While they sat there crying by the roadside a young girl came riding along from the fields on a water buffalo. She stopped and asked them what was the matter, and whether she could help them. They told her she could do them no good; but she persisted in offering her sympathy and inviting their confidence, till they told their story, and then she at once said that if they would go home with her she would show them a way out or their trouble. Their case seemed so hopeless to themselves, and the child was so sure of her own power to help them, that they finally accompanied her to her father's house, where she showed them how to comply with their father-in-law's demand.

For the first a paper lantern only would be needed. When lighted it would be a fire, and its paper surface would compass the blaze, so that it would truly be "some fire wrapped in paper." For the second a paper fan would suffice. When flapped, wind would issue from it, and the "wind wrapped in paper" could thus be carried to the old man.

The two young women thanked the wise child, and went on their way rejoicing. After a pleasant visit to their old homes, they took a lantern and a fan, and returned to their father-in-law's house. As soon as he saw them he began to vent his anger at their light regard for his commands, but they assured him that they had perfectly obeyed him, and showed him that what they had brought fulfilled the conditions prescribed. Much astonished, he inquired how it was that they had suddenly become so astute, and they told him the story of their journey, and of the little girl who had so opportunely come to their relief. He inquired whether the little girl was already betrothed, and, finding that she was not, engaged a go-between to see if he could get her for a wife for his youngest son.

Having succeeded in securing the girl as a daughter-in-law, he brought her home, and told all the rest of the family that as there was no mother in the house, and as this girl had shown herself to be possessed of extraordinary wisdom, she should be the head of the household.

The wedding festivities being over, the sons of the old man made ready to return to their usual occupations on the farm; but, according to their father's order, they came to the young bride for instructions. She told them that they were never to go to or from the fields empty-handed. When they went they must carry fertilizers of some sort for the land, and when they returned they must bring bundles of sticks for fuel. They obeyed, and soon had the land in fine condition, and so much fuel gathered that none need be bought. When there were no more sticks, roots, or weeds to bring; she told them to bring stones instead; and they soon accumulated an immense pile of stones, which were heaped in a yard near their house.

One day an expert in the discovery of precious stones came along, and saw in this pile a block of jade of great value. In order to get possession of this stone at a small cost, he undertook to buy the whole heap, pretending that he wished to use it in building. The little head of the family asked an exorbitant price for them, and, as he could not induce her to take less, he promised to pay her the sum she asked, and to come two days later to bring the money and to remove the stones. That night the girl thought about the reason for the buyer's being willing to pay so large a sum for the stones, and concluded that the heap must contain a gem. The next morning she sent her father-in-law to invite the buyer to supper, and she instructed the men of her family in regard to his entertainment. The best of wine was to be provided, and the father-in-law was to induce him to talk of precious stones, and to cajole him into telling in what way they were to be distinguished from other stones.

The head of the family, listening behind a curtain, heard how the valuable stone in her heap could be discovered. She hastened to find and remove it from the pile; and, when her guest had recovered from the effect of the banquet, he saw that the value had departed from his purchase. He went to negotiate again with the seller, and she conducted the conference with such skill that she obtained the price originally agreed upon for the heap of stones, and a large sum besides for the one in her possession.

The family, having become wealthy, built an ancestral hall of fine design and elaborate workmanship, and put the words "No Sorrow" as an inscription over the entrance. Soon after, a mandarin passed that way, and, noticing this remarkable inscription, had his sedan-chair set down, that he might inquire who were the people that professed to have no sorrow. He sent for the head of the family, was much surprised on seeing so young a woman thus appear, and remarked: "Yours is a singular family. I have never before seen one without sorrow, nor one with so young a head. I will fine you for your impudence. Go and weave me a piece of cloth as long as this road."

"Very well," responded the little woman; "so soon as your Excellency shall have found the two ends of the road, and informed me as to the number of feet in its length, I will at once begin the weaving."

Finding himself at fault, the mandarin added, "And I also fine you as much oil as there is water in the sea."

"Certainly," responded the woman; "as soon as you shall have measured the sea, and sent me correct information as to the number of gallons, I will at once begin to press out the oil from my beans."

"Indeed," said the mandarin, "since you are so sharp, perhaps you can penetrate my thoughts. If you can, I will fine you no more. I hold this pet quail in my hand; now tell me whether I mean to squeeze it to death, or to let it fly in the air."

"Well," said the woman, "I am an obscure commoner, and you are a famed magistrate; if you are no more knowing than I, you have no right to fine me at all. Now I stand with one foot on one side my threshold and the other foot on the other side; tell me whether I mean to go in or come out. If you cannot guess my riddle, you should not require me to guess yours."

Being unable to guess her intention the mandarin took his departure, and the family lived long in opulence and good repute under its chosen head.

* * * * *



A DREADFUL BOAR

A poor old woman who lived with her one little granddaughter in a wood was out gathering sticks for fuel, and found a green stalk of sugar-cane, which she added to her bundle. She presently met an elf in the form of a wild Boar, that asked her for the cane, but she declined giving it to him, saying that, at her age, to stoop and to rise again was to earn what she picked up, and that she was going to take the cane home, and let her little granddaughter suck its sap. The Boar, angry at her refusal, said that he would, during the coming night, eat her granddaughter instead of the cane, and went off into the wood.

When the old woman reached her cabin she sat down by the door and wailed, for she knew she had no means of defending herself against the Boar. While she sat crying, a vender of needles came along and asked her what was the matter. She told him, and he said that all he could do for her was to give her a box of needles. This he did, and went on his way. The old woman stuck the needles thickly over the lower half of her door, on its outer side, and then she went on crying. Just then a man came along with a basket of crabs, heard her lamentations, and stopped to inquire what ailed her. She told him, and he said he knew no help for her, but he would do the best he could for her by giving her half his crabs. The old woman put the crabs in her water-jar, behind her door, and again sat down and cried. A farmer soon came along from the fields, leading his ox, and he also asked the cause of her distress and heard her sad story. He said he was sorry he could not think of any way of preventing the evil she expected, but that he would leave his ox to stay all night with her, as it might be a sort of company for her in her loneliness. She led the ox into her cabin, tied it to the head of her bedstead, gave it some straw, and then cried again.

A courier, returning on horseback from a neighboring town, next passed her door, and dismounted to inquire what troubled her. Having heard her tale, he said he would leave his horse to stay with her, and make the ox more contented. So she tied the horse to the foot of her bed, and, thinking how surely evil was coming upon her with the night, she burst out crying anew. A boy just then came along with a snapping-turtle that he had caught, and stopped to ask what had happened to her. On learning the cause of her weeping, he said it was of no use to contend against sprites, but that he would give her his snapping-turtle as a proof, of his sympathy. She took the turtle, tied it in front of her bedstead, and continued to cry.

Some men who were carrying mill-stones then came along, inquired into her trouble, and expressed their compassion by giving her a mill-stone, which they rolled into her back yard. A little later a man arrived carrying hoes and pickax, and asked her why she was crying so hard. She told him her grief, and he said he would gladly help her if he could, but he was only a well-digger, and could do nothing for her other than to dig her a well. She pointed out a place in the middle of her back yard, and he went to work and quickly dug a well.

On his departure the old woman cried again, until a paper-seller came and inquired what was the matter. When she had told him, he gave her a large sheet of white paper, as a token of pity, and she laid it smoothly over the mouth of the well.

Nightfall came; the old woman shut and barred her door, put her granddaughter snugly on the wall-side of the bed, and then lay down beside her, to await the foe.

At midnight the Boar came, and threw himself against the door to break it in. The needles wounded him sorely, so that when he had gained an entrance he was heated and thirsty, and went to the water-jar to drink. When he thrust in his snout the crabs attacked him, clung to his bristles and pinched his ears, till he rolled over and over to disencumber himself. Then in a rage he approached the front of the bed, but the snapping-turtle nipped his tail, and made him retreat under the feet of the horse, who kicked him over to the ox, who tossed him back to the horse; and thus beset he was glad to escape to the back yard to take a rest, and to consider the situation. Seeing a clean paper spread on the ground, he went to lie upon it, and fell into the well. The old woman heard the fall, rushed out, rolled the mill-stone down on him, and crushed him.

* * * * *



RUSSIAN STORIES

* * * * *



KING KOJATA

King Kojata ruled over a mighty kingdom, and was beloved by his subjects; but because he had no heir to his crown, both he and the Queen lamented. Once, while traveling through his territories, he came to a well that was filled to the brim with clear cold water; and being very thirsty, he stopped to drink. On the top of the water floated a golden vessel, which the King attempted to seize; but just as his hand touched it, away it floated to the other side of the well. He went around to where the vessel rested and tried again, with the same result. Every time the King touched the basin it glided from his grasp. At last, losing patience, he gave up trying to seize the vessel, and bending over the well, he began to drink. His long beard had fallen into the water, and when he had slaked his thirst and attempted to rise, he found himself held fast by it. After vainly pulling and jerking for some time, he looked down into the water and saw a hideous face grinning at him. Its eyes were green and shining, its teeth showed from ear to ear, and it held him by the beard with two bony claws. In horror, the king tried to extricate himself, but a terrible voice came from the depths of the well:

"You cannot get away, King Kojata, so do not make me pull your beard too hard. There is something at the palace of which you do not know; promise to give it to me, and I will release you."

