THE GOLDEN TOUCH—II
The next morning King Midas awoke very early. He was eager to see if the fairy's promise had come true.
As soon as the sun arose he tried the gift by touching the bed lightly with his hand.
The bed turned to gold.
He touched the chair and table.
Upon the instant they were turned to solid gold.
The king was wild with joy.
He ran around the room, touching everything he could see. His magic gift turned all to shining, yellow gold.
The king soon felt hungry and went down to eat his breakfast. Now a strange thing happened. When he raised a glass of clear cold water to drink, it became solid gold.
Not a drop of water could pass his lips.
The bread turned to gold under his fingers.
The meat was hard, and yellow, and shiny.
Not a thing could he get to eat.
All was gold, gold, gold.
His little daughter came running in from the garden.
Of all living creatures she was the dearest to him.
He touched her hair with his lips.
At once the little girl was changed to a golden statue.
A great fear crept into the king's heart, sweeping all the joy out of his life.
In his grief he called and called upon the fairy who had given him the gift of the golden touch.
"O fairy," he begged, "take away this horrible golden gift! Take all my lands. Take all my gold. Take everything, only give me back my little daughter."
In a moment the beautiful fairy was standing before him.
"Do you still think that gold is the greatest thing in the world?" asked the fairy.
"No! no!" cried the king. "I hate the very sight of the yellow stuff."
"Are you sure that you no longer wish the golden touch?" asked the fairy.
"I have learned my lesson," said the king. "I no longer think gold the greatest thing in the world."
"Very well," said the fairy, "take this pitcher to the spring in the garden and fill it with water. Then sprinkle those things which you have touched and turned to gold."
The king took the pitcher and rushed to the spring. Running back, he first sprinkled the head of his dear little girl. Instantly she became his own darling Marigold again, and gave him a kiss.
The king sprinkled the golden food, and to his great joy it turned back to real bread and real butter.
Then he and his little daughter sat down to breakfast. How good the cold water tasted. How eagerly the hungry king ate the bread and butter, the meat, and all the good food.
The king hated his golden touch so much that he sprinkled even the chairs and the tables and everything else that the fairy's gift had turned to gold.
Greek Myth
OVER IN THE MEADOW
Over in the meadow,
In the sand, in the sun,
Lived an old mother toad
And her little toadie one.
"Wink!" said the mother;
"I wink," said the one;
So she winked and she blinked
In the sand, in the sun.
Over in the meadow,
Where the stream runs blue,
Lived an old mother fish
And her little fishes two.
"Swim!" said the mother;
"We swim," said the two;
So they swam and they leaped
Where the stream runs blue.
Over in the meadow,
In a hole in a tree,
Lived a mother bluebird
And her little birdies three.
"Sing!" said the mother;
"We sing," said the three;
So they sang and were glad
In the hole in the tree.
Over in the meadow,
In a snug beehive,
Lived a mother honeybee
And her little honeys five.
"Buzz!" said the mother;
"We buzz," said the five;
So they buzzed and they hummed
In the snug beehive.
Over in the meadow,
Where the clear pools shine,
Lived a green mother frog,
And her little froggies nine.
"Croak!" said the mother;
"We croak," said the nine;
So they croaked and they splashed
Where the clear pools shine.
Over in the meadow,
In a sly little den,
Lived a gray mother spider
And her little spiders ten.
"Spin!" said the mother;
"We spin," said the ten;
So they spun lace webs
In their sly little den.
OLIVE A. WADSWORTH
THE BELL OF ATRI
| miser | justice | whose |
Once upon a time a good and wise king ruled in the city of Atri.
He wished all his people to be happy.
In order that justice might be done to every one, he ordered a great bell to be hung in a tower.
Tied to the bell was a strong rope, so long that it reached nearly to the ground.
"I have placed the bell in the center of my city," said the king, "so that it will be near all the people. The rope I have made long, so that even a little child can reach it."
Then the king gave out this order:
"If there be any one among my people who feels that he has not been justly treated, let him ring this bell.
Then, whether he be old or young, rich or poor, his story shall be heard."
The bell of justice had hung in its place for many years.
Many times it had been rung by the poor and needy, and justice had been done.
At length the old rope became worn with use and age.
When it was taken down, another rope, long enough and strong enough, could not be found. So the king had to send away for one.
"What if some one should need help while the rope is down?" cried the people. "We must find something to take its place."
