends also to scratch your eyes out. To thee is Lettice lost; thou wilt never behold her again!”

The Prince felt almost out of his mind with grief as he heard this, and in his despair he sprang out of the tower window and fell among the thorns and brambles beneath. He certainly escaped with his life, but the thorns stuck into his eyes and blinded them. After this he wandered about the wood for days, eating only wild roots and berries, and did nothing but lament and weep for the loss of his beloved bride.

So wandered he for a whole year in misery, till at last he came upon the desert place where Lettice had been banished and lived in her sorrow.

As he drew near he heard a voice which he seemed to recognize, and advancing toward the sound came within sight of Lettice, who recognized him at once, with tears. Two of her tears fell on his eyes, and so healed and cleared them of the injury done by the thorns that he could soon see as well as ever. Then he traveled with her to his kingdom, and she became his wife, and the remainder of their days were spent in happiness and content.

BY THE BROTHERS GRIMM

There was once a poor Widow, who lived alone in her hut with her two children, who were called Snow-White and Rose-Red, because they were like the flowers which bloomed on two rose-bushes which grew before the cottage. But they were two as pious, good, industrious, and amiable children as any that were in the world, only Snow-White was more quiet and gentle than Rose-Red. For Rose-Red would run and jump about the meadows, seeking flowers, and catching butterflies, while Snow-White sat at home helping her Mother to keep house, or reading to her, if there were nothing else to do.

The two children loved one another dearly, and always walked hand-in-hand when they went out together; and ever when they talked of it they agreed that they would never separate from each other, and that whatever one had the other should share. Often they ran deep into the forest and gathered wild berries; but no beast ever harmed them. For the hare would eat cauliflowers out of their hands, the fawn would graze at their side, the goats would frisk about them in play, and the birds remained perched on the boughs singing as if nobody were near.

No accidents ever befell them; and if they stayed late in the forest, and night came upon them, they used to lie down on the moss and sleep till morning; and because their Mother knew they would do so, she felt no concern about them. One time when they had thus passed the night in the forest, and the dawn of morning awoke them, they saw a beautiful Child dressed in shining white sitting near their couch. She got up and looked at them kindly, but without saying [Pg 31] anything went into the forest; and when the children looked round they saw that where they had slept was close to the edge of a pit, into which they would have certainly fallen had they walked a couple of steps further in the dark.

Their Mother told them the figure they had seen was, doubtless, the good angel who watches over children.

Snow-White and Rose-Red kept their Mother’s cottage so clean that it was a pleasure to enter it. Every morning in the summertime Rose-Red would first put the house in order, and then gather a nosegay for her Mother, in which she always placed a bud from each rose-tree. Every winter’s morning Snow-White would light the fire and put the kettle on to boil, and, although the kettle was made of copper, it yet shone like gold, because it was scoured so well. In the evenings, when the flakes of snow were falling, the Mother would say, “Go, Snow-White, and bolt the door;” and then they used to sit down on the hearth, and the Mother would put on her spectacles and read out of a great book while her children sat spinning. By their side, too, lay a little lamb, and on a perch behind them a little white dove reposed with her head tucked under her wing.

One evening when they were thus sitting comfortably together, there came a knock at the door, as if somebody wished to come in. “Make haste, Rose-Red,” cried her Mother; “make haste and open the door; perhaps there is some traveler outside who needs shelter.”

So Rose-Red went and drew the bolt and opened the door, expecting to see some poor man outside; but instead, a great fat bear poked his black head in. Rose-Red shrieked out and ran back, the little lamb bleated, the dove fluttered on her perch, and Snow-White hid herself behind her Mother’s bed. The Bear, however, began to speak, and said, “Be not afraid, I will do you no harm; but I am half frozen, and wish to come in and warm myself.”

“Poor Bear!” cried the Mother; “come in and lie down before the fire; but take care you do not burn your skin;” and then she continued, “Come here, Rose-Red and Snow-White, the Bear will not harm you, he means honorably.” So they both came back, and by degrees the lamb too and the dove overcame their fears and welcomed the rough visitor.

“You children!” said the Bear, before he entered, “come and knock the snow off my coat.” And they fetched their brooms and swept him clean. Then he stretched himself before the fire and grumbled out his satisfaction, and in a little while the children became familiar enough to play tricks with the unwieldy animal. They pulled his long shaggy skin, set their feet upon his back and rolled him to and fro, and even ventured to beat him with a hazel-stick, laughing when he grumbled. The Bear bore all their tricks good-temperedly, and if they hit too hard he cried out,—

“Leave me my life, you children,
Snow-White and Rose-Red,
Or you’ll never wed.”

When bedtime came and the others were gone, the Mother said to the Bear, “You may sleep here on the hearth if you like, and then you will be safely protected from the cold and bad weather.”

As soon as day broke the two children let the Bear out again, and he trotted away over the snow, and ever afterward he came every evening at a certain hour. He would lie down on the hearth and allow the children to play with him as much as they liked, till by degrees they became so accustomed to him that the door was left unbolted till their black friend arrived.

But as soon as spring returned, and everything out of doors was green again, the Bear one morning told Snow-White that he must leave her, and could not return during the whole summer. “Where are you going, then, dear Bear?” asked Snow-White. “I am obliged to go into the forest and guard my treasures from the evil Dwarfs; for in winter, when the ground is hard, they are obliged to keep in their holes and cannot work through; but now, since the sun has thawed the earth and warmed it, the Dwarfs pierce through and steal all they can find; and what has once passed into their hands, and gets concealed by them in their caves, is not easily brought to light.”

Snow-White, however, was very sad at the departure of the Bear, and opened the door so hesitatingly, that when he pressed through it he left behind on the latch a piece of his hairy coat; and through the hole which was made in his coat Snow-White fancied she saw the glittering of gold, but she was not quite certain of it. The Bear, however, ran hastily away, and was soon hidden behind the trees.

Some time afterward the Mother sent the children into the woods to gather sticks, and while doing so they came to a tree which was lying across the path, on the trunk of which something kept bobbing up and down from the grass, and they could not imagine what it was. When they came nearer they saw a Dwarf, with an old wrinkled face and a snow-white beard a yard long. The end of this beard was fixed in a split of the tree, and the little man kept jumping about like [Pg 32] a dog tied by a chain, for he did not know how to free himself. He glared at the Maidens with his red, fiery eyes, and exclaimed, “Why do you stand there? Are you going to pass without offering me any assistance?”

“What have you done, little man?” asked Rose-Red.

“You stupid, gazing goose!” exclaimed he, “I wanted to have split the tree in order to get a little wood for my kitchen, for the little food which we use is soon burnt up with great faggots, not like what you rough greedy people devour! I had driven the wedge in properly, and everything was going on well, when the smooth wood flew upward, and the tree closed so suddenly together, that I could not draw my beautiful beard out; and here it sticks, and I cannot get away. There, don’t laugh, you milk-faced things! Are you dumbfounded?”

The children took all the pains they could to pull the Dwarf’s beard out, but without success. “I will run and fetch some help,” cried Rose-Red at length.

“Crack-brained sheep’s-head that you are!” snarled the Dwarf; “what are you going to call other people for? You are two too many now for me; can you think of nothing else?”

“Don’t be impatient,” replied Snow-White: “I have thought of something;” and pulling her scissors out of her pocket, she cut off the end of the beard. As soon as the Dwarf found himself at liberty he snatched up his sack, which laid between the roots of the tree filled with gold, and, throwing it over his shoulder, marched off, grumbling, and groaning, and crying “Stupid people! to cut off a piece of my beautiful beard. Plague take you!” And away he went without once looking at the children.

Some time afterward Snow-White and Rose-Red went a-fishing and as they neared the pond they saw something like a great locust hopping about on the bank, as if going to jump into the water. They ran up and recognized the Dwarf; “What are you after?” asked Rose-Red; “you will fall into the water.”

“I am not quite such a simpleton as that,” replied the Dwarf; “but do you not see this fish will pull me in?”

The little man had been sitting there angling, and, unfortunately, the wind had entangled his beard with the fishing-line; and so when a great fish bit at the bait, the strength of the weak little fellow was not able to draw it out, and the fish had the best of the struggle. The Dwarf held on by the reeds and rushes which grew near, but to no purpose, for the fish pulled him where it liked, and he must soon have been drawn into the pond. Luckily just then the two Maidens arrived, and tried to release the beard of the Dwarf from the fishing-line, but both were too closely entangled for it to be done. So the Maiden pulled out her scissors again and cut off another piece of the beard.

When the Dwarf saw this done he was in a great rage, and exclaimed, “You donkey! that is the way to disfigure my face. Was it not enough to cut it once, but you must now take away the best part of my fine beard? I dare not show myself again now to my own people. I wish you had run the soles off your boots before you had come here!” So saying he took up a bag of pearls, which lay among the rushes, and, without speaking another word, slipped off and disappeared behind a stone.

Not many days after this adventure, it chanced that the Mother sent the two Maidens to the next town to buy thread, needles and pins, laces, and ribbons. Their road passed over a common, on which, here and there, great pieces of rock were lying about. Just over their heads they saw a great bird flying round and round, and every now and then dropping lower and lower, till at last it flew down behind a rock. Immediately afterward they heard a piercing shriek, and, running up, they saw with affright that the eagle had caught their old acquaintance, the Dwarf, and was trying to carry him off. The compassionate children thereupon laid hold of the little man, and held him fast till the bird gave up the struggle and flew off.

As soon, then, as the Dwarf had recovered from his fright, he exclaimed in his squeaking voice:

“Could you not hold me more gently? You have seized my fine brown coat in such a manner that it is all torn and full of holes, meddling and interfering rubbish that you are!” With these words he shouldered a bag filled with precious stones, and slipped away to his cave among the rocks.

The Maidens were now accustomed to his ingratitude, and so they walked on to the town and transacted their business there. Coming home they returned over the same common, and unawares walked up to a certain clean spot, on which the Dwarf had shaken out his bag of precious stones, thinking nobody was near. The sun was shining and the bright stones glittered in its beams, and displayed such a variety of colors that the two Maidens stopped to admire them.

“What are you standing there gaping for?” asked the Dwarf, while his face grew as red as copper with rage: he was continuing to abuse the poor Maidens, when a loud roaring noise was [Pg 34] heard, and presently a great black Bear came rolling out of the forest. The Dwarf jumped up terrified, but he could not gain his retreat before the Bear overtook him. Thereupon he cried out, “Spare me, my dear Lord Bear! I will give you all my treasures. See these beautiful precious stones which lie here; only give me my life; for what have you to fear from a little fellow like me? You could not touch me with your big teeth. There are two wicked girls, take them; they would make nice morsels; as fat as young quails; eat them, for heaven’s sake!”

The Bear, however, without troubling himself to speak, gave the bad-hearted Dwarf a single blow with his paw, and he never stirred after.

The Maidens were then going to run away, but the Bear called after them, “Snow-White and Rose-Red, fear not! Wait a bit, and I will accompany you.” They recognized his voice and stopped; and when the Bear came, his rough coat suddenly fell off, and he stood up a tall man, dressed entirely in gold. “I am a King’s son,” he said, “and was condemned by the wicked Dwarf, who stole all my treasures, to wander about in this forest in the form of a bear till his death released me.”

Then they went home, and Snow-White was married to the Prince, and Rose-Red to his brother, with whom they shared the immense treasure which the Dwarf had collected. The old Mother also lived for many years happily with her two children; and the rose-trees which had stood before the cottage were planted now before the palace, and produced every year beautiful red and white roses.

