 | How to Tell Stories to Children, and Some Stories to Tell |  |
ESPECIALLY FOR KINDERGARTEN AND CLASS I
Upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown,
Rapping at the window, crying through the lock,
"Are the children in their beds, for now it's eight o'clock?''
He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile;
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together in a little crooked house.
And I will give thee a gown of silk;
A gown of silk and a silver tee,
If thou wilt let down thy milk to me.
"Gathering roses to give to the queen.''
"Little girl, little girl, what gave she you?''
"She gave me a diamond as big as my shoe.''
And can't tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they'll come home,
And bring their tails behind them.
And dreamt she heard them bleating;
But when she awoke, she found it a joke,
For still they all were fleeting.
Determin'd for to find them;
She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
For they'd left their tails behind them.
FIVE LITTLE WHITE HEADS[1]
BY WALTER LEARNED
When the dew was damp and the night was cold;
And they crowded their way through the soil with pride;
"Hurrah! We are going to be mushrooms!'' they cried
And the little white heads were withered and brown;
Long were their faces, their pride had a fall—
They were nothing but toadstools, after all.
BIRD THOUGHTS[2]
And lived there very well;
I thought the world was small and round,
And made of pale blue shell.
Nor needed any other;
I thought the world was made of straw,
And brooded by my mother.
To see what I could find.
I said, "The world is made of leaves;
I have been very blind.''
Quite fit for grown-up labours.
I don't know how the world is made,
And neither do my neighbours!
HOW WE CAME TO HAVE PINK ROSES[1]
Once, ever and ever so long ago, we didn't have any pink roses. All the roses in the world were white. There weren't any red ones at all, any yellow ones, or any pink ones,—only white roses.
And one morning, very early, a little white rosebud woke up, and saw the sun looking at her. He stared so hard that the little white rosebud did not know what to do; so she looked up at him and said, "Why are you looking at me so hard?''
"Because you are so pretty!'' said the big round sun. And the little white rosebud blushed! She blushed pink. And all her children after her were little pink roses!
RAGGYLUG[2]
Once there was a little furry rabbit, who lived with his mother deep down in a nest under the
One day, after his mother had gone, he was lying very still in the nest, looking up through the feathery grass. By just cocking his eye, so, he could see what was going on up in the world. Once a big bluejay perched on a twig above him, and scolded someone very loudly; he kept saying, "Thief! thief!'' But Raggylug never moved his nose, nor his paws; he lay still. Once a lady-bird took a walk down a blade of grass, over his head; she was so top-heavy that pretty soon she tumbled off and fell to the bottom, and had to begin all over again. But Raggylug never moved his nose nor his paws; he lay still.
The sun was warm, and it was very still.
Suddenly Raggylug heard a little sound, far off. It sounded like "Swish, swish,'' very soft and far away. He listened. It was a queer little sound, low down in the grass, "rustle— rustle—rustle''; Raggylug was interested. But he never moved his nose or his paws; he lay still. Then the sound came nearer, "rustle— rustle—rustle''; then grew fainter, then came
He forgot his mother's warning, and sat up on his hind paws; the sound stopped then. "Pooh,'' thought Raggylug, "I'm not a baby rabbit, I am three weeks old; I'll find out what this is.'' He stuck his head over the top of the nest, and looked—straight into the wicked eyes of a great big snake. "Mammy, Mammy!'' screamed Raggylug. "Oh, Mammy, Mam—'' But he couldn't scream any more, for the big snake had his ear in his mouth and was winding about the soft little body, squeezing Raggylug's life out. He tried to call "Mammy!'' again, but he could not breathe.
Ah, but Mammy had heard the first cry. Straight over the fields she flew, leaping the stones and hummocks, fast as the wind, to save her baby. She wasn't a timid little cottontail rabbit then; she was a mother whose child was in danger. And when she came to Raggylug and the big snake, she took one look, and then hop! hop! she went over the snake's back; and as she jumped she struck at the snake with her strong hind claws so that they tore his skin. He hissed with rage, but he did not let go.
Hop! hop! she went again, and this time she
Once more the mother rabbit hopped, and once more she struck and tore the snake's back with her sharp claws. Zzz! How she hurt! The snake dropped Raggy to strike at her, and Raggy rolled on to his feet and ran.