So one of the men cut a long grapevine and fastened it to the great bell.
It was in the springtime, and green shoots and leaves hung from the grapevine rope.
Near Atri, there lived a rich old soldier.
This soldier owned a horse that had been with him through many battles.
The horse had grown old and lame, and was no longer able to work.
So his cruel master turned him out into the streets to get his living as best he could.
"If you cannot find enough to eat, then you may die," said the miser; "you are of no use to me."
The old horse went limping along; he grew thinner and thinner.
At length he limped up to the tower where the bell of justice hung.
His dim eyes saw the green shoots and the fresh leaves of the grapevine.
Thinking they were good to eat, he gave a pull at the vine.
"Ding-dong! ding-dong!" said the great bell. The people came running from all sides.
"Who is calling for justice?" they cried.
There stood the old horse, chewing on the grapevine.
"Ding-dong! ding-dong!" rang the great bell.
"Whose horse is this?" asked the judges, as they came running up.
Then the story of the old horse was told.
The judges sent for his cruel master.
They ordered that he should build a warm barn, and that the faithful horse should have the best of hay and grain as long as he lived.
The people shouted for joy at this act of justice, but the miser hung his head in shame and led the old horse away.
German Folk Tale
THE BABY
No shoes to hide her tiny toes,
No stockings on her feet;
Her little ankles white as snow,
Or early blossoms sweet.
Her simple dress of sprinkled pink;
Her tiny, dimpled chin;
Her rosebud lips and bonny mouth
With not one tooth between.
Her eyes so like her mother's own,
Two gentle, liquid things;
Her face is like an angel's face—
We're glad she has no wings.
HUGH MILLER
BRUCE AND THE SPIDER
Robert Bruce, King of Scotland, was hiding in a hut in the forest. His enemies were seeking him far and wide.
Six times he had met them in battle, and six times he had failed. Hope and courage were gone.
Bruce had given up all as lost. He was about to run away from Scotland, and to leave the country in the hands of his enemies.
Full of sorrow, he lay stretched on a pile of straw in the poor woodchopper's hut. While he lay thinking, he noticed a spider spinning her web.
The spider was trying to spin a thread from one beam of the cottage to another. It was a long way between the beams, and Bruce saw how hard a thing it was for her to do.
"She can never do it," thought the king.
The little spider tried it once and failed She tried it twice and failed. The king counted each time. At length she had tried it six times and had failed each time.
"She is like me," thought the king. "I have tried six battles and failed. She has tried six times to reach the beam and failed."
Then starting up from the straw, he cried, "I will hang my fate upon that little spider.
If she swings the seventh time and fails, then I will give up all for lost. If she swings the seventh time and wins, I will call my men together once more for a battle with the enemy."
The spider tried the seventh time, letting herself down upon her slender thread. She swung out bravely.
"Look! look!" shouted the king. "She has reached it. The thread hangs between the two beams. If the spider can do it, I can do it."
Bruce got up from the straw with new strength and sent his men from village to village, calling the people to arms.
The brave soldiers answered his call and came trooping in.
At length his army was ready to fight, and when the king led them in a great battle against the enemy, this time, like the spider, Bruce won.
Scottish Tradition
THE WISE LITTLE PIG
Where are you going, you little pig?
"I'm leaving my mother, I'm growing so big."
So big, young pig!
So young, so big!
What! leaving your mother, you foolish young pig?
Where are you going, you little pig?
"I've got a new spade, and I'm going to dig."
To dig, little pig!
A little pig dig!
Well, I never saw a pig with a spade, that could dig!
Where are you going, you little pig?
"I'm going to have a nice ride in a gig."
In a gig, little pig!
What! a pig in a gig!
Well, I never yet saw a pig ride in a gig!
Where are you going, you little pig?
"I'm going to the barber's to buy me a wig."
A wig, little pig!
A pig in a wig!
Why, whoever before saw a pig in a wig?
Where are you going, you little pig?
"I'm going to the ball to dance a fine jig."
A jig, little pig!
A pig dance a jig!
Well, I never before saw a pig dance a jig!
ANONYMOUS
AN INDIAN STORY—I
| believe | tomahawks | signs | tongue |
Many years ago two boys lived on a farm in New England.
It was so long ago that there were few white people in this country.
The farms were scattered, and around them were great forests.
The houses were made of logs, with strong, heavy doors.