BY THE BROTHERS GRIMM

Once upon a time there dwelt near a large wood a poor wood-cutter, with his wife and two children by his former marriage, a little boy called Hansel, and a girl named Grethel. He had little enough to break or bite; and once, when there was a great famine in the land, he could not procure even his daily bread; and as he lay thinking in his bed one evening, rolling about for trouble, he sighed, and said to his wife, “What will become of us? How can we feed our children, when we have no more than we can eat ourselves?”

“Know, then, my husband,” answered she, “we will lead them away, quite early in the morning, into the thickest part of the wood, and there make them a fire, and give them each a little piece of bread; then we will go to our work, and leave them alone, so they will not find the way home again, and we shall be freed from them.” “No, wife,” replied he, “that I can never do;, how can you bring your heart to leave my children all alone in the wood; for the wild beasts will soon come and tear them to pieces?”

“Oh, you simpleton!” said she, “then we must all four die of hunger; you had better plane the coffins for us.” But she left him no peace till he consented, saying, “Ah, but I shall regret the poor children.”

The two children, however, had not gone to sleep for very hunger, and so they overheard what the stepmother said to their father. Grethel wept bitterly, and said to Hansel, “What will become of us?” “Be quiet, Grethel,” said he; “do not cry—I will soon help you.” And as soon as their parents had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his coat, and, unbarring the back door, slipped out. The moon shone brightly, and the white pebbles which lay before the door seemed like silver pieces, they glittered so brightly. Hansel stooped down, and put as many into his pocket as it would hold; and then going back he said to Grethel, “Be comforted, dear sister, and sleep in peace; God will not forsake us.” And so saying, he went to bed again.

The next morning, before the sun arose, the wife went and awoke the two children. “Get up, you lazy things; we are going into the forest to chop wood.” Then she gave them each a piece of bread, saying, “There is something for your dinner; do not eat it before the time, for you will get nothing else.” Grethel took the bread in her apron, for Hansel’s pocket was full of pebbles; and so they all set out upon their way. When they had gone a little distance, Hansel stood still, and peeped back at the house; and this he repeated several times, till his father said, “Hansel, what are you peeping at, and why do you lag behind? Take care, and remember your legs.”

“Ah, father,” said Hansel, “I am looking at my white cat sitting upon the roof of the house, and trying to say good-by.” “You simpleton!” said the wife, “that is not a cat; it is only the sun shining on the white chimney.” But in reality Hansel was not looking at a cat; but every time he stopped, he dropped a pebble out of his pocket upon the path.

When they came to the middle of the wood, [Pg 35] the father told the children to collect wood, and he would make them a fire, so that they should not be cold. So Hansel and Grethel gathered together quite a little mountain of twigs. Then they set fire to them; and as the flame burnt up high, the wife said, “Now, you children, lie down near the fire, and rest yourselves, whilst we go into the forest and chop wood; when we are ready, I will come and call you.”

Hansel and Grethel sat down by the fire, and when it was noon, each ate the piece of bread; and because they could hear the blows of an axe they thought their father was near; but it was not an axe, but a branch which he had bound to a withered tree, so as to be blown to and fro by the wind. They waited so long, that at last their eyes closed from weariness, and they fell fast asleep. When they awoke, it was quite dark, and Grethel began to cry, “How shall we get out of the wood?” But Hansel tried to comfort her by saying, “Wait a little while till the moon rises, and then we will quickly find the way.” The moon soon shone forth, and Hansel, taking his sister’s hand, followed the pebbles, which glittered like new-coined silver pieces, and showed them the path. All night long they walked on, and as day broke they came to their father’s house. They knocked at the door, and when the wife opened it, and saw Hansel and Grethel, she exclaimed, “You wicked children! why did you sleep so long in the wood? We thought you were never coming home again.” But their father was very glad, for it had grieved his heart to leave them all alone.

Not long afterward there was again great scarcity in every corner of the land; and one night the children overheard their mother saying to their father, “Everything is again consumed; we have only half a loaf left, and then the song is ended: the children must be sent away. We will take them deeper into the wood, so that they may not find the way out again: it is the only means of escape for us.”

But her husband felt heavy at heart, and thought, “It were better to share the last crust with the children.” His wife, however, would listen to nothing that he said, and scolded and reproached him without end.

He who says A must say B too; and he who consents the first time must also the second.

The children, however, had heard the conversation as they lay awake, and as soon as the old people went to sleep Hansel got up, intending to pick up some pebbles as before; but the wife had locked the door, so that he could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted Grethel, saying, “Do not cry; sleep in quiet; the good God will not forsake us.”

Early in the morning the stepmother came and pulled them out of bed, and gave them each a slice of bread, which was still smaller than the former piece. On the way, Hansel broke his in his pocket, and, stooping every now and then, dropped a crumb upon the path. “Hansel, why do you stop and look about?” said the father, “keep in the path.” “I am looking at my little dove,” answered Hansel, “nodding a good-by to me.” “Simpleton!” said the wife, “that is no dove, but only the sun shining on the chimney.” But Hansel still kept dropping crumbs as he went along.

The mother led the children deep into the wood, where they had never been before, and there making an immense fire, she said to them, “Sit down here and rest, and when you feel tired you can sleep for a little while. We are going into the forest to hew wood, and in the evening, when we are ready, we will come and fetch you.”

When noon came Grethel shared her bread with Hansel, who had strewn his on the path. Then they went to sleep; but the evening arrived and no one came to visit the poor children, and in the dark night they awoke, and Hansel comforted his sister by saying, “Only wait, Grethel, till the moon comes out, then we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have dropped, and they will show us the way home.” The moon shone and they got up, but they could not see any crumbs, for the thousands of birds which had been flying about in the woods and fields had picked them all up. Hansel kept saying to Grethel, “We will soon find the way;” but they did not, and they walked the whole night long and the next day, but still they did not come out of the wood; and they got so hungry, for they had nothing to eat but the berries which they found upon the bushes. Soon they got so tired that they could not drag themselves along, so they lay down under a tree and went to sleep.

It was now the third morning since they had left their father’s house, and they still walked on; but they only got deeper and deeper into the wood, and Hansel saw that if help did not come very soon they would die of hunger. As soon as it was noon they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting upon a bough, which sang so sweetly that they stood still and listened to it. It soon left off, and spreading its wings flew off; and they followed it until it arrived at a cottage, upon the roof of which it perched; and when they went close up to it they saw that the cottage was made of bread and cakes, and the window-panes were of clear sugar.

“We will go in here,” said Hansel, “and have a glorious feast. I will eat a piece of the roof, [Pg 36] and you can eat the window. Will they not be sweet?” So Hansel reached up and broke a piece off the roof, in order to see how it tasted; while Grethel stepped up to the window and began to bite it. Then a sweet voice called out in the room, “Tip-tap, tip-tap, who raps at my door?” and the children answered, “The wind, the wind, the child of heaven;” and they went on eating without interruption. Hansel thought the roof tasted very nice, and so he tore off a great piece; while Grethel broke a large round pane out of the window, and sat down quite contentedly. Just then the door opened, and a very old woman, walking upon crutches, came out. Hansel and Grethel were so frightened that they let fall what they had in their hands; but the old woman, nodding her head, said “Ah, you dear children, what has brought you here? Come in and stop with me, and no harm shall befall you;” and so saying she led them into her cottage. A good meal of milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts was spread on the table, and in the back room were two nice little beds, covered with white, where Hansel and Grethel laid themselves down, and thought themselves in heaven. The old woman behaved very kindly to them, but in reality she was a wicked witch who waylaid children and built the breadhouse in order to entice them in; but as soon as they were in her power she killed them, cooked and ate them, and made a great festival of the day. Witches have red eyes, and cannot see very far; but they have a fine sense of smelling, like wild beasts, so that they know when children approach them. When Hansel and Grethel came near the witch’s house she laughed wickedly, saying, “Here come two who shall not escape me.” And early in the morning, before they awoke, she went up to them, and saw how lovingly they lay sleeping, with their chubby red cheeks; and she mumbled to herself, “That will be a good bite.” Then she took up Hansel with her rough hand, and shut him up in a little cage with a lattice-door; and although he screamed loudly it was of no use. Grethel came next, and, shaking her till she awoke, she said, “Get up, you lazy thing, and fetch some water to cook something good for your brother, who must remain in that stall and get fat; when he is fat enough I shall eat him.” Grethel began to cry, but it was all useless, for the old witch made her do as she wished. So a nice meal was cooked for Hansel, but Grethel got nothing else but a crab’s claw.

Every morning the old witch came to the cage and said, “Hansel, stretch out your finger that I may feel whether you are getting fat.” But Hansel used to stretch out a bone, and the old woman, having very bad sight, thought it was his finger, and wondered very much that he did not get more fat. When four weeks had passed, and Hansel still kept quite lean, she lost all her patience, and would not wait any longer. “Grethel,” she called out in a passion, “get some water quickly; be Hansel fat or lean, this morning I will kill and cook him.” Oh, how the poor little sister grieved, as she was forced to fetch the water, and fast the tears ran down her cheeks! “Dear good God, help us now!” she exclaimed. “Had we only been eaten by the wild beasts in the wood, then we should have died together.” But the old witch called out, “Leave off that noise; it will not help you a bit.”

So early in the morning Grethel was forced to go out and fill the kettle, and make a fire. “First, we will bake, however,” said the old woman; “I have already heated the oven and kneaded the dough;” and so saying, she pushed poor Grethel up to the oven, out of which the flames were burning fiercely. “Creep in,” said the witch, “and see if it is hot enough, and then we will put in the bread;” but she intended when Grethel got in to shut up the oven and let her bake, so that she might eat her as well as Hansel. Grethel perceived what her thoughts were, and said, “I do not know how to do it; how shall I get in?” “You stupid goose,” said she, “the opening is big enough. See, I could even get in myself!” and she got up, and put her head into the oven. Then Grethel gave her a push, so that she fell right in, and then shutting the iron door she bolted it. Oh! how horribly she howled; but Grethel ran away, and left the ungodly witch to burn to ashes.

Now she ran to Hansel, and, opening his door, called out, “Hansel, we are saved; the old witch is dead.” So he sprang out, like a bird out of his cage when the door is opened; and they were so glad that they fell upon each other’s neck, and kissed each other over and over again. And now, as there was nothing to fear, they went into the witch’s house, where in every corner were caskets full of pearls and precious stones. “These are better than pebbles,” said Hansel, putting as many into his pocket as it would hold; while Grethel thought, “I will take some home too,” and filled her apron full. “We must be off now,” said Hansel, “and get out of this enchanted forest;” but when they had walked for two hours they came to a large piece of water. “We cannot get over,” said Hansel; “I can see no bridge at all.” “And there is no boat either,” said Grethel, “but there swims a white duck, I will ask her to help us over;” and she sang:

[Pg 38]

“Little Duck, good little duck,
Grethel and Hansel, here we stand;
There is neither stile nor bridge,
Take us on your back to land.”

So the Duck came to them, and Hansel sat himself on, and bade his sister sit behind him. “No,” answered Grethel, “that will be too much for the Duck, she shall take us over one at a time.” This the good little bird did, and when both were happily arrived on the other side, and had gone a little way, they came to a well-known wood, which they knew the better every step they went, and at last they perceived their father’s house. Then they began to run, and, bursting into the house, they fell on their father’s neck. He had not had one happy hour since he had left the children in the forest: and his wife was dead. Grethel shook her apron, and the pearls and precious stones rolled out upon the floor, and Hansel threw down one handful after the other out of his pocket. Then all their sorrows were ended, and they lived in happiness.

