 | How to Tell Stories to Children, and Some Stories to Tell |  |
ESPECIALLY FOR CLASSES II. AND III.
THE CAT AND THE PARROT
Once there was a cat, and a parrot. And they had agreed to ask each other to dinner, turn and turn about: first the cat should ask the parrot, then the parrot should invite the cat, and so on. It was the cat's turn first.
Now the cat was very mean. He provided nothing at all for dinner except a pint of milk, a little slice of fish, and a biscuit. The parrot was too polite to complain, but he did not have a very good time.
When it was his turn to invite the cat, he cooked a fine dinner. He had a roast of meat, a pot of tea, a basket of fruit, and, best of all, he baked a whole clothes-basketful of little cakes!—little, brown, crispy, spicy cakes! Oh, I should say as many as five hundred. And he put four hundred and ninety-eight of the cakes before the cat, keeping only two for himself.
Well, the cat ate the roast, and drank the tea, and sucked the fruit, and then he began on the pile of cakes. He ate all the four hundred and ninety-eight cakes, and then he looked round and said:—
"Why,'' said the parrot, "here are my two cakes, if you want them?''
The cat ate up the two cakes, and then he licked his chops and said, "I am beginning to get an appetite; have you anything to eat?''
"Well, really,'' said the parrot, who was now rather angry, "I don't see anything more, unless you wish to eat me!'' He thought the cat would be ashamed when he heard that—but the cat just looked at him and licked his chops again,—and slip! slop! gobble! down his throat went the parrot!
Then the cat started down the street. An old woman was standing by, and she had seen the whole thing, and she was shocked that the cat should eat his friend. "Why, cat!'' she said, "how dreadful of you to eat your friend the parrot!''
"Parrot, indeed!'' said the cat. "What's a parrot to me?—I've a great mind to eat you, too.'' And—before you could say "Jack Robinson''—slip! slop! gobble! down went the old woman!
Then the cat started down the road again, walking like this, because he felt so fine. Pretty soon he met a man driving a donkey. The man was beating the donkey, to hurry him up, and when he saw the cat he said, "Get out
"Donkey, indeed!'' said the cat, "much I care for a donkey! I have eaten five hundred cakes, I've eaten my friend the parrot, I've eaten an old woman,—what's to hinder my eating a miserable man and a donkey?''
And slip! slop! gobble! down went the old man and the donkey.
Then the cat walked on down the road, jauntily, like this. After a little, he met a procession, coming that way. The king was at the head, walking proudly with his newly married bride, and behind him were his soldiers, marching, and behind them were ever and ever so many elephants, walking two by two. The king felt very kind to everybody, because he had just been married, and he said to the cat, "Get out of my way, pussy, get out of my way, —my elephants might hurt you.''
"Hurt me!'' said the cat, shaking his fat sides. "Ho, ho! I've eaten five hundred cakes, I've eaten my friend the parrot, I've eaten an old woman, I've eaten a man and a donkey; what's to hinder my eating a beggarly king?''
And slip! slop! gobble! down went the king; down went the queen; down went the soldiers,—and down went all the elephants!
Then the cat went on, more slowly; he had really had enough to eat, now. But a little
"Ho, ho ho!'' cried the cat in a terrible voice. "I've eaten five hundred cakes, I've eaten my friend the parrot, I've eaten an old woman, a man with a donkey, a king, a queen, his men-at-arms, and all his elephants; and now I'll eat you too.''
And slip! slop! gobble! down went the two land-crabs.
When the land-crabs got down inside, they began to look around. It was very dark, but they could see the poor king sitting in a corner with his bride on his arm; she had fainted. Near them were the men-at-arms, treading on one another's toes, and the elephants, still trying to form in twos,—but they couldn't, because there was not room. In the opposite corner sat the old woman, and near her stood the man and his donkey. But in the other corner was a great pile of cakes, and by them perched the parrot, his feathers all drooping.
Let's get to work!'' said the land-crabs. And, snip, snap, they began to make a little hole in the side, with their sharp claws. Snip, snap, snip, snap,—till it was big enough to get through. Then out they scuttled.
Then out walked the king, carrying his bride; out marched the men-at-arms; out tramped the
But the poor cat had to spend the whole day sewing up the hole in his coat!
