HI LDRENS 
 
 
UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00022229269 
 
 ■ I ■ 
 
;a / 
 
 i 
 
 UNIVBRSTTtf ®F 
 
 NORTH CARO LINA. 
 
 School of Library 
 
 Science 
 
 JM 
 

Stories 
 
 FOR CHILDREN 
 
 BY 
 
 ELEVEN SOPHOMORES 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS 
 
 1875 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 Cambridge : 
 
 Press of John Wilson and Son. 
 

 The stories contained in this volume 
 were written as Themes in the spring of 
 1874. 
 
 Cambridge, Dec. 1, 1874. 
 
 906933 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://archive.org/details/storiesforchildrOOelev 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Harry 7 ,,,,1, 
 
 The Bear 15 fl.O.tftm^L 
 
 Rose Bud's Story 24 
 
 Jamie's Mice 31 CV//^ 
 
 Santa Claus's Deer 45 <£- 
 
 Maggie's Walk 55 /f-^^^ 
 
 Chicken's Mistake 69 C. ^ &w/<^L. 
 
 About the Stars 75 
 
 Bertie's Dream 81 
 
 Bumble's First Day at Work 95 
 
 Bronco 104 
 
STORIES FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 HARRY. 
 
 "DROWN curly hair, eyes bright as 
 stars, mouth red as Thompson 
 apples, cheeks like apple blossoms, three 
 feet six inches, fifty-five pounds, seven 
 years, — that's Harry. 
 
 And O ! what a fellow Harry is ! the 
 strangest, most wonderful fellow in the 
 world 1 He's now a dog, and rushes for 
 you, as though he would eat you up; 
 he's a colt, and races, and prances, and 
 dances round the house ; he's a kitten, 
 
8 Stories for Children. 
 
 with eyes still unopened, and he mews, 
 mew-ews, mew-ew-ews ; he's Mrs. Cat, 
 and the dog-pen-wiper is kitten ; to her 
 he says : — 
 
 " O kitten, O kitten, you naughty kitten, 
 You've lost your mitten ; 
 Then, you shall have no pie." 
 
 " Mew — mew — mew," says the cloth 
 kitten. 
 
 " O kitten, O kitten, you good little kitten, 
 You've found your mitten ; 
 Then, you shall have some pie." 
 
 11 Purr — purr — purr," says the cloth 
 kitten. 
 
 Harry's a man, too, and keeps store : 
 he drives a thriving trade in wood 
 peanuts, wood candy, paper dolls, dirt 
 pies, and dirt puddings. Pins are his 
 
Harry. 9 
 
 money. A handsome paper doll brings 
 two pins ; a pound of candy, five ; a 
 pint of peanuts, four ; one nice dirt pie, 
 three ; puddings are cheap, and bring 
 only one pin. You'd think he did the 
 biggest business in town ; he struts 
 around, talks about his big ships, rattles 
 his coppers, and tries, by extraordinary 
 methods, to get both hands into his one 
 pocket. 
 
 Often Harry turns coachman. Tom, 
 Dick, Fred, and Frank, are his horses. 
 Tom and Dick make one span ; Fred 
 and Frank, the other : Harry, of course, 
 drives. " Kl ! kl ! kl ! " says the driv- 
 er ; snap goes the whip, and away go 
 they all. The butcher's boy in his 
 
io Stories for Children. 
 
 nightgown frightens them, and they 
 kick. " Whoa — whoa — whoa," cries 
 the driver. They meet a wagon, and 
 such a smash-up ! A woman with a 
 basket of eggs, in fear for them, 
 screams, " Oh ! oh ! oh ! " A train of 
 cars frightens the horses, and they come 
 home on a gallop, steaming and pant- 
 ing. 
 
 Yes, — many are Harry's trades. 
 He's a school-teacher, and shakes his 
 little scholars quite out of their wits : 
 he's a minister, and preaches, to his 
 heart's content : he's a dentist, and op- 
 erates upon the cat's teeth. 
 
 When he has a mind to, Harry can 
 fight. He can " lick " John Nichols, 
 
Harry. 1 1 
 
 Sam Stoddard, and all the other little 
 boys on the street. By the by, Harry 
 and Sam had quite a little tussle the 
 other day. It happened thus : — 
 
 A poor girl, seven or eight years old, 
 came clattering along in a pair of old, 
 big shoes. Sam cried out, — 
 
 " Halloo, big-footed Polly ! how do 
 you do? how's your mother?" 
 
 The little girl began to cry ; but 
 Sam kept on. 
 
 " You stop that," said Harry. 
 
 " Shan't, 'less I want to ; none your 
 business," retorted Sam. 
 
 " It is some my business : you stop 
 
 it. 
 
 " I shan't. Halloo, big- footed Polly ! " 
 
12 Stories for Children. 
 
 Then Harry struck Sam, and Sam 
 struck back ; then they both struck, and 
 kept striking, till Sam scampered home 
 crying, — 
 
 " I'll tell my father of you, and he'll 
 lick you, he will, you old Harry." 
 
 Harry came home with a bleeding 
 nose, and with sore eyes, but without a 
 tear in them : he merely said, — 
 
 "Well; I've fixed that Sam Stod- 
 dard." 
 
 Harry is a musical man, and gives 
 out-door concerts for his own amuse- 
 ment, and for that of the neighors. His 
 instrument is a little fiddle, and, while 
 he plays, he sings, — 
 
Harry. 13 
 
 " Little Bo-peep 
 Has lost her sheep, 
 And can't tell where to find them : 
 
 Leave them alone, 
 
 And they'll come home, 
 Wagging their tails behind them, 
 Wagging their tails behind them." 
 
 He also sings " Ding, Dong, Bell," 
 and the adventures of Jack and Jill. He 
 likes to sing and play, and is now beg- 
 ging his father for a little hand-organ, 
 promising that he will be just as good 
 a boy as can be, and will play all the 
 time. 
 
 Next door to Harry lives little Susie 
 Ray. Susie is a very pretty girl, Harry 
 thinks, and he is fond of her, — very 
 fond of her. Why, the little creatures 
 have been married a dozen times ! They 
 
14 Stories for Children. 
 
 keep house, eat, drink, sleep together, 
 and tend the baby in a box in the back- 
 yard. When the baby is good, Harry 
 tends her ; but, as soon as she begins 
 to cry, Harry hands her to his faithful 
 Susie, saying, " My dear, the poor thing 
 wants you now." 
 
 This is Harry, — Harry, the boy; but 
 the boy with ever so much of the man 
 in him ; and sometime he's going to be 
 a man, he says. 
 
 This is Harry ; and these are stories 
 such as Harry likes. 
 
THE BEAR. 
 
 A BE and Ulysses had no business to 
 go up the mountain that summer 
 afternoon ; but they seized the oppor- 
 tunity, while their father and mother 
 were in Manchester on a visit, to do 
 what they had long wanted to do, — to 
 go trout-fishing. The boys lived half- 
 way up one of the Green Mountains, 
 and three miles from the village in 
 the valley. Their father, Mr. Waite, 
 was a farmer, and he had no children 
 except Abe and Ulysses, who were 
 twins. 
 
1 6 Stories for Children. 
 
 Away up on the top of the moun- 
 tain was a lake, out of which ran the 
 brook that flowed by Mr. Waite's 
 house, and finally joined with several 
 brooks from the mountain across the 
 valley to form Otter Creek. On this 
 brook stood a saw-mill, where every 
 autumn Mr. Waite sawed the logs he 
 had cut on the mountain the winter 
 before. 
 
 Twenty or thirty years ago, the 
 mountain was covered with large trees; 
 and the man who built the saw-mill 
 built, at the same time, out of great 
 logs, a gutter, or " shoot," in which to 
 send his timber down from the top of 
 the mountain to the mill. The shoot 
 
The Bear. 17 
 
 was of the shape of a wine butt, cut 
 open lengthwise ; it was two miles 
 long, and so steep that it didn't take a 
 log more than five minutes to go down. 
 Think of that, boys ! 
 
 Abe and Ulysses, as I told you, 
 had no business to go up the moun- 
 tain ; but near the house the brook had 
 been pretty well fished, and they wanted 
 to follow it up, to stay all night at the 
 log-house that had been built for the 
 wood-cutters, and, in the morning, to 
 fish around the edge of the pond. 
 
 They told Patrick, the hired man, 
 where they were going ; and, taking 
 some of mother's " goodies " from the 
 pantry, they started up the brook. Af- 
 
1 8 Stories for Children. 
 
 ter they had gone a little way, Abe 
 called out, — 
 
 " Lyss, suppose we should meet that 
 bear that Ben Bennett saw up here, last 
 winter?" 
 
 " Ho," said Lyss, " I don't believe 
 that he saw any bear ; besides, if we 
 should meet one, I know what I'd do." 
 
 " What ? " said Abe. 
 
 " Why, stand still ; and, when . he 
 came near, and opened his mouth to 
 bite, I'd push the butt-end of my fish- 
 pole down his throat, and that would 
 kill him : and then, if he didn't die 
 soon enough, I'd cut his throat with 
 my jack-knife." 
 
 " I should be scared," said Abe ; " I 
 
The Bear. 19 
 
 hope we shan't see him. I should run, 
 if he came after me." 
 