My tale is done. There runs a mouse; whoever catches her may make a great, great cap out of her fur.

[Pg 39]

BY CAROLYN SHERWIN BAILEY

The primary class had a very beautiful American flag, and some child was going to carry it from the schoolroom across the park and into the Town Hall on the holiday. All the primary children would march after the flag, and they were going to sing “America” and “The Star Spangled Banner.” It would be a wonderful day and each child wanted to carry the flag.

No one was sure who would be chosen as flag-bearer, but their teacher had said the week before: “It will be the child who loves his country the most who will carry the Stars and Stripes. Try and do something for your country during the week.”

So the children had been very busy ever since doing all sorts of things that would show how they loved their country.

Marjory had been knitting for soldiers. Her grandmother had given her a pair of pretty yellow needles and a ball of soft gray yarn and had started a scarf. But the stitches would drop, and there was still enough snow for sliding on the hill back of Marjory’s house. Her knitting was not much further along on Saturday than on Monday.

“I will show how much I love my country,” Hubert said, and he asked his mother to take the gilt buttons from his great-grandfather’s soldier coat that hung in the attic and sew them on his reefer. Then he showed the bright buttons to all the other children, and they thought that Hubert looked very fine indeed.

“I shall wear them when I carry the flag next week,” Hubert told them.

But the children thought that perhaps Roger would be chosen as flag-bearer because he bought such a large flag with the money in his bank, and put it up on the flagpole in his front yard. Roger’s father helped him raise the flag on a rope so that he could pull it down at night, but once the Stars and Stripes were flying Roger forgot all about them. His flag stayed out in the wind and sleet, and its bright colors faded and the stripes were torn.

After all, the children decided, it would be Edward who would carry the flag. Edward had a dog named Trusty, and he decided to train him to be a Red Cross dog. He put a white band with a red cross on it around Trusty and harnessed him to a little express wagon to carry bundles. Trusty had never worn a harness in his life, or been fastened to anything. He tried to get away from the wagon, but Edward strapped the harness more tightly. The straps hurt Trusty, and it hurt his feelings to be made to drag the cart; but Edward drove him to and from the drug-store and the grocery and the butcher’s, carrying the parcels that Edward had always brought alone before.

The other children, too, all tried to do unusual things to win themselves the place of flag-bearer. They played their drums in the street and made soldier caps and wooden swords and drilled. The little girls dressed up and played army nurse with their dolls. The boys bought toy soldiers and horns at the toy shop. There was a great deal of noise everywhere.

Then it was the holiday, and everyone was greatly excited over what was going to happen. Whoever had a red ribbon, or a blue necktie, or a red-white-and-blue badge felt very proud indeed to wear it. Every child sat as still as a mouse as the teacher spoke to them.

“Marjory showed me five rows that she had knitted for a soldier when I went to her house a few days ago,” she said. “I wonder how many rows she has finished now?”

“Only five,” Marjory said softly.

Hubert touched the buttons on his reefer and sat up very straight in his place.

“I am wearing my great-grandfather’s soldier [Pg 40] buttons,” he said.

“That ought to make you feel as brave as he was, when he earned the right to wear them in battle,” the teacher said; and Hubert suddenly thought that gilt buttons had not made him into a soldier at all.

The other children began to think, too, as they looked up at the Stars and Stripes at the end of the room. Edward remembered how the harness had hurt Trusty, and the boy with the drum remembered how he had awakened the baby from her nap. Roger thought of his torn flag, flapping in the wind on the top of the flagpole. No one said anything until the teacher looked at the end of the class and smiled, and said:

“Well, Peter!”

Peter smiled back, and tried to cover up the holes in his jacket sleeves, and tucked his old shoes under the seat. Peter’s father had gone to be a soldier, and there were his mother, and the two babies, and his grandfather who was blind, at home.

“What have you been doing all the week, Peter?” the teacher asked.

“Tending the babies so that mother could go to the factory and sew the soldiers’ uniforms,” Peter said. “And leading grandfather out for a walk when it was a sunny day.”

“Peter’s got a little flag hanging out of the window,” one of the children said, “and he’s so careful of it. He takes it in every night and puts it out again in the morning.”

“He saluted the flag and took off his hat to it when the parade went by the other day,” said another child. Everyone loved merry, ragged Peter, who could play so gayly when he had time for a game.

Just then they heard the band outside. It was playing, “The Red, White and Blue,” the music to which the children were to march with the flag.

“Who shall be our flag-bearer?” the teacher asked.

The children knew now. They were quite sure.

“Peter!” they said.

So Peter carried the Stars and Stripes across the park and into the Town Hall, with all the primary children marching like soldiers behind. The wind blew it around him like a cloak to cover up the holes in his jacket sleeves and his old shoes. Wherever he looked he could see the colors; the sky was as blue as the field in the flag, a few snow stars lay on the ground and the first robin redbreast sang on a branch over his head. And the children following Peter knew what the colors told them to do for their country—to be brave, and good, and true at home.

BY THORNTON W. BURGESS

Old Mother West Wind had stopped to talk with the Slender Fir Tree.

“I’ve just come across the Green Meadows,” said Old Mother West Wind, “and there I saw the Best Thing in the World.”

Striped Chipmunk was sitting under the Slender Fir Tree, and he couldn’t help hearing what Old Mother West Wind said. “The Best Thing in the World—now what can that be?” thought Striped Chipmunk. “Why, it must be heaps and heaps of nuts and acorns! I’ll go and find it.”

So Striped Chipmunk started down the Lone Little Path through the wood as fast as he could run. Pretty soon he met Peter Rabbit.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, Striped Chipmunk?” asked Peter Rabbit.

“Down in the Green Meadows to find the Best Thing in the World,” replied Striped Chipmunk, and ran faster.

“The Best Thing in the World,” said Peter Rabbit, “why, that must be a great pile of carrots and cabbage! I think I’ll go and find it.”

So Peter Rabbit started down the Lone Little Path through the wood as fast as he could go after Striped Chipmunk.

As they passed the great hollow tree Bobby Coon put his head out. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” asked Bobby Coon.

“Down in the Green Meadows to find the Best Thing in the World!” shouted Striped Chipmunk and Peter Rabbit, and both began to run faster.

“The Best Thing in the World,” said Bobby Coon to himself; “why, that must be a whole field of sweet milky corn. I think I’ll go and find it.”

So Bobby Coon climbed down out of the great hollow tree and started down the Lone Little Path through the wood as fast as he could go after Striped Chipmunk and Peter Rabbit, for there is nothing that Bobby Coon likes to eat so [Pg 41] well as sweet milky corn.

At the edge of the wood they met Jimmy Skunk.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” asked Jimmy Skunk.

“Down in the Green Meadows to find the Best Thing in the World!” shouted Striped Chipmunk, and Peter Rabbit, and Bobby Coon. Then they all tried to run faster.

“The Best Thing in the World,” said Jimmy Skunk. “Why, that must be packs and packs of beetles!” And for once in his life Jimmy Skunk began to hurry down the Lone Little Path after Striped Chipmunk, and Peter Rabbit, and Bobby Coon.

They were all running so fast that they didn’t see Reddy Fox until he jumped out of the long grass and asked:

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“To find the Best Thing in the World!” shouted Striped Chipmunk, and Peter Rabbit, and Bobby Coon, and Jimmy Skunk, and each did his best to run faster.

“The Best Thing in the World,” said Reddy Fox to himself, “why, that must be a whole pen full of tender young chickens, and I must have them.”

So away went Reddy Fox as fast as he could run down the Lone Little Path after Striped Chipmunk, Peter Rabbit, Bobby Coon, and Jimmy Skunk.

By-and-by they all came to the house of Johnny Chuck.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” asked Johnny Chuck.

“To find the Best Thing in the World,” shouted Striped Chipmunk, and Peter Rabbit, and Bobby Coon, and Jimmy Skunk, and Reddy Fox.

“The Best Thing in the World,” said Johnny Chuck. “Why, I don’t know of anything better than my own little home, and the warm sunshine, and the beautiful blue sky.”

So Johnny Chuck stayed at home and played all day among the flowers with the Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind, and was as happy as could be.

But all day long Striped Chipmunk, and Peter Rabbit, and Reddy Fox, and Bobby Coon, and Jimmy Skunk, ran this way and ran that way over the Green Meadows trying to find the Best Thing in the World. The sun was very, very warm, and they ran so far and ran so fast that they were very, very hot and tired, and still they hadn’t found the Best Thing in the World.

When the long day was over they started up the Lone Little Path past Johnny Chuck’s house to their own homes. They didn’t hurry now, for they were so very, very tired! And they were cross—oh, so cross!

Striped Chipmunk hadn’t found so much as the leaf of a cabbage. Bobby Coon hadn’t found the tiniest bit of sweet milky corn. Jimmy Skunk hadn’t seen a single beetle. Reddy Fox hadn’t heard so much as the peep of a chicken. And all were hungry as hungry could be.

Half way up the Lone Little Path they met Old Mother West Wind going to her home behind the hill. “Did you find the Best Thing in the World?” asked Old Mother West Wind.

“No!” shouted Striped Chipmunk, and Peter Rabbit, and Bobby Coon, and Jimmy Skunk, and Reddy Fox, all together.

“Johnny Chuck has it,” said Old Mother West Wind. “It is being happy with the things you have, and not wanting things which some one else has. And it is called Con-tent-ment.”

BY MADGE A. BINGHAM

It was the night before Thanksgiving in Peter Pumpkin-eater’s garden. Great Big Pumpkin, Middle-Sized Pumpkin, and Little Wee Pumpkin were speaking together.

“All here?” asked Great Big Pumpkin.

“I’m here,” answered Middle-Sized Pumpkin.

“I’m here,” answered Little Wee Pumpkin. “But I heard Peter say that he would pull us to-morrow and send us away.”

“That will be fine!” said Great Big Pumpkin. “I hope we shall make good pies for some one’s dinner. I wish we could go to the palace.”

“So do I,” said Middle-Sized Pumpkin. “Maybe we could see the King.”

“I should like to see Cinderella,” said Little Wee Pumpkin. “But I am not large enough to go to the palace. Still, I wish I could make some one glad on Thanksgiving Day.”

Little Wee Pumpkin was the first to wake in the morning. Peter had opened the garden gate, and Cinderella was walking into the garden.

Little Wee Pumpkin opened her eyes and listened.

Cinderella was beautiful, and Little Wee Pumpkin knew that she was good and kind. She was [Pg 42] carrying a basket full of yellow flowers.

“They are for you, Peter,” she said, laughing. “I have brought them from the palace garden. They are for your Thanksgiving.

“Now you must help me find the right pumpkin for a jack-o’-lantern. It is to make a little girl glad. She has been ill a long time, and must have a jack-o’-lantern for Thanksgiving.”

“Yes, my lady,” said Peter; and they went from vine to vine.

First, they stopped at Great Big Pumpkin, but that was too large. Then they stopped at Middle-Sized Pumpkin, but that was too flat. Then they stopped at Little Wee Pumpkin, and that was just right.

“This is the pumpkin for the jack-o’-lantern, Peter,” she said, pointing to Little Wee Pumpkin. “This will make the little girl glad.”

“Yes, my lady,” said Peter, as he pulled Little Wee Pumpkin from the vine.

“The two large pumpkins shall go to the palace, to the King,” said Cinderella. “They will make fine pies for his Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Yes, my lady,” said Peter, as he pulled the two pumpkins from the vines.

So Great Big, Middle-Sized, and Little Wee all had their wishes.

BY LAURA E. RICHARDS

Some children were at play in their playground one day when a herald rode through the town, blowing a trumpet, and crying aloud: “The King! The King passes by this road to-day!”