The King did not know of anything that could have arrived at the palace during his absence worth the discomfort he was experiencing; so he very readily gave his promise, and was freed. When he had shaken the water from his beard, he looked in the well for the ugly monster which had held him captive, but he was nowhere to be seen. Summoning his attendants, he at once set out for home, where he arrived in a few days. The people along the way hailed him with delight; and when he reached the palace, the Queen led him to the royal chamber and showed him a beautiful son that had been born during his absence. His joy was so great that he forgot all else; but after a time he recalled with horror his compact with the monster of the well, and the meaning was all plain to him. The thought of what he had promised haunted him day and night, and the fear that something would happen to his little son tortured him. But as days and months passed, and the little Prince grew more beautiful all the time, the King at last forgot his fears and became happy once more.

Years went by without anything happening to disturb his peace of mind, and the Prince grew to be a beautiful youth, who was the joy and pride of the King and Queen. One day he went with the hunters to the forest, and while pursuing a wild boar, became separated from them. He got farther and farther away from his companions, and at last found himself alone in a dark part of the wood where he never before had been. Not knowing in which direction his path lay, he called again and again to the hunters. At last a hoarse voice answered him, and from the hollow trunk of a lime-tree appeared a hideous man with green eyes and terrible teeth.

"I've waited for you a long time, Prince Milan," said he.

"Who on earth may you be?" asked the Prince.

"Your father will tell you who I am. Just give my greetings to his Majesty, and tell him that I am ready to claim the debt he owes me."

The green-eyed man then disappeared into the hollow tree from which he came; and when the Prince reached home, he related his experience to his father. The King turned white, and cried:

"At last, it has come!" Then he explained to the Prince what had occurred at the well, and added, "Now my happiness is at an end, for you, my son, will be taken from me."

The Prince told the King not to despair, for though he might go away, he was certain to return to him. His father provided him with a handsome horse with golden stirrups, and the Queen gave him a cross to wear about his neck. When he had said farewell to his unhappy parents, he mounted his horse and rode for two days without stopping.

On the third day he came to a lake on whose smooth surface thirty ducks were swimming, while spread about upon the grass were thirty white garments. The Prince dismounted, and taking up one of the garments, seated himself behind a bush and waited to see what would happen. The ducks dived under the water and disported themselves for a time, then came ashore and putting on the little white garments, they became beautiful maidens, and disappeared. But there was one little duck, that remained on the lake and swam about in the most distracted manner, uttering piteous cries. The Prince came from behind the bush and the little duck begged him to give back her garment. He had no sooner done so than before him stood the loveliest maiden he had ever seen.

"Thank you, Prince Milan, for restoring my garment," said she. "My name is Hyacinthia, and I am one of the thirty daughters of a King of the Underworld, to whose castle I will lead you, for he has waited long for you. Approach him on your knees and do not fear him, for I will be there to help you, whatever happens."

She tapped her little foot on the ground, which opened; and they were immediately transported to the palace of her father in the Underworld, which was carved from a single carbuncle. When his eyes became accustomed to the radiant light, the Prince saw the magician of the lime-tree sitting on a dazzling throne. His green eyes looked out from under a golden crown, and his hideous claws clutched the air with rage when he saw the Prince. Remembering what the maiden had told him, Prince Milan walked boldly up to the throne and knelt at the feet of the magician, who cursed in a voice that shook the Underworld. As the youth was not at all frightened, the magician at last stopped swearing. Laughing at his courage, he welcomed him to his palace, and showed him to a beautiful chamber which he was to occupy. On the following day he sent for him and said;

"You are very brave, Prince Milan, but you must pay the penalty for keeping me waiting so long for you. To-night build me a palace of gold and marble, with windows of crystal, and about it the most beautiful gardens in the world, or tomorrow I shall cut off your head."

The Prince went back to his chamber and sadly awaited his doom. That evening a small bee flew in through his window, and as soon as it entered the room it became Hyacinthia. "Why are you sad, Prince Milan?" she asked. He told her of her father's impossible command and added, "Naturally, I am not happy at the thought of losing my head."

"Do not be distressed about that," said she, "but trust to me." In the morning he looked out of the window and saw a wonderful marble palace, with a roof of gold.

When the magician beheld it, he exclaimed, "You have accomplished a great wonder, but I cannot let you off so easily. To-morrow I will place my thirty daughters in a row, and if you cannot tell me which one is the youngest, you will lose your head."

The Prince, however, was not cast down at this, for he thought he would have no trouble in recognizing Hyacinthia. That evening the little bee entered the room and told him that this task was quite as difficult as the first, because the sisters were all exactly alike. "But you will know me," said she, "by a little fly which you will discover on my cheek."

The next day the magician summoned him to his presence, and showed him the thirty daughters standing in a row. The Prince passed before them twice, without daring to choose; but he saw the little fly on the pink cheek of one of the maidens.

"This is Hyacinthia!" exclaimed he. The magician was greatly astonished; but not yet satisfied, he required of the Prince still another task.

"If, before this candle burns to the bottom," said he, "you make me a pair of boots reaching to my knees, I will let you go; but if you fail, you will lose your head."

"Then we must fly, for I love you dearly," said Hyacinthia, when the Prince had told her of this new task. She breathed on the window-pane, and straightway it was covered with frost; then, leading Prince Milan from the chamber, she locked the door, and they fled through the passage by which they had entered the Underworld. Beside the smooth lake his horse was still grazing, and mounting it, they were borne swiftly away.

When the magician sent for the Prince to come to him, the frozen breath replied to the messengers, and so delayed the discovery of his escape. At last the magician lost patience and ordered the door burst open. The frozen breath mocked at him, and he hastened in pursuit of the fugitives.

"I hear the sound of horses' feet behind us," said Hyacinthia. The Prince dismounted, and putting his ear to the ground, answered, "Yes, they are near." Hyacinthia thereupon changed herself into a river, and the Prince became a bridge, and his horse a blackbird. Their pursuers, no longer finding their footprints, were obliged to return to the magician, who cursed them, and again sent them forth.

"I hear the sound of horses' feet behind us," again said Hyacinthia. The Prince put his ear to the earth and said, "Yes, they are nearly upon us." Thereupon Hyacinthia changed herself, the Prince and the horse, all into a dense forest in which many paths crossed, so that the followers were bewildered; and they again returned to the magician.

"I hear horses' feet behind us," said Hyacinthia a third time; and this time it was the magician himself. Hyacinthia took the little cross from the neck of the Prince, and changed herself into a church, the Prince into a monk, and the horse into the belfry; so that when the magician came up he lost all trace of them, and was obliged to return to the Underworld in great chagrin.

When he had departed, the Prince and Hyacinthia mounted the horse and rode till they came to a beautiful town.

"We must not enter," said she, "for we may not come out again." But the Prince would not take her advice, and insisted upon passing through the gates.

"Then," sadly replied the maiden, "when the King and Queen of the town come out to meet you, do not kiss the little child which they will lead by the hand, or you will forget me and never come back. As for me, I will become a milestone and wait for you here."

It was all as Hyacinthia had said. The King and Queen came out to greet him, and when the lovely little child ran up to him for a caress, he kissed its pretty face and forgot Hyacinthia.

The first and second day went by; and when the third day came, Hyacinthia wept, and became a little blue flower growing by the roadside. An old man came along, and digging up the flower carried it home with him and planted it in his garden. He watered and tended it carefully, and one day the little flower became a beautiful maiden.

"Why did you not leave me to die by the roadside?" she asked, and told the old man her story.

"To-morrow is Prince Milan's wedding day," said the old man.

Hyacinthia at once dried her tears, and presented herself at the palace, dressed like a peasant. She went to the cook and asked to be allowed to make the wedding cake. The cook was so struck with her beauty that he could not refuse the request. When the guests were all seated about the table, Prince Milan was called upon to cut the cake. As soon as he had done so, out flew two beautiful doves, which circled about his head.

"Dear mate," cried one of the doves, "do not leave me as Prince Milan left Hyacinthia."

The Prince, who suddenly recollected all he had forgotten, ran from the room and at the door found Hyacinthia and his horse awaiting him. They mounted and rode swiftly away to the kingdom of King Kojata, where the King and Queen received them with tears of joy, and they all lived in happiness to the end of their days.

* * * * *



THE STORY OF KING FROST

A shrewish peasant woman had a daughter on whom she lavished everything she could get, and a stepdaughter whom she neglected and ill treated. In the mother's eyes the daughter had no faults, while the stepdaughter was always blamed, and, try as she might, the poor girl never could please. So unhappy was she made that her eyes were often red from weeping. The sight of her tear-stained face only angered the stepmother the more, and caused her to say to the girl's father:

"Send her away, old man. My eyes are tired of the sight of her, and my ears of the sound of her voice. Send her out of the house."