 The boys were now at the bottom of 
 the shoot, and, since it was easier to 
 fish standing in it, they got in, and 
 began to walk up. They carried their 
 basket of food by turns ; they fished in 
 every little pool, for a few minutes ; and 
 they had caught two large strings of 
 trout, before they reached the cabin. 
 
 The boys put their fish into the 
 brook to keep fresh, and then gathered 
 some leaves and twigs for a fire. Be- 
 fore long a fire was burning brightly, 
 and five or six trout were roasting on 
 forked sticks over it. With these as a 
 relish, they ate their bread and butter 
 
20 Stories for Children. 
 
 on the step of the cabin door, and 
 planned how to spend the money they 
 knew they could get for the trout from 
 the city boarders in the village. 
 
 After supper they put out their fire, 
 and climbed up the ladder into the 
 loft, where the wood-cutters slept in 
 winter. After brushing a clean place 
 on the floor, they carried up a lot of 
 grass to lie upon ; then they went 
 down and shut the door, and put a 
 chopping-block against it, — " to keep 
 out the bear," Abe said. This done, 
 they went upstairs to bed, and, tired 
 out with their walk, were soon asleep. 
 
 Next morning, the boys woke up 
 early. After eating their breakfast, they 
 
The Bear. 21 
 
 took their fish out of the brook, and 
 started for the lake, which could not, 
 they knew, be far off. As they went, 
 they began to think of what Ben Ben- 
 nett had told them, — how, when Ben 
 was going up the brook alone, the bear 
 suddenly came out of a thicket upon 
 him, and chased him so far that he ran 
 all the way down the mountain, in great 
 fright, vowing never to go up again 
 alone. 
 
 " Shouldn't you really be afraid," said 
 Abe, "if he should jump at us out of 
 that bush ?" 
 
 " Poh ! no ! " answered Lyss. " It 
 never seemed to me that David was so 
 very brave, because he killed the lion 
 and the bear." 
 
22 Stories for Children. 
 
 Lyss, nevertheless, looked, as he said 
 this, pretty hard at the bush ; and jumped 
 when, a minute later, a partridge that 
 they had started up flew off with a loud 
 whirr. All at once, Abe called out, — 
 
 " There he is ! " 
 
 " Where ? " said Lyss, quickly. 
 
 " Over there ! " 
 
 Sure enough, out of the bushes, 
 something, some animal, was coming 
 slowly towards them. Lyss didn't wait 
 to make a closer acquaintance, but 
 turned around, and ran, as fast as he 
 could, towards the shoot, tumbling 
 down, and losing his fish, on the way. 
 
 As Abe started to follow his brother, 
 he heard a great crackling of bushes 
 behind ; the animal was following him, 
 
The Bear. 23 
 
 at a run. The noise came nearer and 
 nearer, in spite of all Abe's efforts to 
 escape. He looked around and saw — 
 Farmer Benson's calf, which had strayed 
 away, and, glad to see a human being 
 again, was galloping down the path. 
 
 Abe stopped, picked up Lyss's fish, 
 and, driving the calf before him, went 
 through the woods home, where he 
 found his father and Patrick just start- 
 ing in search of him. 
 
 Lyss was heartily ashamed of his 
 cowardice ; and, when he saw Mr. Ben- 
 son pay Abe half a dollar for bringing 
 the calf home, he determined that he 
 would try to be a little more courageous 
 the next time he saw a bear. 
 
ROSE BUD'S STORY. 
 
 "/^OOD-MORNING, Rose Bud." 
 
 " Good-morning, Robin," an- 
 swered Rose Bud, with a pretty bow to 
 Robin, as he lighted upon the rose- 
 bush. 
 
 " What a pity it is," said Robin, " that 
 you have to stay in this garden all the 
 time, and can never see the lakes, the 
 tall pines, and the oaks, as I do." 
 
 " Oh ! " replied Rose Bud, " I have 
 seen more things, perhaps, than you 
 have. I have been all over the world, 
 and have lived in very many places. 
 
Rose Bud's Story. 25 
 
 Once I was an acorn, and lived in the 
 woods." 
 
 " Why, Rose Bud ! Do you mean 
 to say that you were once an acorn ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and if you will listen, I will 
 tell you all about it. 
 
 " When I was an acorn, I remember 
 how I hid under the leaves upon the 
 ground, and how glad I was to escape 
 the notice of boys who were hunting 
 after acorns. Getting tired of hiding, 
 and thinking that I should like to be 
 an oak-tree, I put forth little roots, be- 
 gan to grow, and kept on growing un- 
 til I became a great, tall oak. 
 
 " One day, in winter, some men came 
 into the woods ; and one of them, 
 
26 Stories for Children. 
 
 pointing to me, exclaimed : ' What 
 splendid ship-timber that oak will 
 make ! Let us cut it down, and sell it 
 to a ship-builder.' 
 
 " So, with their axes, they cut me 
 down, trimmed my branches, carried 
 me to a ship-yard, and sold me. The 
 ship-carpenters kept cutting and hew- 
 ing me until I became a strong beam, 
 and was put into the ship they were 
 building. For many years I was a 
 beam in that ship. I went all over the 
 world, and saw many wonderful things. 
 
 " One dark night there came a terri- 
 ble storm. The rain poured, the waves 
 roared, the wind blew, and the ship 
 rocked so fearfully that even the sailors 
 
Rose Bud's Story. 27 
 
 were frightened ; but the captain told 
 them that the ship was made of strong 
 timber, and that there was no danger, 
 unless she struck a rock. Soon after 
 he said this, the ship did strike a rock, 
 and was completely wrecked. I, with 
 the other beams, floated upon the water; 
 but the poor sailors, not being able to 
 float, were all drowned except one, who 
 clung to me, knowing that so large a 
 beam would bear him up, and that the 
 waves would carry us both safely to the 
 shore, not far distant. When we reached 
 the shore, he went away, very thankful 
 to have been saved. 
 
 " The next day a farmer, coming 
 down to the shore, espied me, and 
 said, — 
 
28 Stories for Children. 
 
 " ' Here is a stick of timber that has 
 been washed ashore. It is just what I 
 want for fire-wood.' 
 
 " Putting me in his wagon, he carried 
 me to his house in the country. There 
 he sawed me, and split me into small 
 sticks, and put me into the fire ; but I 
 was not afraid, for I knew that I should 
 not die, but should only be changed 
 into something else, just as I was 
 changed from an acorn into an oak- 
 tree. I was right, for I was changed 
 into ashes. 
 
 " While in the form of ashes, I heard 
 the lady of the house say that her rose- 
 bush did not grow at all ; that there 
 were no buds on it ; that it must be 
 
Rose Bud's Story. 29 
 
 hungry, and that she must give it 
 something to eat. Then I heard her 
 say that ashes were good food for the 
 rose-bush, and that she would give it 
 some ashes to eat, so that it might 
 grow faster, and make her some rose- 
 buds. 
 
 "Then she took me from the stove, 
 and, carrying me into the garden, put 
 me in the ground under this rose-bush. 
 Pretty soon, the roots of the rose-bush 
 found me, and pulled me up into the 
 bush, telling me not to be afraid, as 
 they would not kill me, but would only 
 change me into a beautiful rose-bud. 
 
 " So you see, dear Robin, that I was 
 first an acorn, then an oak, then ashes, 
 
30 Stories for Children. 
 
 and have just been changed into the 
 rose-bud you see. Just as you were 
 once a little egg, and were changed 
 into a robin. It is exactly the same 
 with every thing, Robin : not a single 
 thing is destroyed, or los,t ; not one that 
 is not changed into another thing." 
 
 Robin, who had been listening all 
 this time to the story of Rose Bud, 
 was greatly delighted to learn so much ; 
 and, after singing Rose Bud a song, 
 said good-by to her and flew away, a 
 wiser, if not a better, bird. 
 
JAMIE'S MICE. 
 
 TAMIE lived in a crowded street in 
 
 the city of S . He had never 
 
 been into the country for any length of 
 time, until he reached his eighth year. 
 In that year he made a long visit at 
 the house of his uncle Seth. There 
 he became very fond of the pleasant 
 country scenes that met his eye,,; — the 
 green fields, the woods, and the pretty 
 brooks that ran among the hills and 
 through the valleys of the farm ; 
 but he was most delighted with the 
 * live-stock," as the farmers call the 
 
32 Stories for Children. 
 
 horses, cattle, and other animals that 
 they raise. He liked nothing better 
 than to ride to mill on horseback, with 
 his cousin Jonas ; to help Harry, the 
 hired man, drive the oxen ; or to take a 
 basin of corn, and scatter it for the hens 
 and chickens, who used to come running 
 up from every direction, cackling, and 
 chattering, and making such a racket 
 that you would think that every one 
 was scolding, because the others were 
 eating so much as not to leave him 
 enough. 
 
 " I wish I had some animal for a 
 pet," said Jamie to his mother, not long 
 after his return from the farm. 
 
 " What should you like ? " asked his 
 
yamies Mice. 33 
 
 mother, who was glad to please her 
 children in all reasonable requests. 
 
 " I like a kitten best ; but you won't 
 let me have one." 
 