THE RAT PRINCESS[1]
Once upon a time, there was a Rat Princess, who lived with her father, the Rat King, and her mother, the Rat Queen, in a ricefield in far away Japan. The Rat Princess was so pretty that her father and mother were quite foolishly proud of her, and thought no one good enough to play with her. When she grew up, they would not let any of the rat princes come to visit her, and they decided at last that no one should marry her till they had found the most powerful person in the whole world; no one else was good enough. And the Father Rat started out to find the most powerful person in the whole world. The wisest and oldest rat in the ricefield said that the Sun must be the most powerful person, because he made the rice grow and ripen; so the Rat King went to find
"What do you want, little brother?'' the Sun said, when he saw him.
"I come,'' said the Rat King, very importantly, "to offer you the hand of my daughter, the princess, because you are the most powerful person in the world; no one else is good enough.''
"Ha, ha!'' laughed the jolly round Sun, and winked with his eye. "You are very kind, little brother, but if that is the case the princess is not for me; the Cloud is more powerful than I am; when he passes over me I cannot shine.''
"Oh, indeed,'' said the Rat King, "then you are not my man at all''; and he left the Sun without more words. The Sun laughed and winked to himself. And the Rat King travelled and travelled across the sky till he came to the Cloud's house.
"What do you want, little brother?'' sighed the Cloud when he saw him.
"I come to offer you the hand of my daughter, the princess,'' said the Rat King, "because you are the most powerful person in the world; the Sun said so, and no one else is good enough.''
The Cloud sighed again. "I am not the
"Then you are not the person for my daughter,'' said the Rat King proudly; and he started at once to find the Wind. He travelled and travelled across the sky, till he came at last to the Wind's house, at the very edge of the world.
When the Wind saw him coming he laughed a big, gusty laugh, "Ho, ho!'' and asked him what he wanted; and when the Rat King told him that he had come to offer him the Rat Princess's hand because he was the most powerful person in the world, the Wind shouted a great gusty shout, and said, "No, no, I am not the strongest; the Wall that man has made is stronger than I; I cannot make him move, with all my blowing; go to the Wall, little brother!''
And the Rat King climbed down the sky-path again, and travelled and travelled across the earth till he came to the Wall. It was quite near his own ricefield.
"What do you want, little brother?'' grumbled the Wall when he saw him.
"I come to offer you the hand of the princess, my daughter, because you are the most powerful person in the world, and no one else is good enough.''
And so, after going all over the world to find the strongest person, the Rat King had to marry his daughter to a rat, after all; but the princess was very glad of it, for she wanted to marry the grey Rat, all the time.
Adapted from Frank Rinder's Old World Japan. In telling this story the voice should be changed for the Sun Cloud, Wind, and Wall, as is always done in the old story of The Three Bears.
THE FROG AND THE OX
Once a little Frog sat by a big Frog, by the side of a pool. "Oh, father,'' said he, "I have just seen the biggest animal in the world; it was as big as a mountain, and it had horns on its head, and it had hoofs divided in two.''
"Pooh, child,'' said the old Frog, "that was only Farmer White's Ox. He is not so very big. I could easily make myself as big as he.'' And he blew, and he blew, and he blew, and swelled himself out.
"Was he as big as that?'' he asked the little Frog.
"Oh, much bigger,'' said the little Frog.
The old Frog blew, and blew, and blew again, and swelled himself out, more than ever.
"Was he bigger than that?'' he said.
"Much, much bigger,'' said the little Frog.
Self-conceit leads to self-destruction.
THE FIRE-BRINGER[1]
This is the Indian story of how fire was brought to the tribes. It was long, long ago, when men and beasts talked together with understanding, and the grey Coyote was friend and counsellor of man.
There was a Boy of the tribe who was swift of foot and keen of eye, and he and the Coyote ranged the wood together. They saw the men catching fish in the creeks with their hands, and the women digging roots with sharp stones. This was in summer. But when winter came on, they saw the people running naked in the snow, or huddled in caves of the rocks, and most miserable. The Boy noticed this, and was very unhappy for the misery of his people.
"I do not feel it,'' said the Coyote.
"You have a coat of good fur,'' said the Boy, "and my people have not.''
"Come to the hunt,'' said the Coyote.
"I will hunt no more, till I have found a way to help my people against the cold,'' said the Boy. "Help me, O Counsellor!''
"No way is too hard,'' said the Boy. So the Coyote told him that they must go to the Burning Mountain and bring fire to the people.