"Run, Raggylug, run!'' said his mother, keeping the snake busy with her jumps; and you may believe Raggylug ran! Just as soon as he was out of the way his mother came too, and showed him where to go. When she ran, there was a little white patch that showed under her tail; that was for Raggy to follow, —he followed it now.
Far, far away she led him, through the long grass, to a place where the big snake could not find him, and there she made a new nest. And this time, when she told Raggylug to lie low you'd better believe he minded!
Adapted from Mr Ernest Thompson Seton's Wild Animals I have known. (David Nutt, 57-59 Long Acre, W.C. 6s. net.)
THE GOLDEN COBWEBS[1]
A STORY TO TELL BY THE CHRISTMAS TREE
I am going to tell you a story about something wonderful that happened to a Christmas
It was before Christmas, and the tree was trimmed with bright spangled threads and many-coloured candles and (name the trimmings of the tree before you), and it stood safely out of sight in a room where the doors were locked, so that the children should not see it before the proper time. But ever so many other little house-people had seen it. The big black pussy saw it with her great green eyes; the little grey kitty saw it with her little blue eyes; the kind house-dog saw it with his steady brown eyes; the yellow canary saw it with his wise, bright eyes. Even the wee, wee mice that were so afraid of the cat had peeped one peep when no one was by.
But there was someone who hadn't seen the Christmas tree. It was the little grey spider!
You see, the spiders lived in the corners,— the warm corners of the sunny attic and the dark corners of the nice cellar. And they were expecting to see the Christmas Tree as much as anybody. But just before Chistmas [sic] a great cleaning-up began in the house. The house-mother came sweeping and dusting and wiping
Spiders like to know all about everything, and see all there is to see, and these were very sad. So at last they went to the Christ-child and told him about it.
"All the others see the Christmas Tree, dear Christ-child,'' they said; "but we, who are so domestic and so fond of beautiful things, we are cleaned up! We cannot see it, at all.''
The Christ-child was sorry for the little spiders when he heard this, and he said they should see the Christmas Tree.
The day before Christmas, when nobody was noticing, he let them all go in, to look as long as ever they liked.
They came creepy, creepy, down the attic stairs, creepy, creepy, up the cellar stairs, creepy, creepy, along the halls,—and into the beautiful room. The fat mother spiders and the old papa spiders were there, and all the little teeny, tiny, curly spiders, the baby ones. And then they looked! Round and round the tree they crawled, and looked and looked and
They stayed till they had seen all there was to see, you may be sure, and then they went away at last, quite happy.
Then, in the still, dark night before Christmas Day, the dear Christ-child came, to bless the tree for the children. But when he looked at it—what do you suppose?—it was covered with cobwebs! Everywhere the little spiders had been they had left a spider-web; and you know they had been everywhere. So the tree was covered from its trunk to its tip with spider-webs, all hanging from the branches and looped round the twigs; it was a strange sight.
What could the Christ-child do? He knew that house-mothers do not like cobwebs; it would never, never do to have a Christmas Tree covered with those. No, indeed.
So the dear Christ-child touched the spider's webs, and turned them all to gold! Wasn't that a lovely trimming? They shone and shone, all over the beautiful tree. And that is the way
This story was told me in the mother-tongue of a German friend, at the kindly instance of a common friend of both; the narrator had heard it at home from the lips of a father of story-loving children for whom ho often invented such little tales. The present adaptation has passed by hearsay through so many minds that it is perhaps little like the original, but I venture to hope it has a touch of the original fancy, at least.
WHY THE MORNING-GLORY CLIMBS[1]
Once the Morning-Glory was flat on the ground. She grew that way, and she had never climbed at all. Up in the top of a tree near her lived Mrs Jennie Wren and her little baby Wren. The little Wren was lame; he had a broken wing and couldn't fly. He stayed in the nest all day. But the mother Wren told him all about what she saw in the world, when she came flying home at night. She used to tell him about the beautiful Morning-Glory she saw on the ground. She told him about the Morning-Glory every day, until the little Wren was filled with a desire to see her for himself.
"How I wish I could see the Morning-Glory!'' he said.