 " No," said she ; " your kittens always 
 have fits, or run away, or make me a 
 great deal of trouble by getting into 
 the pantry and stealing all they can lay 
 their paws upon ; but if you can think 
 of a pet that will not make trouble, and 
 that you can take care of easily, I'll let 
 you have it, perhaps." 
 
 Nothing more was said then : but 
 Jamie thought, and thought, all day; 
 and, as he lay in bed that night, he 
 almost wished that he could always 
 live on a farm, so as to have all the 
 
34 Stories for Children. 
 
 pets he wanted. Just as he was drop- 
 ping asleep, he heard a noise in the 
 wall. 
 
 " That's it," said Jamie, aloud to him- 
 self. " I'll have some mice. I'll get a 
 cage with the wires so close together 
 that they can't get out, if they try ever 
 so hard." 
 
 So he settled the matter in his mind ; 
 and, after deciding to set a trap the very 
 next morning, closed his eyes, and went 
 to sleep. 
 
 Next morning Jamie was up with the 
 sun, and lost no time in telling his plan 
 to his mother, whose consent was readily 
 given. The next thing was to get a 
 trap ; and Jamie remembered that he 
 
yamies Mice. 35 
 
 had seen one on a high shelf in the 
 attic one day when he was helping his 
 father hunt up some papers. 
 
 Upstairs he started, and soon came 
 down, trap in hand. Quickly baiting 
 it with toasted cheese, he set it in the 
 wood-shed, where the mice often ran 
 about. 
 
 When Jamie paid his last visit to 
 the trap, before going to bed, he found 
 the cheese still untouched. Either the 
 mice suspected danger, or they had 
 enough food in their nests for the rest 
 of the day. 
 
 The next morning early, he went, in 
 hot haste, to the wood-shed, and, — 
 " Hurrah ! I've caught em," he shouted. 
 
2,6 Stories for Children. 
 
 Sure enough, in the trap were two 
 mice, — cunning little fellows, with soft, 
 brown coats of fur, and bright, black 
 eyes. When they saw Jamie, they ran 
 into some little cubby-holes in the trap, 
 and hid all of themselves but their 
 backs and tails,- — thinking, perhaps, 
 after the fashion of ostriches, that, since 
 they could'nt see Jamie, Jamie could'nt 
 see them. 
 
 "See, father! I've caught two mice, 
 and they're just as pretty as can be," 
 exclaimed Jamie, as he rushed into the 
 kitchen, where his father was building 
 a fire for breakfast. 
 
 " So you have," said his father, look- 
 ing into the trap. " They will make 
 
y amies Mice. 37 
 
 very pretty pets ; and I'll give you some 
 money to buy them a cage. I am will- 
 ing you should keep them, — but on 
 one condition, — you must take good 
 care of them. Remember that they 
 can feel pain just as you can, and that 
 every day they will be hungry, just as 
 you are. When you eat your own 
 dinner, be sure that they don't go 
 hungry ; and never be too sleepy to 
 give them their supper." 
 
 So Mr. Smith gave his son money 
 enough to buy a good mouse-cage ; for, 
 though he was afraid that the mice 
 might do mischief, he wished Jamie, 
 who would one day be a man, and, per- 
 haps, own horses and cattle, to learn, 
 
38 Stories for Children. 
 
 while he was young, to take care of 
 animals, and be kind to them. 
 
 After breakfast, Jamie lost no time 
 in going to a hardware store in the 
 neighborhood. There he found such a 
 cage as he wanted. It was made of 
 tin, and painted green. Attached to 
 one side was a small wheel, which was 
 so large, and whirled so easily, that one 
 mouse could keep it moving. 
 
 When the mice had been taken from 
 the trap and put into the cage, they felt 
 less at home than before, and ran from 
 one side of the cage to another, in 
 search of a place to get out. Soon 
 one of them found his way into the 
 wheel, and, jumping up against the 
 
y amies Mice. 39 
 
 side, set it going. Pleased with this 
 kind of exercise, or thinking that, if he 
 kept moving long enough, he should 
 get out, the little fellow, to Jamie's 
 great delight, worked for a long time 
 in his tread-mill. 
 
 When Jamie became tired of watch- 
 ing him, he put some crumbs in the 
 trap, and set it away in a quiet place 
 where the mice could take a nap ; for 
 mice, like rats, bats, and owls, sleep 
 during the day, and spend the night in 
 running about and hunting for food. 
 
 Jamie set his trap again that evening, 
 and the next. At last, when he had 
 six mice in the cage, he put the trap 
 away, thinking that six were as many 
 
40 Stories for Children. 
 
 as the cage could well hold ; but the 
 number was increased, some weeks 
 afterwards, in a way that he did not 
 expect. 
 
 On going to the cage, one morning, 
 what was his surprise to find, in a warm 
 corner of the nest, four tiny mice ! 
 Queer little things they were ! Their 
 bodies were as bald and white as a 
 baby's head : they hadn't any eyes at 
 all ; but underneath the skin of each 
 head were two little black spots, and 
 Jamie's mother said that these would 
 some day be a pair of as good eyes 
 as ever kept sharp lookout for Pussy. 
 Jamie was, of course, highly pleased, 
 and took care that the nest should be 
 
y amies Mice. 41 
 
 warmly lined with cotton, for the bene- 
 fit of these new members of the family. 
 
 In time, the mice became quite tame, 
 and would eat bread from Jamie's fin- 
 gers. They seemed to be fond of mu- 
 sic, for they listened while he played on 
 the piano. The young mice grew up, 
 became as large as the old ones, and 
 looked so much like them that nobody 
 but Jamie could tell them apart. 
 
 It was now the last of June, and Jamie 
 was going, in July, on a long journey 
 with his father and mother and his sis- 
 ter Hattie. What was to be done with 
 the mice? Though unwilling to part 
 with them, Jamie, at last, made up his 
 mind to give them to one of his play- 
 
42 Stories for Children. 
 
 mates to keep ; but his father would 
 not consent to this, and hit upon another 
 plan. Jamie, who had long wanted 
 to celebrate the Fourth of July with 
 fireworks, as the big boys did, now 
 seemed old enough to be trusted with 
 these dangerous playthings : so his 
 father, after telling him how the noble 
 men who lived in this country years 
 ago became free on Independence Day, 
 promised that if Jamie would, on the 
 Fourth that was coming, open the 
 mouse-cage and let the little prisoners 
 go, he should have several bunches of 
 fire-crackers, and two boxes of torpe- 
 does. 
 
 Jamie was sorry to give up his pets ; 
 
y amies Mice. 43 
 
 but, having a great desire for the fire- 
 works, he agreed to his father's plan. 
 
 The Fourth of July came ; and Jamie, 
 after making a farewell speech to the 
 mice, — for he loved them like old 
 friends, — took the cage into the middle 
 of the back-yard, and opened the door. 
 At first, the little fellows didn't know 
 what to make of it. They went to the 
 door, peeped out, and then ran back, as 
 if afraid of the new and strange objects 
 they saw outside. At length, an old 
 one had the courage to run out a little 
 way ; and, seeming to relish his newly 
 found liberty, started for a fence just 
 outside the gate, — an example which 
 the others were not long in following. 
 
44 Stories for Children. 
 
 When all were gone, Jamie picked 
 up his cage and put it away. Then he 
 began to burn his fire-crackers and to 
 snap his torpedoes, all the more merrily 
 because he believed that his mice must 
 be happier than they were in the cage. 
 
SANTA CLAUS' DEER. 
 
 By James Crow, Esq. 
 
 " I'm a crow, as black as any crow can be ; 
 I live on an island in the deep, blue sea." 
 
 " TTOW the wind blows, mother ! " 
 said bright-eyed Susie. " Santa 
 Claus can't come to-night, can he ? " 
 
 "He comes wherever there is a warm 
 hearth and a merry heart. Kiss me 
 good-night now, darling, and go to 
 bed." 
 
 " Can't I wait for Ralph and father ? 
 There, I hear them coming." 
 
 " I pity the poor sheep, this cold 
 
46 Stories for Children. 
 
 night," said the father, as he came in, 
 shaking the snow from his feet. The 
 father of this happy family, let me tell 
 you, kept ever so many sheep on the 
 island. He was called a wool-grower. 
 
 " Susie," said Ralph, " I thought you 
 were going to bed so early." 
 
 " I want you to go, too ; for Santa 
 Claus never comes while little children 
 are awake. Come ; " and she gave her 
 brother a tug. 
 
 " There's Jim Crow," said Ralph ; 
 " Santa Claus brought him to me last 
 year ; I wonder what he will bring me 
 this time. You won't look, if you stay 
 here, will you, Jim?" 
 
 " Caw ! Caw ! " cried I. 
 
Santa Claus Deer. 47 
 
 " He says ' I won't,' " said Susie. 
 
 After kissing their father and mother, 
 Ralph and Susie trotted off to bed. 
 
 "This will be a poor Christmas, I 
 fear, for the children," said the father. 
 
 " Let us hope for the best, and try to 
 make the best of it," replied the mother, 
 cheerfully. 
 
 Then followed a long conversation in 
 an undertone, so low that I could not 
 make out any thing that was said, ex- 
 cept, — " Ralph," " Susie," " pumpkin- 
 pies," " doughnuts." 
 