The father begged to have his daughter remain, but the shrew was determined to be rid of her, and gave him no peace. At last, when he could gainsay her no longer, he placed his daughter in a sledge and drove her to the open fields. Here he left her, with nothing to shield her from the bitter cold. Kissing her good-by, he drove away, not daring to look back at Her.

Left alone by her father, the girl wandered across the bleak fields to the edge of the forest, where she sat down under a fir-tree and wept. A crackling sound caused her to look up, and she saw King Frost springing from one tree to another. When he reached the fir-tree he jumped down beside her with a bound. Snapping his fingers in her lovely face, he asked:

"Do you know who I am? I will tell you. I am King Frost."

"Hail to you, great King!" smiled the maiden. "Have you come for me?"

"Are you warm, fair maiden?" he asked in answer.

"Yes, quite warm, King Frost," the maiden replied, although she was shivering.

King Frost bent over her and snapped his fingers about her, until the air seemed full of needles. Again he asked, "Are you still warm, dear maiden?"

Her lips could scarcely move to utter the words, "Quite warm, King Frost."

He snapped his teeth and cracked his fingers, till all the air was filled with stinging things. His eyes glistened and for the last time he asked, "Are you warm, now, beautiful maiden? Are you still warm, my dear?"

She was now scarcely able to speak, but managed to gasp, "Still warm, King Frost."

The gentle girl's patience and uncomplaining endurance caused King Frost to take pity on her suffering. He arrayed her in a robe, embroidered in silver and gold, and decked her with sparkling diamonds. She glittered and shone, and was dazzling to behold. Then placing her in his sleigh, he wrapped her in furs; and six white horses bore them swiftly away.

The stepmother, at home, was baking pancakes for the girl's funeral feast. "Go in the field," she said to her husband, "and bring your daughter's body home, so we can bury her." The old man rose to obey, when the little dog barked:

"Your daughter shall not die; Her's cold and stiff shall lie."

The woman kicked the dog, then tried to coax it with a pancake, telling it to say:

"Her daughter shall have gold; His be frozen stiff and cold."

When the little dog had swallowed the pancake, he barked:

"His daughter shall be wed; Her's shall be frozen dead."

The woman beat the dog, then coaxed it with more pancakes; but the blows could not terrify it nor food persuade. It barked always the same. Suddenly the door opened, and a huge chest was thrust into the room, followed by the radiant stepdaughter, in a dress that dazzled them with its beauty.

As soon as the stepmother recovered from her astonishment, she ordered her husband to yoke the horses to the sledge, and take her own daughter to the field. "Take care you leave her in the same place," the old woman cautioned. The father left the girl as he was bidden, and returned to his home.

She was not long alone when King Frost came by.

"Are you warm, maiden?" he asked.

"You must be a fool not to see that my hands and feet are nearly frozen," she angrily replied.

The King danced in front of her, and cracked his fingers.

"Are you warm, maiden?" he asked her, over and over. She cried with rage, and called him rude names, until he froze the words on her lips, and she was dead.

The mother waited for her daughter's return until she became impatient; then she told her husband to take the sledge and go for her. "But don't lose the chest," she added.

The dog under the table, barked:

"Your daughter frozen cold, Will never need a chest of gold."

The old woman was scolding the dog for telling lies, when the door opened. Rushing out to welcome her daughter and her treasures, she clasped the frozen body in her arms; and the chill of it killed her.

* * * * *



TALES FOR TINY TOTS

* * * * *



TELL US A TALE

BY EDWARD SHIRLEY

"Tell us a tale, dear mother— A fairy tale, do, please, Take baby brother on your lap, We'll sit beside your knees, We will not speak, we will not stir, Until the tale is told; And we'll be, oh! so comfy, And just as good as gold."

"What shall it be, my children? Aladdin and his Lamp? Or shall I tell the story Of Puss in Boots—the scamp? Or would you like to hear the tale Of Blue Beard, fierce and grim? Or Jack who climbed the great beanstalk?— I think you're fond of him.

"Or shall I tell you, children, About Red Riding Hood? Or what befell those little Babes Who wandered in the Wood? Or how sweet Cinderella went So gaily to the ball?" "Yes, yes!" we cried, and clapped our hands; "We want to hear them all!"

* * * * *



LITTLE RED HEN

Little Red Hen found a grain of wheat.

"Who will plant this?" she asked.

"Not I," said the cat.

"Not I," said the goose.

"Not I," said the rat.

"Then I will," said Little Red Hen.

So she buried the wheat in the ground. After a while it grew up yellow and ripe.

"The wheat is ripe now," said Little Red Hen. "Who will cut and thresh it?"

"Not I," said the cat.

"Not I," said the goose.

"Not I," said the rat.

"Then I will," said Little Red Hen.

So she cut it with her bill and threshed it with her wings. Then she asked, "Who will take this wheat to the mill?"

"Not I," said the cat.

"Not I," said the goose.

"Not I," said the rat.

"Then I will," said Little Red Hen.

So she took the wheat to the mill, where it was ground. Then she carried the flour home.

"Who will make me some bread with this flour?" she asked.

"Not I," said the cat.

"Not I," said the goose.

"Not I," said the rat.

"Then I will," said Little Red Hen.

So she made and baked the bread.

Then she said, "Now we shall see who will eat this bread."

"We will," said cat, goose, and rat.

"I am quite sure you would," said Little Red Hen, "if you could get it."

Then she called her chicks, and they ate up all the bread. There was none left at all for the cat, or the goose, or the rat.

* * * * *



IN SEARCH OF A BABY

BY F. TAPSELL

"Please, I'm lost." These words, and a thump! thump! on the door were what Mrs. Stone heard as she sat at supper in her tiny house in the wood.

She went to open the door, and there she saw a dear little girl about three years old.

"Please, I'm lost," again came the words, and two fat little fists went up to a pair of big blue eyes.

"Come in, little girl, and tell me all about it," said the woman. "Maybe I can help you to find your way."

The child let herself be led into the room; then all at once the two tiny fists came down from the two blue eyes, and she gave a quick look at the table.

"Are you having supper?" she said. "May I have supper too? I am ever so hungry."

"Yes, dear; of course you shall have some," was the reply. "See, you shall sit on this chair by my side. Now what will you have?"

"I think I would like some bread and butter with sugar on it—brown sugar, you know;" and soon the little girl was as happy as could be.

"What is your name, dear?" asked Mrs. Stone, when supper was over and the little girl had begun to think once more about how she was to find her way home.

"Meg," was the reply.

"But your other name, for you must have two names."

"No, my name is just Meg, of course; I don't have any other name," she said, a look of wonder in the big blue eyes.

"Do you know where you live?"

"Yes; I lives in the nursery. Didn't you know that?"

She was so sure that it did not seem any good to say any more about it. So Mrs. Stone only asked, "Where were you going when you came to my house?"

"To find a baby," was the reply. "Rob said that if I went to a house in the wood they would give me one. Have you got a baby to give me?"

"No, dear; I am afraid I have not. But why do you want a baby? I am sure you have lots of dolls."

"Yes, of course I have; but then you see dolls are not alive. I want a real baby to play with.

"Enid won't play with me much now, for she says I am too small, and Rob is at school all the time."

"Why, who is that?" said a voice, and a man came in with a bag of tools.

Then the two little fists again went up to the blue eyes, for the little maid was shy of this great big man.

"Well, wife, so you have a friend, I see," he said. "Who is the little lass?"

"I don't know," said his wife. "It seems she was lost, and came here to ask her way. She says she came to find a baby."

"Come here, little one, and don't be afraid," said the man. "There never was a child yet who would not come to me," and as he spoke he drew her on to his knee. "Now, then, tell me all about it."

After one glance at the man's kind face Meg nestled up to him and began,—

"Nurse was so busy she could not be in the room with me.

"So I put on my hat and came to look for a baby; but I got lost on the way. At last I came to the wood and saw this house. She could not give me a baby as Rob said she would, but she gave me some tea, and bread and butter with sugar on it. We only have that on Sunday at home. Is this Sunday?"

"No, little miss," said the man. "But I expect you had it just for a treat, as you had got lost."

But just then steps were heard on the path, and there was a sharp knock at the door.

The latch was lifted, and a voice said,—

"Have you seen a little girl in a white frock pass this way?"

"Why, that must be Nurse," cried Meg.

In spite of being cross at Meg's having run away, Nurse had to laugh; then she bent down and said, "But what made you run away like this, Miss Meg?"

"Rob told me that if I came to the house in the wood I should find a real live baby; but he was wrong, for she," with a smile at Mrs. Stone, "is very nice, but she has not got a baby to give me."

"Of course not, child; but do you know that I have some news for you?"