The Morning-Glory heard this, and she longed to let the little Wren see her face. She pulled herself along the ground, a little at a time, until she was at the foot of the tree where the little Wren lived. But she could not get any farther, because she did not know how to climb. At last she wanted to go up so
And she climbed right up the tree to the little Wren's nest, and put her sweet face over the edge of the nest, where the little Wren could see.
That was how the Morning-Glory came to climb.
This story was given me by Miss Elisabeth McCracken, who wrote it some years ago in a larger form, and who told it to me in the way she had told it to many children of her acquaintance.
THE STORY OF LITTLE TAVWOTS[1]
This is the story an Indian woman told a little white boy who lived with his father and mother near the Indians' country; and Tavwots is the name of the little rabbit.
But once, long ago, Tavwots was not little, —he was the largest of all four-footed things, and a mighty hunter. He used to hunt every day; as soon as it was day, and light enough to see, he used to get up, and go to his hunting. But every day he saw the track of a great foot on the trail, before him. This troubled him, for his pride was as big as his body.
"Who is this,'' he cried, "that goes before me to the hunting, and makes so great a stride? Does he think to put me to shame?''
"T'-sst!'' said his mother, "there is none greater than thou.''
And the next morning he got up earlier; but still the great footprints and the mighty stride were before him. The next morning he got up still earlier; but there were the mighty foot-tracks and the long, long stride.
"Now I will set me a trap for this impudent fellow,'' said Tavwots, for he was very cunning. So he made a snare of his bowstring and set it in the trail overnight.
And when in the morning he went to look, behold, he had caught the sun in his snare! All that part of the earth was beginning to smoke with the heat of it.
"Is it you who made the tracks in my trail?'' cried Tavwots.
"It is I,'' said the sun; "come and set me free, before the whole earth is afire.''
Then Tavwots saw what he had to do, and he drew his sharp hunting-knife and ran to cut the bowstring. But the heat was so great that he ran back before he had done it; and when he ran back he was melted down to half his size! Then the earth began to burn, and the smoke curled up against the sky.
"Come again, Tavwots,'' cried the sun.
And Tavwots ran again to cut the bowstring. But the heat was so great that he ran back
"Come again, Tavwots, and quickly,'' cried the sun, "or all the world will be burnt up.''
And Tavwots ran again; this time he cut the bowstring and set the sun free. But when he got back he was melted down to the size he is now! Only one thing is left of all his greatness: you may still see by the print of his feet as he leaps in the trail, how great his stride was when he caught the sun in his snare.
THE PIG BROTHER[1]
There was once a child who was untidy. He left his books on the floor, and his muddy shoes on the table; he put his fingers in the jam pots, and spilled ink on his best pinafore; there was really no end to his untidiness.
One day the Tidy Angel came into his nursery.
"This will never do!'' said the Angel. "This is really shocking. You must go out and stay with your brother while I set things to rights here.''
"I have no brother!'' said the child.
"Yes, you have,'' said the Angel. "You may not know him, but he will know you. Go out
"I don't know what you mean!'' said the child; but he went out into the garden and waited.
Presently a squirrel came along, whisking his tail.
"Are you my brother?'' asked the child.
The squirrel looked him over carefully.
"Well, I should hope not!'' he said. "My fur is neat and smooth, my nest is handsomely made, and in perfect order, and my young ones are properly brought up. Why do you insult me by asking such a question?''
He whisked off, and the child waited.
Presently a wren came hopping by.
"Are you my brother?'' asked the child.
"No, indeed!'' said the wren. "What impertinence! You will find no tidier person than I in the whole garden. Not a feather is out of place, and my eggs are the wonder of all for smoothness and beauty. Brother, indeed!'' He hopped off, ruffling his feathers, and the child waited.
By-and-by a large Tommy Cat came along.
"Are you my brother?'' asked the child.
"Go and look at yourself in the glass,'' said the Tommy Cat haughtily, "and you will have your answer. I have been washing myself in the sun all the morning, while it is clear that no
He walked on, waving his tail, and the child waited.
Presently a pig came trotting along.
The child did not wish to ask the pig if he were his brother, but the pig did not wait to be asked.
"Hallo, brother!'' he grunted.
"I am not your brother!'' said the child.
"Oh yes, you are!'' said the pig. "I confess I am not proud of you, but there is no mistaking the members of our family. Come along, and have a good roll in the barnyard! There is some lovely black mud there.''
