Once there was a chimney-sweep, and his name was Tom. He lived in a great city, where there were plenty of chimneys to sweep. He never washed himself, he never had been taught to say his prayers, he could not read or write. One morning Tom and his master, Mr. Grimes, started off to sweep some chimneys in the country. Mr. Grimes rode the donkey, and Tom, with his brushes, walked behind. They overtook a poor old Irish woman, trudging along with a bundle on her back. She had a shawl on her head and a red dress. She spoke kindly to Tom, and they walked along together until they came to a spring. The master jumped from the donkey and dipped his head into the water, shaking his ears to dry them. Tom said, “Master, I never saw you wash before.” “Nor will you see me wash again, most likely. I did it for coolness, not for cleanliness. I’d be ashamed to want washing every week or so like any smutty collier-lad.” “I wish I might wash,” said poor little Tom. “Come along,” said Grimes. “What do you want with washing yourself?” and he began beating the poor boy. “Shame on you!” cried the old woman. “They that wish to be clean, clean they will be; they that wish to be dirty, dirty they will be. Remember!”
That day Tom swept so many chimneys that he got lost, and came down the wrong chimney in one house, and found himself standing in a room the like of which he had never seen before. There was a wash-stand with a basin and soap and brushes and towels. Looking toward the bed he held his breath, for there, under the snow-white coverlet, was the most beautiful little girl Tom had ever seen. “Are all the people like that when they are washed?” he thought. Then he looked at his wrists and tried to rub off the soot, and wondered if it ever would come off. Looking round he saw standing close to him a little, ugly, black, ragged boy with red eyes and grinning white teeth. “Who are you?” he said. “What does such a little black monkey want here?” But it was himself reflected in the great mirror, the like of which also Tom had never seen before. Tom found out then, for the first time, that he was dirty. He burst into tears and turned to sneak up the chimney again to hide himself, but he upset the fender and threw the fire-irons down with a great noise. Under the window there was a great tree, and Tom went down the tree like a cat and across the garden toward the woods. The gardener, who was busily engaged in watering the rose-bushes, saw him and gave chase; the milkmaid heard the noise and followed too; and so did the groom and the plowman, and the old Irish woman and Mr. Grimes. But Tom ran faster than all, and in the woods he was lost from view, and all went back again. On the bank of a river Tom sat down to rest, and was soon fast asleep and dreaming of the little clean girl and the Irish woman who said, “They that wish to be clean, clean they will be.” All at once he cried out, “I must be clean! I must be clean!” He awoke and went into the water, where he washed his feet, and suddenly he was changed into a Water-baby. Hundreds of other Water-babies were there, laughing and singing and shouting and romping in the clear, cool water, and all dressed in their little bathing-suits, so clean and white. The one that had been poor little Tom, the chimney-sweep, was the happiest and whitest among them all. And he never forgot the old Irish woman (who was really Queen of the Water-babies) or what she had said: “They that wish to be clean, clean they will be; they that wish to be dirty, dirty they will be.”—Adapted from “The Water-babies.”
6. WHERE LOVE IS, GOD IS
Once in a little town in Russia there was a lonely old cobbler who lived in a cellar. There was always plenty of work for him, for he was prompt and honest and industrious. But the cobbler was not happy, for it seemed to him God had been unkind to him in taking away his wife and children by death. But at last a good priest came and taught this unhappy cobbler to read the New Testament, and then he grew happy and contented, and changed in every way. One day as he was reading how the Lord was treated when he was on earth, he said to himself, “And suppose he came to me, would I treat him differently?” “Martin!”—and a Voice seemed close to his ear. “Who’s there?” the cobbler said; but no reply came. “Martin, Martin,” said the Voice again, “look to-morrow on the street; I am coming!” Next morning Martin waited and waited, but saw no stranger come near. An old soldier, whom he knew, came into his shop out of the snow, to whom the cobbler gave a cup of tea and whom he treated with kindness as he told him he was expecting his little Father, Christ. Later in the day a poor widow with a little child came into his shop out of the cold, to whom the cobbler gave warm food and a coat and some money, as he told her how he was expecting the Lord to come to him that day. In the late afternoon the cobbler saw from his cellar window a poor apple-woman fighting a boy who had stolen some of her apples. The cobbler rushed into the street and told the woman she ought to forgive the boy as the Lord forgave us. He purchased an apple which he gave to the boy, who, touched by the kindness, begged the apple-woman’s pardon and kindly helped her by carrying her heavy basket for her.