"What is fire?'' said the Boy. And the Coyote told him that fire was red like a flower, yet not a flower; swift to run in the grass and to destroy, like a beast, yet no beast; fierce and hurtful, yet a good servant to keep one warm, if kept among stones and fed with small sticks.
"We will get this fire,'' said the Boy.
First the Boy had to persuade the people to give him one hundred swift runners. Then he and they and the Coyote started at a good pace for the far away Burning Mountain. At the end of the first day's trail they left the weakest of the runners, to wait; at the end of the second, the next stronger; at the end of the third, the next; and so for each of the hundred days of the journey; and the Boy was the strongest runner, and went to the last trail with the Counsellor. High mountains they crossed, and great plains, and giant woods, and at last they came to the Big Water, quaking along the sand at the foot of the Burning Mountain.
It stood up in a high peaked cone, and smoke rolled out from it endlessly along the sky. At
There the Counsellor said to the Boy, "Stay thou here till I bring thee a brand from the burning; be ready and right for running, for I shall be far spent when I come again, and the Fire Spirits will pursue me.''
Then he went up to the mountain; and the Fire Spirits only laughed when they saw him, for he looked so slinking, inconsiderable, and mean, that none of them thought harm from him. And in the night, when they were at their dance about the mountain, the Coyote stole the fire, and ran with it down the slope of the burning mountain. When the Fire Spirits saw what he had done they streamed out after him, red and angry, with a humming sound like a swarm of bees. But the Coyote was still ahead; the sparks of the brand streamed out along his flanks, as he carried it in his mouth; and he stretched his body to the trail.
The Boy saw him coming, like a failing star against the mountain; he heard the singing sound of the Fire Spirits close behind, and the labouring breath of the Counsellor. And when the good beast panted down beside him, the Boy caught the brand from his jaws and was off, like an arrow from a bent bow. Out he shot on the homeward path, and the Fire Spirits snapped and sang behind him. Bat fast as they pursued
So it passed from hand to hand, and the Fire Spirits tore after it through the scrub, till they came to the mountains of the snows; these they could not pass. Then the dark, sleek runners with the backward streaming brand bore it forward, shining starlike in the night, glowing red in sultry noons, violet pale in twilight glooms, until they came in safety to their own land.
And there they kept it among stones and fed it with small sticks, as the Counsellor advised; and it kept the people warm.
Ever after the Boy was called the Fire-Bringer; and ever after the Coyote bore the sign of the bringing, for the fur along his flanks was singed and yellow from the flames that streamed backward from the brand.
THE BURNING OF THE RICEFIELDS[1]
Once there was a good old man who lived up on a mountain, far away in Japan. All round his little house the mountain was flat, and the ground was rich; and there were the ricefields of all the people who lived in the village at the
One day, the grandfather was standing alone, before his house, looking far down at the people, and out at the sea, when, suddenly, he saw something very strange far off where the sea and sky meet. Something like a great cloud was rising there, as if the sea were lifting itself high into the sky. The old man put his hands to his eyes and looked again, hard as his old sight could. Then he turned and ran to the house. "Yone, Yone!'' he cried, "bring a brand from the hearth!''
The little grandson could not imagine what his grandfather wanted with fire, but he always obeyed, so he ran quickly and brought the brand. The old man already had one, and was running for the ricefields. Yone ran after. But what was his horror to see his grandfather thrust his burning brand into the ripe dry rice, where it stood.
"Oh, Grandfather, Grandfather!'' screamed the little boy, "what are you doing?''
Yone thought his dear grandfather had lost his mind, and he began to sob; but a little Japanese boy always obeys, so though he sobbed, he thrust his torch in, and the sharp flame ran up the dry stalks, red and yellow. In an instant, the field was ablaze, and thick black smoke began to pour up, on the mountain side. It rose like a cloud, black and fierce, and in no time the people below saw that their precious ricefields were on fire. Ah, how they ran! Men, women, and children climbed the mountain, running as fast as they could to save the rice; not one soul stayed behind.
And when they came to the mountain top, and saw the beautiful rice-crop all in flames, beyond help, they cried bitterly, "Who has done this thing? How did it happen?''
"I set fire,'' said the old man, very solemnly; and the little grandson sobbed, "Grandfather set fire.''
But when they came fiercely round the old man, with "Why? Why?'' he only turned and pointed to the sea. "Look!'' he said.