 The wind continued to blow furi- 
 ously : it howled, it barked, it whistled, 
 it made all sorts of queer noises. How 
 glad I was that I had a roof over my 
 
48 Stories for Children. 
 
 head, and was so much better off than 
 other crows ! 
 
 " So Santa Claus brought me," I said 
 to myself. " I cannot imagine what sort 
 of a man he is ; but I guess, from what 
 these two 'chickabiddies,' Ralph and 
 Susie, have been saying for the last 
 three weeks, that he's a great, big, fat 
 fellow, as broad as he is long, all cov- 
 ered with fur, — with tiny eyes, just 
 big enough to see all good boys and 
 girls, but too small to see the bad ones. 
 I should like to get a look at him." 
 
 In such thoughts I forgot myself, till 
 I was aroused by the words: "Hush! 
 Patty dear, don't make such a noise ; 
 you will wake up the children." 
 
Santa Claus Deer. 49 
 
 All was still as a mouse. 
 
 " This must be Santa Claus and his 
 deer, Patty," I thought. I was tempted 
 to open my eyes ; but I had said that I 
 should not look, and even a crow must 
 keep his promise. 
 
 Presently, something went " Baa ! 
 Baa ! " very much like a real sheep ; 
 and then something went " Bow-wow ! " 
 very much like a dog. 
 
 " Be still," commanded Santa Claus ; 
 " it is not time to make a noise yet." 
 
 Such a hard time as Santa Claus had 
 in trying to stop that " Baa ! Baa ! " and 
 that " Bow-wow ! " I was almost obliged 
 by fright to cry out : but Patty, the deer, 
 laughed. It was a sweeter laugh than 
 
50 Stories for Children. 
 
 that of Santa Claus. I never heard a 
 deer laugh before ; but Santa Claus' 
 deer is a wonderful creature, in more 
 ways than one. Sometimes it mounts 
 the roof of a house, and rests there, 
 while Santa Claus goes down the chim- 
 ney. How it ever got over the rough 
 sea to the lonely place where we lived 
 was always a puzzle to me ; but Santa 
 Claus could do any thing, Susie said. 
 
 "Come, Patty, is there any thing 
 more?" said Santa Claus. 
 
 " One more doughnut in this stock- 
 ing," said Patty, in a sweet voice. Yes, 
 Santa Claus' deer talked. 
 
 11 That's enough," said its master, and 
 away they went. 
 
Santa Claus Deer. 51 
 
 I could resist no longer. I opened 
 my eyes just in time to see — what do 
 you suppose? — the tail of Santa Claus' 
 deer. 
 
 A little light was beginning to peep 
 through the window, when I heard a 
 noise overhead. 
 
 " Get up, Ralph," cried a voice, which 
 I knew to be Susie's. " It's daylight, 
 at last. I've been watching for it ever 
 so long. I heard Santa Claus down- 
 stairs." 
 
 "What are you talking about?" I 
 could just hear Ralph say. 
 
 " Merry Christmas ! It's time to get 
 up," was the answer. 
 
 To describe what followed is almost 
 
52 Stories for Children. 
 
 impossible for a matter-of-fact crow. 
 The children, coming into the room, 
 stood, for a moment, just inside the 
 door, with eyes so wide open ! Then 
 came "Oh!" "Oh!" "Oh!" "how 
 grand ! " " how pretty ! " 
 
 There, on a table, stood a small cedar- 
 tree, trimmed with doughnuts, ginger- 
 bread men and women, apples, and red 
 berries. At the top of the tree was a 
 paper angel, with silver wings, and 
 around the trunk was a lot of sea-moss, 
 with some shells. In one corner of the 
 room was a lambkin, with a blue ribbon 
 around its neck ; and in another corner, 
 a dog, just big enough to walk. 
 
 " I see what Santa Claus brought 
 
Santa Claus Deer. 53 
 
 me," cried Susie. "You dear little 
 thing, I love you ever so much." 
 
 "That dog is for me," said Ralph. 
 " Shan't we have lots of fun out on the 
 rocks, when the winter goes away ? " 
 
 " Baa ! Baa ! " cried the lamb. 
 
 " Bow-wow ! " barked the dog. 
 
 " Caw ! Caw 1 " shouted I, as much 
 from joy as from fright. 
 
 " Santa Claus is ever so good. So 
 many things as he brings me," said 
 Susie. " I knew he would come." 
 
 " Come, Susie," said Ralph, beckon- 
 ing. "You know." 
 
 " I almost forgot," replied Susie. 
 
 They went out of the room ; and, in 
 a minute, came back again with a large 
 
54 Stories for Children. 
 
 clam-shell, in which different little shells 
 were prettily arranged with sea-moss. 
 
 " Ralph and I made this, all by our- 
 selves," said Susie. " We thought it a 
 shame that Santa Claus should bring 
 us every thing, and forget all about 
 mother and father." 
 
 " It is beautiful," said the mother, as 
 she hugged her dear child. 
 
 " I never saw any thing like it," said 
 the father. " Patty," he added aside to 
 his wife, " did you ever see such chil- 
 dren ? " 
 
 " Patty 1 " said I to myself. " Patty ? 
 Where have I heard that name before ? 
 Strange ! Why, that was the name of 
 Santa Claus' deer." 
 
MAGGIE'S WALK. 
 
 TT was on a summer's afternoon that, 
 looking up from my work, I saw 
 Maggie standing before me, — the im- 
 age of weariness, — too miserable for 
 words, and almost too miserable for 
 tears. Her stock of enjoyment had 
 long been exhausted. Her indulgent 
 parents had showered upon her all the 
 gifts that money or pains could procure, 
 but she had lost her interest in them all. 
 The spot in which our little cottage 
 stood was one of the loveliest in New 
 England. On one side rose high moun- 
 
56 Stories for Children. 
 
 tains, down the rugged sides of which 
 trickled silvery brooks ; and, when from 
 the rocky summits the sun, at setting, 
 cast long shadows, one might often see 
 strange forms in relief, — sometimes a 
 broken sleigh, deserted by both horse 
 and driver, or with the driver in his 
 seat, and the horse ready to start. On 
 two other sides of the landscape were 
 deep pine woods, the more inviting 
 from their denseness. On the fourth 
 side stretched an almost endless ex- 
 panse of meadow-land, the monotony 
 of which was here and there relieved 
 by a narrow, winding stream, knotted 
 in places with small, irregularly shaped 
 ponds. 
 
Maggies Walk. 57 
 
 Exerting all my influence over Mag- 
 gie to draw her troubled thoughts into 
 a pleasant channel, I told her that, in 
 the depths of the woods near us, lived 
 little beings, of whom she had never 
 even dreamed ; — of whom some had 
 their frolics in the tree-tops, and some 
 swam the brooks, and then dried their 
 emerald skins in the sun. 
 
 By little and little, the child's eyes 
 grew brighter, the tears ceased to flow, 
 and she became eager to see the won- 
 ders of the woods. So we went, hand 
 in hand, and soon reached the opening 
 of a dark path, which we entered, leav- 
 ing behind us the old world, of which 
 my little companion was so weary. 
 
58 Stories for Children. 
 
 Basket in hand, we went, prepared 
 to bring away from the wood some- 
 thing beside pleasant recollections. We 
 had not gone far, when across our 
 path glided a creature new to Maggie. 
 It moved as if it were making the 
 initial letter of its own name ; and, 
 as it climbed a grassy mound, which 
 formed a sort of lawn before its dwell- 
 ing, it displayed to us a scarlet rib- 
 bon, which, contrasted with the dark 
 brown upon its back, made it a beau- 
 tiful little creature. Seeing it, after 
 passing between two hedges of trum- 
 pet-moss, enter its house, we felt curi- 
 ous to look in. So we gently removed 
 some old battlements of bark from 
 
Maggies Walk. 59 
 
 one side, and saw, lying warm and 
 snug beneath their mother's coils, a 
 family of fifteen tiny red and brown be- 
 ings, whose only greeting was a charge 
 of little forked tongues, which they 
 thrust out and drew in with such quick- 
 ness that it was hard to make out their 
 shape. Restoring the battlements, which 
 we had taken care not to demolish, we 
 left the happy family, unmolested. 
 
 Maggie was next reminded of an old 
 friend by seeing the letter W, written 
 over and over again in silken threads 
 that stretched between the branches of 
 a low bush, and were supported by the 
 most delicate framework. We knew 
 that here, too, must be an owner and 
 
60 Stories for Children. 
 
 an occupant ; and we did not have to 
 wait long for his appearance. He was 
 dressed — as never knight or prince 
 was dressed — all in black velvet and 
 gold. After casting what seemed an 
 indignant look at us, he examined his 
 castle, repaired some injuries made by 
 time, strengthened the weakest parts, 
 and withdrew. 
 
