Stories To Tell To Children
S >>
Sara Cone Bryant >> Stories To Tell To Children
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12
Epaminondas wrapped it up in leaves
and put it in his hat, and put his hat on his
head, and came along home. It was a very
hot day. Pretty soon the butter began to
melt. It melted, and melted, and as it
melted it ran down Epaminondas' forehead;
then it ran over his face, and in his
ears, and down his neck. When he got
home, all the butter Epaminondas had was
ON HIM. His Mammy looked at him, and
then she said,--
"Law's sake! Epaminondas, what you
got in your hat?"
"Butter, Mammy," said Epaminondas;
"Auntie gave it to me."
"Butter!" said his Mammy. "Epaminondas,
you ain't got the sense you was
born with! Don't you know that's no way
to carry butter? The way to carry butter
is to wrap it up in some leaves and take
it down to the brook, and cool it in the
water, and cool it in the water, and cool
it in the water, and then take it on
your hands, careful, and bring it along
home."
"Yes, Mammy," said Epaminondas.
By and by, another day, Epaminondas
went to see his Auntie again, and this time
she gave him a little new puppy-dog to
take home.
Epaminondas put it in some leaves and
took it down to the brook; and there he
cooled it in the water, and cooled it in the
water, and cooled it in the water; then he
took it in his hands and came along home.
When he got home, the puppy-dog was
dead. His Mammy looked at it, and she
said,--
"Law's sake! Epaminondas, what you
got there?"
"A puppy-dog, Mammy," said Epaminondas.
"A PUPPY-DOG!" said his Mammy. "My
gracious sakes alive, Epaminondas, you
ain't got the sense you was born with!
That ain't the way to carry a puppy-dog!
The way to carry a puppy-dog is to take a
long piece of string and tie one end of it
round the puppy-dog's neck and put the
puppy-dog on the ground, and take hold
of the other end of the string and come
along home, like this."
"All right, Mammy," said Epaminondas.
Next day, Epaminondas went to see his
Auntie again, and when he came to go
home she gave him a loaf of bread to carry
to his Mammy; a brown, fresh, crusty loaf
of bread.
So Epaminondas tied a string around the
end of the loaf and took hold of the end of
the string and came along home, like this.
(Imitate dragging something along the
ground.) When he got home his Mammy
looked at the thing on the end of the string,
and she said,--
"My laws a-massy! Epaminondas, what
you got on the end of that string?"
"Bread, Mammy," said Epaminondas;
"Auntie gave it to me."
"Bread!!!" said his Mammy. "O
Epaminondas, Epaminondas, you ain't got the
sense you was born with; you never did
have the sense you was born with; you
never will have the sense you was born
with! Now I ain't gwine tell you any more
ways to bring truck home. And don't you
go see your Auntie, neither. I'll go see
her my own self. But I'll just tell you one
thing, Epaminondas! You see these here
six mince pies I done make? You see how
I done set 'em on the doorstep to cool?
Well, now, you hear me, Epaminondas,
YOU BE CAREFUL HOW YOU STEP ON THOSE PIES!"
"Yes, Mammy," said Epaminondas.
Then Epaminondas' Mammy put on
her bonnet and her shawl and took a basket
in her hand and went away to see
Auntie. The six mince pies sat cooling in
a row on the doorstep.
And then,--and then,--Epaminondas
WAS careful how he stepped on those
pies!
He stepped (imitate)--right--in--
the--middle--of--every--one.
. . . . . . . .
And, do you know, children, nobody knows
what happened next! The person who told
me the story didn't know; nobody knows.
But you can guess.
THE BOY WHO CRIED "WOLF!"
There was once a shepherd-boy who
kept his flock at a little distance from the
village. Once he thought he would play a
trick on the villagers and have some fun
at their expense. So he ran toward the
village crying out, with all his might,--
"Wolf! Wolf! Come and help! The
wolves are at my lambs!"
The kind villagers left their work and
ran to the field to help him. But when
they got there the boy laughed at them
for their pains; there was no wolf there.
Still another day the boy tried the same
trick, and the villagers came running to
help and got laughed at again.
Then one day a wolf did break into the
fold and began killing the lambs. In great
fright, the boy ran for help. "Wolf! Wolf!"
he screamed. "There is a wolf in the flock!
Help!"
The villagers heard him, but they thought
it was another mean trick; no one paid the
least attention, or went near him. And the
shepherd-boy lost all his sheep.
That is the kind of thing that happens
to people who lie: even when they tell the
truth no one believes them.
