Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks

and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

JOURNEYS THROUGH BOOKLAND

A NEW AND ORIGINAL PLAN FOR READING APPLIED TO THE WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE FOR CHILDREN

BY
CHARLES H. SYLVESTER
Author of English and American Literature

VOLUME THREE New Edition

1922

CONTENTS

JOHN'S PUMPKIN ………. Mrs. Archibald

THE MOCK TURTLE'S STORY ………. Lewis Carrol

THE SPIDER AND THE FLY ………. Mary Hoiritt

A FAREWELL ………. Charles Kingsley

QUEEN ALICE ………. Lewis Carroll

THE LEPRECHAUN ………. William Allingham

THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER ………. Lewis Carroll

BETH GELERT ………. William R. Spencer

ROBINSON CRUSOE ………. Daniel Defoe

FAITHLESS SALLY BROWN ………. Thomas Hood

THE MARINER'S DREAM ………. William Dimond

THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON ………. Johann Rudolph Wyss

ECHO ………. John G. Saxe

THE STORY OF ALADDIN, OR THE WONDERFUL LAMP … From the Arabian Nights

THE SECOND VOYAGE OF SINBAD THE SAILOR . From the Arabian Nights

BARBARA FRIETCHIE ………. John Greenleaf Whittier

BEOWULF AND GBENDEL

CUPID AND PSYCHE ………. Adapted by Anna McCaleb

THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN ………. Robert Browning

FRITHIOF THE BOLD ………. Adapted by Grace E. Sellon

THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED ………. Adapted by Grace E. Sellon

NIGHT ………. Robert Southey

LOCHINVAR ………. Sir Walter Scott

ROBIN HOOD

ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES

For Classification of Selections, see General Index, at end of
Volume X

ILLUSTRATIONS

ALADDIN LEADS THE PRINCESS INTO THE PALACE (Color Plate)
Arthur Henderson FRONTISPIECE
JOHN'S PUMPKIN … Lucille Enders
THE GRYPHON … After Sir John Tenniel
ALICE SAT STILL … After Sir John Tenniel
THE LOBSTER QUADRILLE … After Sir John Tenniel
AND TURNS OUT HIS TOES … After Sir John Tenniel
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY … Herbert N. Rudeen
IT WAS A GOLDEN CROWN … After Sir John Tenniel
ALICE CONSIDERED … After Sir John Tenniel
TWO QUEENS ASLEEP AT ONCE … After Sir John Tenniel
THIS WAY, THAT WAY, SO WE MAKE A SHOE … Herbert N. Rudeen
THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER … After Sir John Tenniel
THE LITTLE OYSTERS WAITED … After Sir John Tenniel
I DEEPLY SYMPATHIZE … After Sir John Tenniel
THE DEATH OF GELERT … Herbert N. Rudeen
ROBINSON CHUSOE FINDS A FOOTPRINT ON THE SAND … G.H. Mitchell
FRIDAY … G.H. Mitchell
FRIDAY ROASTING THE KID … G.H. Mitchell
I DISCOVERED A SHIP LYING AT ANCHOR … G.H. Mitchell
THEY STARTED UP (Halftone) … G.H. Mitchell
MAP OF GLOBE … G.H. Mitchell
LIKE MOUNTAINS THE BILLOWS SWELL … Donn P. Crane
THE SHIP WAS JAMMED BETWEEN HIGH ROCKS … J. Allen St. John
THEY MADE A RAFT OF CASKS … J. Allen St. John
THE AGOUTI … J. Allen St. John
THE MONKEYS THREW DOWN COCONUTS … J. Allen St. John
THE SHEEP FLOATED FAMOUSLY … J. Allen St. John
FALCONHURST … J. Allen St. John
CHEST OF TREASURE … J. Allen St. John
OVERTURNING THE TURTLE … J. Allen St. John
PENGUINS … J. Allen St. John
CATCHING THE WILD ASS … J. Allen St. John
FLAMINGOS … J. Allen St. John
I ADVANCED WITH A LONG POLE … J. Allen St. John
JACK AND THE OSTRICH … J. Allen St. John
THE WALRUS … J. Allen St. John
LATEST NEWS BY PIGEON POST … J. Allen St. John
HIPPOPOTAMUS … J. Allen St. John
ALBATROSS … J. Allen St. John
PEARL BAY … J. Allen St. John
WE BROUGHT UP WITHIN HAIL … J. Allen St. John
THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP … Arthur Henderson
ALADDIN DESCENDED THE STEPS … Arthur Henderson
"GENIE, BUILD ME A PALACE" … Arthur Henderson
"NEW LAMPS FOR OLD" … Arthur Henderson
ALADDIN SALUTED THE PRINCESS JOYFULLY … Arthur Henderson
THE VALLEY WAS STREWED WITH DIAMONDS … Arthur Henderson
THE ROC FLEW AWAY WITH SINBAD (Halftone) … Arthur Henderson
BARBARA FRIETCHIE … Iris Weddell White
GRENDEL COULD NOT BREAK THAT GRIP OF STEEL … Arthur Henderson
BEOWULF ON HIS NOBLE STEED … Arthur Henderson
SHE LOOKED UPON THE GOD OF LOVE … Iris Weddell White
PSYCHE AND CHARON … Iris Weddell White
CUPID SPIED PSYCHE SLEEPING … Iris Weddell White
PEOPLE CALL ME THE PIED PIPER … Iris Weddell White
GREAT RATS, SMALL RATS … Herbert N. Rudeen
A WONDERFUL PORTAL OPENED WIDE … Iris Weddell White
THEY HAD BECOME BETROTHED … Donn P. Crane
FRITHIOF BEHELD THE TWO WITCHES … Donn P. Crane
SIEGFRIED AND THE DRAGON … Louis Grell
A GREAT CASTLE TOWERED ABOVE THE CLIFFS … Louis Grell
THE DEATH OF SIEGFRIED … Louis Grell
LOCHINVAR … Arthur Henderson
TUMBLED HIM INTO THE BROOK … Jessie Arms
THE STRANGER OVERTHROWS ROBIN HOOD … Jessie Arms
ROBIN HOOD AND THE WIDOW … Jessie Arms
ROBIN HOOD AND THE SHERIFF … Jessie Arms
ROBIN HOOD PLAYS HARPER … Jessie Arms
IN THE GREENWOOD … Jessie Arms
GANELON PICKS UP CHARLEMAGNE'S GLOVE … Louis Grell
WHERESOEVER HE PLANTED HIS FOOT, THERE HE STAYED … Jan in Grell
ROLAND FEEBLY WINDED HIS HORN … Louis Grell

