LITTLE SIR CAT
Little Sir Cat Tries to Comfort Bo-Peep
Often while with the soldiers Little Sir Cat thought of his dear home at the castle and the quiet silver moat full of silver fish that darted here and there in the sparkling water, and maybe he wished he was back at the castle, but he was too brave a kitten to say so, you may be sure.
Day after day they drilled and marched, and at last they came up with the enemy again and there was a dreadful battle and, when it was all over, Little Sir Cat found himself at the edge of a wood with a bullet wound in his leg. He couldn't march any more, so they left him alone with his little drum, and when night came down he was faint and hungry and very miserable.
LITTLE SIR CAT TRIES TO COMFORT BO-PEEP
Well, by and by, when the big moon was high in the sky, and all was quiet, except for a little breeze that wouldn't go to sleep, but played hide and seek among the leaves on the tall dark trees, a little owl said to him:
"Cheer up, little comrade,
And beat your little drum,
For nothing now shall hurt you
Since I to you have come,
For I will bring you comfort,
So never, never fear.
Cheer up, little comrade,
For help is very near."
And when morning came Little Jenny Wren gave him a wonderful herb that cured his leg in less than five hundred short seconds. So he started off again on his journey and pretty soon he met Little Bo Peep. "I've lost my sheep and cannot tell where to find them."
"Leave them alone and they'll come home, bringing their tails behind them," shouted Little Boy Blue, as he passed by with his bright yellow horn hung over his shoulder. "My sheep get into the meadow every day and my cows get in the corn, but they always come home at night, bringing their tails behind them."
"That's because you wake up in time to blow your horn," answered Bo Peep between her sobs; "but I've no horn and—boo, hoo—no more sheep and little lambs—boo, hoo"——
"Don't cry, I'll help you find them," said Little Sir Cat.
Well, they hadn't gone very far when they saw little pieces of wool clinging to the bramble bushes.
"Here are their little tails!" shouted Bo Peep. "They can't be far away!" And sure enough, in a few minutes they saw the sheep and the little lambs in a meadow.
Oh, Little Bo Peep
Has found her sheep
And now she'll take care to mind them.
No more will they roam,
For she'll lead them home
Bringing their tails behind them.
And pretty soon you will find another story about Little Sir Cat—
Unless you lose this pretty book
And cannot find it tho' you look
Inside the silver sugar bowl
And down the cellar in the coal.
TOM, TOM, THE PIPER'S SON Pub. by Nat. Art Co., N. Y.
[THE LITTLE WHITE HOUSE ON THE HILL]
It was the night before Christmas. Outside a cold wind blew the snow about in clouds, penetrating the cracks and chinks of the little old white house on the hill. Before the small fire of driftwood, which tried its best to warm the little bare room, sat Mrs. Whitcomb, wondering sadly where the money was to come from to buy the turkey for the dinner the next day.
Mrs. Whitcomb's eyes filled with tears as she remembered the happy Christmas of a few years previous, when the children's father was alive. Just then an excited ejaculation from Madge in the doorway startled her.
"Mother, dear!" she cried, running in, followed by Billy, "I've just been thinking of that story you read to us last year about the money that was stored away behind the old family portrait over the mantelpiece. Don't you remember how it fell down when the little boy, who was locked in the closet for being naughty, kicked the closet door till everything shook and shook; and then down fell the portrait, and the bags of money just emptied themselves all over the floor?"
"I'll be the bad boy if you want to put me in the closet," offered Billy. Mrs. Whitcomb looked up with a sad smile, as she took Madge in her lap and placed an arm around him.
"Suppose we make believe the old mirror is a portrait," she said.
"And I'll make believe I'm naughty," added Billy. "It will be the first time I've ever had to make believe!"
Madge jumped off her lap and ran to the closet. "Come, mother," she called, "make Billy go inside!" In a moment he was shut in, and even Mrs. Whitcomb began to laugh, for Billy's acting was almost as real as if he had indeed been a bad boy and was undergoing a just punishment. One of the candlesticks tumbled over on top of the tiny mahogany box, knocking it off upon the floor. It broke open on the hearthstone, and as Mrs. Whitcomb stooped to pick up the broken pieces she uttered a cry of joy.