"I don't like to roll in mud!'' said the child.
"Tell that to the hens!'' said the Pig Brother. "Look at your hands and your shoes, and your pinafore! Come along, I say! You may have some of the pig-wash for supper, if there is more than I want.''
"I don't want pig-wash!'' said the child; and he began to cry.
Just then the Tidy Angel came out.
"I have set everything to rights,'' she said, "and so it must stay. Now, will you go with the Pig Brother, or will you come back with me, and be a tidy child?''
"With you, with you!'' cried the child; and he clung to the Angel's dress.
"Small loss!'' he said. "There will be all the more wash for me!'' And he trotted off.
THE CAKE[1]
A child quarrelled with his brother one day about a cake.
"It is my cake!'' said the child.
"No, it is mine!'' said his brother.
"You shall not have it!'' said the child.
"Give it to me this minute!'' And he fell upon his brother and beat him.
Just then came by an Angel who knew the child.
"Who is this that you are beating?'' asked the Angel.
"It is my brother,'' said the child.
"No, but truly,'' said the Angel, "who is it?''
"It is my brother, I tell you!'' said the child.
"Oh no,'' said the Angel, "that cannot be; and it seems a pity for you to tell an untruth, because that makes spots on your soul. If it were your brother, you would not beat him.''
"But he has my cake!'' said the child.
"Oh,'' said the Angel, "now I see my mistake. You mean that the cake is your brother;
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN TOWN[1]
Once I made a pleasure trip to a country called Germany; and I went to a funny little town, where all the streets ran uphill. At the top there was a big mountain, steep like the roof of a house, and at the bottom there was a big river, broad and slow. And the funniest thing about the little town was that all the shops had the same thing in them; bakers' shops, grocers' shops, everywhere we went we saw the same thing,—big chocolate rats, rats and mice, made out of chocolate. We were so surprised that after a while, "Why do you have rats in your shops?'' we asked.
"Don't you know this is Hamelin town?'' they said. "What of that?'' said we. "Why, Hamelin town is where the Pied Piper came,'' they told us; "surely you know about the Pied Piper?'' "What about the Pied Piper?'' we said. And this is what they told us about him.
It seems that once, long, long ago, that little town was dreadfully troubled with rats. The houses were full of them, the shops were full of
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles,
Split open the kegs of salted sprats,
Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,
And even spoiled the women's chats
By drowning their speaking
With shrieking and squeaking
In fifty different sharps and flats!
At last it got so bad that the people simply couldn't stand it any longer. So they all came together and went to the town hall, and they said to the Mayor (you know what a mayor is?), "See here, what do we pay you your salary for? What are you good for, if you can't do a little thing like getting rid of these rats? You must go to work and clear the town of them; find the remedy that's lacking, or—we'll send you packing!''
Well, the poor Mayor was in a terrible way. What to do he didn't know. He sat with his head in his hands, and thought and thought and thought.
Suddenly there came a little rat-tat at the door. Oh! how the Mayor jumped! His poor old heart went pit-a-pat at anything like the
And in came the strangest figure! It was a man, very tall and very thin, with a sharp chin and a mouth where the smiles went out and in, and two blue eyes, each like a pin; and he was dressed half in red and half in yellow—he really was the strangest fellow!—and round his neck he had a long red and yellow ribbon, and on it was hung a thing something like a flute, and his fingers went straying up and down it as if he wanted to be playing.
He came up to the Mayor and said, "I hear you are troubled with rats in this town.''
"I should say we were,'' groaned the Mayor.
"Would you like to get rid of them? I can do it for you.''
"You can?'' cried the Mayor. "How? Who are you?''
"Men call me the Pied Piper,'' said the man, "and I know a way to draw after me everything that walks, or flies, or swims. What will you give me if I rid your town of rats?''
"Anything, anything,'' said the Mayor. "I don't believe you can do it, but if you can, I'll give you a thousand guineas.''
"All right,'' said the Piper, "it is a bargain.''
And then he went to the door and stepped out into the street and stood, and put the long
You heard as if an army muttered;
And the muttering grew to a grumbling;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling I
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives—
Followed the Piper for their lives!