“Did you hear that?” they said. “The King is coming. He may look over the wall and see our playground: who knows? We must put it in order.”

The playground was sadly dirty, and in the corners were scraps of paper and broken toys—for these were careless children! But now, one brought a hoe, and another a rake, and a third ran to fetch the wheelbarrow from behind the garden gate. They labored hard, till at length all was clean and tidy.

“Now it is clean!” they said; “but we must make it pretty, too, for kings are used to fine things; maybe he would not notice mere cleanness, for he may have it all the time.”

Then one brought sweet rushes and strewed them on the ground; and others made garlands of oak leaves and pine tassels and hung them on the walls; and the littlest one pulled marigold buds and threw them all about the playground.

When all was done the playground was so beautiful that the children stood and looked at it, and clapped their hands with pleasure.

“Let us keep it always like this!” said the littlest one; and the others cried: “Yes! yes!”

They waited all day for the coming of the King, but he did not come; only, toward sunset, a man with travel-worn clothes, and a kind, tired face passed along the road, and stopped to look over the wall.

“What a pleasant place!” said the man. “May I come in and rest, dear children?”

The children brought him in gladly, and set him on the seat that they had made out of an old cask. They had covered it with an old red cloak, to make it look like a throne; and it made a very good one.

“It is our playground!” they said. “We made it pretty for the King, but he did not come, and now we mean to keep it so for ourselves.”

“That is good!” said the man.

“Because we think pretty and clean is nicer than ugly and dirty!” said another.

“That is better!” said the man.

“And for tired people to rest in!” said the littlest one.

“That is best of all!” said the man.

He sat and rested, and looked at the children with such kind eyes that they came about him, and told him all they knew; about the five puppies in the barn, and the thrush’s nest with four blue eggs, and the shore where the gold shells grew: and the man nodded, and understood all about it.

By-and-by he asked for a cup of water, and they brought it to him in the best cup, with the gold sprigs on it, then he thanked the children, and rose and went on his way; but before he went he laid his hand on their heads for a moment, and the touch went warm to their hearts.

The children stood by the wall and watched the man as he went slowly along. The sun was setting, and the light fell in long slanting rays across the road.

“He looks so tired!” said one of the children.

“But he was so kind!” said another.

“See!” said the littlest one. “How the sun shines on his hair! it looks like a crown of gold.”

[Pg 44]

BY MAUD LINDSAY

Once upon a time a little black-and-white pig with a curly tail went out to take a morning walk. He intended to go to the Mud Puddle, but before he got there he came to a garden gate that was stretched wide open.

“Umph, umph,” said the little pig, when he saw it; “isn’t this fine? I have wanted to get into this garden ever since I can remember.” And in he went as fast as his four short legs could carry him.

The garden was full of flowers. There were pansies, and daisies, and violets, and honeysuckles, and all the bright flowers that you can name. Everything was in the proper place. There were tulips on either side of the garden walk, and hollyhocks stood in a straight row against the fence. The pansies had a garden bed all to themselves, and the young vines were just beginning to climb up on the frame that the gardener had made for their special benefit.

“Umph, umph, nice place,” said the little pig; and he put his nose down in the pansy bed and began to root up the pansies, for he thought that was the way to behave in a garden.

While he was enjoying himself there the brown hen came down the road with her family. She had thirteen children, and she was looking for a nice rich spot where they might scratch for their breakfast. When she saw the open gate she was delighted.

“Cluck, cluck, come on,” she said to her chicks.

“Peep, peep, peep,” said the little chickens, “is it a worm?”

“It is a beautiful garden, and there is nothing that I like better than to scratch in a garden,” answered the hen, as she bustled through the gate. The chickens followed her, and soon they were all busy scratching among the violets.

They had not been there very long when the red cow walked by the garden. She was on her way to the Pond, but when she saw the open garden gate she decided at once to go in.

“Moo, moo,” she said, “this is delightful. Tender flowers are such a treat.” And she swished her tail over her back as she nipped the daisies from their stems.

“Cluck,” said the hen, “Peep,” said the chicks, “Umph,” said the little pig, for they were pleased to have company. While they were talking a rabbit with very bright eyes peeped in at the gate.

“Oh, is it a party?” he said when he saw the red cow, and the pig with a curly tail, and the hen and chickens.

“Come in,” said the pig, “and help yourself. There is plenty of room.” So the rabbit hopped into the garden and nibbled the green leaves and the young vines.

“How many of us are here?” asked the red cow, but before any of them could count, the gardener came home.

When he looked into the garden he began to cry: “Oh, my pretty pansies! my dear daisies! my sweet violets! my tender young vines!”

“What is he talking about?” said the chickens.

“I suppose he wants us to go out,” answered the hen; and she ruffled her feathers and quarreled as the gardener came hurrying toward them.

Then the cow ran one way and the pig ran another. The little chickens got lost in the bushes, and the rabbit hid in the vines. The hen cackled, and the pig squealed, and the gardener scolded. By the time he had driven them all out of the garden the sun was high in the sky.

“Umph, umph,” cried the little pig, as he scampered down the road, “we will all come back to-morrow.”

But when they went back the next day the garden gate was fastened close, and not even the smallest chicken could get inside.

BY CAROLYN SHERWIN BAILEY

He was the largest and the best dressed and the bravest looking of all the toy soldiers in the toy shop. Some of the toy soldiers were made of paper, and these tore easily if they even tried to drill. Some of the toy soldiers were made of tin, and these bent if they had an encounter.

But this toy soldier, who stood head and shoulders above the others, was made of wood. He had once been part of a great pine tree that stood in the forest, and his heart was as brave and true as the heart of the tree.

His trousers were painted green, with yellow stripes; and his jacket was painted red, with gold [Pg 45] buttons. He wore a painted blue cap upon the side of his head, with a band that went under his chin, and he carried a wooden gun in one arm. He could stand alone, for his wooden legs were glued to a block of wood, and his eyes were black and shining, and his mouth was painted in a smile.

When the Toy Soldier went from the toy shop to live in Gregory’s house the little boy thought that he had never seen such a fine soldier in his life. He made him captain of all the soldier ninepins and guard of the toy train, and he took him to bed with him at night. Then, one day, James, who lived next door and was Gregory’s neighbor, came over to play with Gregory.

“What a nice Toy Soldier!” James said.

“Yes, he’s mine,” Gregory said.

“May I play with him?” James asked.

“No, I said he was my Toy Soldier,” Gregory answered.

“Then I’ll take him,” James said.

“I won’t let you,” Gregory said.

Then the two little boys began pulling the Toy Soldier to see which could get him away from the other, and the Toy Soldier did not like it at all. He was fond of a good battle, but not of a quarrel. He decided that he would not stay in a house where there was a quarrelsome boy, and so he tumbled out of a window that was close by and fell, down, down, to the street below.

The Toy Soldier had not lain long on the sidewalk when Harold passed by and picked him up.

“I wanted a toy soldier and here is the finest one I ever saw,” Harold said; and he slipped the soldier inside his coat and started on, for he was going to school. The Toy Soldier lay close to Harold’s watch that was tick, tick, ticking the time away, but Harold loitered, and at last he stopped to play a game of marbles with another little boy whom he met. “I don’t care if I am late for school,” he said.

“Oho!” thought the Toy Soldier, and as the two little boys played he dropped out from under Harold’s coat and into the gutter. When Harold reached school, late, the Toy Soldier was gone.

Joe found the Toy Soldier in the gutter and ran home with him to his mother.

“I have a Toy Soldier!” he said.

“How brave he looks,” said Joe’s mother.

All the rest of the day the Toy Soldier went about with Joe and listened to what he said and watched what he did.

“I can’t go to the grocer’s; I’m afraid of his dog.”

“I can’t put in that nail. I am afraid that the hammer will slip and hit my finger.” This was what the Toy Soldier heard.

Then it was Joe’s bedtime, and the Toy Soldier went upstairs with him to bed, but Joe cried all the way.

“I’m afraid of the dark!” he said.

When Joe was asleep the Toy Soldier slipped out of his hand and fell into a scrap basket. He knew very well that he couldn’t stay with a child who was a coward.

No one saw the Toy Soldier when the basket was emptied in the morning. He went with the scraps into a huge bag, and then into a wagon, and then into a factory where men sorted the cloth to make it into paper. One of these men found the Toy Soldier and took him home to his little boy, who was lame and had to stay alone all day.

“Has it been a good day, John?” his father asked.

“Oh, yes!” laughed John as he hugged the Toy Soldier.

“You have my supper ready just in time,” his father said, watching the soup bubbling in a shining pot on the stove.

“And I cleaned a little and set the table,” John said.

“Has your back hurt you very much to-day?” asked his father.

“A little, but I don’t mind that,” John said. “See how fine the Toy Soldier looks standing on the table!”

“Oho!” thought the Toy Soldier, “now I have found a place where I can stay. Here is another soldier, cheerful and willing to work, and brave!”

BY CAROLYN SHERWIN BAILEY

Once upon a time there was a queer little elf named Dumps, who lived all by himself in a dark little house down in a valley. Ever since he could remember, things had gone wrong with him.

He shivered in the cold and kicked the coal bucket when the fire wouldn’t burn. He howled when he stumbled over his own dinner pots that he had left in the middle of the floor; and he stood in his front door and scowled when other happy elves went by without speaking to him.

He and his family had lived like that for years. When any elf wanted to describe something very sad he would say it was “Down in the Dumps.” [Pg 46] And so Dumps went on without a single happy day.

But suddenly the elves decided to give a party. Oh, it was going to be a very jolly party indeed, and Dumps heard about it. Almost every elf who passed was whistling, or singing something cheerful. And some of them carried their best green suits to the Wood Fairy’s house to be pressed. And when Dumps heard about the party, he cried so loud because he knew he wouldn’t be invited that the Wood Fairy heard him. The noise disturbed her, and she went down to Dumps’ house to see what was the matter with him now.

“Tell me all about it, from the beginning, my dear,” she said to poor little Dumps.

“I can’t see the sunshine!” Dumps howled.

“Of course, you can’t,” said the Wood Fairy. “Your windows are dirty. Get some nice spring water in your little pail and wash them.”

Dumps had never thought of doing that. When he washed the windows the sunbeams streamed in like a golden ladder.

“Is there something else the matter?” the Wood Fairy asked.

“My fire won’t burn, even though I kick the coal bucket every day,” Dumps sobbed.

“Well, try blowing the fire,” the Wood Fairy suggested.

Dumps had never thought of doing that. His bellows were stiff, but he blew them very hard, and—crackle—there was a nice bright fire, and his kettle began to sing!

“Is that all?” asked the Wood Fairy.

“Oh, no!” Dumps sighed, “The other elves are giving a party, and I’m not invited.”

“It is for all the elves, and you don’t have to be invited,” the Wood Fairy said. “Stand up straight and let me brush your suit. Now run along, my dear.”

So Dumps started up the hill to the party, laughing all the way, for he just couldn’t help it. You see, he had so many years of being one of the Dumps to make up for! He laughed until all his wrinkles were gone, and he was puffed out with happiness. He started bees buzzing, and grasshoppers fiddling, and crickets chirping.

“Who can this new, fat, cheerful elf be?” asked all the other elves, as Dumps arrived at the party, turning a double-somersault into their midst. “We are all here except Dumps, and of course this isn’t he?”

Then Dumps showed them how he could turn back-somersaults, and make a see-saw out of a rush leaf. He taught them how to play baseball with white clover heads, and how to make a swing of braided grasses. He surprised himself with all the good times he was able to think up.