THE FROG KING
Did you ever hear the old story about
the foolish Frogs? The Frogs in a certain
swamp decided that they needed a king;
they had always got along perfectly well
without one, but they suddenly made up
their minds that a king they must have.
They sent a messenger to Jove and begged
him to send a king to rule over them.
Jove saw how stupid they were, and sent
a king who could not harm them: he tossed
a big log into the middle of the pond.
At the splash the Frogs were terribly
frightened, and dove into their holes to
hide from King Log. But after a while,
when they saw that the king never moved,
they got over their fright and went and
sat on him. And as soon as they found he
really could not hurt them they began to
despise him; and finally they sent another
messenger to Jove to ask for a new king.
Jove sent an eel.
The Frogs were much pleased and a
good deal frightened when King Eel came
wriggling and swimming among them. But
as the days went on, and the eel was
perfectly harmless, they stopped being afraid;
and as soon as they stopped fearing King
Eel they stopped respecting him.
Soon they sent a third messenger to
Jove, and begged that they might have a
better king,--a king who was worth
while.
It was too much; Jove was angry at their
stupidity at last. "I will give you a king
such as you deserve!" he said; and he
sent them a Stork.
As soon as the Frogs came to the surface
to greet the new king, King Stork caught
them in his long bill and gobbled them up.
One after another they came bobbing up,
and one after another the stork ate them.
He was indeed a king worthy of them!
THE SUN AND THE WIND
The Sun and the Wind once had a quarrel
as to which was the stronger. Each
believed himself to be the more powerful.
While they were arguing they saw a traveler
walking along the country highway,
wearing a great cloak.
"Here is a chance to test our strength,"
said the Wind; "let us see which of us is
strong enough to make that traveler take
off his cloak; the one who can do that shall
be acknowledged the more powerful."
"Agreed," said the Sun.
Instantly the Wind began to blow; he
puffed and tugged at the man's cloak, and
raised a storm of hail and rain, to beat at
it. But the colder it grew and the more it
stormed, the tighter the traveler held his
cloak around him. The Wind could not
get it off.
Now it was the Sun's turn. He shone
with all his beams on the man's shoulders.
As it grew hotter and hotter, the man
unfastened his cloak; then he threw it back;
at last he took it off! The Sun had won.
THE LITTLE JACKAL AND THE ALLIGATOR
The little Jackal was very fond of shell-
fish. He used to go down by the river and
hunt along the edges for crabs and such
things. And once, when he was hunting
for crabs, he was so hungry that he put his
paw into the water after a crab without
looking first,--which you never should
do! The minute he put in his paw, SNAP!
--the big Alligator who lives in the mud
down there had it in his jaws.
"Oh, dear!" thought the little Jackal;
"the big Alligator has my paw in his
mouth! In another minute he will pull me
down and gobble me up! What shall I
do? what shall I do?" Then he thought,
suddenly, "I'll deceive him!"
So he put on a very cheerful voice, as if
nothing at all were the matter, and he
said,--
"Ho! ho! Clever Mr. Alligator! Smart
Mr. Alligator, to take that old bulrush
root for my paw! I'll hope you'll find it
very tender!"
The old Alligator was hidden away
beneath the mud and bulrush leaves, and
he couldn't see anything. He thought,
"Pshaw! I've made a mistake." So he
opened his mouth and let the little Jackal
go.
The little Jackal ran away as fast as he
could, and as he ran he called out,--
"Thank you, Mr. Alligator! Kind Mr.
Alligator! SO kind of you to let me go!"
The old Alligator lashed with his tail
and snapped with his jaws, but it was
too late; the little Jackal was out of
reach.
After this the little Jackal kept away
from the river, out of danger. But after
about a week he got such an appetite for
crabs that nothing else would do at all;
he felt that he must have a crab. So he
went down by the river and looked all
around, very carefully. He didn't see the
old Alligator, but he thought to himself,
"I think I'll not take any chances." So
he stood still and began to talk out loud
to himself. He said,--
"When I don't see any little crabs on
the land I most generally see them sticking
out of the water, and then I put my
paw in and catch them. I wonder if there
are any fat little crabs in the water today?"
The old Alligator was hidden down in
the mud at the bottom of the river, and
when he heard what the little Jackal said,
he thought, "Aha! I'll pretend to be a
little crab, and when he puts his paw in,
I'll make my dinner of him." So he stuck
the black end of his snout above the water
and waited.
The little Jackal took one look, and
then he said,--
"Thank you, Mr. Alligator! Kind Mr.