From street to street he piped, advancing, from street to street they followed, dancing. Up one street and down another, till they came to the edge of the big river, and there the piper turned sharply about and stepped aside, and all those rats tumbled hurry skurry, head over heels, down the bank into the river and—were— drowned. Every single one. No, there was one big old fat rat; he was so fat he didn't sink, and he swam across, and ran away to tell the tale.
Then the Piper came back to the town hall. And all the people were waving their hats and shouting for joy. The Mayor said they would have a big celebration, and build a tremendous
"Yes,'' said the Piper, "that will be very nice; but first, if you please, I should like my thousand guineas.''
"H'm,—er—ahem!'' said the Mayor. "You mean that little joke of mine; of course that was a joke.'' (You see it is always harder to pay for a thing when you no longer need it.)
"I do not joke,'' said the Piper very quietly; "my thousand guineas, if you please.''
"Oh, come, now,'' said the Mayor, "you know very well it wasn't worth sixpence to play a little tune like that; call it one guinea, and let it go at that.''
"A bargain is a bargain,'' said the Piper; "for the last time,—will you give me my thousand guineas?''
"I'll give you a pipe of tobacco, something good to eat, and call you lucky at that!'' said the Mayor, tossing his head.
Then the Piper's mouth grew strange and thin, and sharp blue and green lights began dancing in his eyes, and he said to the Mayor very softly, "I know another tune than that I played; I play it to those who play me false.''
"Play what you please! You can't frighten me! Do your worst!'' said the Mayor, making himself big.
Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling;
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering,
And like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering,
Out came the children running.
All the little boys and girls,
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
"Stop, stop!'' cried the people. "He is taking our children! Stop him, Mr Mayor!''
"I will give you your money, I will!'' cried the Mayor, and tried to run after the Piper.
But the very same music that made the children dance made the grown-up people stand stock-still; it was as if their feet had been tied to the ground; they could not move a muscle. There they stood and saw the Piper move slowly down the street, playing his little tune, with the children at his heels. On and on he went; on and on the children danced; till he came to the bank of the river.
But years and years afterward, when the fat old rat who swam across the river was a grandfather, his children used to ask him, "What made you follow the music, Grandfather?'' and he used to tell them, "My dears, when I heard that tune I thought I heard the moving aside of pickle-tub boards, and the leaving ajar of preserve cupboards, and I smelled the most delicious old cheese in the world, and I saw sugar barrels ahead of me; and then, just as a great yellow cheese seemed to be saying, `Come, bore me'—I felt the river rolling o'er me!''
And in the same way the people asked the little lame child, "What made you follow
That was all the people ever knew. The children never came back. All that was left of the Piper and the rats was just the big street that led to the river; so they called it the Street of the Pied Piper.
And that is the end of the story.
WHY THE EVERGREEN TREES KEEP THEIR LEAVES IN WINTER[1]
One day, a long, long time ago, it was very cold; winter was coming. And all the birds flew away to the warm south, to wait for the spring. But one little bird had a broken wing and could not fly. He did not know what to do. He looked all round, to see if there was any place where he could keep warm. And he saw the trees of the great forest.
So he went to the edge of the forest, hopping and fluttering with his broken wing. The first tree he came to was a slim silver birch.
"Beautiful birch-tree,'' he said, "will you let me live in your warm branches until the springtime comes?''
"Dear me!'' said the birch-tree, "what a thing to ask! I have to take care of my own leaves through the winter; that is enough for me. Go away.''
The little bird hopped and fluttered with his broken wing until he came to the next tree. It was a great, big oak-tree.
"O big oak-tree,'' said the little bird, "will you let me live in your warm branches until the springtime comes?''
"Dear me,'' said the oak-tree, "what a thing to ask! If you stay in my branches all winter you will be eating my acorns. Go away.''
So the little bird hopped and fluttered with his broken wing till he came to the willow-tree by the edge of the brook.
"O beautiful willow-tree,'' said the little bird, "will you let me live in your warm branches until the springtime comes?''
"No, indeed,'' said the willow-tree; "I never speak to strangers. Go away.''
The poor little bird did not know where to
"I do not know,'' said the bird; "the trees will not let me live with them, and my wing is broken so that I cannot fly.''
"You may live on one of my branches,'' said the spruce; "here is the warmest one of all.''