“Of course, this isn’t Dumps,” the other elves decided. “His name must be Delight.” And Dumps never told them their mistake, for it wasn’t really a mistake at all. Now, was it?

[Pg 47]

BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

It was the schooner Hesperus,
That sailed the wintry sea;
And the skipper had taken his little daughter,
To bear him company.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,
Her cheeks like the dawn of day,
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,
That ope in the month of May.

The skipper he stood beside the helm,
His pipe was in his mouth;
And he watched how the veering flaw did blow
The smoke now west, now south.

Then up and spake an old Sailor,
Had sailed to the Spanish Main:
"I pray thee, put into yonder port,
For I fear a hurricane.

“Last night, the moon had a golden ring,
And to-night no moon we see!”
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,
And a scornful laugh laughed he.

Colder and louder blew the wind,
A gale from the northeast,
The snow fell hissing in the brine,
And the billows frothed like yeast.

Down came the storm, and smote amain,
The vessel in its strength;
She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,
Then leaped her cable’s length.

“Come hither! come hither! my little daughter,
And do not tremble so;
For I can weather the roughest gale,
That ever wind did blow.”

He wrapped her warm in his seaman’s coat
Against the stinging blast;
He cut a rope from a broken spar,
And bound her to the mast.

“O father! I hear the church-bells ring,
Oh say, what may it be?”
“’Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!”—
And he steered for the open sea.

“O father! I hear the sound of guns.
Oh say, what may it be?”
“Some ship in distress, that cannot live
In such an angry sea!”

“O father! I see a gleaming light.
Oh say, what may it be?”
But the father answered never a word,
A frozen corpse was he.

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,
With his face turned to the skies,
The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow
On his fixed and glassy eyes.

Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed
That saved she might be;
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave,
On the Lake of Galilee.

And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
Through the whistling sleet and snow,
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept
Toward the reef of Norman’s Woe.

And ever the fitful gusts between
A sound came from the land;
It was the sound of the trampling surf,
On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.

The breakers were right beneath her bows,
She drifted a dreary wreck,
And a whooping billow swept the crew
Like icicles from her deck.

She struck where the white and fleecy waves
Looked soft as carded wool,
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side
Like the horns of an angry bull.

Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,
With the masts went by the board;
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,
Ho! ho! the breakers roared!

At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach,
A fisherman stood aghast,
To see the form of a maiden fair,
Lashed close to a drifting mast.

The salt sea was frozen on her breast,
The salt tears in her eyes;
And he saw her hair, like the brown seaweed,
On the billows fall and rise.

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,
In the midnight and the snow!
Christ save us all from a death like this,
On the reef of Norman’s Woe.

[Pg 48]

BY ABBIE FARWELL BROWN

It was a little, little page,
Was brought from far away,
To bear the great queen’s velvet train
Upon her bridal day.

His yellow curls were long and bright,
His page’s suit was blue,
With golden clasps at neck and knee,
And ruffles fair and new.

And faith, he was the smallest page
The court had ever known:
His head scarce reached the topmost step
That led up to the throne.

And oh, ’t was but a little lad
Had never been before
So many leagues from kin and friends,
And from his father’s door!

And oh!—’t was but a little child
Who never yet, I wis,
Had stolen lonely to his bed
Without his mother’s kiss.

He had not seen the noble queen,
Of whom his heart had fear;
He knew no friend at court to give
A welcome and good cheer.

It was the busy night before
The great queen’s wedding-day,
And all was bustle, haste, and noise,
And every one was gay;

And each one had his task to do,
And none had time to spare
To tend a weeping little page
Whose mother was not there.

Far in a big and gloomy room
[Pg 49] Within the castle keep,
The little page lay all alone,
And wept, and could not sleep.

The little page lay all alone,
And hid his head and cried,
Until it seemed his aching heart
Would burst his little side.

The chamber door was set ajar,
And one was passing by
Who heard the little page’s sobs
And then his piteous cry.

Then some one lifted up the latch
And pushed the heavy door,
And then a lady entered in
And crossed the chamber floor—

A lady tall and sweet and fair,
In bridal white who stepped;
She stood beside the page’s bed,
And asked him why he wept.

[Pg 50]

And then he sobbed about a “kiss,”
His “mother,” and his “home,”
And wished the queen had called no page,
And wished he had not come;

For she was “such a proud, great queen”
He was afraid, he said;
And he was “lost and lonely” there
In that huge, gloomy bed.

And then the lady bent her down
And kissed him on the lips,
And smoothed his yellow, silken curls
With tender finger-tips.

The tears stood in her gentle eyes;
“Poor little lad!” she said,
And cuddled him up in her arms
And knelt down by the bed.

And so she held him, close and warm,
And sang him off to sleep,
While at her nod her waiting-maids
A silent watch did keep.

And when the morning smiled again
The little page awoke.
They clad him in a suit of white,
With velvet cap and cloak,

And crystal buckles on his shoes,
And led him to the queen,
All lovely in her bridal gear,
The fairest ever seen.

And he was such a tiny page,
[Pg 51] He trembled and looked down,
For he was sore afraid to see
The great queen sternly frown.

But lo! he heard a soft voice say,
“O little page, look here!
Am I, who sing to sleep so well,
A queen for child to fear?”

He raised his eyes, and lo! the bride
Looked on the page and smiled,
And then he knew the queen had played
At nurse-maid for a child.

And well he graced the wedding-feast
And bore her velvet train,
And at his dear queen’s side thenceforth
Was never sad again.

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

One afternoon of a cold winter’s day, when the sun shone forth with chilly brightness, after a long storm, two children asked leave of their mother to run out and play in the new-fallen snow.

The elder child was a little girl, whom, because she was of a tender and modest disposition, and was thought to be very beautiful, her parents and other people who were familiar with her used to call Violet.

But her brother was known by the title of Peony, on account of the ruddiness of his broad and round little phiz, which made everybody think of sunshine and great scarlet flowers.

“Yes, Violet—yes, my little Peony,” said their kind mother; “you may go and play in the snow.”

Forth sallied the two children, with a hop-skip-and-jump [Pg 52] that carried them at once into the very heart of a huge snowdrift, whence Violet emerged like a snow bunting, while little Peony floundered out with his round face in full bloom.

Then what a merry time had they! To look at them frolicking in the wintry garden, you would have thought that the dark and pitiless storm had been sent for no other purpose but to provide a new plaything for Violet and Peony; and that they themselves had been created, as the snowbirds were, to take delight only in the tempest and in the white mantle which it spread over the earth.

At last, when they had frosted one another all over with handfuls of snow, Violet, after laughing heartily at little Peony’s figure, was struck with a new idea.

“You look exactly like a snow-image, Peony,” said she, “if your cheeks were not so red. And that puts me in mind! Let us make an image out of snow—an image of a little girl—and it shall be our sister, and shall run about and play with us all winter long. Won’t it be nice?”

“Oh, yes!” cried Peony, as plainly as he could speak, for he was but a little boy. “That will be nice! And mamma shall see it!”

“Yes,” answered Violet; “mamma shall see the new little girl. But she must not make her come into the warm parlor, for, you know, our little snow-sister will not love the warmth.”

And forthwith the children began this great business of making a snow-image that should run about; while their mother, who was sitting at the window and overheard some of their talk, could not help smiling at the gravity with which they set about it. They really seemed to imagine that there would be no difficulty whatever in creating a live little girl out of the snow.

Indeed, it was an exceedingly pleasant sight—those bright little souls at their tasks. Moreover, it was really wonderful to observe how knowingly and skillfully they managed the matter. Violet assumed the chief direction and told Peony what to do, while, with her own delicate fingers, she shaped out all the nicer parts of the snow-figure.

It seemed, in fact, not so much to be made by the children, as to grow up under their hands, while they were playing and prattling about it. Their mother was quite surprised at this; and the longer she looked, the more and more surprised she grew.

Now, for a few moments there was a busy and earnest but indistinct hum of the two children’s voices, as Violet and Peony wrought together with one happy consent. Violet still seemed to be the guiding spirit; while Peony acted rather as a laborer and brought her the snow from far and near. And yet the little urchin evidently had a proper understanding of the matter.

“Peony, Peony!” cried Violet; for her brother was at the other side of the garden. “Bring me those light wreaths of snow that have rested on the lower branches of the pear tree. You can clamber on the snowdrift, Peony, and reach them easily. I must have them to make some ringlets for our snow-sister’s head!”

“Here they are, Violet!” answered the little boy. “Take care you do not break them. Well done! Well done! How pretty!”

“Does she not look sweet?” said Violet, with a very satisfied tone; “and now we must have some little shining bits of ice to make the brightness of her eyes. She is not finished yet. Mamma will see how very beautiful she is; but papa will say, ‘Tush! nonsense! come in out of the cold!’”

“Let us call mamma to look out,” said Peony; and then he shouted, “Mamma! mamma!! mamma!!! Look out and see what a nice ’ittle girl we are making!”

“What a nice playmate she will be for us all winter long!” said Violet. “I hope papa will not be afraid of her giving us a cold! Shan’t you love her dearly, Peony?”

“Oh, yes!” cried Peony. “And I will hug her and she shall sit down close by me and drink some of my warm milk.”

“Oh, no, Peony!” answered Violet, with grave wisdom. “That will not do at all. Warm milk will not be wholesome for our little snow-sister. Little snow-people, like her, eat nothing but icicles. No, no, Peony; we must not give her anything warm to drink!”

There was a minute or two of silence; for Peony, whose short legs were never weary, had gone again to the other side of the garden. All of a sudden, Violet cried out, loudly and joyfully:

“Look here, Peony! Come quickly! A light has been shining on her cheek out of that rose-colored cloud! And the color does not go away! Is not that beautiful?”

“Yes, it is beau-ti-ful,” answered Peony, pronouncing the three syllables with deliberate accuracy. “O Violet, only look at her hair! It is all like gold!”

“Oh, certainly,” said Violet, as if it were very much a matter of course. “That color, you know, comes from the golden clouds that we see up there in the sky. She is almost finished now. [Pg 53] But her lips must be made very red—redder than her cheeks. Perhaps, Peony, it will make them red if we both kiss them!”

Accordingly, the mother heard two smart little smacks, as if both her children were kissing the snow-image on its frozen mouth. But as this did not seem to make the lips quite red enough, Violet next proposed that the snow-child should be invited to kiss Peony’s scarlet cheek.

“Come, ’ittle snow-sister, kiss me!” cried Peony.

“There! she has kissed you,” added Violet, “and now her lips are very red. And she blushed a little, too!”

“Oh, what a cold kiss!” cried Peony.

Just then there came a breeze of the pure west wind sweeping through the garden, and rattling the parlor windows. It sounded so wintry cold that the mother was about to tap on the window-pane with her thimbled finger to summon the two children in when they both cried out to her with one voice:

“Mamma! mamma! We have finished our little snow-sister, and she is running about the garden with us!”

“What imaginative little beings my children are!” thought the mother, putting the last few stitches into Peony’s frock. “And it is strange, too, that they make me almost as much a child as they themselves are! I can hardly help believing now that the snow-image has really come to life!”

“Dear mamma!” cried Violet, “pray look out and see what a sweet playmate we have!”

The mother, being thus entreated, could no longer delay to look forth from the window. The sun was now gone out of the sky, leaving, however, a rich inheritance of his brightness among those purple and golden clouds which make the sunsets of winter so magnificent.

But there was not the slightest gleam or dazzle, either on the window or on the snow; so that the good lady could look all over the garden and see everything and everybody in it. And what do you think she saw there? Violet and Peony, of course, her own two darling children.