"What is it? Do tell me?" cried the little girl.

"While you were away in the wood to look for a baby we have found a baby at home. You have a new baby brother. Come home with me now and you shall see him."

"A new little brother," said Meg, her eyes wide open with wonder. "He must have known I had gone out to look for one. So now I have got two new friends and a baby too. Come along, quick."

"Good-bye," she said to her new friends. "Thank you ever so much for being so kind, and for the supper.

"I am coming to have supper with you again soon, and then I will bring the new baby with me. You will give me and baby bread and butter with sugar on it, won't you?" and Meg trotted off as happy as a little queen.

* * * * *



JOCK AND I AND THE OTHERS

First of all, I must tell you who I am.

My name is PE-NEL-O-PE, but Jock always calls me Pen. I am eight years old; Jock is half-past six.

We live with mother and father and Rover and Tibby in a house not very far from a large city.

Mother is the nicest person I know in all the world.

Father is a very big man. He always has lots of money in his pocket. He goes to business in a train every day.

We have a real farm, quite near to our house, where they keep cows, chickens, pigs, horses, and geese. Jock and I often go to see them all.

One day in summer we went to see the farmer. I had my blue dress on, so that the cows would not be angry when they saw me.

We met the farmer near the stable. "Come," he said; "I have something to show you to-day."

"What is it?" we said both at the same time.

"Come and see," was all that he would say.

Then he took us into the stable where he keeps Nobby, the big brown horse, who likes sugar.

Now Nobby was not there, but in the straw were seven little puppy dogs—oh, so sweet and cuddly!

Jock danced round and round the farmer. "May we have one?" he said.

"Ask mother," said the farmer, and off we ran at once.

Mother was at the garden gate.

We ran up to her. Jock was first, but it was nearly a dead heat. Mother opened the gate and said,—

"Well, what have you seen to-day?"

"O mother," said Jock, out of breath.

"O mother dear" I said, out of breath also.

"Farmer has such lovely puppies," we both said at once. "May we have one to keep?"

By this time we both had our arms round mother's waist, and she was laughing.

"Yes, we can," I said, for I knew.

"If father says yes," said mother. "You must ask him when he comes home."

So we went to the station to meet him. Jock took his bag, and I took his paper parcel to carry it home for him.

On the way home I asked him if he liked dogs, and he said, "Of course."

Then Jock said, "Little dogs?"

"Oh, yes."

"Puppy dogs?"

"One at a time is all right."

"One puppy dog with brown spots on white?" Jock went on.

"Where is it?" asked father, and his eyes were laughing; you could not see his mouth for his beard.

Then we told him, and he said "Yes," just at the garden gate. So that was how we got Rover.

* * * * *

Rover was very soft and downy when he first came to us. But he soon grew to be a big dog.

Jock and I taught him many tricks; and he can beg very nicely, if we let him get on the couch in the dining-room.

We put sugar on his nose, and he waits until we count One, Two, THREE.

Then he throws the sugar into the air and catches it.

* * * * *



DOLLY DIMPLE

BY F. TAPSELL

"Oh dear, I am so lonely, and it is so dark! I do want my dear Dolly Dimple. I think I will go and fetch her." And little four-year-old Babs got out of bed and felt her way to the door.

The door was just a wee crack open. As she peeped in, Babs saw that there was a light in the room, and the sight which met her eyes almost made her cry out.

On the floor stood Dolly Dimple in her very best frock, and Mr. Jollyman was asking her to dance with him.

Teddy Bear was at work on the big drum, and the clown was turning the organ to make music for the dolls to dance to.

The tin soldiers, on the backs of cows, pigs, and sheep from the Noah's Ark were having a sham fight.

The dolls from the dolls' house were going for a ride in the big horse and cart.

"It is too bad of them to go and have a good time like this when I am in bed," thought Babs, "and I am going to take Dolly Dimple away with me all the same."

But when she tried to pick up the doll and carry her off, Mr. Jollyman flew at her in a fury.

He began to kick her bare legs till Babs thought she would have no shins left at all; but she would not run away.

"I want Dolly Dimple," she said. "She is my doll, and you have no right to try to keep her away from me."

"She is yours in the day, but not at night," was the reply.

"How do you think we toys could live if we had no life but the one we endure at your hands? It is in the night that we live and have our good times, for we know you are safe in bed then."

"I don't care what you say; I will have her," cried Babs, very angry now.

She tried once more to get hold of Dolly Dimple; but before she could do so, Mr. Jollyman turned to the soldiers, and said the one word, "Charge."

There was a great noise and a rush, and right down upon the little girl came camels, horses, lions, tigers, sheep, and pigs.

But just as she thought her last hour was come, she heard, the word "Halt," and then the sound of Dolly Dimple saying, "No, don't kill her. She is very good to me most of the time."

The rest of the dolls had begun to dance once more, but Dolly Dimple came up to the little girl and took hold of her arm.

"I am queen here in the night," she said. "I will not hurt you, as you have been good to me, and I know you love me. If you like, I will come and stay with you till you go to sleep. Pick me up."

So Babs picked up the doll, and took it back to bed with her, and hugged it in her arms.

* * * * *



THE TALE OF PETER RABBIT

BY BEATRIX POTTER

Once upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names were—Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-Tail, and Peter. They lived with their Mother in a sandbank, underneath the root of a very big fir-tree.

"Now, my dears," said old Mrs. Rabbit, one morning, "you may go into the fields or down the lane, but don't go into Mr. McGregor's garden: your Father had an accident there; he was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor."

"Now run along, and don't get into mischief. I am going out."

Then old Mrs. Rabbit took a basket and her umbrella and went through the wood to the baker's. She bought a loaf of brown bread and five currant buns.

Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, who were good little bunnies, went down the lane to gather blackberries.

But Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr. McGregor's garden, and squeezed under the gate!

First he ate some lettuces and some French beans, and then he ate some radishes; and then, feeling rather sick, he went to look for some parsley.

But round the end of a cucumber frame, whom should he meet but Mr. McGregor!

Mr. McGregor was on his hands and knees planting out young cabbages, but he jumped up and ran after Peter, waving a rake and calling out, "Stop, thief!"

Peter was most dreadfully frightened; he rushed all over the garden, for he had forgotten the way back to the gate. He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the other shoe amongst the potatoes.

After losing them, he ran on four legs and went faster, so that I think he might have got away altogether if he had not unfortunately run into a gooseberry net, and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket. It was a blue jacket with brass buttons, quite new.

Peter gave himself up for lost, and shed big tears; but his sobs were overheard by some friendly sparrows, who flew to him in great excitement, and implored him to exert himself.

Mr. McGregor came up with a sieve, which he intended to pop upon the top of Peter, but Peter wriggled out just in time, leaving his jacket behind him; and rushed into the tool-shed, and jumped into a can. It would have been a beautiful thing to hide in, if it had not had so much water in it.

Mr. McGregor was quite sure that Peter was somewhere in the tool-shed, perhaps hidden underneath a flower-pot. He began to turn them over carefully, looking under each.

Presently Peter sneezed—"Kerty-schoo!" Mr. McGregor was after him in no time, and tried to put his foot upon Peter, who jumped out of a window, upsetting three plants. The window was too small for Mr. McGregor, and he was tired of running after Peter. He went back to his work.

Peter sat down to rest; he was out of breath and trembling with fright, and he had not the least idea which way to go. Also he was very damp with sitting in that can.

After a time he began to wander about, going lippity-lippity—not very fast, and looking all around.

He found a door in a wall; but it was locked, and there was no room for a fat little rabbit to squeeze underneath.

An old mouse was running in and out over the stone doorstep, carrying peas and beans to her family in the wood. Peter asked her the way to the gate, but she had such a large pea in her mouth that she could not answer. She only shook her head at him. Peter began to cry.

Then he tried to find his way straight across the garden, but he became more and more puzzled. Presently, he came to a pond where Mr. McGregor filled his water-cans. A white cat was staring at some goldfish; she sat very, very still, but now and then the tip of her tail twitched as if it were alive. Peter thought it best to go away without speaking to her; he had heard about cats from his cousin, little Benjamin Bunny.

He went back toward the tool-shed, but suddenly, quite close to him, he heard the noise of a hoe—scr-r-ritch, scratch, scratch, scratch. Peter scuttered underneath the bushes. But, presently, as nothing happened, he came out, and climbed upon a wheelbarrow, and peeped over. The first thing he saw was Mr. McGregor hoeing onions. His back was turned toward Peter, and beyond him was the gate!

Peter got down very quietly off the wheelbarrow, and started running as fast as he could go, along a straight walk behind some black-currant bushes.

Mr. McGregor caught sight of him at the corner, but Peter did not care. He slipped underneath the gate, and was safe at last in the wood outside the garden.

Mr. McGregor hung up the little jacket and the shoes for a scarecrow to frighten the blackbirds.

Peter never stopped running or looked behind him till he got home to the big fir-tree.