Alligator! You are EXCEEDINGLY kind to
show me where you are! I will have dinner
elsewhere." And he ran away like the
wind.
The old Alligator foamed at the mouth,
he was so angry, but the little Jackal was
gone.
For two whole weeks the little Jackal
kept away from the river. Then, one day
he got a feeling inside him that nothing
but crabs could satisfy; he felt that he
must have at least one crab. Very
cautiously, he went down to the river and
looked all around. He saw no sign of the
old Alligator. Still, he did not mean to
take any chances. So he stood quite still
and began to talk to himself,--it was
a little way he had. He said,--
"When I don't see any little crabs on
the shore, or sticking up out of the water,
I usually see them blowing bubbles from
under the water; the little bubbles go PUFF,
PUFF, PUFF, and then they go POP, POP, POP,
and they show me where the little juicy
crabs are, so I can put my paw in and
catch them. I wonder if I shall see any
little bubbles to-day?"
The old Alligator, lying low in the mud
and weeds, heard this, and he thought,
"Pooh! THAT'S easy enough; I'll just
blow some little crab-bubbles, and then
he will put his paw in where I can get it."
So he blew, and he blew, a mighty blast,
and the bubbles rose in a perfect whirlpool,
fizzing and swirling.
The little Jackal didn't have to be told
who was underneath those bubbles: he
took one quick look, and off he ran. But
as he went, he sang,--
"Thank you, Mr. Alligator! Kind Mr.
Alligator! You are the kindest Alligator
in the world, to show me where you are, so
nicely! I'll breakfast at another part of
the river."
The old Alligator was so furious that he
crawled up on the bank and went after
the little Jackal; but, dear, dear, he
couldn't catch the little Jackal; he ran
far too fast.
After this, the little Jackal did not like to
risk going near the water, so he ate no more
crabs. But he found a garden of wild figs,
which were so good that he went there every
day, and ate them instead of shell-fish.
Now the old Alligator found this out,
and he made up his mind to have the little
Jackal for supper, or to die trying. So
he crept, and crawled, and dragged himself
over the ground to the garden of wild figs.
There he made a huge pile of figs under
the biggest of the wild fig trees, and hid
himself in the pile.
After a while the little Jackal came
dancing into the garden, very happy and
care-free,--BUT looking all around. He
saw the huge pile of figs under the big fig
tree.
"H-m," he thought, "that looks
singularly like my friend, the Alligator. I'll
investigate a bit."
He stood quite still and began to talk
to himself,--it was a little way he had. He
said,--
"The little figs I like best are the fat,
ripe, juicy ones that drop off when the
breeze blows; and then the wind blows
them about on the ground, this way and
that; the great heap of figs over there is
so still that I think they must be all bad
figs."
The old Alligator, underneath his fig
pile, thought,--
"Bother the suspicious little Jackal,
I shall have to make these figs roll about,
so that he will think the wind moves
them." And straightway he humped himself
up and moved, and sent the little figs
flying,--and his back showed through.
The little Jackal did not wait for a
second look. He ran out of the garden
like the wind. But as he ran he called
back,--
"Thank you, again, Mr. Alligator; very
sweet of you to show me where you are; I
can't stay to thank you as I should like:
good-by!"
At this the old Alligator was beside
himself with rage. He vowed that he
would have the little Jackal for supper
this time, come what might. So he crept
and crawled over the ground till he came
to the little Jackal's house. Then he crept
and crawled inside, and hid himself there
in the house, to wait till the little Jackal
should come home.
By and by the little Jackal came dancing
home, happy and care-free,--BUT
looking all around. Presently, as he came
along, he saw that the ground was all
scratched up as if something very heavy
had been dragged over it. The little Jackal
stopped and looked.
"What's this? what's this?" he said.
Then he saw that the door of his house
was crushed at the sides and broken, as
if something very big had gone through it.
"What's this? What's this?" the little
Jackal said. "I think I'll investigate a
little!"
So he stood quite still and began to talk
to himself (you remember, it was a little
way he had), but loudly. He said,--
"How strange that my little House
doesn't speak to me! Why don't you
speak to me, little House? You always
speak to me, if everything is all right,
when I come home. I wonder if anything
is wrong with my little House?"
The old Alligator thought to himself
that he must certainly pretend to be the
little House, or the little Jackal would
never come in. So he put on as pleasant
a voice as he could (which is not saying
much) and said,--
"Hullo, little Jackal!"
Oh! when the little Jackal heard that,
he was frightened enough, for once.