 It seemed as if wonders would never 
 cease in this enchanted wood. Mag- 
 gie's eyes had now acquired a peculiar 
 keenness, and soon they spied what 
 mine had not discovered, — a fierce fel- 
 low, terrible for his size, who carried, 
 not in his hands, but fastened to his 
 tail, a giant spear, at least three times 
 
Maggies Walk. 61 
 
 his length. This spear had a sheath, 
 which parted in halves, when the weap- 
 on was in use. With it the monster 
 was busily at work upon a half-fallen 
 tree, flapping his ugly wings, now and 
 then, as if to challenge us to a closer 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Leaving the fellow at work, we fol- 
 lowed the course of a stony brook till 
 we came to a place where it emptied 
 into a grassy morass ; and here we saw 
 things almost beyond description. I 
 will tell you about some of them only, 
 — about a settlement of little imps 
 of every size, and of several differ- 
 ent shapes. Some had long tails, 
 which they used, now as rudders, now 
 
62 Stories for Children. 
 
 as paddles, their odd bodies having 
 neither legs, nor arms, nor fins ; others 
 had shorter tails and a pair of very 
 powerful hind legs, but only two curi- 
 ous openings where the front legs 
 should have been. Presently happened 
 what you won't believe, I fear. We 
 had been watching one of the two- 
 legged imps for some time, when, sud- 
 denly, from one of the holes near the 
 head shot forth a leg, whereupon his 
 impship became dizzy and lost his bal- 
 ance ; but soon, a leg sprouting on the 
 other side, he recovered himself. 
 
 The last of the many wonders we 
 found in this fairy wood made upon 
 Maggie's mind a stronger impression 
 
Maggies Walk. 63 
 
 than any thing else ; and, perhaps, it 
 may interest you, too. We were sit- 
 ting upon a large, mossy rock, close 
 to a spreading walnut-tree, and wish- 
 ing that the nuts were ripe, when 
 Maggie's quick eyes again espied a 
 movement among some leaves near 
 us. On parting the thick cluster, we 
 found a long, light-green creature, 
 which you would hardly call a fairy, 
 or an imp : its movements were too 
 slow for either imp or fairy; yet it 
 had marks of beauty, which, in a creat- 
 ure of different form, would have ex- 
 cited admiration. It moved upon a 
 double row of feet, eight on each side ; 
 and only moved in order to gain a 
 
6\ Stories for Children. 
 
 position more convenient for devour- 
 ing another leaf. 
 
 It being clear that we must stay 
 many days in the wood to learn all 
 the ways of our new friend, we de- 
 cided to gather a supply of leaves, and 
 to take him home. It was now grow- 
 ing dark; even Maggie's eyes could 
 no longer detect new marvels, and her 
 little feet were beginning to weary ; 
 so we turned our steps homeward, 
 and reached the house long after 
 Maggie's mother had begun to feel 
 alarmed by her little girl's absence. 
 
 We had not filled our baskets ; but 
 we felt that we had close at hand better 
 Zoological Gardens than London can 
 
Maggies Walk. 65 
 
 boast ; and we did bring home our 
 treasure, the green glutton from the 
 walnut-tree. I call him a glutton, be- 
 cause he proved himself worthy of the 
 name. For three weeks, we supplied 
 him daily with fresh leaves, which he 
 seemed to be constantly devouring, 
 night and day. 
 
 One morning Maggie came running 
 to me, and, with tears in her eyes, told 
 me that her dear green glutton was 
 going to die, for he would take no 
 food. Hastening to see what the mat- 
 ter was, I found that the glutton had, 
 in truth, turned saint, and was fasting. 
 This was not all. He had turned his 
 energies to a useful pursuit, — he was 
 
 s 
 
66 Stories for Children. 
 
 weaving ; yes, he was weaving, in the 
 corner of his cage, some silken threads, 
 which gradually took the shape of an 
 egg. With the greatest industry, he 
 had in two days enclosed himself in 
 a cell so strong that you could not 
 tear it, and so firmly woven that the 
 winds of winter could not injure it. 
 In this cell the reformed glutton re- 
 mained, fasting as never saint or her- 
 mit fasted. 
 
 When we returned to our city home, 
 at the close of the summer, we carried 
 with us our monk, cell and all. He 
 passed the entire winter in conceal- 
 ment, not even leaving his retreat at 
 the season when other monks, all the 
 
Maggies Walk. 67 
 
 world over, are merry, — not even join- 
 ing in the Christmas festival. 
 
 Not till spring was deepening into 
 summer, and our thoughts were again 
 wandering in green fields and en- 
 chanted woods, did a change come 
 over him. Looking one day at the 
 hermitage, we found a breach in 
 the hitherto impervious walls, and a 
 broad entrance-way wide open. On a 
 pink rose, that exhaled its fragrance 
 near by, sat enthroned a creature that 
 I think you would have called a fairy. 
 Its wings were like green gauze, and 
 were adorned with transparent eye- 
 spots ; and upon its body seemed to 
 blush with pride a down, softer than 
 
68 Stories for Children. 
 
 ever princess, human or fairy, reposed 
 her head upon. 
 
 Is Maggie weary of life now, and 
 can her friends devise no pleasures for 
 her? Come and see. 
 
CHICKEN'S MISTAKE. 
 
 "lV/TY dear," said Mrs. Hen to 
 Chicken Plump, her son, " I 
 fear you're eating too much." 
 
 " Oh no ! " returned the saucy chick ; 
 " I know how much my crop will 
 hold." 
 
 " Cluck ! Cluck ! my son, you forget 
 how young you are. Why, you began 
 to peep only four months ago. Now 
 you are quite a chicken, to be sure ; 
 but don't think, because your comb is 
 beginning to sprout, that you know 
 more than your elders. We, who have 
 
70 Stories for Children. 
 
 picked and scratched for years, have 
 picked up wisdom ; and chickens like 
 you should heed what we say." 
 
 " Oh dear ! " grumbled chick : " I never 
 can do any thing right. When I pecked 
 Coquet this morning for getting all the 
 oats, you pounced upon me like a 
 hawk, and nearly pecked my head off. 
 I can never get on the barn-yard gate 
 to flap my wings and crow, without 
 your cackling, ' That's father's place ; 
 you'd better keep where you belong.' 
 And now you say I'm growing too fat. 
 What's the use — please tell me — of 
 keeping as thin as a feather, when 
 there's so much nice grain scattered 
 about ? " 
 
Chickens Mistake. 71 
 
 11 You forget," answered Mrs. Hen, 
 " that that's the farmer's way to fatten 
 you for next Thanksgiving. That 
 dreadful day isn't far off; and if you 
 will be a glutton, you will certainly 
 lose your head. Look at me ! For 
 six years I've governed my appetite, 
 and here I am. They call me the 
 tough old speckled hen ; but what of 
 that? I'd rather be tough and alive, 
 than tender and roasted. Take your 
 mother's advice : remember that mod- 
 erate eating and a long life are better 
 than gluttony and a hot oven ! " 
 
 Impatient of so much wisdom, Chick- 
 en ran off to the sty, where he found 
 his friend Neb, the pig. 
 
72 Stories for Children. 
 
 " Ha, Neb," cried he, "you lazy thing! 
 Why don't you bestir yourself, instead 
 of dozing here all day, with such a dirty 
 face ? " 
 
 "Stir myself!" exclaimed Neb; 
 " that's not easily done. Somehow, my 
 legs are getting too small for me." 
 
 " I might give you a little advice, 
 but that's not in my line : you'd bet- 
 ter talk with my mother, Mrs. Hen. 
 She'd tell you to stop eating, if you 
 don't want to be stuffed and roasted 
 next Thanksgiving day : that's the way 
 she talks to me." 
 
 " Stuffed ! " repeated Neb, with an 
 angry twinkle in his little gray eyes. 
 " Such stuff will do for half-fledged 
 
Chickens Mistake. 73 
 
 chickens ; but for me, — why, I'm worth 
 my weight in corn, yes, fifty times as 
 much. Don't you see how the farmer 
 fills my trough, every day, with good 
 things? and how' pleased he is when I 
 eat well ? Don't that prove that he's 
 not going to kill me ? " 
 
 " Of course," said Chicken, gayly. 
 " Guess we know what's what : but 
 there's the farmer. Hope you'll have 
 a good dinner." 
 
 So Chicken and Neb went on eat- 
 ing and enjoying themselves till, one 
 dark morning, Chicken was aroused 
 by a terrible squeal. He flew from 
 his perch, and ran into the yard. 
 There was poor Neb, lying dead, — 
 
74 Stories for Children. 
 
 the butcher standing near him, with 
 a great knife in his hand. 
 
 Chicken, terribly frightened at the 
 sight, ran to hide under a rock. 
 
 " What if I should be mistaken ? " 
 thought he. " I wish " — 
 
 Can you guess, little folks, what he 
 wished? 
 
 Whatever it was, it came too late: 
 he was roasted for the next Thanks- 
 giving dinner. 
 
ABOUT THE STARS. 
 
 /^\NE night when Corinne and my- 
 ^^^ self were taking a walk, the stars 
 shone so brightly as to attract my little 
 friend's attention. She stopped walk- 
 ing, and, turning her face upward, 
 gazed at them a long time. As we 
 went on, she did not say a word, but 
 seemed to be puzzling her head with 
 some difficult question. 
 
 " Uncle John," at last she burst 
 out, "who lights up the stars every 
 night? " 
 
 While I was thinking what answer 
 to make, Corinne said, — 
 
76 Stories for Children. 
 
 " Oh, I know ! God goes around just 
 as soon as it gets dark, and lights 
 them all up. He has to go pretty fast, 
 doesn't he? " 
 
 Another little girl thought that there 
 were holes in the sky, and that the light 
 shone through. She always prayed 
 most earnestly when the stars were 
 out, feeling sure that her prayers would 
 get through some of the holes. 
 