Ah, but whom or what did she see besides? Why, if you will believe me, there was a small figure of a girl, dressed all in white, with rose-tinged cheeks and ringlets of golden hue, playing about the garden with the two children!

A stranger though she was, the child seemed to be on as familiar terms with Violet and Peony, and they with her, as if all the three had been playmates during the whole of their little lives.

The mother thought to herself that it must certainly be the daughter of one of the neighbors, and that, seeing Violet and Peony in the garden, the child had run across the street to play with them.

So this kind lady went to the door, intending to invite the little runaway into her comfortable parlor; for, now that the sunshine was withdrawn, the atmosphere out of doors was already growing very cold.

But, after opening the house door, she stood an instant on the threshold, hesitating whether she ought to ask the child to come in, or whether she should even speak to her. Indeed, she almost doubted whether it were a real child after all, or only a light wreath of the new-fallen snow, blown hither and thither about the garden by the intensely cold west wind.

There was certainly something very singular in the aspect of the little stranger. Among all the children of the neighborhood the lady could remember no such face, with its pure white and delicate rose-color, and the golden ringlets tossing about the forehead and cheeks.

And as for her dress, which was entirely of white, and fluttering in the breeze, it was such as no reasonable woman would put upon a little girl when sending her out to play in the depth of winter. It made this kind and careful mother shiver only to look at those small feet, with nothing in the world on them except a very thin pair of white slippers.

Nevertheless, airily as she was clad, the child seemed to feel not the slightest inconvenience from the cold, but danced so lightly over the snow that the tips of her toes left hardly a print in its surface; while Violet could but just keep pace with her, and Peony’s short legs compelled him to lag behind.

All this while, the mother stood on the threshold, wondering how a little girl could look so much like a flying snowdrift, or how a snowdrift could look so very like a little girl.

“Violet, my darling, what is this child’s name?” asked she. “Does she live near us?”

“Why, dearest mamma,” answered Violet, laughing to think that her mother did not comprehend so very plain an affair, “this is our little snow-sister whom we have just been making!”

“Yes, dear mamma,” cried Peony, running to his mother and looking up simply into her face. “This is our snow-image! Is it not a nice ’ittle child?”

“Violet,” said her mother, greatly perplexed, “tell me the truth without any jest. Who is this little girl?”

“My darling mamma,” answered Violet, looking [Pg 54] seriously into her mother’s face, surprised that she should need any further explanation, “I have told you truly who she is. It is our little snow-image which Peony and I have been making. Peony will tell you so, as well as I.”

“Yes, mamma,” asseverated Peony, with much gravity in his crimson little phiz; “this is ’ittle snow-child. Is not she a nice one? But, mamma, her hand is, oh, so very cold!”

While mamma still hesitated what to think and what to do, the street gate was thrown open and the father of Violet and Peony appeared, wrapped in a pilot-cloth sack, with a fur cap drawn down over his ears, and the thickest of gloves upon his hands.

Mr. Lindsey was a middle-aged man, with a weary and yet a happy look in his wind-flushed and frost-pinched face, as if he had been busy all the day long and was glad to get back to his quiet home. His eyes brightened at the sight of his wife and children, although he could not help uttering a word or two of surprise at finding the whole family in the open air on so bleak a day, and after sunset, too.

He soon perceived the little white stranger, sporting to and fro in the garden like a dancing snow-wreath, and the flock of snowbirds fluttering about her head.

“Pray, what little girl may that be?” inquired this very sensible man. “Surely her mother must be crazy to let her go out in such bitter weather as it has been to-day, with only that flimsy white gown and those thin slippers!”

“My dear husband,” said his wife, “I know no more about the little thing than you do. Some neighbor’s child, I suppose. Our Violet and Peony,” she added, laughing at herself for repeating so absurd a story, “insist that she is nothing but a snow-image which they have been busy about in the garden almost all the afternoon.”

As she said this, the mother glanced her eyes toward the spot where the children’s snow-image had been made. What was her surprise on perceiving that there was not the slightest trace of so much labor!—no image at all!—no piled-up heap of snow!—nothing whatever save the prints of little footsteps around a vacant space!

“This is very strange!” said she.

“What is strange, dear mother?” asked Violet. “Dear father, do not you see how it is? This is our snow-image, which Peony and I have made because we wanted another playmate. Did not we, Peony?”

“Yes, papa,” said crimson Peony. “This be our ’ittle snow-sister. Is she not beau-ti-ful? But she gave me such a cold kiss!”

“Poh, nonsense, children!” cried their good, honest father, who had a plain matter-of-fact way of looking at matters. “Do not tell me of making live figures out of snow. Come, wife; this little stranger must not stay out in the bleak air a moment longer. We will bring her into the parlor; and you shall give her a supper of warm bread and milk, and make her as comfortable as you can.”

So saying, this honest and very kind-hearted man was going toward the little white damsel, with the best intentions in the world. But Violet and Peony, each seizing their father by the hand, earnestly besought him not to make her come in.

“Nonsense, children, nonsense, nonsense!” cried the father, half-vexed, half-laughing. “Run into the house, this moment! It is too late to play any longer now. I must take care of this little girl, or she will catch her death-a-cold!”

And so, with a most benevolent smile, this very well-meaning gentleman took the snow-child by the hand and led her toward the house.

She followed them, droopingly and reluctant, for all the glow and sparkle were gone out of her figure; and whereas just before she had resembled a bright, frosty, star-gemmed evening, with a crimson gleam on the cold horizon, she now looked as dull and languid as a thaw.

As kind Mr. Lindsey led her up the steps of the door, Violet and Peony looked into his face, their eyes full of tears, which froze before they could run down their cheeks, and entreated him not to bring their snow-image into the house.

“Not bring her in!” exclaimed the kind-hearted man. “Why, you are crazy, my little Violet—quite crazy, my small Peony! She is so cold already that her hand has almost frozen mine, in spite of my thick gloves. Would you have her freeze to death?”

His wife, as he came up the steps, had been taking another long, earnest gaze at the little white stranger. She hardly knew whether it was a dream or no; but she could not help fancying that she saw the delicate print of Violet’s fingers on the child’s neck. It looked just as if, while Violet was shaping out the image, she had given it a gentle pat with her hand, and had neglected to smooth the impression quite away.

“After all, husband,” said the mother, “after all, she does look strangely like a snow-image! I do believe she is made of snow!”

A puff of the west wind blew against the snow-child, and again she sparkled like a star.

“Snow!” repeated good Mr. Lindsey, drawing [Pg 55] the reluctant guest over his hospitable threshold. “No wonder she looks like snow. She is half frozen, poor little thing! But a good fire will put everything to rights.”

The common-sensible man placed the snow-child on the hearthrug, right in front of the hissing and fuming stove.

“Now she will be comfortable!” cried Mr. Lindsey, rubbing his hands and looking about him, with the pleasantest smile you ever saw. “Make yourself at home, my child.”

Sad, sad and drooping, looked the little white maiden as she stood on the hearthrug, with the hot blast of the stove striking through her like a pestilence. Once she threw a glance toward the window, and caught a glimpse, through its red curtains, of the snow-covered roofs and the stars glimmering frostily and all the delicious intensity of the cold night. The bleak wind rattled the window panes as if it were summoning her to come forth. But there stood the snow-child, drooping, before the hot stove!

But the common-sensible man saw nothing amiss.

“Come, wife,” said he, “let her have a pair of thick stockings and a woolen shawl or blanket directly; and tell Dora to give her some warm supper as soon as the milk boils. You, Violet and Peony, amuse your little friend. She is out of spirits, you see, at finding herself in a strange place. For my part, I will go around among the neighbors and find out where she belongs.”

The mother, meanwhile, had gone in search of the shawl and stockings. Without heeding the remonstrances of his two children, who still kept murmuring that their little snow-sister did not love the warmth, good Mr. Lindsey took his departure, shutting the parlor door carefully behind him.

Turning up the collar of his sack over his ears, he emerged from the house, and had barely reached the street-gate when he was recalled by the screams of Violet and Peony and the rapping of a thimbled finger against the parlor window.

“Husband! husband!” cried his wife, showing her horror-stricken face through the window panes. “There is no need of going for the child’s parents!”

“We told you so, father!” screamed Violet and Peony, as he re-entered the parlor. “You would bring her in; and now our poor—dear—beau-ti-ful little snow-sister is thawed!”

And their own sweet little faces were already dissolved in tears; so that their father, seeing what strange things occasionally happen in this everyday world, felt not a little anxious lest his children might be going to thaw, too. In the utmost perplexity, he demanded an explanation of his wife.

She could only reply that, being summoned to the parlor by the cries of Violet and Peony, she found no trace of the little white maiden, unless it were the remains of a heap of snow which, while she was gazing at it, melted quite away upon the hearthrug.

“And there you see all that is left of it!” added she, pointing to a pool of water in front of the stove.

“Yes, father,” said Violet, looking reproachfully at him through her tears, “there is all that is left of our dear little snow-sister!”

“Father!” cried Peony, stamping his foot, and—I shudder to say—shaking his little fist at the common-sensible man. “We told you how it would be. What for did you bring her in?”

And the stove, through the isinglass of its door, seemed to glare at good Mr. Lindsey, like a red-eyed demon triumphing in the mischief which it had done!

BY SOPHIE MAY

Once upon a time, though I cannot tell when, and in what country I do not now remember, there lived a maiden as fair as a lily, as gentle as a dewdrop, and as modest as a violet. A pure, sweet name she had: It was Blanche.

She stood one evening, with her friend Victor, by the shore of a lake. Never had the youth or maiden seen the moonlight so enchanting; but they did not know—

“It was midsummer day,
When all the fairy people
From elf-land came away.”

Presently, while they gazed at the lake, which shone like liquid emerald and sapphire and topaz, a boat, laden with strangely beautiful beings, glided toward them across the waters. The fair voyagers were clad in robes of misty blue, with white mantles about their waists, and on [Pg 56] their heads wreaths of valley-lilies.

They were all as fair as need be; but fairest of all was the helms-woman, the Queen of the Fairies. Her face was soft and clear like moonlight; and she wore a crown of nine large diamonds, which refracted the evening rays, and formed nine lunar rainbows.

The fairies were singing a roundelay; and, as the melody floated over the water, Victor and Blanche listened with throbbing hearts. Fairy music has almost passed away from the earth; but those who hear it are strangely moved, and have dreams of beautiful things which have been, and may be again.

“It makes me think of the days of long ago when there was no sin,” whispered Blanche.

“It makes me long to be a hero,” answered Victor with a sparkling eye.

All the while the pearly boat was drifting toward the youth and maiden; and, when it had touched the shore the Queen stepped out upon the land as lightly as if she had been made entirely of dewdrops.

“I am Fontana,” said she: “and is this Blanche?”

She laid her soft hand upon the maiden’s shoulder; and Blanche thought she would like to die then and there, so full was she of joy.

“I have heard of thy good heart, my maiden: now what would please thee most?” inquired the Queen.

Blanche bowed her head, and dared not speak.

Queen Fontana smiled. When she smiled it was as if a soft cloud had slid away from the moon, revealing a beautiful light.

“Say pearls and diamonds,” said Victor in her ear.

“I don’t know,” whispered Blanche; “they are not the best things.”

“No,” said the Queen kindly; “pearls and diamonds are not the best things.”

Then Blanche knew that her whisper had been overheard, and she hid her face in her hands for shame. But the Queen only smiled down on her, and without speaking dropped into the ground a little seed. Right at the feet of Blanche it fell; and in a moment two green leaves shot upward, and between them a spotless lily, which hung its head with modest grace.