He was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on the floor of the rabbit-hole, and shut his eyes.

His mother was busy cooking; she wondered what he had done with his clothes. It was the second little jacket and pair of shoes that Peter had lost in a fortnight!

I am sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening.

His mother put him to bed, and made some camomile tea; and she gave a dose of it to Peter!

"One table-spoonful to be taken at bed-time."

But Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail had bread and milk and blackberries for supper.

* * * * *



THE MILLER, HIS SON, AND THEIR ASS

Once upon a time there was a miller who lived in a little house beside his mill. All day long he worked hard, but at night he went home to his wife and his little boy.

One day this miller made up his mind that he would take his ass to the fair and sell it. So he and his boy said farewell to the dame and started off. They had not gone far when they met a number of girls coming from the town.

"Look!" said one of them. "Did you ever see such stupid fellows? They are walking when one of them might be riding."

When the miller heard this he bade the boy get up on the ass, while he tramped along merrily by its side. Soon they came to a number of old men standing by the side of the road talking together.

"Look at that," said one of them, "Look at that young rascal riding, while his poor father has to walk. Get down, you idle fellow, and let your father ride."

Upon this the son got down from the ass, and the miller took his place. They had not gone very far when they met two women coming home from market.

"You lazy old man!" they cried at once. "How dare you ride when your poor little boy is walking and can hardly keep pace with you?"

Then the miller, who was a good-natured man, took his son up behind him, and in this way they went to the town.

"My good fellow," said a townsman whom they met, "is that ass your own?"

"Yes," replied the miller.

"I should not have thought so, by the way you load him," said the man. "Why, you two are better able to carry the beast than he is to carry you."

"Well," said the miller, "we can but try."

So he and his son got down, and tied the legs of the ass together. Then they slung him on a pole, and carried him on their shoulders. It was such a funny sight that the people laughed and jeered at them.

The poor ass was very uncomfortable, and tried hard to get off the pole. At last, as they were passing over a bridge, he pulled his legs out of the rope and tumbled to the ground. He was so frightened that he jumped off the bridge into the river and was drowned.

Do you know what this story teaches you?

If you try to please everybody, you will please nobody.

* * * * *



THE VISIT TO SANTA CLAUS LAND

Jack and Margaret were growing more excited each day, because Christmas was so near. They talked of nothing but Santa Claus.

"Don't you wish you could see him?" they said over and over.

One night, just before Christmas, Mother tucked them in bed and left them to go to sleep. But Jack wiggled, Margaret wriggled. At last they both sat up in bed.

"Jack," Margaret whispered, "are you asleep?"

"No," said Jack, "I can't go to sleep. Margaret, don't you wish you could see Santa Claus? What's that?"

They both listened, and they heard a little tap, tap on the window. They looked, and there, right in the window, they saw a funny little Brownie.

"What's that I heard you say? You want to see Santa Claus? Well, I am one of his Brownies. I am on my way back to Santa Claus Land. I'll take you with me if you want to go."

Jack and Margaret scrambled from their beds.

"Come on, show us the way!" they cried in great excitement.

"No, indeed," said the Brownie. "No one must know the way to Santa Claus Land. Kindly wait a moment."

Then the Brownie took something soft and thick and dark, and tied it around Jack's eyes. Next he took something soft and thick and dark, and tied it around Margaret's eyes.

"How many fingers before you?" he asked.

Both of them shook their heads. They could not see a wink.

"Very well, now we're off," said the Brownie.

He took Jack's hand on one side, and Margaret's on the other. It seemed as if they flew through the window. They went on swiftly for a little while, then the Brownie whirled them round and round until they were dizzy, and off they went again. The children could not tell whether they were going north, south, east, or west. After a time they stopped.

"Here we are," said the Brownie.

He uncovered their eyes, and the children saw that they were standing before a big, thick gate.

The Brownie knocked and the gate was swung open. They went through it, right into Santa Claus's garden.

It was a very queer garden. There were rows and rows of Christmas trees, all glittering with balls and cobwebby tinsel, and instead of flower beds there were beds of every kind of toy in the world. Margaret at once ran over to a bed of dolls.

"Let's see if any of them are ripe," said the Brownie.

"Ripe?" said Margaret in great surprise.

"Why, of course," said the Brownie. "Now if this one is ripe it will shut its eyes."

The Brownie picked a little doll from the bed and laid it in Margaret's arms. Its eyes went half shut, and then stuck.

"No, it's not ripe yet," said the Brownie. "Try this one."

He picked another one, and this one shut its eyes just as if it had gone to sleep.

"We'll take that one," he said, and he dropped it into a big sack he was carrying.

"Now this one cries, if it's ripe," he said as he picked a lovely infant doll. The Brownie gave it a squeeze, and the doll made a funny squeaking noise.

"Not quite ripe," he said, and he put it back into the bed. He tried several others, and he picked a good many. Some of them cried, some said "Mamma" and "Papa," and some danced when they were wound up.

"Oh, do come over here, Margaret!" Jack called.

Margaret ran over to another bed and there were drums—big drums, little drums, and middle sized drums; yellow drums, blue drums, green drums, red drums.

"Can we gather some of these?" said Jack to the Brownie.

"Why, of course. Let's see if this one is ripe."

The Brownie took up a little red drum, and gave it a thump with a drum stick. But it made such a queer sound that Jack and Margaret both laughed out loud. The little red drum was put back into the bed, and the Brownie tried another big one. It went Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! and Jack and Margaret marched all along the bed, keeping step to it.

When they had finished picking drums, they went over to a bed filled with horns. That was the most fun of all. Some of them made very queer noises, and on some the Brownie played jolly little tunes.

The next bed they came to was filled with toys which could be wound up. There were trains, automobiles, dancing dolls, climbing monkeys, hopping birds, funny wobbling ducks, and every kind of toy you could think of. The children stayed at this bed for a long time.

At last Margaret said: "But where is Santa Claus? We wanted to see him."

"Oh, to be sure," said the Brownie. "Come along," and he led them down a long, winding walk, to the edge of the garden. Then he pointed to a hill in the distance.

"Do you see that large white house? There is where he lives."

The children stared at it. It was so white that it seemed to shine in the distance.

"Walk right across here," said the Brownie, "then up the hill to Santa Claus's house."

"Oh, must we walk across there?" said Margaret. She stared down at the deep dark chasm between the garden and the hill; across it was stretched a narrow plank.

"Walk carefully," said the Brownie, "and mind you don't look down; for if you do, I'm afraid you won't see Santa Claus to-night."

"We'll be very careful," said Jack. "Come along, Margaret," and he took his little sister's hand and they started across the plank.

They had almost reached the middle of it when Jack looked down.

"Oh!" he said, and gave Margaret a pull.

She looked down too, and cried "Oh, Oh!" and down, down, down they went.

Suddenly they landed with a thump. They sat up and rubbed their eyes. There they were right in their own beds at home. Mother opened the door.

"Are you awake, children?" she said.

"Oh, Mother, we haven't been asleep. We've been to Santa Claus Land, and we nearly saw Santa Claus!"

Then they told her all about it, and Mother just smiled.

* * * * *



THE GREEDY BROWNIE

There was once a little Brownie who lived in a hollow tree stump. He had been busy all the day playing pranks. His pranks had taken him far away from home to the house of a very important laird. Into the laird's cup of wine he had dropped some sour berries which he had picked on his way. He also put thistles into his boots, so that when the laird had drawn them on he had screamed out with pain.

The Brownie had been away all the day, so that when at last he turned to go back to his home he felt really very tired. On his way back to the wood he passed by a cozy-looking farmhouse. The door of the dairy was open. The Brownie thought this would be a very nice cool place in which to rest for a few moments. So he slipped into the dairy, and curled himself up underneath the bench to have a nice little doze.

He was so weary that once he had fallen asleep he never woke up again until it was quite dark, when he was disturbed by two lassies who had come into the dairy.

One was carrying a candle in her hand, and by its light the pair espied a big bowl of cream on the shelf. The naughty girls thought that they would drink it for supper. They could only find one spoon on the shelf, so they decided they would each have a spoonful in turn. Lassie Jean took the bowl and carried it to a bench in the corner, and Lassie Meg followed it with the candle. No sooner had the two girls settled themselves than the Brownie, who was now wide awake, and who was himself feeling that some supper might not be out of place, crept up behind them and blew out the candle.

The lassies at first were very much concerned at being in the dark; nevertheless they determined they would drink the cream, all the same.

Lassie Jean filled the spoon with the rich delicacy. She was about to raise it to her lips when the naughty Brownie poked his head over her shoulder, and lapped it out of the spoon before it had reached her mouth. Lassie Meg, believing that Lassie Jean had already swallowed some cream while she had had none, stretched out her hand to take away the spoon from her friend. Lassie Jean was not willing to give it up, since she said she had not yet tasted any cream. Lassie Meg was unwilling to believe her, for she declared she had heard her lapping the cream.