They all turned and looked. And there, where the blue sea had lain, so calm, a mighty wall of water, reaching from earth to sky, was rolling in. No one could scream, so terrible was the sight. The wall of water rolled in on
But the people were all safe. And when they saw what the old man had done, they honoured him above all men for the quick wit which had saved them all from the tidal wave.
Adapted from Gleanings in Buddha-Fields, by Lafeadio Hearn. (Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner and Co, Ltd. 5s. net.)
THE STORY OF WYLIE[1]
This is a story about a dog,—not the kind of dog you often see in the street here; not a fat, wrinkly pugdog, nor a smooth-skinned bulldog, nor even a big shaggy fellow, but a slim, silky-haired, sharp-eared little dog, the prettiest thing you can imagine. Her name was Wylie, and she lived in Scotland, far up on the hills, and helped her master take care of his sheep.
You can't think how clever she was! She watched over the sheep and the little lambs like a soldier, and never let anything hurt them. She drove them out to pasture when it was time, and brought them safely home when it was time for that. When the silly sheep got frightened and ran this way and that, hurting themselves and getting lost, Wylie knew exactly what to
At last her master grew too old to stay alone on the hills, and so he went away to live. Before he went, he gave Wylie to two kind young men who lived in the nearest town; he knew they would be good to her. They grew very fond of her, and so did their old grandmother and the little children: she was so gentle and handsome and well behaved.
So now Wylie lived in the city where there were no sheep farms, only streets and houses, and she did not have to do any work at all,— she was just a pet dog. She seemed very happy and she was always good.
But after a while, the family noticed something odd, something very strange indeed, about their pet. Every single Tuesday night, about nine o'clock, Wylie disappeared. They would look for her, call her,—no, she was gone. And she would be gone all night. But every Wednesday morning, there she was at the door, waiting to be let in. Her silky coat was all sweaty and muddy and her feet heavy with weariness, but her bright eyes looked up at her masters as
Week after week the same thing happened. Nobody could imagine where Wylie went every Tuesday night. They tried to follow her to find out, but she always slipped away; they tried to shut her in, but she always found a way out. It grew to be a real mystery. Where in the world did Wylie go?
You never could guess, so I am going to tell you.
In the city near the town where the kind young men lived was a big market like (naming one in the neighbourhood). Every sort of thing was sold there, even live cows and sheep and hens. On Tuesday nights, the farmers used to come down from the hills with their sheep to sell, and drive them through the city streets into the pens, ready to sell on Wednesday morning; that was the day they sold them.
The sheep weren't used to the city noises and sights, and they always grew afraid and wild, and gave the farmers and the sheepdogs a great deal of trouble. They broke away and ran about, in everybody's way.
But just as the trouble was worst, about sunrise, the farmers would see a little silky, sharp-eared dog come trotting all alone down the road, into the midst of them.
And then!
Every farmer would have liked to keep her, but she let no one catch her. As soon as her work was done she was off and away like a fairy dog, no one knew where. Week after week this happened, and nobody knew who the little strange dog was.
But one day Wylie went to walk with her two masters, and they happened to meet some sheep farmers. The sheep farmers stopped short and stared at Wylie, and then they cried out, "Why, that's the dog! That's the wee fell yin!'' And so it was. The little strange dog who helped with the sheep was Wylie.
Her masters, of course, didn't know what the farmers meant, till they were told all about what I have been telling you. But when they heard
Wasn't it wise of the dear little dog to go and work for other people when her own work was taken away? I fancy she knew that the best people and the best dogs always work hard at something. Any way she did that same thing as long as she lived, and she was always just as gentle, and silky-haired, and loving as at first.
LITTLE DAYLIGHT[1]
Once there was a beautiful palace, which had a great wood at one side. The king and his courtiers hunted in the wood near the palace, and there it was kept open, free from underbrush. But farther away it grew wilder and wilder, till at last it was so thick that nobody knew what was there. It was a very great wood indeed.
In the wood lived eight fairies. Seven of them were good fairies, who had lived there always; the eighth was a bad fairy, who had just come. And the worst of it was that nobody but the other fairies knew she was a fairy; people thought she was just an ugly old witch. The good fairies lived in the dearest little houses!
Now when the first baby was born to the king and queen, her father and mother decided to name her "Daylight,'' because she was so bright and sweet. And of course they had a christening party. And of course they invited the fairies, because the good fairies had always been at the christening party when a princess was born in the palace, and everybody knew that they brought good gifts.
But, alas, no one knew about the swamp fairy, and she was not invited,—which really pleased her, because it gave her an excuse for doing something mean.