 Now, my little friends, I am going to 
 try to answer a few of the questions 
 that chase one another up and down 
 your busy brains. What does make 
 the stars shine? and why do they shine 
 only at night? 
 
 We will talk about the last question 
 
About the Stars. 77 
 
 first. Some day, when the sun shines, 
 ask your mother to light a lamp and 
 put it in the middle of the room : then 
 run out of doors, and you will find that 
 the windows of the lighted room look 
 just like the other windows of the 
 house. In the evening, look again at 
 the windows, and you will see some of 
 them dark and others light. In the 
 daytime, the sun puts out the light of 
 the lamp. In the same way, the stars 
 are put out in the daytime, and shine 
 at night. All day long they are in 
 their places ; but you can't see them, 
 because the sunlight is so much 
 brighter. 
 
 Now, what makes the stars shine? 
 
78 Stories for Children. 
 
 They are on fire, — most of them. They 
 are many times larger than the earth 
 we live on, and yet they are all on fire. 
 Don't you think you could see this 
 earth a long way off, if it were burn- 
 ing? Perhaps some wise little head 
 wonders why the stars are not brighter, 
 if they are so much larger than this 
 earth, and are burning : but how far 
 off do you think they are ? 
 
 It will be difficult for me to give you 
 an idea of the distance ; and you must 
 watch every word I say. 
 
 If there were any people away off 
 where the farthest stars are, they could 
 see, after dark, our sun as a speck in 
 the sky, looking like one of the stars 
 
About the Stars. 79 
 
 you will see to-night ; and, if we were 
 as near Sirius (one of the stars) as we 
 are to the sun, Sirius would give us 
 just as much light: instead of twink- 
 ling faintly, he would be so bright that 
 we could not look at him steadily any 
 more than we can at the sun. 
 
 Shall we make a journey to the sun ? 
 Suppose we go by rail, and start to- 
 morrow. We will ask the engineer to 
 run his train as fast as he can, and not 
 to stop till he arrives. Summer and 
 winter have come and gone ; one whole 
 year we have been riding ; and yet the 
 sun seems as far off as ever. We keep 
 on riding ; and the years go by. You 
 little folks have become grown men 
 
80 Stories for Children. 
 
 and women ; and still the train does 
 not stop. You are all gray-headed now, 
 and yet the engineer says that our jour- 
 ney is but just begun. If it takes many 
 more years, we shall all die, and never 
 reach the sun at all. But suppose we 
 live as long as we wish to : on, on, on, 
 we ride till we are one hundred and 
 fifty years old, two hundred, three hun- 
 dred and fifty. At last, our journey 
 is ended. We have been travelling 
 nearly three hundred and fifty years, 
 five times as long as any of you, my 
 little friends, are likely to live ; and yet 
 we have only reached our sun, — the 
 nearest star. 
 
BERTIE'S DREAM. 
 
 "DERTIE was lying in a hammock 
 on the piazza, thinking of the 
 stories that his sister had been read- 
 ing to him. He had tried to study; 
 but, the day being hot and sultry, he 
 had thrown aside his book, and gone 
 out on the piazza. As he swung in his 
 hammock, his sister read to him about 
 a beautiful part of the world, called 
 Switzerland. In that country there are 
 a great many mountains so high that 
 they rise far up out of the heat to 
 where it is windy and cold, — so cold 
 
82 Stories for Children. 
 
 that no plants grow, and that the only 
 animals to be seen are deer of a kind 
 which the cold does not harm. As it 
 keeps snowing and freezing, the ice 
 grows deeper and deeper until it be- 
 gins to slide down the side of the 
 mountain in shining streams, called 
 glaciers, which, when melted in the 
 warm country below, change to brooks 
 and rivers. These ice-streams are very 
 beautiful and wonderful ; and the book 
 Bertie's sister had been reading was 
 full of stories about bold travellers and 
 hunters who had gone up on the high 
 rocks and among the dangerous fields 
 of snow. 
 
 Still swinging in his hammock, Ber- 
 
Bertie s Dream. 83 
 
 tie looked across the country, dry and 
 dusty in the heat, to a pretty hill which 
 rose up from among the woods, and 
 thought : " I wish I could go away 
 from here up to some place where it is 
 cool and snowy. I wonder if that hill 
 is very high. I have been up there, 
 but it is not very cold, and there is no 
 snow. I wish it was as high as the 
 hills Elsie read about." 
 
 Next morning, Bertie looked out, as 
 usual, to see the beautiful, waving 
 woods, with the morning sunlight upon 
 them. He could always see a little of 
 the hill above the trees ; but this 
 morning he saw more of it than 
 ever before. " Perhaps the trees have 
 
84 Stories for Children. 
 
 grown shorter in the night," thought 
 he. 
 
 Strangely enough, the hill rose high- 
 er every day, and farther above the 
 trees ; and Bertie clapped his hands for 
 joy one morning, as he thought, — 
 
 " Perhaps the hill is really growing 
 higher ! I will wait until it is as high 
 as one of the Alps ; and then, some hot 
 day, I'll go up into the cold ! " 
 
 The hill, still rising and rising, grew 
 sharper and steeper ; and the trees on 
 the summit changed from green to red, 
 and from red to brown. One night, the 
 sky was red, and the air was thick with 
 smoke ; and, next day, the hill was 
 black and bare. Steep, gray rocks 
 
Bertie s Dream. 85 
 
 soon grew through the round hill-top ; 
 and one cool morning, after a thunder- 
 storm, the top was all white with snow. 
 
 After this snow came, Bertie, when- 
 ever he was troubled by the heat and 
 dust and work of the day, used to 
 comfort himself with thinking that he 
 would soon go up and rest in the clean, 
 soft snow ; but, feeling rather lazy in 
 the warm weather, he never quite got 
 ready to start. 
 
 One day, Bertie went down to take 
 a bath in the stream which flowed 
 through the woods just beyond the 
 lawn. Plunging in from a rock, as 
 usual, he was surprised at finding the 
 water as cold as ice. It chilled him so 
 
86 Stories for Children. 
 
 thoroughly that he could neither stand 
 nor swim, and was carried, struggling, 
 down the stream ; at the same time, 
 the water rilled his ears, and he seemed 
 to hear little voices saying, — 
 
 " He wished the hill to grow, and 
 was not satisfied : now it is high, and 
 he sleeps at home. Let us chill him. 
 Let us scrape him on this rock. He 
 would not seek us above: let us toss 
 him down this fall ; let us spin him 
 around; and now let us leave him — " 
 
 Bewildered, Bertie found himself ly- 
 ing on a bed of rushes on the bank. 
 He hastily put on his clothes, and, 
 being afraid to stay any longer with 
 the brook, ran home. All day he 
 
Bertie s Dream. 87 
 
 thought of what the voices in the 
 brook had said to him ; and he re- 
 solved that he would really go up the 
 mountain in the morning. 
 
 Before breakfast, accordingly, Ber- 
 tie stole softly out of the house, and 
 walked on through the woods, wonder- 
 ing, as he went, whether the two shin- 
 ing, white stripes that he had seen 
 running down the side of the mountain 
 could really be glaciers, like those his 
 sister had read of. 
 
 The woods were cool and dark so 
 early in the morning, and he found no 
 difficulty in walking fast. Coming to 
 the foot of the hill, he stopped to eat 
 blueberries, and rested for a while by 
 
88 Stories for Children. 
 
 the side of a pretty waterfall ; but soon 
 a cold jet of water falling on his neck 
 warned him to hasten, while the brook 
 ran on, rippling as though it enjoyed 
 the joke. 
 
 After clambering for some time over 
 old, fallen trunks of trees, Bertie left 
 the forest, and came out on the bare 
 side of the hill, now become a moun- 
 tain ; and here what a wonderful sight 
 he saw! Far above him, the moun- 
 tain was white with snow ; and from 
 the great drifts a long stream of ice 
 reached down, — light green on the 
 crests of the jagged and curving waves, 
 deep blue between, and all glittering 
 in the sunlight. 
 
Bertie s Dream. 89 
 
 At this long-wished-for sight, Bertie 
 uttered a cry of joy, and ran eagerly 
 on till he reached the edge of the ice, 
 where boiled up several springs, which 
 sent their foaming waters down the 
 rocks. Here Bertie would willingly 
 have rested ; but something in the 
 murmur of the water seemed to forbid 
 this, and he began to climb over the 
 ice. 
 
 He struggled on manfully for a long 
 time, although, on all sides, yawned ter- 
 ribly deep caverns between the waves 
 of ice. At length, he came to a long 
 field of snow, up which he plodded 
 laboriously, sinking to his knees at 
 every step, until he saw a great cliff 
 
90 Stories for Children. 
 
 before him that seemed to rise directly 
 out of the snow. Looking at its frown- 
 ing face, he felt certain that he could 
 never climb to the top ; looking back 
 towards his home, he saw, to his sur- 
 prise, nothing but a huge, white cloud, 
 which was slowly moving up the moun- 
 tain, and hiding rock after rock. A 
 chill pierced his very bones ; he turned, 
 and was hastening down the mountain, 
 when he was thrown over bv a blast 
 of wind, — a roaring, freezing wind, that 
 seemed to hold him on the ground, 
 while flakes of snow stung his flesh, 
 like red-hot needles. He struggled to 
 his feet, and took a few more steps in 
 the darkness. Presently, he thought 
 
Bertie s Dream. 91 
 
 he heard the rushing of a brook ; he 
 tried to crawl towards it, but suddenly 
 sank in the snow, and seemed to fall. 
 