Without waiting for Lassie Jean to explain, she snatched the spoon out of her friend's hand. She filled it with cream from the bowl, and was about to raise it to her lips when the Brownie jumped from behind Lassie Jean, and settling himself behind Lassie Meg's shoulders, poked forward his head, and again lapped up the cream from out of the spoon.

Lassie Jean in her turn snatched back the spoon from Lassie Meg. Thus they went on, for every time one or the other raised the spoonful of cream to her lips it was lapped up by the Brownie. This continued until the bowl was emptied. The Brownie was full of cream, but the poor lassies had not so much as tasted one drop, although each believed the other had drunk it all.

The lassies were still quarreling when the door of the dairy was opened, and the farmer's wife entered, carrying a lighted candle in her hand. The moment that she did so the Brownie hopped under the bench and the lassies started up guiltily.

The farmer's wife caught sight of the empty basin. She was very angry with them indeed. When they tried hastily to explain, each blaming the other, the farmer's wife would not listen, but only grew the more angry. She told them that, since they had supped so well, they should have none of the scones and eggs which she had prepared for the evening meal in the kitchen.

When the farmer's wife had entered she had left the door open, so while she was busily scolding the lassies the Brownie slipped out from under the bench and made his escape. As he ran chuckling down the road, he could still hear her angry voice drowning the attempted explanations of the bewildered lassies. When the little fellow curled himself up some time later in the tree trunk he was still laughing.

* * * * *



THE FAIRIES' PASSAGE

BY JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN

Tap, tap, tap, rap! "Get up, gaffer Ferryman," "Eh! Who is there?" The clock strikes three. "Get up, do, gaffer! You are the very man We have been long, long, longing to see." The ferryman rises, growling and grumbling, And goes fum-fumbling, and stumbling, and tumbling Over the wares on his way to the door. But he sees no more Than he saw before; Till a voice is heard: "O Ferryman dear! Here we are waiting, all of us, here. We are a wee, wee colony, we; Some two hundred in all, or three, Ferry us over the river Lee, Ere dawn of day, And we will pay The most we may In our own wee way!"

"Who are you? Whence came you? What place are you going to?" "Oh, we have dwelt over-long in this land; The people get cross, and are growing so knowing, too! Nothing at all but they now understand. We are daily vanishing under the thunder Of some huge engine or iron wonder; That iron, ah! it has entered our souls." "Your souls? O gholes, You queer little drolls, Do you mean....?" "Good gaffer, do aid us with speed, For our time, like our stature, is short indeed! And a very long way we have to go; Eight or ten thousand miles or so, Hither and thither, and to and fro, With our pots and pans And little gold cans; But our light caravans Run swifter than man's."

"Well, well, you may come," said the ferryman affably; "Patrick, turn out, and get ready the barge." Then again to the little folk; "Tho' you seem laughably Small, I don't mind, if your coppers be large." Oh, dear, what a rushing, what pushing, what crushing (The watermen making vain efforts at hushing The hubbub the while), there followed these words. What clapping of boards, What strapping of cords, What stowing away of children and wives, And platters and mugs, and spoons and knives, Till all had safely got into the boat, And the ferryman, clad in his tip-top coat, And his wee little fairies were safely afloat! Then ding, ding, ding, And kling, kling, kling, How the coppers did ring In the tin pitcherling.

Off, then, went the boat, at first very pleasantly, Smoothly, and so forth; but after a while It swayed and it sagged this and that way, and presently Chest after chest, and pile after pile, Of the little folks' goods began tossing and rolling, And pitching like fun, beyond fairy controlling. O Mab! if the hubbub were great before, It was now some two or three million times more. Crash! went the wee crocks and the clocks; and the locks Of each little wee box were stove in by hard knocks; And then there were oaths, and prayers, and cries: "Take care"—"See there"—"O, dear, my eyes!" "I am killed!"—"I am drowned!"—with groans and sighs, Till to land they drew.

"Yeo-ho! Pull to Tiller-rope thro' and thro'!" And all's right anew. "Now, jump upon shore, ye queer little oddities. (Eh, what is this? . . . where are they, at all? Where are they, and where are their tiny commodities? Well, as I live" . . .) He looks blank as a wall, Poor ferryman! Round him and round him he gazes, But only gets deeplier lost in the mazes Of utter bewilderment. All, all are gone, And he stands alone, Like a statue of stone, In a doldrum of wonder. He turns to steer, And a tinkling laugh salutes his ear, With other odd sounds: "Ha, ha, ha, ha! Fol lol! zidzizzle! quee quee! bah! bah! Fizzigig-giggidy! pshee! sha sha!" "O ye thieves, ye thieves, ye rascally thieves!" The good man cries. He turns to his pitcher, And there, alas, to his horror perceives That the little folk's mode of making him richer Has been to pay him with withered leaves!

* * * * *



THE WORLD

"The world is wet," said the little frog; "What isn't water is mostly bog." "Oh, not at all!" said the little fly; "It's full of spiders, and very dry!" "The world is dark," said the moth polite, "With ruddy windows and bows of light." "My poor young friend, you have much to learn: The world is green," said the swaying fern. "O listen to me," sang the little lark: "It's wet and dry, and it's green and dark. To think that's all would be very wrong; It's arched with blue, and it's filled with song."

* * * * *



FANCIFUL STORIES

* * * * *

WHITE MAGIC

Blind folks see the fairies, Oh, better far than we, Who miss the shining of their wings Because our eyes are filled with things We do not wish to see. They need not seek enchantment From solemn printed books, For all about them as they go The fairies flutter to and fro With smiling friendly looks.

Deaf folk hear the fairies, However soft their song; Tis we who lose the honey sound Amid the clamor all around That beats the whole day long. But they with gentle faces Sit quietly apart; What room have they for sorrowing While fairy minstrels sit and sing Close to each listening heart?

—From London Punch.

* * * * *



THE BROWNIES

BY JULIANA HORATIA EWING

I

"Children are a burden," said the tailor, as he sat on his bench stitching away.

"Children are a blessing," said the kind lady in the window.

It was the tailor's mother who spoke. She was a very old woman and nearly helpless. All day she sat in a large armchair knitting rugs.

"What have my two lads ever done to help me?" continued the tailor, sadly. "They do nothing but play. If I send Tommy on an errand, he loiters. If I ask him to work, he does it so unwillingly that I would rather do it myself. Since their mother died I have indeed had a hard time."

At this moment the two boys came in, their arms full of moss which they dropped on the floor.

"Is there any supper, grandmother?" asked Tommy.

"No, my child, only some bread for breakfast to-morrow."

"Oh, grandmother, we are so hungry!" and the boy's eyes filled with tears.

"What can I do for you, my poor children?" said the good woman.

"Tell us a story, please, so that we can forget we are hungry. Tell us about the brownie that used to live in your grandfather's house. What was he like?"

"Like a little man, they say."

"What did he do?"

"He came early in the morning before any one in the house was awake, and lighted the fire and swept the room and set out the breakfast. He never would be seen and was off before they could catch him. But they often heard him laughing and playing about the house."

"Did they give him any wages, grandmother?"

"No, my dear, he did the work for love. They always set a pan of clear water for him, and now and then a bowl of bread and milk."

"Oh, grandmother, where did he go?"

"The Old Owl in the woods knows; I do not. When I was young many people used to go to see the Old Owl at moon-rise, and ask her what they wanted to know."

"How I wish a brownie would come and live with us!" cried Tommy.

"So do I," said Johnny.

"Will you let us set out a pan of water for the brownie, father?" asked Tommy.

"You may set out what you like, my lad, but you must go to bed now."

The boys brought out a pan of water. Then they climbed the ladder to the loft over the kitchen.

Johnny was soon in the land of dreams, but Tommy lay awake thinking how he could find a brownie and get him to live in the house. "There is an owl that lives in the grove," he thought. "It may be the Old Owl herself. When the moon rises, I'll go and find her."

II

The moon rose like gold and went up in the heavens like silver. Tommy opened his eyes and ran to the window. "The moon has risen," said he, "and it is time for me to go." Downstairs he crept softly and out into the still night.

"Hoot! hoot!" cried a voice from the grove near the house.

"That's the Old Owl," thought Tommy. He ran to a big tree and looked up. There he saw the Old Owl, sitting on a branch and staring at him with yellow eyes.

"Oh, dear!" said Tommy, for he did not like the Owl very well.

"Come up here! Come up here!" she cried.

Tommy climbed the tree and sat face to face with her on the big branch.

"Now, what do you want?" said the Owl.

"Please," said Tommy, "I want to know where to find the brownies, and how to get one to come and live with us."

"Oo-hoo! oo-hoo!" said the Owl. "That's it, is it? I know of three brownies."

"Hurrah!" said Tommy. "Where do they live?"

"In your house," said the Owl.

"In our house! Whereabouts? Why don't they work?" cried Tommy.

"One of them is too little," said the Owl.

"But why don't the other two do something?" said Tommy. "Nobody does any work at our house except father."