"Come here!" she called, "come, see what I've found," and she held up a five-dollar gold piece before Madge's delighted eyes.
"Oh, mother, darling!" screamed Madge, "where did it come from?"
"What's the matter? Let me out!" yelled Billy from the depths of the closet; "let me out! What's the matter?"
Madge rushed over to the closet, but in her excitement found it difficult to turn the key.
"What's it all about?" cried Billy.
"Oh, Billy," gasped Madge, as she twisted and turned the handle, "what do you think? Mother has found a five-dollar gold piece!"
"Goodness me!" exclaimed Mrs. Whitcomb, after the noise and excitement had subsided, "how in the world I ever forgot that I put that money away for safe keeping in that little box years ago is beyond me. But I did, and it isn't a dream!"
"No, indeed, mother!" cried Madge, pinching the gold piece, "it's as real as can be!"
"Let's all go down to the village and get the dinner things," suggested Billy.
By the time the celery and vegetables, the nuts and raisins, together with the big, fat turkey, were safely packed, the basket was fairly bulging over.
"Oh, what a feast we'll have tomorrow," gasped Madge. They set the heavy basket down before the mantel-piece, as mother closed the outer door and came in. "What a jolly dinner! I'm so glad Billy and I got to talking before going to bed. Wasn't it lucky I remembered that story?"
"Yes, indeed," answered mother, smiling away, as she unpacked the basket and stowed away all the good things in safe places until the next day.
"Just like a play," volunteered Billy, "with me as the hero!"
"With Madge as the author," said mother.
"Right you are, mother dear," answered Billy, "only without the great acting on the hero's part there would never have been any success to the play. That closet wasn't such a joke after all!"
"No, indeed," laughed Madge, "you shall have the wishbone for your reward, Mr. Hero Actor."
[A LITTLE GIRL'S DIARY]
Wednesday
I love her on a Wednesday
When she kneads the snowy dough,
For the dimples in her elbows
Make such a pretty show.
Wednesday, as soon as I get back from school, if cook is making bread I beg her to let me have some of the dough, and then Dolly sits by me while I make it into all sorts of pretty little cakes and things, and put it in the oven in the stove—I mean, of course, the doll house stove, for the kitchen is all fitted up with everything just like a real kitchen. There is a big dresser, and shelves full of tin pans, and crockery. There is a cunning, little towel on a wooden roller, and a sink with faucets, and real water. The range is heated by electricity and really cooks the cakes, only Dolly and I don't eat them, for mother says our cook's are better, so we eat little pieces of cookies instead.
Of course, if it is a nice day, I go out to the park on my roller skates, or take my hoop, but I usually get time before I go to help Dolly with her household duties.
The Man in the Moon,
Came down too soon,
And asked his way to Norwich.
In his crescent machine,
Made of cheese so green,
He drove off after his porridge.
[HOW JAMIE PLAYED TROUBADOUR]
Jamie had received a violin for Christmas, much to his delight, for he was very fond of music and wanted to learn to play the violin more than any instrument he could think of—even his big drum, which sometimes he would beat with all his might after a long, long lesson on his violin.
When New Year's Day came he made up his mind that he would make believe he was a little troubadour. So he tucked his beloved violin under his arm and set gaily forth. On the next block lived a little girl named Rosalie, of whom Jamie was very fond. When he reached the house in which she lived, he stopped before the big parlor window which was quite close to the sidewalk, and, taking his violin from under his arm, commenced to play. Very soon, who should come to the window but little Rosalie herself, and as soon as she saw Jamie she opened the window and leaned out.
"Why, Jamie," she cried, "are you playing for money?"
"No," replied Jamie, quite indignantly, "I'm playing for you."
"How lovely," answered Rosalie, "and how beautifully you play!"
Jamie's face became quite red when she said this, and he almost made a mistake in the music. But he kept on playing, and very soon there was quite a crowd around him. Just then an old gentleman said, "Look out, little Juliet—you may catch cold!"
"Why, it's Grandpapa," cried Rosalie, and in another minute he and Rosalie were pulling the little musician and his beloved violin into the house, where they all had a merry New Year's afternoon, with cake and ice cream.