The good fairies came to the christening party, and, one after another, five of them gave little Daylight good gifts. The other two stood among the guests, so that no one noticed them. The swamp fairy thought there were no more of them; so she stepped forward, just as the archbishop was handing the baby back to the lady-in-waiting.
"I am just a little deaf,'' she said, mumbling a laugh with her toothless gums. "Will your reverence tell me the baby's name again?''
"Certainly, my good woman,'' said the bishop; "the infant is little Daylight.''
"And little Daylight it shall be, forsooth,''
Everyone looked at everyone else in despair, but out stepped the sixth good fairy, who by arrangement with her sisters had remained in the background to undo what she could of any evil that the swamp fairy might decree.
"Then at least she shall wake all night,'' she said, sadly.
"Ah!'' screamed the swamp fairy, "you spoke before I had finished, which is against the law, and gives me another chance.'' All the fairies started at once to say, "I beg your pardon!'' But the bad fairy said, "I had only laughed `he, he!' and `hi, hi!' I had still `ho, ho!' and `hu, hu!' to laugh.''
The fairies could not gainsay this, and the bad fairy had her other chance. She said,—
"Since she is to wake all night, I decree that she shall wax and wane with the moon! Ho, ho, hu, hu!''
Out stepped the seventh good fairy. "Until a prince shall kiss her without knowing who she is,'' she said, quickly.
The swamp fairy had been prepared for the trick of keeping back one good fairy, but she had not suspected it of two, and she could not say a word, for she had laughed "ho, ho!'' and "hu, hu!''
That was the end of the party, but it was only the beginning of the trouble. Can you imagine what a queer household it would be, where the baby laughed and crowed all night, and slept all day? Little Daylight was as merry and bright all night as any baby in the world, but with the first sign of dawn she fell asleep, and slept like a little dormouse till dark. Nothing could waken her while day lasted. Still, the royal family got used to this; but the rest of the bad fairy's gift was a great deal worse,—that about waxing and waning with the moon. You know how the moon grows bigger and brighter each night, from the time it is a curly silver thread low in the sky till it is round and golden, flooding the whole sky with light? That is the waxing moon. Then, you know, it wanes; it grows smaller and paler again, night by night, till at last it disappears for a while, altogether. Well, poor little Daylight waxed and waned with it. She was the rosiest, plumpest, merriest baby in the world when the moon was at the full; but as it began to wane her little cheeks grew paler, her tiny hands thinner, with every night, till
So it went on till she grew up. She grew to be the most beautiful maiden the moon ever shone on, and everyone loved her so much, for her sweet ways and her merry heart, that someone was always planning to stay up at night, to be near her. But she did not like to be watched, especially when she felt the bad time of waning coming on; so her ladies-in-waiting had to be very careful. When the moon waned she became shrunken and pale and bent, like an old, old woman, worn out with sorrow. Only her golden hair and her blue eyes remained unchanged, and this gave her a terribly strange look. At last, as the moon disappeared, she faded away to a little, bowed, old creature, asleep and helpless.
No wonder she liked best to be alone! She got in the way of wandering by herself in the beautiful wood, playing in the moonlight when
When the princess was about seventeen years old, there was a rebellion in a kingdom not far from her father's. Wicked nobles murdered the king of the country and stole his throne, and would have murdered the young prince, too, if he had not escaped, dressed in peasant's clothes.
Dressed in his poor rags, the prince wandered about a long time, till one day he got into a great wood, and lost his way. It was the wood where the Princess Daylight lived, but of course he did not know anything about that nor about her. He wandered till night, and then he came to a queer little house. One of the good fairies lived there, and the minute she saw him she knew all about everything; but to him she looked only like a kind old woman. She gave him a good supper and a bed for the night, and
All day long he walked, and walked; but at nightfall he had not found his way out of the wood, so he lay down to rest till the moon should rise and light his path.
When he woke the moon was glorious; it was three days from the full, and bright as silver. By its light he saw what he thought to be the edge of the wood, and he hastened toward it. But when he came to it, it was only an open space, surrounded with trees. It was so very lovely, in the white moonlight, that the prince stood a minute to look. And as he looked, something white moved out of the trees on the far side of the open space. It was something slim and white, that swayed in the dim light like a young birch.
"It must be a moon fairy,'' thought the prince; and he stepped into the shadow.