By the evening lamp-light the cobbler opened his New Testament and was disappointed because the Christ-guest had not come. Then a Voice whispered, “Martin! Dost thou not know me?” “Who art thou?” cried the cobbler. “’Tis I,” cried the Voice. “Lo, ’tis I!” And forth from the dark corner of the shop stepped the soldier, and then the widow with the little child, and then the old apple-woman and the lad with the apple. All smiled and vanished. But the heart of the cobbler was glad, and he saw at the top of the Gospel page these words: “I was an hungered and thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in.” And at the bottom of the page he read: “Inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Then the cobbler saw that the Lord had really come to him and he had really received Him that day.—Adapted from Count Tolstoy.
7. THE PIED PIPER
(Written by Robert Browning, the poet, for the amusement of a friend’s son who was ill, and to give him subjects for drawings.)
Long ago in a country far away there was a town that was troubled with rats. These rats fought the dogs and killed the cats and bit the babies in their cradles. They ate up all the cheese. Yes, and often a man would find a rat’s nest in his Sunday hat. The people began to think they would have to move out and let the rats have the town. At last the Mayor and Council met to see if they could think of a way to get rid of them. They had almost given up when they heard a rap at the door. “Come in,” they said; and there stood a strange, tall, thin man, with a queer long coat, half yellow and half red, that came down to his heels, and a pipe upon which he played. “My friends,” said he, “I see you have a great many rats in your town. If I can rid you of them, will you give me a thousand guilders?” “Yes, fifty,” they cried; “only take away the rats!” Then Pied Piper stepped out into the street and began to blow on his pipe. Before he had played three notes, out of the houses the rats came tumbling—great rats, small rats, lean rats, fat rats, black rats, gray rats, brown rats, all following the Piper as if for their very lives. Straight to the river he walked, drawing the rats after him. In they plunged head first, and were all drowned. How the bells rang for joy! How the people shouted! The Mayor gave orders to poke out all the nests and fill up the holes. “First, if you please, my thousand guilders,” said the Piper. The Mayor and Council laughed: “Now the rats are dead, they won’t come back to life, you know. It was only a joke we spoke. We won’t give you more than fifty guilders.” Pied Piper threatened, but the Mayor said, “Do your worst. Blow your pipe till you burst.” Then the Piper stepped into the street again and played three notes, and at once all the children of the town came running, tripping, skipping, shouting merrily after the Piper and his wonderful music. When they reached the mountainside a great door suddenly opened and all the children went in with the Piper—all except one poor little lame boy who could not keep up, and came too late. And the door was shut. No one ever heard of the Piper or the children again. But the Mayor and Council agreed that when they owed any one anything after that they would pay it. And these words were kept in the town where all could see them: “Always keep your promise!”
8. DICK WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT
Once there was a little boy named Dick Whittington, whose father and mother died and the people who took care of him were very poor. Often he had no breakfast or dinner. In the town where he lived Dick often heard about London, the great city, where people said nobody was ever hungry, nobody had to work, and the streets were paved with gold. Dick longed to go there. So one day when a big wagon, drawn by eight horses, all with bells on their heads, was going to London, Dick went along. But he was disappointed to find the streets covered with dirt instead of gold, and none would give the hungry boy even a crust of dry bread. At night he was so cold and tired he sat down on the stone steps of a great house and longed to be back in the town where he was born. Next day Dick found some work to do in the kitchen of this great house. He would have been happy there, but the cook beat him, and the rats and mice in the garret where he slept kept him awake at night, often running over his face. One day a gentleman gave him a penny. Dick bought a cat, which soon drove away all the rats and mice, and then the poor boy slept soundly every night.