[FRIENDS OF OURS]
When did human beings first begin to love dogs? So long ago that we have forgotten just when it all started, but some of the oldest writers and artists whose works have been preserved up to the present time have left us words or pictures which show that the dog is a very ancient friend of man.
Little Egyptian boys and girls, playing on the banks of the Nile, probably loved their dogs as well as Brooklyn children love theirs. In that old country the dog was particularly well liked, and it is said that when a family dog died all the people of the household shaved themselves. This was an expression of mourning, and was a mark of respect for the dog.
Egyptians had a special reason for honoring the animal which has always been used as a symbol of faithfulness. In lower Egypt the prosperity of the people depended upon the Nile River. Every year it overflowed its banks, giving the dry land a much needed drink and making possible the raising of different crops. The people watched for the overflow with great anxiety, fearing that it would not take place. At the time of year when the overflow was due a certain star appeared in the sky, which we know as Sirius. When they saw that the Egyptians drove their cattle to high pastures and left the lowland to be watered by the river. In time the people began to associate the constant appearance of the star with the overflow which meant so much to them, and they began to think that the star watched over them, as a good dog watches the home of its master. So they called the star the "Dog Star" and worshipped it, and also lavished a great deal of love on all.
[LITTLE STORIES OF FAMOUS ANIMALS]
How a Cow Set Fire to a Big City
It is said that Nero, when he was Emperor of Rome, set fire to the city, and watched the flames from a high tower, while he sang to his lyre verses on the burning of Troy. He then laid the blame on the Christians, whom he persecuted with great cruelty. Afterwards he rebuilt the ruined portion of Rome with great magnificence, erecting a beautiful palace for himself on the Palatine Hill, which was called Nero's golden house.
This was all very long ago, for he killed himself with a dagger in the year 68 when, after many cruel deeds, the Senate condemned him to death.
In 1871 there lived in Chicago, Illinois, a woman named Annie O'Leary who has since become known throughout the country as the owner of the cow that set fire to Chicago. One evening this cow, while being milked, became unruly, and kicked over a kerosene lamp. Soon the whole city of Chicago was in flames and Mrs. O'Leary's cow probably rang her cowbell quite as frantically as did the Emperor Nero complacently fiddle while his beautiful city was burning.
Though Chicago was destroyed by one of the most terrible fires in the world, the city was rebuilt in a year or two, even better than before. Prior to the fire, it was one of the newest cities in the country, for in 1830 there were only a few families there besides the soldiers in the fort which Uncle Sam had built in 1804.
So you see the people were not discouraged, although Mrs. O'Leary's cow had burned up their beautiful city.
When nursey bids me drink my milk It gurgles down my throat Just like the gurgle of the waves Beneath a sailing boat. |
[COASTING]
Hip-hurrah! away they go
Gliding over the glittering snow,
Down the hill at a furious rate,
Over the lawn and out through the gate.
Jimmy in front is squeezed pretty tight,
But what does he care,—he's safe all right!
Billy, the motorman, guides the wheel
Which steers the sled on its runners of steel.
Flossie is cuddled up next to Bill,
And last on the sled is Sister Jill.
Hip-hurrah! as on they glide,
Isn't it lots of fun to slide?
Up again to the top of the hill
Dragging the sled for Motorman Bill.
Then once more they get into place,
All aboard! for another race.
What is more fun I'd like to know
Than coasting over the glittering snow.
[A LITTLE GIRL'S DIARY]
Thursday
I love her on a Thursday
When she darns a gap that shows
In the sombre socks of Father
Or Brother's careless hose.
Thursday, Mother teaches me how to mend. She says that every little girl should know these things. Father gives me a penny for every hole I mend in his socks, and brother Jack gives me little presents; once he gave me a whole set of furniture which he had cut out with his fretsaw.
There is one nice thing about Dolly—she very seldom has a hole in her stocking. If she did, I hardly know what I would do, for Father and Jack keep me pretty busy—at least, Mother laughs and says they do. Learning all the accomplishments of a grown-up woman is pretty hard work, and, really, I often wonder how I'll ever get any time for play in the park. Mother, however, finishes lots of my duties so that I shan't miss my regular hours in the open air with my friends.