"They are idle, they are idle," said the Old Owl.

"Then we don't want them," said Tommy. "What is the use of having brownies in the house if they do nothing to help us?"

"Perhaps they don't know what to do."

"I wish you would tell me where to find them," said Tommy. "I could tell them what to do."

"Could you, could you? Oo-hoo! oo-hoo!" and Tommy could not tell whether the Owl was hooting or laughing.

"Of course I could. They might get up early in the morning and sweep the house, and light the fire, and spread the table before my father comes downstairs."

"So they might!" said the Owl. "Well, I can tell you where to find one of the brownies, and he can tell you where to find his brother. Go to the north side of the pond, where the moon is shining on the water, turn yourself around three times, while you say this charm:

'_Twist me and turn me and show me the elf_— I looked in the water and saw_—'

Then look in the water, and think of a word which rhymes with 'elf' and makes the charm complete."

Tommy knew the place very well. He ran to the north side of the pond, and turning himself around three times, he repeated the charm. Then he looked in and saw—himself.

"Why, there's no one but myself. I can't think of the right word. What can it be? I'll go back and ask the Old Owl," thought Tommy. And back he went. There sat the Owl as before.

"Oo-hoo," said she, as Tommy climbed up. "Did you find out the word?"

"No," said Tommy, "I could find no word that rhymes with 'elf' except 'myself.'"

"Well, that is the word! Now, do you know where your brother is?"

"In bed in the loft," said Tommy.

"Then all your questions are answered. Good night;" and the Old Owl began to shake her feathers.

"Don't go yet," said Tommy, humbly; "I don't understand you. I am not a brownie, am I?"

"Yes, you are, and a very idle one, too," said the Old Owl. "All children are brownies."

"But are there really any brownies except children?" inquired Tommy, in a dismal tone.

"No, there are not. Now listen to me, Tommy. Little people can do only little things. When they are idle and mischievous, they are called boggarts, and they are a burden to the house they live in. When they are thoughtful and useful, they are brownies, and are a blessing to every one."

"I'll be a brownie," said Tommy. "I won't be a boggart. Now I'll go home and tell Johnny."

"I'll take you home," said the Owl, and in a moment Tommy found himself in bed, with Johnny sleeping by his side.

"How quickly we came," said Tommy to himself. "But is it morning? That is very strange! I thought the moon was shining. Come, Johnny, get up, I have a story to tell you."

III

While his brother was rubbing his eyes Tommy told him of his visit to the Old Owl in the grove.

"Is that all true?" asked Johnny.

"It is all just as I tell you, and if we don't want to be boggarts, we must get up and go to work."

"I won't be a boggart," said Johnny, and so the two brownies crept softly down the ladder into the kitchen. "I will light the fire," said Tommy. "And you, Johnny, can dig some potatoes to roast for breakfast." They swept the room and laid the table. Just as they were putting the potatoes in a dish they heard footsteps.

"There's father," said Tommy; "we must run."

The poor tailor came wearily down the stairs. Morning after morning he had found an untidy room and an empty table. But now when he entered the kitchen, he looked around in great surprise. He put his hand out to the fire to see if it was really warm. He touched the potatoes and looked at the neat room. Then he shouted, "Mother, mother! boys, boys, the brownie has come!"

There was great excitement in the small house, but the boys said nothing. All day the tailor talked about the brownie. "I have often heard of Little People," he said, "but this is wonderful. To come and do the work for a pan of cold water! Who would have believed it?"

The boys said nothing until they were both in bed. Then Tommy said: "The Old Owl was right, and we must stick to the work if we don't want to be boggarts. But I don't like to have father thinking that we are still idle. I wish he knew that we are the brownies."

"So do I," said Johnny.

Day after day went by and still the boys rose early, and each day they found more and more to do. The brownies were the joy of the tailor's life.

One day a message came for the tailor to go to a farmhouse several miles away. The farmer gave him an order for a suit of clothes, and paid him at once. Full of joy at his good fortune, he hurried home. As he came near the house, he saw that the garden had been weeded. "It's that brownie!" he said; "and I shall make a suit of clothes for him."

"If you make clothes for the brownie, he will leave the house," said the grandmother.

"Not if the clothes are a good fit, mother. I shall measure them by Tommy, for they say the brownies are about his size."

At last a fine new suit with brass buttons was finished and laid out for the brownie.

"Don't the clothes look fine?" said Tommy, when he came down in the morning; "I'll try them on."

The tailor rose earlier than usual that day, for he wished to catch a glimpse of the brownies. He went softly downstairs. There was Johnny sweeping the floor, and Tommy trying on the new suit.

"What does this mean?" shouted the father.

"It's the brownies," said the boys.

"This is no joke," cried the tailor, angrily. "Where are the real brownies, I say?"

"We are the only brownies, father," said Tommy.

"I can't understand this. Who has been sweeping the kitchen lately, I should like to know?"

"We have," said the boys.

"Who gets breakfast and puts things in order?"

"We do! we do!" they shouted.

"But when do you do it?"

"Early in the morning before you come down."

"But if you do the work, where is the brownie?"

"Here," cried the boys; "we are the brownies, and we are sorry that we were boggarts so long."

The father was delighted to find how helpful his boys had become. The grandmother, however, could hardly believe that a real brownie had not been in the house. But as she sat in her chair day after day watching the boys at their work, she often repeated her favorite saying, "Children are a blessing."

* * * * *



THE STORY OF PETER PAN

Once upon a time there were three children named Wendy, John, and Michael, who lived with their father and mother in London. One evening the father and mother were invited to a party, and the mother, after lighting the dim lamp in the nursery and kissing them good-night, went away. That evening a little boy climbed in through the window, whose name was Peter Pan. He was a curious little fellow, very conceited, very forgetful, and yet very lovable. The most remarkable thing about him was that he never grew up. There came flitting in through the window with him his fairy, whose name was Tinker Bell. Peter Pan woke all the children up, and after he had sprinkled fairy dust on their shoulders, he took them away to the Neverland, where he lived with a family of lost boys. Tinker Bell was jealous of the little girl Wendy, and she hurried ahead of Peter Pan and persuaded the boys that Wendy was a bird who might do them harm, and so one of the boys shot her with his bow and arrow.

When Peter Pan came and found Wendy lying lifeless upon the ground in the woods he was very angry, but he was also very quick-witted. So he told the boys that if they would build a house around Wendy he was sure that she would be better. So they hurried to collect everything they had out of which they could make a house. Though she was not yet strong enough to talk, they thought perhaps she might sing the kind of house she would like to have, so Wendy sang softly this little verse:

"I wish I had a pretty house, The littlest ever seen, With funny little red walls And roof of mossy green."

When the house was done Peter Pan took John's hat for the chimney, and the little house was so pleased to have such a capital chimney that smoke at once began to come out through the hat. All that night Peter Pan walked up and down in front of Wendy's house, to watch over her and keep her from danger while she slept.

All these children lived in an underground cave, and the next day, when Wendy got well, they all went down into the cave and Wendy agreed to be their mother and Peter their father. They had many good times together. They also had some exciting adventures with the red-skins and with a pirate named Captain Hook and his crew. After a time the redskins became their friends, and Peter rescued his family from the pirates' ship.

One day Wendy and her brothers realized that they had been away so long that perhaps their mother had forgotten them and shut the window of the nursery so that they could not get back. They decided to hurry home. When they reached home Peter Pan was before them, and he closed the window so that they could not get back. But when he heard the children's mother singing such a sad song inside, his heart was made tender and he opened the window and the children crept back safely into their mother's arms. Wendy's mother invited Peter Pan to stay and be her child, but Peter was so afraid that he would have to go to school and grow up and be a man that he went back to his home in fairy-land.

Wendy promised to go once a year and stay a few days with Peter Pan and clean house and mend his clothes. Let us picture them in the little house that was built for Wendy, which the fairies had put up in the branches of a pine-tree. The birds are singing in their nests and in the branches, and far below the clouds you can see the land and the sea. Wendy is sewing for Peter and Peter Pan is playing his pipes while she works. When night comes the woods are full of flashing lights like little stars, because the fairies are flitting around the house where Peter and Wendy live, and are singing to them as they go to sleep.

In a few days Wendy will go back to John and Michael to tell them what a good time she had on her visit in the little house in the woods.

* * * * *



SIR LARK AND KING SUN

BY GEORGE MACDONALD

"Good morrow, my lord!" in the sky alone, Sang the lark as the sun ascended his throne. "Shine on me, my lord; I only am come, Of all your servants, to welcome you home. I have flown right up, a whole hour, I swear, To catch the first shine of your golden hair."

"Must I thank you then," said the king, "Sir Lark, For flying so high and hating the dark? You ask a full cup for half a thirst: Half was love of me, and half love to be first. There's many a bird makes no such haste, But waits till I come; that's as much to my taste."