The moon fairy came nearer and nearer, dancing and swaying in the moonlight. And as she came, she began to sing a soft, gay little song.
But when she was quite close, the prince saw that she was not a fairy after all, but a real human maiden,—the loveliest maiden he had ever seen. Her hair was like yellow corn, and
The prince watched her till she danced out of sight, and then until she once more came toward him; and she seemed so like a moon-beam herself, as she lifted her face to the sky, that he was almost afraid to breathe. He had never seen anything so lovely. By the time she had danced twice round the circle, he could think of nothing in the world except the hope of finding out who she was, and staying near her.
But while he was waiting for her to appear the third time, his weariness overcame him, and he fell asleep. And when he awoke, it was broad day, and the beautiful maiden had vanished.
He hunted about, hoping to find where she lived, and on the other side of the glade he came upon a lovely little house, covered with moss and climbing roses. He thought she must live there, so he went round to the kitchen door and asked the kind cook for a drink of water, and while he was drinking it he asked who lived there. She told him it was the house of the Princess Daylight, but she told him nothing else about her, because she was not allowed to talk about her mistress. But she gave him a very good meal and told him other things.
The fairy knew well enough by his face that he had seen Daylight, and when he woke up in the evening and started off again she gave him a strange little flask and told him to use it if ever he needed it.
This night the princess did not appear in the dell until midnight, at the very full of the moon. But when she came, she was so lovely that she took the prince's breath away. Just think!—she was dressed in a gown that looked as if it were made of fireflies' wings, em-
But while he had been watching her, he had not noticed that the sky was growing dark and the wind was rising. Suddenly there was a clap of thunder. The princess danced on. But another clap came louder, and then a sudden great flash of lightning that lit up the sky from end to end. The prince couldn't help shutting his eyes, but he opened them quickly to see if Daylight was hurt. Alas, she was lying on the ground. The prince ran to her, but she was already up again.
"Who are you?'' she said.
"I thought,'' stammered the prince, "you might be hurt.''
"There is nothing the matter. Go away.''
The prince went sadly.
"Come back,'' said the princess. The prince came. "I like you, you do as you are told. Are you good?''
"Not so good as I should like to be,'' said the prince.
"Then go and grow better,'' said the princess.
The prince went, more sadly.
"Come back,'' said the princess. The prince came. "I think you must be a prince,'' she said.
"Because you do as you are told, and you tell the truth. Will you tell me what the sun looks like?''
"Why, everybody knows that,'' said the prince.
"I am different from everybody,'' said the princess,—"I don't know.''
"But,'' said the prince, "do you not look when you wake up in the morning?''
"That's just it,'' said the princess, "I never do wake up in the morning. I never can wake up until—'' Then the princess remembered that she was talking to a prince, and putting her hands over her face she walked swiftly away. The prince followed her, but she turned and put up her hand to tell him not to. And like the gentleman prince that he was, he obeyed her at once.
Now all this time, the wicked swamp fairy had not known a word about what was going on. But now she found out, and she was furious, for fear that little Daylight should be delivered from her spell. So she cast her spells to keep the prince from finding Daylight again. Night after night the poor prince wandered and wandered, and never could find the little dell. And when daytime came, of course, there was no princess to be seen. Finally, at the time that the moon was almost
"No fear of his wanting to kiss her now!''
That night the prince did find the dell, but no princess came. A little after midnight he passed near the lovely little house where she lived, and there he overheard her waiting-women talking about her. They seemed in great distress. They were saying that the princess had wandered into the woods and was lost. The prince didn't know, of course, what it meant, but he did understand that the princess was lost somewhere, and he started off to find her. After he had gone a long way without finding her, he came to a big old tree, and there he thought he would light a fire to show her the way if she should happen to see it.
As the blaze flared up, he suddenly saw a little black heap on the other side of the tree. Somebody was lying there. He ran to the spot, his heart beating with hope. But when he lifted the cloak which was huddled about the form, he saw at once that it was not Daylight. A pinched, withered, white, little old woman's face shone out at him. The hood was drawn close down over her forehead, the eyes
"Oh, poor mother,'' said the prince, "what is the matter?'' The old woman only moaned again. The prince lifted her and carried her over to the warm fire, and rubbed her hands, trying to find out what was the matter. But she only moaned, and her face was so terribly strange and white that the prince's tender heart ached for her. Remembering his little flask, he poured some of his liquid between her lips, and then he thought the best thing he could do was to carry her to the princess's house, where she could be taken care of.