"It's the old Alligator," he said, "and
if I don't make an end of him this time he
will certainly make an end of me. What
shall I do?"
He thought very fast. Then he spoke
out pleasantly.
"Thank you, little House," he said,
"it's good to hear your pretty voice, dear
little House, and I will be in with you in a
minute; only first I must gather some
firewood for dinner."
Then he went and gathered firewood,
and more firewood, and more firewood;
and he piled it all up solid against the door
and round the house; and then he set fire
to it!
And it smoked and burned till it smoked
that old Alligator to smoked herring!
THE LARKS IN THE CORNFIELD
There was once a family of little Larks
who lived with their mother in a nest in a
cornfield. When the corn was ripe the
mother Lark watched very carefully to see
if there were any sign of the reapers'
coming, for she knew that when they came
their sharp knives would cut down the
nest and hurt the baby Larks. So every
day, when she went out for food, she told
the little Larks to look and listen very
closely to everything that went on, and to
tell her all they saw and heard when she
came home.
One day when she came home the little
Larks were much frightened.
"Oh, Mother, dear Mother," they said,
"you must move us away to-night! The
farmer was in the field to-day, and he said,
`The corn is ready to cut; we must call in
the neighbors to help.' And then he told his
son to go out to-night and ask all the neighbors
to come and reap the corn to-morrow."
The mother Lark laughed. "Don't be
frightened," she said; "if he waits for his
neighbors to reap the corn we shall have
plenty of time to move; tell me what he
says to-morrow."
The next night the little Larks were quite
trembling with fear; the moment their
mother got home they cried out, "Mother,
you must surely move us to-night! The
farmer came to-day and said, `The corn
is getting too ripe; we cannot wait for our
neighbors; we must ask our relatives to
help us.' And then he called his son and
told him to ask all the uncles and cousins
to come to-morrow and cut the corn. Shall
we not move to-night?"
"Don't worry," said the mother Lark;
"the uncles and cousins have plenty of
reaping to do for themselves; we'll not
move yet."
The third night, when the mother Lark
came home, the baby Larks said, "Mother,
dear, the farmer came to the field to-day,
and when he looked at the corn he was
quite angry; he said, `This will never do!
The corn is getting too ripe; it's no use to
wait for our relatives, we shall have to cut
this corn ourselves.' And then he called
his son and said, `Go out to-night and
hire reapers, and to-morrow we will begin
to cut.'"
"Well," said the mother, "that is
another story; when a man begins to do his
own business, instead of asking somebody
else to do it, things get done. I will
move you out to-night."
A TRUE STORY ABOUT A GIRL
Once there were four little girls who
lived in a big, bare house, in the country.
They were very poor, but they had the
happiest times you ever heard of, because they
were very rich in everything except just
money. They had a wonderful, wise father,
who knew stories to tell, and who taught
them their lessons in such a beautiful way
that it was better than play; they had a
lovely, merry, kind mother, who was never
too tired to help them work or watch them
play; and they had all the great green
country to play in. There were dark,
shadowy woods, and fields of flowers, and
a river. And there was a big barn.
One of the little girls was named Louisa.
She was very pretty, and ever so strong;
she could run for miles through the woods
and not get tired. And she had a splendid
brain in her little head; it liked study, and
it thought interesting thoughts all day long.
Louisa liked to sit in a corner by herself,
sometimes, and write thoughts in her
diary; all the little girls kept diaries. She
liked to make up stories out of her own
head, and sometimes she made verses.
When the four little sisters had finished
their lessons, and had helped their mother
sew and clean, they used to go to the big
barn to play; and the best play of all was
theatricals. Louisa liked theatricals better
than anything.
They made the barn into a theatre, and
the grown people came to see the plays they
acted. They used to climb up on the hay-
mow for a stage, and the grown people
sat in chairs on the floor. It was great fun.
One of the plays they acted was Jack and
the Bean-Stalk. They had a ladder from
the floor to the loft, and on the ladder they
tied a squash vine all the way up to the
loft, to look like the wonderful bean-stalk.
One of the little girls was dressed up to
look like Jack, and she acted that part.
When it came to the place in the story
where the giant tried to follow Jack, the
little girl cut down the bean-stalk, and
down came the giant tumbling from the
loft. The giant was made out of pillows,
with a great, fierce head of paper, and
funny clothes.
Another story that they acted was
Cinderella. They made a wonderful big pumpkin
out of the wheelbarrow, trimmed with
yellow paper, and Cinderella rolled away
in it, when the fairy godmother waved her
wand.