Far away in the woods lived many Indians.
Sometimes the Indians would come down where the white people lived, and would capture any white person whom they could find.
They even dared to attack, and often burned, the scattered log cabins.
The white prisoners would be taken to the Indian villages and would be held there as captives.
One cold winter morning the two brothers, John and William, were going skating on the river.
In order to reach the river, they had to pass through some woods.
John, the older brother, started first.
He threw his skates over his back and ran off whistling toward the river.
William, the younger brother, had to stay behind to fill with wood the huge box beside the fireplace.
Indians had not been seen near the farm for many years, so John was not in the least afraid.
As he went through the woods toward the river two huge Indians, with painted faces, jumped from behind the trees where they had been hiding.
Before John could run he was caught, and his hands were tied behind his back.
Then they heard William shout as he ran down the path after his brother.
John knew that the Indians might kill him if he warned his brother.
But he was brave, and before they could stop him, he cried out, "Indians! Indians!"
The Indians were angry and struck at John with their tomahawks.
But he was not afraid; he faced the Indians bravely.
William heard the shout of warning, and ran like a deer back to the log cabin.
The heavy door was shut with a slam, and John's father, with his rifle, waited for the Indian attack.
But the two Indians did not dare attack the log cabin.
Dragging John after them, they started up the river bank toward their Indian town, many, many miles away.
All day long they traveled, and at night they built a small fire.
Over this fire they roasted a partridge which one of them had shot. John was given his share of the bird and a handful of parched Indian corn.
The Indians looked at John's skates, which still hung over his shoulder.
They did not know what skates were. They thought they must be some of the white man's magic.
On and on they traveled for many days, following an old Indian path.
All through the long march John still carried his skates.
At length they came to the Indian village.
AN INDIAN STORY—II
The Indian houses were long huts covered with strips of birch bark.
Four or five families lived in each of these houses.
John was given to an Indian woman who had lost her own boy the year before.
John's Indian mother was good to him, and treated him as if he were her own son.
One time the Indian boys thought they would test John's courage, so they formed in two lines, while each boy held a stout stick.
Then they ordered John to run down between the two long lines.
They had their sticks all ready to beat him.
They thought John would be afraid and so would do as they told him.
But John was a strong lad, and jumping upon the first Indian boy, he took his stick away from him.
Armed with this stick, John struck right and left at the heads of the boys until they were all glad to run away.
The Indian men liked to see John's courage, and laughed long and loud when the Indian boys ran away.
After this the boys were glad to have John play with them.
With their bows and arrows they shot at a mark.
They swam in the river and played games of tag, hide and seek, and ball.
In the spring the Indian women planted the yellow corn.
When the corn was up, the squaws went into the fields to hoe out the weeds. For a hoe they used a flat piece of stone tied to a wooden handle.
As John was a white boy the squaws tried to make him help hoe the corn.
When John took the hoe, he hoed up the corn and left the weeds.
The angry squaws made signs to him that he must not do so.
Then John threw the hoe far from him.
"Hoeing is fit for squaws, not for warriors," he shouted. He had learned this from the Indian boys.
The old men were pleased. They thought John would make a fine warrior.
AN INDIAN STORY—III
John had lived with the Indians a year.
He had learned to speak their tongue, but they did not trust him.
Some of them were always with him, for they were afraid he would run away.
All this time John had kept his skates carefully hidden.
One day the ice froze clear and smooth. John brought his skates down to the river bank.
Many of the Indians followed to see what he was going to do.
They crowded around him on the ice.
John thought he would play a trick on them.
He strapped the skates upon the feet of an Indian boy.
The boy tried to stand up, but his feet slipped out from under him, and down he bumped upon the ice.
They thought it was a great joke.
Each of them in turn tried on the skates.
How they sprawled and fell upon the ice!
What fun it was for the other Indians!
When they were tired of the sport they held out the skates to John and asked him to put them on.
John strapped on the skates with great care. He was a good skater, but he made believe that he could not skate at all.
He fell down and bumped his head.
He tripped over his toes and made great fun for the Indians.
They did not see that each time he fell he was a little farther out on the ice.
All at once John jumped up.
Away he flew, skating for his life.
Down the river he went, swift as a bird.
The Indians rushed after him, but he had too great a start.
The Indians were swift runners, but John, on his skates, was swifter still.