And King Sun hid his head in a turban of cloud, And Sir Lark stopped singing, quite vexed and cowed; But he flew up higher, and thought, "Anon The wrath of the king will be over and gone; And his crown, shining out of its cloudy fold, Will change my brown feathers to a glory of gold."

So he flew—with the strength of a lark he flew; But, as he rose, the cloud rose too; And not one gleam of the golden hair Came through the depths of the misty air; Till, weary with flying, with sighing sore, The strong sun-seeker could do no more.

His wings had had no chrism of gold; And his feathers felt withered and worn and old; He faltered, and sank, and dropped like a stone. And there on his nest, where he left her, alone Sat his little wife on her little eggs, Keeping them warm with wings and legs.

Did I say alone? Ah, no such thing! Full in her face was shining the king. "Welcome, Sir Lark! You look tired," said he; "Up is not always the best way to me. While you have been singing so high and away, I've been shining to your little wife all day."

He had set his crown all about the nest, And out of the midst shone her little brown breast; And so glorious was she in russet gold, That for wonder and awe Sir Lark grew cold. He popped his head under her wing, and lay As still as a stone, till King Sun was away.

* * * * *



THE IMPS IN THE HEAVENLY MEADOW

BY KATE E. BUNCE (after RUDOLF BAUNBACH)

To Heaven's Meadows, bright with flowers and sunshine, The little children go, When they have had enough of life's sad dreaming, And leave the earth below.

But as they had not time to learn their lessons Before they went away, There is a school, where all the angel children Must work four hours a day.

With golden pencils upon silver tablets, They copy fairy tales, And learn to keep their halos bright and shining, And sing, and play their scales.

And twice a week they glide with merry laughter All down the Milky Way, And homeward in the evening wander softly Upon a sunset ray.

But Sunday is the day they love and long for, Then all the children go And play from morn till night within a meadow Where flowers in thousands grow.

The meadow is not green, but blue and golden The flowers like dewdrops bright; When it is night, they burn and glow and glisten— Men call them stars of light.

Through Heaven's gate they all must pass to find it, Where Peter with the key Keeps watch and warns the little angels kindly How good they all must be.

They must not fly about or run too quickly, Nor go too far away, And when upon his golden key he calls them, Then they must all obey.

One day it was so very hot in Heaven That good St. Peter slept, And when the little angel children saw it, Away they quickly crept.

Ah! then they ran and flew about with laughter, And fluttered far and wide, So far they wandered that of Heaven's meadow They reached the other side.

They came to where the strong, tall, wooden paling Shuts all that place away, Where idle, careless, mischief-loving, naughty, The Imps of Darkness stray.

And there the angels stopped, devoutly wishing Some opening there might be, So that they might each one in turn peep through it, And see what they could see.

But not a chink or hole, for all their seeking, No gleam of light pierced through, So with their little wings outspread and eager, Right to the top they flew.

And looking down they saw with awe and wonder. Imps all as black as soot; Each had two horns and each a tail to play with, And hoof, instead of foot.

They heard the rustle of the angel feathers, They felt the cool sweet air, And, lifting up their little coal-black faces, They saw Heaven's children there.

Then with one voice they cried: "Oh! angel Children, You look so good and fair, We pray you, let us come up into Heaven And play a little there.

"We will not tweak nor pull your shining feathers, But be so very good; We will not try and steal your little halos, But all do as we should."

Then quick they flew away for Jacob's ladder, (Peter was still asleep), And placed it safely, where from Heaven to Imp-land The way was dark and steep.

Then every little imp, with shouts and laughter, Helped by an angel's hand, Scrambled right over the great wooden paling, And stood in Heaven's land.

They all, with air sedate and pious faces, Discreetly walked around, Their tails like trains upon their arms upholding, And eyes upon the ground.

The little angels fluttered round in rapture, And showed the lovely flowers, And bade them listen to the thrilling voices Of birds in Heaven's bowers.

And gently led them by the crystal streamlets, Bade them on dewdrops feast, And showed them where the silver moon was rising To light them from the east.

Alas! when all the little demons saw her, The moon, so large and round, They all began to roar, and growl, and gibber, And leap from off the ground;

And mocked the great white moon with ugly faces, Turned somersaults in air, And when the angels prayed them cease, in terror, They vowed they did not care.

They trampled down the grass in Heaven's Meadow, They tore the flowers about, And flung them on the earth beyond the paling, With gibe, and jeer, and shout.

They chased the birds that sang among the tree-tops And hushed their music sweet, They pulled the little angels' tender feathers And trod upon their feet.

Then to the good St. Peter cried the angels To help them in their pain, And if he would but this one time forgive them, They would be good again.

Then rose St. Peter from his peaceful dreaming— An angry saint was he— He wrung his hands and clasped his head in horror, And seized his golden key.

Then blew a mighty blast in wrath upon it; Back all the angels flew, And wide he threw the door of heaven open, And thrust the children through.

And then he called two great and powerful angels, The strongest of the race, To chase the little demons out of Heaven, And clear the holy place.

They gathered up the little imps in armfuls, Bore them with mighty stride, And flung them over the strong wooden paling Down on the other side.

And though they fought and lashed their tails and whimpered, And kicked with might and main, To Heaven's Meadow, bright with sun and flowers They never came again.

For two long months the little angel-children Were not allowed to play Before the door of Heaven in the meadow, But stayed in all the day.

And when again they sought the Heavenly Meadow Each child with humble mind Must lay aside its little shining halo, And leave its wings behind.

But all the flowers that on that day of sorrow, Flung out and scattered were, Took root and bloom again in earth's green meadows, As daisies white and fair.

* * * * *



THE BIRTHDAY HONORS OF THE FAIRY QUEEN[1]

BY HAPGOOD MOORE

Once upon a time there lived in green Erin a little girl by the name of Nora. Her home was a small thatched cottage of stone beside the brae at the foot of a mountain, in the midst of a woodland so deep that in the summer time when the trees were full the sun got its rays inside but a few hours of the day and you could see of the star-dust that covers the fields of the sky no piece larger than the palm of your hand.

It was a famous meeting-place for the fairies, this haunt at the foot of the mountain by the stream, for the Little Folk from the heather above used nightly to foregather in the meadow with the Little Folk from the woodland below, and there they danced the long night through among the shamrocks. But although Nora had heard about the fairies from her grandmother, who sat all day tending the peat fire, and something more about them from her mother when of an evening after supper she had time to speak to Nora of herself when she was a girl, yet Nora had never in all her life set eyes upon one of these feasters of the forest. For the fairies, mind you, come only to two kinds of folk, to those who believe in them and to those who need them. Now Nora believed in the fairies all right, all right, but she had never been in need of them until now, at this time that I'm telling ye of.

Now this same Nora was one of these lasses that is a wee bit gloomery. And ye don't know what this same gloomery is? Well, she was at times hindered by a rainy mornin' disposition. So it was plain enough to the fairies that she was in some need of them.

One day Nora went into the deep of the wildwood a few steps below her mother's cottage to a trysting-place where she often resorted when she had the time from her daily duties.

She had been unusually heckled that morning, as all of us are at times, by being obliged to do many things for the which she had little liking. The spot was a favorite one of Nora's.

There was a shelter of rocks above, almost like a cave or roof, and below there was a tiny stream of water that ran out of a spring in the back of the hill and sang its way down the slope to the brae below. In this pool Nora nearly always laid some field flowers, because they kept fresher there than anywhere else. From the low seat that Nora had made out of a stone in the back of her shelter she looked out into a sunny place in the woods, around which stood, as if they were pillars of a woodland palace, six gray beeches.

Now upon this sunny afternoon that I am speaking of, hardly had Nora reclined upon her bench, feeling a bit drowsy no doubt with the heat, yet not quite sleepy you know, listening to a robin singing with the voice of Eden, when she heard a light tapping on the wall of the largest beech, the one that was nearest to the place where she was lying. At first when she heard this sound she thought that it was the robin redbreast that she had noticed hopping up and down in the open place in the sunlight, and yet she knew well that robins do not drum upon the bark of trees like woodpeckers. So she jumped lightly up and ran to the tree, and at once she was aware that the tapping was from inside the tree. And between the taps that were no louder than those of a branch against a window-pane she distinctly heard a very tiny voice.

"How tiny was the voice, Michael aroon?"

You are asking me how tiny was the voice? Let me see if I can tell you. You have heard the sound of the rivulet when it falls upon the mossy stones in the pasture by the bar-way? Well, it was about as loud as the echo of that if you should walk thirty paces away and then listen. So Nora had to put her ear up close against the breast of the beech-tree and even then the voice sounded no louder than the sound of a beech-leaf when it falls from a branch into the moss-bed. But she could hear what that voice was saying, and it was these words: "Nora, my darling, turn the key and let me out." Nora looked around in amazement, but sure enough, there on the breast of the beech, about the height of her heart, was a small key of the color of the bark, that she had never noticed before, though she had hugged that beech-tree every morning of her life. So Nora turned the key at once, and out stepped——"