One other beautiful story they used to
play. It was the story of Pilgrim's Progress;
if you have never heard it, you must
be sure to read it as soon as you can read
well enough to understand the old-fashioned
words. The little girls used to put
shells in their hats for a sign they were on
a pilgrimage, as the old pilgrims used to
do; then they made journeys over the hill
behind the house, and through the woods,
and down the lanes; and when the pilgrimage
was over they had apples and nuts to
eat, in the happy land of home.
Louisa loved all these plays, and she
made some of her own and wrote them
down so that the children could act them.
But better than fun or writing Louisa
loved her mother, and by and by, as the
little girl began to grow into a big girl, she
felt very sad to see her dear mother work
so hard. She helped all she could with the
housework, but nothing could really help
the tired mother except money; she needed
money for food and clothes, and some one
grown up, to help in the house. But there
never was enough money for these things,
and Louisa's mother grew more and more
weary, and sometimes ill. I cannot tell you
how much Louisa suffered over this.
At last, as Louisa thought about it,
she came to care more about helping her
mother and her father and her sisters
than about anything else in all the world.
And she began to work very hard to earn
money. She sewed for people, and when
she was a little older she taught some
little girls their lessons, and then she wrote
stories for the papers. Every bit of money
she earned, except what she had to use,
she gave to her dear family. It helped very
much, but it was so little that Louisa never
felt as if she were doing anything.
Every year she grew more unselfish, and
every year she worked harder. She liked
writing stories best of all her work, but
she did not get much money for them, and
some people told her she was wasting her
time.
At last, one day, a publisher asked
Louisa, who was now a woman, to write
a book for girls. Louisa was not very well,
and she was very tired, but she always
said, "I'll try," when she had a chance to
work; so she said, "I'll try," to the
publisher. When she thought about the book
she remembered the good times she used
to have with her sisters in the big, bare
house in the country. And so she wrote a
story and put all that in it; she put her
dear mother and her wise father in it, and
all the little sisters, and besides the jolly
times and the plays, she put the sad, hard
times in,--the work and worry and going
without things.
When the book was written, she called
it "Little Women," and sent it to the publisher.
And, children, the little book made
Louisa famous. It was so sweet and
funny and sad and real,--like our own
lives,--that everybody wanted to read it.
Everybody bought it, and much money
came from it. After so many years, little
Louisa's wish came true: she bought a
nice house for her family; she sent one
of her sisters to Europe, to study; she
gave her father books; but best of all, she
was able to see to it that the beloved
mother, so tired and so ill, could have rest
and happiness. Never again did the dear
mother have to do any hard work, and
she had pretty things about her all the rest
of her life.
Louisa Alcott, for that was Louisa's
name, wrote many beautiful books after
this, and she became one of the most
famous women of America. But I think the
most beautiful thing about her is what I
have been telling you: that she loved her
mother so well that she gave her whole
life to make her happy.
MY KINGDOM
The little Louisa I told you about, who
wrote verses and stories in her diary, used
to like to play that she was a princess, and
that her kingdom was her own mind.
When she had unkind or dissatisfied
thoughts, she tried to get rid of them by
playing they were enemies of the kingdom;
and she drove them out with soldiers;
the soldiers were patience, duty, and love.
It used to help Louisa to be good to play
this, and I think it may have helped make
her the splendid woman she was afterward.
Maybe you would like to hear a
poem she wrote about it, when she was
only fourteen years old.[1] It will help you,
too, to think the same thoughts.
[1] From Louisa M. Alcott's Life, Letters, and Journals (Little,
Brown & Co.). Copyright, 1878, by Louisa M. Alcott. Copyright,
1906, by J. S. P. Alcott.
A little kingdom I possess,
Where thoughts and feelings dwell,
And very hard I find the task
Of governing it well;
For passion tempts and troubles me,
A wayward will misleads,
And selfishness its shadow casts
On all my words and deeds.
How can I learn to rule myself,
To be the child I should,
Honest and brave, nor ever tire
Of trying to be good?
How can I keep a sunny soul
To shine along life's way?
How can I tune my little heart
To sweetly sing all day?
Dear Father, help me with the love
That casteth out my fear,
Teach me to lean on thee, and feel
That thou art very near,
That no temptation is unseen,
No childish grief too small,
Since thou, with patience infinite,
Doth soothe and comfort all.
I do not ask for any crown
But that which all may win,
Nor seek to conquer any world,
Except the one within.
Be thou my guide until I find,
Led by a tender hand,
Thy happy kingdom in MYSELF,
And dare to take command.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12