 Bertie remembered nothing more 
 until he found himself lying in a cav- 
 ern with walls of ice, through which 
 glimmered a faint, blue, light. Above 
 him on a throne of rock was sitting one 
 of the queerest old men you can imag- 
 ine. He was nearly bald, and what little 
 hair he had was snow-white ; his eyes 
 were very large, and, on looking into 
 them, you seemed to see a wide coun- 
 try with forests, hills, and rivers. His 
 shoulders were clothed in a mantle of 
 Avhite, through which appeared, here 
 and there, a gray under-garment ; and 
 
92 Stories for Children. 
 
 the lower part of his body was covered 
 with a variegated robe of green and 
 brown. His arms were bare, and very 
 hard and white near the shoulders ; 
 lower down, they were continually 
 changing their form ; and the hands 
 seemed to mingle with a stream of 
 water that was flowing along the floor 
 of the cavern. 
 
 " Bertie," said the old man, " you let 
 your mountain grow too high. If you 
 had left off sleeping that day, when 
 you were so hot and tired, you might, 
 with little trouble, have reached the 
 top. Remember never to dream about 
 what you desire ; but try to deserve it 
 by work. Laziness wishes too much, 
 
Bertie s Dream. 93 
 
 and makes its wishes excuses for doing 
 nothing. 
 
 " I am the Spirit of the Mountain. 
 Formerly, I was mighty ; and many 
 proud rivers owned me as their lord ; 
 but my glaciers dwindled away long 
 ago, and my only remaining servant is 
 your friend, the brook. I am bent with 
 age. For a thousand years, I had not 
 seen my former friends, nor signalled 
 them the rising of the sun ; but, once 
 in a thousand years, we regain our for- 
 mer beauty and strength. This is my 
 day. It is nearly done : farewell." 
 
 The voice rumbled through the cav- 
 ern, growing fainter and fainter, until it 
 sounded like the pattering of rain-drops 
 
94 Stories for Children. 
 
 on the piazza ; and Bertie awoke, with 
 a start, to hear his sister say, — 
 
 " Come, Bertie ; you haven't learned 
 your Sunday-school lesson, have you ? " 
 
BUMBLE'S FIRST DAY AT WORK. 
 
 B 
 
 UMBLE was a fine young bee. 
 He lived next to a large field 
 of clover, in a nest under a stone wall, 
 and he wore an elegant suit of black 
 and yellow, of which he was very proud 
 indeed. He was about a month old, 
 when, one morning, much to his sur- 
 prise, he was summoned to the pres- 
 ence of the queen. 
 
 He went immediately to the queens 
 chamber, where she sat in great splen- 
 dor, surrounded by her ministers and 
 public servants, — all very grave per- 
 
g6 Stories for Children. 
 
 sons, — who took no notice of Bumble. 
 Bumble knew that they were the wisest 
 and the most celebrated bees in the 
 queendom : but, nevertheless, he did 
 not feel at all afraid of them ; for, be- 
 ing one of the queen's own subjects, he 
 knew that he had as good a right to 
 be there as they had. So he waited 
 till the queen's notice was attracted to 
 him ; and then, bowing very low before 
 the throne, awaited the royal com- 
 mands. 
 
 At a signal from the queen, the 
 prime minister proceeded to read to 
 Bumble a long paper, full of hard 
 words. Of these he understood enough 
 to make out that he was now, accord- 
 
Bumbles First Day at Work. 97 
 
 ing to the ancient custom of the realm, 
 old enough to enter into the service of 
 the queen ; that he was, that very day, 
 to sally forth to gather honey and wax ; 
 and that he should, thenceforth, bear 
 the high and noble title, Q. H. G., which 
 means " Queen's Honey Gatherer." 
 
 " I will not waste my time on that 
 old clover," thought the silly, conceited 
 bee. " I will go to the garden I passed 
 yesterday, and will nip the largest and 
 gayest flowers that grow. In this way 
 I shall get more honey than the others 
 will, I'm sure, and shall win myself a 
 great reputation." 
 
 So saying, he started quite in. the 
 opposite direction from the other bees, 
 
98 Stories for Children. 
 
 who went soberly arid industriously to 
 the clover-field. 
 
 It being quite late when he arrived 
 at the garden, Bumble resolved to 
 make up for lost time by immediately 
 choosing the brightest flowers to be 
 seen. So he buzzed around among 
 the red and the yellow dahlias, the 
 great double roses, and the showy blos- 
 soms of the snow-ball tree, but found 
 them all dry and tasteless. 
 
 After spending several hours in this 
 way, Bumble stopped to rest under the 
 cool shade of a sorrel leaf, while he 
 tried to determine what to do next, — 
 his honey-bag hanging empty, though 
 the sun was high in the heavens. 
 
Bumbles First Day at Work. 99 
 
 " O dear ! what can be the mat- 
 ter?" thought Bumble. " I'm sure I've 
 worked hard all the morning, and I'm 
 just as tired as can be. I mean to ask 
 that butterfly over there." 
 
 " Hallo ! Butterfly, what's the luck ? 
 How much honey have you got? 
 Where is all the honey in this gar- 
 den ? " 
 
 " I don't know any thing about such 
 things ; I'm a gentleman of leisure," 
 replied the butterfly, "and my name 
 is Mr. Butterfly, if you please." 
 
 " Don't put on airs," retorted Bum- 
 ble, thrusting out his sting ; " I won't 
 stand it." 
 
 "What will you do about it, vul- 
 
ioo Stories for Children. 
 
 gar creature ? " exclaimed the butterfly. 
 " Come on ; I'm ready for you." 
 
 No sooner were these words said 
 than they rushed at each other with 
 such fury that Bumble fell to the 
 ground at the first shock. Recovering 
 himself, he went at the butterfly again, 
 this time with more caution : but 
 though he found it easy to dodge the 
 butterfly, who could not easily turn his 
 large wings, it was more difficult to 
 attack him with success. After several 
 skirmishes, the combatants grappled 
 for the second time, and Bumble lost 
 one of his legs. 
 
 His strength now began to give out ; 
 and, as the butterfly kept on chas- 
 
Bumbles First Day at Work. 101 
 
 ing him without mercy, he became 
 alarmed. 
 
 " If I lose one of my wings," thought 
 he, " I am lost." 
 
 While making these reflections, he 
 flew more slowly ; but, before he could 
 turn to fly under the butterfly, as he 
 tried to do, his right wing was firmly 
 grasped by the mouth of his terrible 
 pursuer. 
 
 " All is lost ! " thought Bumble, in 
 despair, when — just in the nick of 
 time — he heard footsteps and a child's 
 voice crying out, — 
 
 " O Laura, Laura, come and see this 
 beautiful butterfly ! I'll catch him under 
 my hat." 
 
102 Stories for Children. 
 
 The butterfly instantly dropped the 
 wing of his victim, and fled ; and Bum- 
 ble was only too glad to escape in the 
 opposite direction. 
 
 As he was faint with hunger and 
 fatigue, and as the stump of his leg 
 gave him great pain, Bumble was forced 
 to give up all thoughts of further work 
 that day, and to start for home. He 
 could hardly bring himself to appear 
 before his fellow-bees in such a plight, 
 but there was no help for it ; besides, 
 he could not have reached the clover 
 without passing the nest. So he made 
 the best of his way home. 
 
 Poor Bumble ! You can imagine 
 how ashamed he felt, and how severely 
 
Bumbles First Day at Work. 103 
 
 he was punished for his wilfulness and 
 conceit. He was only too glad to crawl 
 off to his cell, and thus to escape the 
 laughter that greeted his crest-fallen 
 appearance. It was long before the 
 wits of the hive gave up cracking jokes 
 and telling stories about " Bumble's 
 first day at work." 
 
BRONCO. 
 
 V\7"HEN Arthur Murray was nine 
 years old, he was living in the 
 country, about twenty miles from a 
 large city. His home was up among 
 the hills ; and every morning he rode 
 down to the village school on his Shet- 
 land pony. 
 
 On Arthur's ninth birthday, his fa- 
 ther said that he was growing so fast 
 that he would, in three years, be too 
 heavy for the pony. So his father 
 made Arthur a present of a colt, only 
 a few days old, that was running in the 
 
Bronco. 105 
 
 field with its mother. The little fel- 
 low, with his thin legs and bushy tail, 
 looked so weak, by the side of his big 
 mother, that Arthur thought he would 
 never be strong enough to carry any- 
 body on his back ; but Arthur's father 
 told him that, before he had had three 
 more birthdays, the colt would be able 
 to carry Uncle John and Arthur too. 
 