He knew that the river must flow toward the ocean, and that near the ocean lived the white people.
On and on he skated.
Two days later he saw the smoke of a white man's cabin and knew that he was safe.
John soon found his father and mother.
How glad they were to see him!
A GOOD PLAY
We built a ship upon the stairs,
All made of the back-bedroom chairs,
And filled it full of sofa pillows,
To go a-sailing on the billows.
We took a saw and several nails,
And water in the nursery pails;
And Tom said, "Let us also take
An apple and a slice of cake,"—
Which was enough for Tom and me
To go a-sailing on, till tea.
We sailed along for days and days,
And had the very best of plays;
But Tom fell out and hurt his knee,
So there was no one left but me.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
DICK WHITTINGTON—I
Dick Whittington was a poor little boy who lived in the country.
His father and mother were both dead.
Poor little Dick was always willing to work, but sometimes there was no work for him to do, so he often had nothing to eat.
Now Dick was a bright boy.
He kept both ears open to hear what was said around him.
He had heard many times about the great city of London.
Men said that in this great city the people were rich.
Dick had even heard that the streets were paved with gold.
"How I should like to visit that great city," thought Dick, "for I could pick up gold from the streets!"
Dick had earned a little money, so one day he set out to walk to London.
He walked and walked and walked, but London was a long way from his home.
At last a man with a wagon came along. He was a kind man, and he gave Dick a ride.
"Where are you going?" asked Dick.
"I'm going to London," said the man.
"You are very good to give me a ride. I am going there, too," said Dick.
It was dark when they reached London.
That night Dick slept in a barn with the horses.
The next morning he looked for the golden stones in the streets.
He looked and looked, but he could find only dust and dirt.
There were many, many people in London, and Dick thought that he could soon find something to do.
He wandered around the streets, seeking for work.
He asked many people, but no one wanted the poor little country boy.
As Dick had no money for food, he soon became very, very hungry.
At last he grew so weak that he fell down before the door of a great house.
Here the cook found him and began to beat him with a stick.
"Run away, you lazy boy!" she cried.
Poor Dick tried to rise, but he was so faint from want of food that he could not stand.
Just then the owner of the house, Mr. Fitzwarren, came up. He took pity on the poor boy and ordered the cook to give him some food.
Then he turned to Dick and said:
"If you wish to work, you may help the cook in the kitchen. You will find a bed in the attic."
Dick thanked Mr. Fitzwarren again and again for his kindness.
The cook was very cross to Dick and whipped him almost every day.
His bed in the attic was only a pile of old rags.
He soon found that there were many rats and mice in the attic.
They ran over his bed and made so much noise every night that he could not sleep.
"I wish I had a cat," thought Dick, "for she could eat up these rats and mice."
One day Dick earned a penny by blacking a man's shoes.
"I will try to buy a cat with this penny," thought Dick.
So he started out and soon met a woman with a large cat.
"Will you sell me that cat?" said Dick. "I will give you this penny for her."
"You are a good boy," said the woman, "and you may have the cat for a penny, for I know you will treat her kindly."
That night Dick's bed was free from rats, and Miss Puss had a good supper.
Dick began to love his cat dearly.
DICK WHITTINGTON—II
Now Mr. Fitzwarren had many ships which sailed to distant lands.
When a ship sailed Mr. Fitzwarren let every one in his house send something on it.
The things were sold, and when the ship came back, each person had the money for what he had sent.
One of the ships was ready to sail.
Every one in the house except Dick had sent something.
"What is Dick going to send in the ship?" said Mr. Fitzwarren.
"Oh, that boy has nothing to send," said the cross cook.
"It is true," said poor Dick; "I have nothing but my dear cat."
"Well, then you must send your cat," said Mr. Fitzwarren.
How lonely poor Dick was without Puss!
The cook made fun of him for sending a cat on the ship.
At last Dick became so unhappy that he made up his mind to run away.
He started early in the morning, before any one in the house was up.
He had gone but a short way when he heard the sound of the six great bells of Bow.
As they rang, "Ding-dong, ding-dong!" they seemed to say:
Turn back, Whittington,
Lord Mayor of London.
"It is strange that the bells should speak to me," said Dick, "but if I am to be Lord Mayor of London, I will gladly turn back."
So he ran back to the house of Mr. Fitzwarren.
"I hope they have not missed me," said Dick, as he gently opened the door and stole softly in.