Victor gazed at the perfect flower in wonder, and before he knew it said aloud: “Ah, how like Blanche!”

The Queen herself broke it from the stem, and gave it to the maiden, saying:

“Take it! It is my choicest gift. Till it fades (which will never be), love will be thine; and in time to come it will have power to open the strongest locks, and swing back the heaviest doors.

“‘Gates of brass cannot withstand
One touch of this magic wand.’”

Blanche looked up to thank the Queen; but no words came—only tears.

“I see a wish in thine eyes,” said Fontana.

“It is for Victor,” faltered Blanche, at last; “he wishes to be rich and great.”

The Queen looked grave.

“Shall I make him one of the great men of the earth, little Blanche? Then he may one day go to the ends of the world, and forget thee.”

Blanche only smiled, and Victor’s cheek flushed.

“I shall be a great man,” said he—“perhaps a prince; but where I go Blanche shall go: she will be my wife.”

“That is well,” said the Queen. “Never forget Blanche, for her love will be your dearest blessing.”

Then, removing from her girdle a pair of spectacles, she placed them in the youth’s hand. He drew back in surprise. “Does she take me for an old man?” thought he. He had expected a casket of gems at least; perhaps a crown.

“Wait,” said Fontana; “they are the eyes of Wisdom. When you have learned their use, you will not despise my gift. Keep a pure heart, and always remember Blanche. And now farewell!”

So saying, she moved on to the boat, floating over the ground as softly as a creeping mist.

When Blanche awoke next morning, her first thought was, “Happy are the maidens who have sweet dreams!” for she believed she had only been wandering in a midsummer’s night’s dream; so, when she saw her lily in the broken pitcher where she had placed it, great was her delight. But a change had come over it during the night. It was no longer a common lily; its petals were now large pearls, and the green leaves were green emeralds. This strange thing had happened to the flower, that it might never fade.

After this, people looked at Blanche and said: “How is it? She grows fairer every day!” And every one loved her; for the human heart has no choice but to love what is good and gentle.

As for Victor, he at first put on his spectacles with a scornful smile; but, when he had worn them a moment, he found them very wonderful things. When he looked through them, he could see people’s thoughts written out on their faces; he could easily decipher the fine writing which you see traced on green leaves; and found there were long stories written on pebbles in little [Pg 57] black and gray dots.

When he wore the spectacles, he looked so wise that Blanche hardly dared speak to him. She saw that one day he was to become great.

At last Victor said he must leave his home, and sail across the seas. Tears filled the eyes of Blanche; but the youth whispered:

“I am going away to find a home for you and me. So adieu, dearest Blanche!”

Now Victor thought the ship in which he sailed moved very slowly; for he longed to reach the land which he could see through his magic spectacles. It was a beautiful kingdom, rich with mines of gold and silver.

When the ship touched shore, the streets were lined with people who walked to and fro with sad faces. The King’s daughter, a beautiful young maiden, was very ill, and it was feared she must die.

Victor asked one of the people if there was no hope.

It so happened that this man was the greatest physician in the kingdom and he answered:

“Alas, there is no hope!”

Then Victor went to a distant forest where he knew a healing spring was to be found. Very few remembered it was there; and those who had seen it did not know of its power to heal disease.

Victor filled a crystal goblet with the precious water and carried it to the palace. The old King shook his head sadly, but consented to let the attendants moisten the parched lips of the Princess with the water, as it could do no harm. Far from doing harm, it wrought a great good; and in time the royal maiden was restored to health.

Then, for gratitude, the King would have given his daughter to Victor for a wife; but Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that no other maiden must be bride of his.

Not long after this the King was lost overboard at sea during a storm. Now the people must have a new ruler. They determined to choose a wise and brave man; and, young as he was, no man could be found braver and wiser than Victor; so the people elected him for their King. Thus Fontana’s gift of the eyes of Wisdom had made him truly “one of the great men of earth.”

In her humble home Blanche dreamed every night of Victor, and hoped he would grow good, if he did not become great; and Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that her love was his dearest blessing.

“This old palace,” thought he, “will never do for my beautiful bride.”

So he called together his people, and told them he must have a castle of gems. Some of the walls were to be of rubies, some of emeralds, some of pearls. There was to be any amount of beaten gold for doors and pillars; and the ceilings were to be of milk-white opals, with a rosy light which comes and goes.

All was done as he desired; and when the castle of gems was finished it would need a pen of jasponyx dipped in rainbows to describe it.

Victor thought he would not have a guard of soldiers for his castle, but would lock the four golden gates with a magic key, so that no one could enter unless the gates should swing back of their own accord.

When the castle of gems was just completed, and not a soul was in it, Victor locked the gates with a magic key, and then dropped the key into the ocean.

“Now,” thought he, “I have done a wise thing. None but the good and true can enter my castle of gems. The gates will not swing open for men with base thoughts or proud hearts!”

Then he hid himself under the shadow of a tree, and watched the people trying to enter. But they were proud men, and so the gates would not open.

King Victor laughed, and said to himself:

“I have done a wise thing with my magic key. How safe I shall be in my castle of gems!”

So he stepped out of his hiding place, and said to the people:

“None but the good and true can get in.”

Then he tried to go in himself; but the gates would not move.

The King bowed his head in shame, and walked back to his old palace.

“Alas!” said he to himself, “wise and great as I am, I thought I could go in. I see it must be because I am filled with pride. Let me hide my face; for what would Blanche say if she knew, that, because my heart is proud, I am shut out of my own castle? I am not worthy that she should love me; but I hope I shall learn of her to be humble and good.”

The next day he sailed for the home of his childhood. When Blanche saw him she blushed and cast down her eyes; but Victor knew they were full of tears of joy. He held her hand, and whispered:

“Will you go with me and be my bride, beautiful Blanche?”

“I will go with you,” she answered softly; and Victor’s heart rejoiced.

All the while Blanche never dreamed that he [Pg 58] was a great Prince, and that the men who came with him were his courtiers.

When they reached Victor’s kingdom, and the people shouted “Long live the Queen!” Blanche veiled her face and trembled; for Victor whispered in her ear that the shouts were for her. And as the people saw her beautiful face through her gossamer veil, they cried all the more loudly:

“Long live Queen Blanche! Thrice welcome, fair lady!”

The sun was sinking in the west, and his rays fell with dazzling splendor upon the castle of gems. When Blanche saw the silent, closed castle and its golden gates she remembered the words of Queen Fontana, who had said that her lily should have power to “open the strongest locks, and swing back the heaviest doors.”

Like one walking in a dream, she led Victor toward the resplendent castle. She touched with her lily the lock which fastened one of the gates.

“Gates of gold could not withstand
One touch of that magic wand.”

In an instant, the hinges trembled; and the massive door swung open so far that forty people could walk in side by side. Then it slowly closed, and locked itself without noise.

One of the people who passed in was the King, whose heart was no longer proud. The others, who had entered unwittingly, could not speak for wonder. Some of them were poor, and some were lame or blind; but all were good and true.

At the rising of the moon a wonderful thing came to pass. The people entered the castle of gems and became beautiful. This was through the power of the magic lily.

Now there were no more crooked backs, and lame feet, and sightless eyes; and the King looked at these people, who were beautiful as well as good, and declared he would have them live in the castle; and the gentlemen should be knights; and the ladies maids of honor.

To this day Victor and Blanche rule the kingdom; and such is the charm of the lily—so like the pure heart of the Queen—that the people are becoming gentle and good.

Until Queen Fontana shall call for the magic spectacles and the lily of pearl, it is believed that Victor and Blanche will live in the castle of gems, though the time should be a hundred years.

BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE

Once there was a nice young hen that we will call Mrs. Feathertop. She was a hen of most excellent family, being a direct descendant of the Bolton Grays, and as pretty a young fowl as you wish to see of a summer’s day. She was, moreover, as fortunately situated in life as it was possible for a hen to be. She was bought by young Master Fred Little John, with four or five family connections of hers, and a lively young cock, who was held to be as brisk a scratcher and as capable a head of a family as any half-dozen sensible hens could desire.

I can’t say that at first Mrs. Feathertop was a very sensible hen. She was very pretty and lively, to be sure, and a great favorite with Master Bolton Gray Cock, on account of her bright eyes, her finely shaded feathers, and certain saucy dashing ways that she had, which seemed greatly to take his fancy. But old Mrs. Scratchard, living in the neighboring yard, assured all the neighborhood that Gray Cock was a fool for thinking so much of that flighty young thing—that she had not the smallest notion how to get on in life, and thought of nothing in the world but her own pretty feathers. “Wait till she comes to have chickens,” said Mrs. Scratchard. “Then you will see. I have brought up ten broods myself—as likely and respectable chickens as ever were a blessing to society—and I think I ought to know a good hatcher and brooder when I see her; and I know that fine piece of trumpery, with her white feathers tipped with gray, never will come down to family life. She scratch for chickens! Bless me, she never did anything in all her days but run round and eat the worms which somebody else scratched up for her!”

When Master Bolton Gray heard this he crowed very loudly, like a cock of spirit, and declared that old Mrs. Scratchard was envious because she had lost all her own tail-feathers, and looked more like a worn-out old feather duster than a respectable hen, and that therefore she was filled with sheer envy of anybody that was young and pretty. So young Mrs. Feathertop cackled gay defiance at her busy rubbishy neighbor, as she sunned herself under the bushes on fine June afternoons.

Now Master Fred Little John had been allowed [Pg 59] to have these hens by his mamma on the condition that he would build their house himself, and take all the care of it; and, to do Master Fred justice, he executed the job in a small way quite creditably. He chose a sunny sloping bank covered with a thick growth of bushes, and erected there a nice little hen-house, with two glass windows, a little door, and a good pole for his family to roost on. He made, moreover, a row of nice little boxes with hay in them for nests, and he bought three or four little smooth white china eggs to put in them, so that, when his hens did lay, he might carry off their eggs without their being missed. The hen-house stood in a little grove that sloped down to a wide river, just where there was a little cove which reached almost to the hen-house.

The situation inspired one of Master Fred’s boy advisers with a new scheme in relation to his poultry enterprise. “Hullo! I say, Fred,” said Tom Seymour, “you ought to raise ducks—you’ve got a capital place for ducks there.”

“Yes, but I’ve bought hens, you see,” said Freddy; “so it’s no use trying.”

“No use! Of course there is! Just as if your hens couldn’t hatch ducks’ eggs. Now, you just wait till one of your hens wants to set, and you put ducks’ eggs under her, and you’ll have a family of ducks in a twinkling. You can buy ducks’ eggs, a plenty, of old Sam under the hill; he always has hens hatch his ducks.”

So Freddy thought it would be a good experiment, and informed his mother the next morning that he intended to furnish the ducks for the next Christmas dinner; and when she wondered how he was to come by them, he said, mysteriously, “O, I will show you how!” but did not further explain himself. The next day he went with Tom Seymour, and made a trade with old Sam, and gave him a middle-aged jack-knife for eight of his ducks’ eggs. Sam, by the bye, was a woolly-headed old negro man, who lived by the pond hard by, and who had long cast envying eyes on Fred’s jack-knife, because it was of extra-fine steel, having been a Christmas present the year before. But Fred knew very well there were any number more of jack-knives where that came from, and that, in order to get a new one, he must dispose of the old; so he made the trade and came home rejoicing.

