2. THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER
Once there were three brothers, Hans, Swartz, and Gluck, the youngest. These three brothers owned a rich farm in a valley far up on the mountainside. The apples that grew there were so red, the corn so yellow, the grapes so blue, and everything was so fertile that it was called “Treasure Valley.” On the very top of the mountain a river shone so bright and golden when lighted by the rays of the setting sun that people called it the “Golden River,” but its waters flowed down on the other side of the mountain. The two older brothers were so selfish and cruel that they were called the “Black Brothers.” They beat their brother Gluck so cruelly one day for being kind to some one that the West Wind punished them by blowing, blowing, blowing so hard that everything became dry and the valley became a desert. Then the three brothers went to live in the town, and the two oldest went from bad to worse, until one day they said, “We have nothing left in the world but Gluck’s Golden Pitcher.” This pitcher was a gift from his uncle, which Gluck highly prized, but the cruel brothers ordered him, while they were away, to put it into the melting-pot and make it into gold spoons that they might secure money to support them. While the melting-pot with the gold pitcher in it was warming over the hot fire, Gluck looked out of the window and saw the sun reflecting its yellow glow in the Golden River, far up on the mountain crest. He sighed, “How fine it would be if only that river were really gold. We wouldn’t be poor then!” “It wouldn’t be fine at all,” said a thin little voice from the melting-pot. “Pour me out! Pour me out! I’m too hot,” continued the thin little voice. It was the King of the Golden River, a queer little dwarf, who peeped out of the melting-pot and said: “Whoever climbs to the top of the mountain where the Golden River begins, and pours in three drops of holy water, shall find the river turned into gold. But whoever fails at the first trial can have no other, and will be changed into a big black boulder.” With these words the King of the Golden River vanished up the chimney. Just then the two brothers knocked at the door and came in, and when they saw the golden pitcher all melted away and vanished in smoke up the chimney, they beat poor Gluck black and blue for his carelessness. When Gluck told them what the King of the Golden River had said, at first they would not believe him, and then they quarreled so terribly over which should be the first to go, that a policeman came and Swartz was thrown into prison. Then Hans said, “I will be the first to get the gold.” He took a bottle of water and climbed up, up, up the mountainside until he met a dog so thirsty that his tongue hung from his mouth. Hans gave the dog a kick and passed on until he met a little child, who said, “I’m so thirsty.” But Hans gave the child a slap and passed on until he met a queer little old man, who cried, “Water! Water! I’m dying for water!” Hans spoke bad words and passed on, drinking up all the water himself. So when he came to the source of the Golden River he found that all his water was gone, and he did not have even three drops to put into the river. Then, in a rage, he threw the empty bottle into the stream, and immediately there was great thunder and lightning, and Hans was changed into a big black boulder.
When Hans did not return, Gluck went to work in a goldsmith’s shop to earn money enough to get Swartz out of prison. As soon as he was released he said, “Now I will try to get the gold.” So Swartz took a bottle of water and climbed up, up, up the mountainside, passing the poor, thirsty dog, the little child, and the queer little old man dying of thirst, without so much as sharing one drop of water with them. When he came to the source of the Golden River he found that all his water was gone and he did not have even three drops to pour into the river. Then, in a rage, he threw the empty bottle into the stream, and immediately there was great thunder and lightning, and Swartz was changed into a big black boulder beside his brother.
Gluck waited long for his brothers to return, but when they did not come he took a bottle of water and started to climb up, up, up the mountainside until he came to the poor thirsty dog, and the little child, and then the queer little old man, with each of whom Gluck kindly shared the water from his bottle, and when he reached the top of the mountain he found he had plenty of water still in his bottle. So he poured in three drops of his holy water into the heart of the river, but, to his surprise, he found that the river did not change into gold. The water began to flow down the other side of the mountain toward Treasure Valley. He was disappointed and sad. Then the King of the Golden River appeared again and said, “Follow the stream!” Then he noticed, as he went down the mountainside, that everywhere the river flowed flowers and vines and fruit trees blossomed, and soon all Treasure Valley was one rich, beautiful garden again. Then he saw that the river was indeed, as the King had said, a River of Gold. After that Gluck lived in a beautiful home in Treasure Valley. His apples were red, his corn was yellow, his grapes were blue, and everything became prosperous again. But the hungry and thirsty were never once sent empty away.—Adapted from John Ruskin.
3. THE CLOUD
One hot summer morning a little Cloud rose out of the sea and floated happily across the blue sky. Far below lay the earth, brown and dry and desolate from drought. The little Cloud could see the poor earth-people working and suffering in the heat, while she floated here and there in the sky without a care. “Oh, if I could only help those people,” said the Cloud. “If I could make their work easier and give the hungry ones food and the thirsty ones drink! Yes, I will help, I will!” And she began to sink softly down to the earth. As she sank lower she remembered when she was a tiny cloud-child in the lap of Mother Ocean she was told that if the clouds went too near the earth they would die. Thinking of that she held herself from sinking and swayed herself here and there in the breeze. Then she said, “Men of earth, come what may, I will help. I will.” All at once she became so large and wide-spread that the men of earth were afraid; the trees and the grasses bowed themselves; a wonderful light glowed from her heart; the sound of thunder rolled through the sky, and a love greater than words can tell filled the Cloud. Down, down, close to earth she swept, and gave up her life in a heavy shower of rain. That rain was the Cloud’s generous deed, but it was her death, and it was her glory too. Over the whole country round, as far as the rain fell, a lovely rainbow spread its arch, and all the brightest rays of heaven made its colors. It was the last greeting of a love so great as to sacrifice itself. Soon the rainbow was gone, but long, long after, the men and women, saved by the Cloud, kept her blessing in their hearts.—Adapted from “How to Tell Stories to Children,” Sara Cone Bryant.
4. THE GREAT STONE FACE
Far up in the mountains of New England there was a great rock in such a position as to resemble the features of a human face. There were the broad arch of the forehead, the eyes, the nose, and the lips. So real was it, the Great Stone Face seemed to be alive. Happy were the children who grew up to manhood or womanhood with this Great Stone Face before their eyes, for the features were all so noble and their expression like the glow of a great, warm heart, it was an education to look at it. There was a belief among the people who lived in the valley, that one day a boy would be born who would become the greatest and noblest man of his times, and whose face would exactly resemble the Great Stone Face. After a long time a boy grew up in the valley who learned to love the sight of this image. After his day’s work was done he would gaze up at it until he thought it seemed to notice him and give him a smile of kindness and encouragement in response to his look of love. Very often during those years a rumor arose that the great man foretold for ages had at last appeared. A boy who had grown up in the valley, had gone away and become a millionaire, returned, and people said, “This is he!” But it proved untrue. Then a soldier, and a statesman, and a poet arose, and people said, “This is he!” But it was not so. Meanwhile, the boy who quietly day by day lived, and labored, and looked up, and loved the Great Stone Face grew to manhood, becoming more and more like it, until one day everybody saw the resemblance, and cried, “This is he!” And it was. This good boy and young man had gradually grown in gentleness and goodness and love until his face became as magnetic and his influence as helpful in the valley as the Great Stone Face.—Adapted from Hawthorne.
5. TOM, THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP
(Written by Canon Kingsley for his own little boy.)