 Arthur was very happy with his new 
 present. The first thing he did was to 
 see Uncle John and ask him to break 
 in the colt as soon as he was old 
 enough. Uncle John promised to do 
 this, but said that Arthur must make 
 the colt as gentle as possible, so that 
 afterwards he might be more obedient. 
 
106 Stories for Children. 
 
 Arthur tried very hard to do what 
 his uncle desired. He went into the 
 field every morning before school, and 
 every afternoon as soon as school was 
 out, and coaxed the colt's mother with 
 lumps of sugar; but every time he 
 tried to put his arms around the little 
 fellow's neck, the old mother pushed 
 him away with her nose, as much as to 
 say : " I know you are going to take my 
 baby by and by, but, until he is big 
 enough to carry you, you must let me 
 have him to love, all by myself." The 
 little colt, too, soon knew what his 
 mother meant, and, whenever Arthur 
 entered the field, became so lively, 
 jumping about and kicking up his 
 
Bronco. 107 
 
 heels with such vigor, that Arthur 
 couldn't get near him. 
 
 Arthur was, however, so patient, and 
 gave the mother so many lumps of 
 sugar, that, at last, one morning, he 
 actually succeeded in patting the colt. 
 When he started to go home that day, 
 they both followed him to the fence, 
 and, as they looked over it, seemed to 
 tell him that henceforth they would be 
 his good friends, and that he could 
 come and see them as often as he 
 pleased. 
 
 During the next six months Arthur 
 spent all his spare time with his new 
 pet, which he called Bronco, — a name 
 that the Spaniards give to a horse 
 
108 Stories for Children. 
 
 which is wild and frisky. He made a 
 pretty little bridle of cloth for Bronco 
 to wear in the field ; and soon Bronco 
 consented to carry, every night and 
 every morning, a light saddle which 
 Arthur's father had given him. 
 
 Bronco had now become so used to 
 Arthur that he would let him do almost 
 any thing, would wait for him at the 
 fence, morning and evening, and would 
 follow him across the field back to the 
 fence, as if to bid him good-by. Indeed, 
 Arthur and Bronco became so fond of 
 each other, that Arthur often cut short 
 his games at school, and ran home to 
 play with his dear colt. Bronco would 
 lift up one foot after another to shake 
 
Bronco. 1 09 
 
 hands with Arthur : Arthur would run 
 against Bronco, and try to push him 
 over, or would throw his arms around 
 his neck, and try to pull him to the 
 ground. Sometimes, they played tag : 
 Bronco ran after Arthur and seized his 
 arm in his mouth ; or Arthur chased 
 Bronco and caught him by the tail, 
 or, if he couldn't do that, lay on the 
 ground, pretending to be asleep, and 
 jumped up when Bronco came to see 
 what was the matter, and caught him. 
 
 When Bronco was two years old, he 
 had lost his rough skin, and was of a 
 dark chestnut color, with black mane 
 and tail. He was like a prince among 
 the other horses ; and they all followed 
 
no Stories for Children. 
 
 him, as their leader. Sometimes he 
 would run with them to the top of a 
 hill at one end of the field, and stand, 
 with his mane and tail streaming in the 
 wind, pawing the ground and sniffing 
 the fresh air. Then, suddenly, he would 
 gallop down the hill and to the other 
 end of the field, nearly half a mile 
 away, ■ — all the other horses following 
 him, — then back to the hill again ; 
 and often he would repeat this half 
 a dozen times. 
 
 There was not a ditch nor a fence on 
 the whole farm that he did not jump 
 with the greatest ease. If he found, 
 after jumping a fence, that the other 
 horses could not follow him, and that 
 
Bronco. 1 1 1 
 
 he would have to enjoy the new pas- 
 tures alone, he jumped back again, kick- 
 ing off the top board as he jumped, so 
 as to make the fence low enough for 
 the others ; or, if it was a picket fence, 
 he would rear on his hind legs, and 
 knock off the tops of the pickets with 
 his fore feet. 
 
 It was not until Bronco was nearly 
 three years old that Arthur's Uncle 
 John began to break him to the saddle. 
 He had very little trouble, as Bronco 
 had become used to being handled by 
 Arthur; and, as soon as Bronco got 
 accustomed to feeling some one on 
 his back, he cared very little for the 
 weight. 
 
1 1 2 Stories for Children. 
 
 On his twelfth birthday, Arthur rode 
 Bronco for the first time ; and, after 
 galloping all over the farm, put him 
 in the stable and gave him a double 
 supply of oats, as he intended next day 
 to ride him to the city, there to spend 
 a few days at his uncle's house. 
 
 The next morning Arthur started for 
 the city. Bronco, who had never been 
 away from the farm, seemed very un- 
 easy, as he went down the lane towards 
 the main road. Arthur got off at the 
 gate, opened it, and led Bronco into the 
 road, shutting the gate after him ; but 
 no sooner was his leg over Bronco's 
 back, than he was carried over the 
 gate and up the lane as fast as Bronco 
 
Bronco. i t 3 
 
 could go. With some trouble he led 
 Bronco into the road again, walked 
 with him about fifty feet from the 
 gate, and then got on once more ; but 
 Bronco, being apparently determined 
 not to go away from the farm, took 
 the bit in his teeth, jumped over the 
 gate, and carried Arthur home before 
 he could stop him. 
 
 The gardener now came to help 
 Arthur, tied a handkerchief across the 
 eyes of the disobedient horse, and led 
 him for a mile along the road. After 
 that, he behaved better. Before noon 
 Arthur safely arrived at his uncle's 
 house with Bronco, who, though 
 greatly excited by the strange sights 
 
H4 Stories for Children. 
 
 and sounds of the city, was perfectly 
 manageable. 
 
 For the rest of the day, Bronco was 
 kept in the stable. The next morning 
 Arthur turned him loose in the stable- 
 yard; but, when he looked for him at 
 noon, Bronco was gone. Arthur could 
 not understand his disappearance ; for 
 the gate was locked, and the fence was 
 more than five feet high. He took 
 the first train that afternoon, hurrying 
 home to consult his father. Think how 
 surprised he must have been, when he 
 came to the field where the horses 
 were, to see among them Bronco. He 
 had found his way out of a crowded 
 city, in which he had never beeri be- 
 
Bronco. 1 1 5 
 
 fore, and had jumped over six fences, 
 without touching them. This was not 
 all : the keeper of the toll-gate, spying 
 him on the road, tried to stop him ; 
 but Bronco went over the gate like a 
 flash. 
 
 If* I had time, I could tell you many 
 more stories about Bronco : how he 
 and Arthur camped out together ; how 
 he swam with Arthur in the surf on 
 the ocean beach ; how he raced with 
 all the horses of Arthur's school-mates, 
 and beat them ; how, one night, he car- 
 ried Arthur's uncle ninety miles in 
 eleven hours, bringing important pa- 
 pers which helped to win a suit in 
 court ; and how he did a great many 
 
n6 Stories for Children. 
 
 things that showed his love for Ar- 
 thur. 
 
 When Arthur was fifteen, he went 
 away from home to travel in Europe 
 with his father and mother. In two 
 years he returned, reaching the farm in 
 the spring, not a week before Bronco's 
 eighth birthday. As he walked up the 
 lane towards his home, he thought of 
 his first meeting with Bronco and of 
 all the gay times they had had to- 
 gether. Suddenly he caught sight of 
 Bronco, who was standing near a high 
 picket fence that he had jumped over, 
 time and again. Arthur called ; Bronco 
 turned, and, at the sight of Arthur, 
 gave a loud neigh of joy, and tried to 
 
Bronco. 1 1 7 
 
 go to him ; but, in his haste, forgetting 
 how near he was to the fence, he fell 
 heavily on the pickets. Arthur rushed 
 forward to help him ; but, before he 
 had gone half-way, Bronco cleared the 
 fence, and, running to Arthur, fell dead 
 at his feet, — a picket sticking deep in 
 his side. 
 
 The next day, all the horses of the 
 farm that had been Bronco's friends 
 and playfellows, all the horses of Ar- 
 thur's school-mates that had gone with 
 him on many a hunt, all the horses 
 that had raced with him and tried in 
 vain to beat him, came to take a last 
 look at Bronco. 
 
 His grave was under the tree by the 
 
u8 Stories for Children. 
 
 fence, where Arthur had first patted 
 him on the back. There he was buried 
 with his saddle and bridle and the blan- 
 ket that Arthur had brought all the 
 way from England for him. He lay 
 upon a bed of bay leaves ; and bay 
 leaves protected him from the earth 
 above. If, at any time that night, you 
 had passed by the spot, you would 
 have seen, — as Arthur saw, when he 
 went there next morning, as he had 
 gone, years before, to meet his dear 
 Bronco, — you would have seen Bron- 
 co's poor old mother, standing with her 
 head over the iron railing that sur- 
 rounded the grave. 
 
Va 
 
 j. 
 
 a 
 
 
 *\ip 
 
 umB 
 
 o 
 
 a 
 
 mmi 
 
 o 
 
 WITH MANY HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Price $1.25. 
 
Speaking Likenesses. 
 
 BY 
 
 CHRISTINA ROSSETTI. 
 
 WITH PICTURES THEREOF BY ARTHUR HUGHES. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 1875- 
 
49 6 
 

 ,