Now, about this time Mrs. Feathertop, having laid her eggs daily with great credit to herself, notwithstanding Mrs. Scratchard’s predictions, began to find herself suddenly attacked with nervous symptoms. She lost her gay spirits, grew dumpish and morose, stuck up her feathers in a bristling way, and pecked at her neighbors if they did so much as look at her. Master Gray Cock was greatly concerned, and went to old Doctor Peppercorn, who looked solemn and recommended an infusion of angle-worms, and said he would look in on the patient twice a day till she was better.

“Gracious me, Gray Cock!” said old Goody Kertarkut, who had been lolling at the corner as he passed, “a’n’t you a fool?—cocks always are fools. Don’t you know what’s the matter with your wife? She wants to set—that’s all; and you just let her set! A fiddlestick for Doctor Peppercorn! Why, any good old hen that has brought up a family knows more than a doctor about such things. You just go home and tell her to set, if she wants to, and behave herself.”

When Gray Cock came home, he found that Master Freddy had been before him, and established Mrs. Feathertop upon eight nice eggs, where she was sitting in gloomy grandeur. He tried to make a little affable conversation with her, and to relate his interview with the Doctor and Goody Kertarkut, but she was morose and sullen, and only pecked at him now and then in a very sharp, unpleasant way; so, after a few more efforts to make himself agreeable, he left her, and went out promenading with the captivating Mrs. Red Comb, a charming young Spanish widow, who had just been imported into the neighboring yard.

“Bless my soul!” said he, “you’ve no idea how cross my wife is.”

“O you horrid creature!” said Mrs. Red Comb; “how little you feel for the weaknesses of us poor hens!”

“On my word, ma’am,” said Gray Cock, “you do me injustice. But when a hen gives way to temper, ma’am and no longer meets her husband with a smile—when she even pecks at him whom she is bound to honor and obey——”

“Horrid monster! talking of obedience! I should say, sir, you came straight from Turkey!” And Mrs. Red Comb tossed her head with a most bewitching air, and pretended to run away, and old Mrs. Scratchard looked out of her coop and called to Goody Kertarkut:

“Look how Mr. Gray Cock is flirting with that widow. I always knew she was a baggage.”

“And his poor wife left at home alone,” said Goody Kertarkut. “It’s the way with ’em all!”

“Yes, yes,” said Dame Scratchard, “she’ll know what real life is now, and she won’t go about holding her head so high, and looking down on her practical neighbors that have raised families.”

“Poor thing, what’ll she do with a family?” [Pg 60] said Goody Kertarkut.

“Well, what business have such young flirts to get married,” said Dame Scratchard. “I don’t expect she’ll raise a single chick; and there’s Gray Cock flirting about fine as ever. Folks didn’t do so when I was young. I’m sure my husband knew what treatment a setting hen ought to have—poor old Long Spur—he never minded a peck or so now and then. I must say these modern fowls a’n’t what fowls used to be.”

Meanwhile the sun rose and set, and Master Fred was almost the only friend and associate of poor little Mrs. Feathertop, whom he fed daily with meal and water, and only interrupted her sad reflections by pulling her up occasionally to see how the eggs were coming on.

At last “Peep, peep, peep!” began to be heard in the nest, and one little downy head after another poked forth from under the feathers, surveying the world with round, bright, winking eyes; and gradually the brood was hatched, and Mrs. Feathertop arose, a proud and happy mother, with all the bustling, scratching, caretaking instincts of family life warm within her breast. She clucked and scratched, and cuddled the little downy bits of things as handily and discreetly as a seven-year-old hen could have done, exciting thereby the wonder of the community.

Master Gray Cock came home in high spirits and complimented her; told her she was looking charmingly once more, and said, “Very well, very nice!” as he surveyed the young brood. So that Mrs. Feathertop began to feel the world going well with her, when suddenly in came Dame Scratchard and Goody Kertarkut to make a morning call.

“Let’s see the chicks,” said Dame Scratchard.

“Goodness me,” said Goody Kertarkut, “what a likeness to their dear papa!”

“Well, but bless me, what’s the matter with their bills?” said Dame Scratchard. “Why, my dear, these chicks are deformed! I’m sorry for you, my dear, but it’s all the result of your inexperience; you ought to have eaten pebble-stones with your meal when you were setting. Don’t you see, Dame Kertarkut, what bills they have? That’ll increase, and they’ll be frightful!”

“What shall I do?” said Mrs. Feathertop, now greatly alarmed.

“Nothing as I know of,” said Dame Scratchard, “since you didn’t come to me before you set. I could have told you all about it. Maybe it won’t kill ’em, but they’ll always be deformed.”

And so the gossips departed, leaving a sting under the pin-feathers of the poor little hen mamma, who began to see that her darlings had curious little spoon-bills different from her own, and to worry and fret about it.

“My dear,” she said to her spouse, “do get Doctor Peppercorn to come in and look at their bills, and see if anything can be done.”

Doctor Peppercorn came in, and put on a monstrous pair of spectacles and said: “Hum! Ha! Extraordinary case—very singular!”

“Did you ever see anything like it, Doctor?” said both parents, in a breath.

“I’ve read of such cases. It’s a calcareous enlargement of the vascular bony tissue, threatening ossification,“ said the Doctor.

“Oh, dreadful!—can it be possible?” shrieked both parents. “Can anything be done?”

“Well, I should recommend a daily lotion made of mosquitoes’ horns and bicarbonate of frogs’ toes together with a powder, to be taken morning and night, of muriate of fleas. One thing you must be careful about: they must never wet their feet, nor drink any water.”

“Dear me, Doctor, I don’t know what I shall do, for they seem to have a particular fancy for getting into water.”

“Yes, a morbid tendency often found in these cases of bony tumification of the vascular tissue of the mouth; but you must resist it, ma’am, as their life depends upon it.” And with that Doctor Peppercorn glared gloomily on the young ducks, who were stealthily poking the objectionable little spoon-bills out from under their mothers’ feathers.

After this poor Mrs. Feathertop led a weary life of it; for the young fry were as healthy and enterprising a brood of young ducks as ever carried saucepans on the end of their noses, and they most utterly set themselves against the doctor’s prescriptions, murmured at the muriate of fleas and the bicarbonate of frogs’ toes and took every opportunity to waddle their little ways down to the mud and water which was in their near vicinity. So their bills grew larger and larger, as did the rest of their bodies, and family government grew weaker and weaker.

“You’ll wear me out children, you certainly will,” said poor Mrs. Feathertop.

“You’ll go to destruction, do ye hear?” said Master Gray Cock.

“Did you ever see such frights as poor Mrs. Feathertop has got?” said Dame Scratchard. “I knew what would come of her family—all deformed, and with a dreadful sort of madness, which makes them love to shovel mud with those shocking spoon-bills of theirs.”

[Pg 61]

“It’s a kind of idiocy,” said Goody Kertarkut. “Poor things! they can’t be kept from the water, [Pg 62] nor made to take powders, and so they got worse and worse.”

“I understand it’s affecting their feet so that they can’t walk, and a dreadful sort of net is growing between their toes; what a shocking visitation!”

“She brought it on herself,” said Dame Scratchard. “Why didn’t she come to me before she set? She was always an upstart, self-conceited thing, but I’m sure I pity her.”

Meanwhile the young ducks throve apace. Their necks grew glossy like changeable green and gold satin, and though they would not take the doctor’s medicine, and would waddle in the mud and water—for which they always felt themselves to be very naughty ducks—yet they grew quite vigorous and hearty. At last one day the whole little tribe waddled off down to the bank of the river. It was a beautiful day, and the river was dancing and dimpling and winking as the little breezes shook the trees that hung over it.

“Well,” said the biggest of the little ducks, “in spite of Doctor Peppercorn I can’t help longing for the water. I don’t believe it is going to hurt me; at any rate, here goes.” And in he plumped, and in went every duck after him, and they threw out their great brown feet as cleverly as if they had taken rowing-lessons all their lives, and sailed off on the river, away, away, among the ferns, under the pink azalias, through reeds and rushes and arrow-heads and pickerel-weed, the happiest ducks that ever were born; and soon they were quite out of sight.

“Well, Mrs. Feathertop, this is a dispensation,” said Mrs. Scratchard. “Your children are all drowned at last, just as I knew they’d be. The old music-teacher Master Bullfrog, that lives down in Water-Dock Lane, saw ’em all plump madly into the water together this morning; that’s what comes of not knowing how to bring up a family.”

Mrs. Feathertop gave only one shriek and fainted dead away, and was carried home on a cabbage leaf, and Mr. Gray Cock was sent for, where he was waiting on Mrs. Red Comb through the squash vines.

“It’s a serious time in your family, sir,” said Goody Kertarkut, “and you ought to be at home supporting your wife. Send for Doctor Peppercorn without delay.”

Now as the case was a very dreadful one, Doctor Peppercorn called a council from the barnyard of the Squire two miles off, and a brisk young Doctor Partlett appeared in a fine suit of brown and gold, with tail-feathers like meteors. A fine young fellow he was, lately from Paris, with all the modern scientific improvements fresh in his head.

When he had listened to the whole story, he clapped his spur into the ground, and, leaning back laughed so loud that all the cocks in the neighborhood crowed.

Mrs. Feathertop rose up out of her swoon, and Mr. Gray Cock was greatly enraged.

“What do you mean, sir, by such behavior in the house of mourning?”

“My dear sir, pardon me, but there is no occasion for mourning. My dear madam, let me congratulate you. There is no harm done. The simple matter is, dear madam, you have been under a hallucination all along. The neighborhood and my learned friend the doctor have all made a mistake in thinking that these children of yours were hens at all. They are ducks, ma’am, evidently ducks, and very finely formed ducks, I dare say.”

At this moment a quack was heard, and at a distance the whole tribe were seen coming waddling home, their feathers gleaming in green and gold, and they themselves in high good spirits.

“Such a splendid day as we have had!” they all cried in a breath. “And we know now how to get our own living; we can take care of ourselves in future, so you need have no further trouble with us.”

“Madam,” said the Doctor, making a bow with an air which displayed his tail-feathers to advantage, “let me congratulate you on the charming family you have raised. A finer brood of young healthy ducks I never saw. Give claw, my dear friend,” he said, addressing the elder son. “In our barnyard no family is more respected than that of the ducks.”

And so Madam Feathertop came off glorious at last; and when after this the ducks used to go swimming up and down the river, like so many nabobs, among the admiring hens, Doctor Peppercorn used to look after them and say: “Ah! I had the care of their infancy!”

And Mr. Gray Cock and his wife used to say to each other: “It was our system of education did that!”

[Pg 63]

BY ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH

There was a lad named Piping Will
With tattered coat and poor;
He had no home to bide him in,
But roamed from door to door.

This lad had naught except a pipe
On which he used to play;
Yet never lad did laugh so free,
Nor had a look so gay.

“Nay, bide, thou merry piper-boy!”
The kindly house-dames said.
“The roads are rough, the skies are wild,
And thou dost lack for bread.

“The hills are steep, the stones unkind—
Why wilt thou always roam?
And winter turns a barren heart
To them that have no home.”

Then would he smile and pipe awhile,
But would not ever stay.
How strange that he could be so poor,
Yet have a heart so gay!

And so the good folk shook their heads,
And they would turn and stare
To see him piping through the fields.
What was he doing there?

It fell about the blithe Yule-tide,
When winter winds were keen,
The Burgomaster’s little maid
Slipped from the house unseen;

For she had heard that in the wood
The dear snow-children run,
And play where shadows are most cold
And where there is no sun.

But lo, the evening hurried on,
And bitter sleet blew cold;
It whitened all her scarlet cloak
And flying locks of gold.

The road was hid, and she was lost,
And knew not where to go;
And still the sharp blast swept her on,
Whether she would or no.