As he lifted the poor little form in his arms, two great tears stole out from the old woman's closed eyes and ran down her wrinkled cheeks.
"Oh, poor, poor mother,'' said the prince pityingly; and he stooped and kissed her withered lips.
As he walked through the forest with the old woman in his arms, it seemed to him that she grew heavier and heavier; he could hardly carry her at all; and then she stirred, and at last he was obliged to set her down, to rest. He meant to lay her on the ground. But the old woman stood upon her feet.
And then the hood fell back from her face. As she looked up at the prince, the first, long, yellow ray of the rising sun struck full upon
The prince fell on his knees before her. But she gave him her hand and made him rise.
"You kissed me when I was an old woman,'' said the princess, "I'll kiss you now that I am a young princess.'' And she did.
And then she turned her face toward the dawn.
"Dear Prince,'' she said, "is that the sun?''
THE SAILOR MAN[1]
Once upon a time, two children came to the house of a sailor man, who lived beside the salt sea; and they found the sailor man sitting in his doorway knotting ropes.
"How do you do?'' asked the sailor man.
We are very well, thank you,'' said the children, who had learned manners, "and we hope you are the same. We heard that you had a boat, and we thought that perhaps you would take us out in her, and teach us how to sail, for that is what we most wish to know.''
"All in good time,'' said the sailor man. "I am busy now, but by-and-by, when my work is done, I may perhaps take one of you if you
When he was gone the first child ran to the window and looked out.
"There is the sea,'' he said. "The waves come up on the beach, almost to the door of the house. They run up all white, like prancing horses, and then they go dragging back. Come and look!''
"I cannot,'' said the second child. "I am tying a knot.''
"Oh!'' cried the first child, "I see the boat. She is dancing like a lady at a ball; I never saw such a beauty. Come and look!''
"I cannot,'' said the second child. "I am tying a knot.''
"I shall have a delightful sail in that boat,'' said the first child. "I expect that the sailor man will take me, because I am the eldest and I know more about it. There was no need of my watching when he showed you the knots, because I knew how already.''
Just then the sailor man came in.
"Well,'' he said, "my work is over. What have you been doing in the meantime?''
"I have been looking at the boat,'' said the first child. "What a beauty she is! I shall
"I have been tying knots,'' said the second child.
"Come, then,'' said the sailor man, and he held out his hand to the second child. "I will take you out in the boat, and teach you to sail her.''
"But I am the eldest,'' cried the first child, "and I know a great deal more than she does.''
"That may be,'' said the sailor man; "but a person must learn to tie a knot before he can learn to sail a boat.''
"But I have learned to tie a knot,'' cried the child. "I know all about it!''
"How can I tell that?'' asked the sailor man.
THE STORY OF JAIRUS'S DAUGHTER[1]
Once, while Jesus was journeying about, He passed near a town where a man named Jairus lived. This man was a ruler in the synagogue, and he had just one little daughter about twelve years of age. At the time that Jesus was there
Her father heard that there was a wonderful man near the town, who was healing sick people whom no one else could help, and in his despair he ran out into the streets to search for Him. He found Jesus walking in the midst of a crowd of people, and when he saw Him he fell down at Jesus feet and besought Him to come into his house, to heal his daughter. And Jesus said, Yes, he would go with him. But there were so many people begging to be healed, and so many looking to see what happened, that the crowd thronged them, and kept them from moving fast. And before they reached the house one of the man's servants came to meet them, and said, "Thy daughter is dead; trouble not the Master to come farther.''
But instantly Jesus turned to the father and said, "Fear not; only believe, and she shall be made whole.'' And He went on with Jairus, to the house.
When they came to the house, they heard the sound of weeping and lamentation; the household was mourning for the little daughter, who was dead. Jesus sent all the strangers away from the door, and only three of His disciples and the father and mother of the child went in with Him. And when He was within, He said
When He had passed, they laughed Him to scorn, for they knew that she was dead.
Then Jesus left them all, and went alone into the chamber where the little daughter lay. And when He was there, alone, He went up to the bed where she was, and bent over her, and took her by the hand. And He said, "Maiden, arise.''
And her spirit came unto her again! And she lived, and grew up in her father's house.
This should usually be prefaced by a brief statement of Jesus habit of healing and comforting all with whom He came in close contact. The exact form of the preface must depend on how much of His life has already been given in stories.
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