"But may I stay all winter?''
"Yes,'' said the spruce; "I shall like to have you.''
The pine-tree stood beside the spruce, and when he saw the little bird hopping and fluttering with his broken wing, he said, "My branches are not very warm, but I can keep the wind off because I am big and strong.''
So the little bird fluttered up into the warm branch of the spruce, and the pine-tree kept the wind off his house; then the juniper-tree saw what was going on, and said that she would give the little bird his dinner all the winter, from her branches. Juniper berries are very good for little birds.
The little bird was very comfortable in his warm nest sheltered from the wind, with juniper berries to eat.
The trees at the edge of the forest remarked upon it to each other:
"I wouldn't take care of a strange bird,'' said the birch.
"I would not speak to strangers,'' said the willow. And the three trees stood up very tall and proud.
That night the North Wind came to the woods to play. He puffed at the leaves with his icy breath, and every leaf he touched fell to the ground. He wanted to touch every leaf in the forest, for he loved to see the trees bare.
"May I touch every leaf?'' he said to his father, the Frost King.
"No,'' said the Frost King, "the trees which were kind to the bird with the broken wing may keep their leaves.''
So North Wind had to leave them alone, and the spruce, the pine, and the juniper-tree kept their leaves through all the winter. And they have done so ever since.
THE STAR DOLLARS[1]
There was once a little girl who was very, very poor. Her father and mother had died, and at last she had no little room to stay in, and no little bed to sleep in, and nothing more to eat except one piece of bread. So she said a prayer, put on her little jacket and her hood,
When she had walked a little way, she met an old man, bent and thin. He looked at the piece of bread in her hand, and said, "Will you give me your bread, little girl? I am very hungry.'' The little girl said, "Yes,'' and gave him her piece of bread.
When she had walked a little farther she came upon a child, sitting by the path, crying. "I am so cold!'' said the child. "Won't you give me your little hood, to keep my head warm?'' The little girl took off her hood and tied it on the child's head. Then she went on her way.
After a time, as she went, she met another child. This one shivered with the cold, and she said to the little girl, "Won't you give me your jacket, little girl?'' And the little girl gave her her jacket. Then she went on again.
By-and-by she saw another child, crouching almost naked by the wayside. "O little girl,'' said the child, "won't you give me your dress? I have nothing to keep me warm.'' So the little girl took off her dress and gave it to the other child. And now she had nothing left but her little shirt. It grew dark, and the wind was cold, and the little girl crept into the woods, to sleep for the night. But in the woods a child stood, weeping and naked. "I am cold,'' she
She stood looking up at the sky, to say her night-time prayer. As she looked up, the whole skyful of stars fell in a shower round her feet. There they were, on the ground, shining bright, and round. The little girl saw that they were silver dollars. And in the midst of them was the finest little shirt, all woven out of silk! The little girl put on the little silk shirt, and gathered the star dollars; and she was rich, all the days of her life.
THE LION AND THE GNAT[1]
Far away in Central Africa, that vast land where dense forests and wild beasts abound, the shades of night were once more descending, warning all creatures that it was time to seek repose.
All day long the sun had been like a great burning eye, but now, after painting the western sky with crimson and scarlet and gold, he had disappeared into his fleecy bed; the various
There on a nodding grass-blade, a tiny Gnat had made a swinging couch, and he too had folded his wings, closed his tiny eyes, and was fast asleep. Darker, darker, darker became the night until the darkness could almost be felt, and over all was a solemn stillness as though some powerful finger had been raised, and some potent voice had whispered, "HU—SH!''
Just when all was perfectly still, there came suddenly from the far away depths of the forest, like the roll of thunder, a mighty ROAR—R—R—R!
In a moment all the beasts and birds were wide awake, and the poor little Gnat was nearly frightened out of his little senses, and his little heart went pit-a-pat. He rubbed his little eyes with his feelers, and then peered all around trying to penetrate the deep gloom as he whispered in terror—"What—was—that?''
What do you think it was? . . . Yes, a LION! A great, big lion who, while most other
Presently he reached the spot where the little Gnat hung panting at the tip of the waving grass-blade. Now the little Gnat was not afraid of lions, so when he saw it was only a lion, he cried out—
"Hi, stop, stop! What are you making that horrible noise about?''
The Lion stopped short, then backed slowly and regarded the Gnat with scorn.
"Why, you tiny, little, mean, insignificant creature you, how DARE you speak to ME?'' he raged.
"How dare I speak to you?'' repeated the Gnat quietly. "By the virtue of right, which is always greater than might. Why don't you keep to your own part of the forest? What right have you to be here, disturbing folks at this time of night?''
By a mighty effort the Lion restrained his anger—he knew that to obtain mastery over others one must be master over oneself.
"What right?'' he repeated in dignified tones. "Because I'm King of the Forest. That's why. I can do no wrong, for all the other creatures of the forest are afraid of me. I DO what I please,
"But who told you you were King?'' demanded the Gnat. "Just answer me that!''
"Who told ME?'' roared the Lion. "Why, everyone acknowledges it—don't I tell you that everyone is afraid of me?''
"Indeed!'' cried the Gnat disdainfully. "Pray don't say all, for I'm not afraid of you. And further, I deny your right to be King.'' This was too much for the Lion. He now worked himself into a perfect fury.
"You—you—YOU deny my right as King?''
"I do, and, what is more, you shall never be King until you have fought and conquered me.''
The Lion laughed a great lion laugh, and a lion laugh cannot be laughed at like a cat laugh, as everyone ought to know.
"Fight—did you say fight?'' he asked. "Who ever heard of a lion fighting a gnat? Here, out of my way, you atom of nothing! I'll blow you to the other end of the world.''
But though the Lion puffed his cheeks until they were like great bellows, and then blew with all his might, he could not disturb the little Gnat's hold on the swaying grass-blade.
"You'll blow all your whiskers away if you are not careful,'' he said, with a laugh—"but you won't move me. And if you dare leave this
"Ho, ho!'' roared the Lion. "Very well, since you will fight, let it be so.''
"You agree to the conditions, then? The one who conquers shall be King?''
"Oh, certainly,'' laughed the Lion, for he expected an easy victory. "Are you ready?''
"Quite ready.''
"Then—GO!'' roared the Lion.
And with that he sprang forward with open jaws, thinking he could easily swallow a million gnats. But just as the great jaws were about to close upon the blade of grass whereto the Gnat clung, what should happen but that the Gnat suddenly spread his wings and nimbly flew—where do you think?—right into one of the Lion's nostrils! And there he began to sting, sting, sting. The Lion wondered, and thundered, and blundered—but the Gnat went on stinging; he foamed, and he moaned, and he groaned—still the Gnat went on stinging; he rubbed his head on the ground in agony, he swirled his tail in furious passion, he roared, he spluttered, he sniffed, he snuffed—and still the Gnat went on stinging.
"O my poor nose, my nose, my nose!'' the Lion began to moan. "Come down, come DOWN, come DOWN I My nose, my NOSE, my
So at last the Gnat flew out from the Lion's nostril and went back to his waving grass-blade, while the Lion slunk away into the depths of the forest with his tail between his legs—beaten, and by a tiny Gnat!
"What a fine fellow am I, to be sure!'' exclaimed the Gnat, aa he proudly plumed his wings. "I've beaten a lion—a LION! Dear me, I ought to have been King long ago, I'm so clever, so big, so strong—oh!''
The Gnat's frightened cry was caused by finding himself entangled in some silky sort of threads. While gloating over his victory, the wind had risen, and his grass-blade had swayed violently to and fro unnoticed by him. A stronger gust than usual had bent the blade downward close to the ground, and then something caught it and held it fast and with it the victorious Gnat. Oh, the desperate struggles he made to get free! Alas! he became more entangled than ever. You can guess what it was—a spider's web, hung out from the over-hanging branch of a tree. Then—flipperty-flopperty, flipperty—flopperty, flop, flip, flop— down his stairs came cunning Father Spider and quickly gobbled up the little Gnat for his supper, and that was the end of him.
A clever Gnat—and what overcame him? A Spider's web! He who had beaten the strong lion had been overcome by the subtle snare of a spider's thread.
This story has been told by the Rev. Albert E. Sims to children in many parts of England. On one occasion it was told to an audience of over three thousand children in the Great Assembly Hall, Mile End, London.
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