[Illustration: A GREAT BIG YELLOW ONE]

JOHN'S PUMPKIN

By MRS ARCHIBALD

Last spring I found a pumpkin seed,
And thought that I would go
And plant it in a secret place,
That no one else would know,
And watch all summer long to see
It grow, and grow, and grow,
And maybe raise a pumpkin for
A Jack-a-lantern show.

I stuck a stick beside the seed,
And thought that I should shout
One morning when I stooped and saw
The greenest little sprout!
I used to carry water there,
When no one was about,
And every day I'd count to see
How many leaves were out.

Till by and by there came a flower
The color of the sun,
Which withered up, and then I saw
The pumpkin was begun;
But oh! I knew I'd have to wait
So long to have my fun,
Before that small green ball could be
A great big yellow one.

At last, one day, when it had grown
To be the proper size,
Said Aunt Matilda: "John, see here,
I'll give you a surprise!"
She took me to a pantry shelf,
And there before my eyes,
Was set a dreadful row of half
A dozen pumpkin pies.

Said Aunt Matilda; "John, I found
A pumpkin, high and dry,
Upon a pile of rubbish, down
Behind that worn-out sty!"
O, dear, I didn't cry, because
I'm quite too big to cry,
But, honestly, I couldn't eat
A mouthful of the pie.

THE MOCK TURTLE'S STORY

By LEWIS CARROLL

NOTE.—The Mock Turtle's Story is from Alice in Wonderland, one of the most delightful books that ever was written for children. It tells the story of a little girl's dream of Wonderland—a curious country where one's size changes constantly, and where one meets and talks with the quaintest, most interesting creatures. Through the Looking-Glass, a companion book to Alice in Wonderland, is almost equally charming, with its descriptions of the land where everything happens backward. Queen Alice, and The Walrus and the Carpenter, are from Through the Looking-Glass.

The real name of the man who wrote these books was Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, but every one knows him better as Lewis Carroll. He was a staid and learned mathematician, who wrote valuable books on most difficult mathematical subjects; for instance, he wrote a Syllabus of Plane Algebraical Geometry, and it is not a joke, though the name may sound like one to a person who has read Alice in Wonderland. However, there was one subject in which this grave lecturer on mathematics was more interested than he was in his own lectures, and that was children—especially little girls. He liked to have them with him always, and they, seeing in him a friend and playmate, coaxed him constantly for stories and stories, and yet more stories.

One day, in July, 1862, he took three of his little friends, Alice and Edith and Lorina Liddell, for a trip up the river, and on that afternoon he began telling them about Alice and her Wonderland, continuing the story on other occasions, He had no intention then of making a book, but the story pleased little Alice and her sisters so well that they talked about it at home and among their grown-up friends, who finally persuaded the author to have it printed. It has gone on growing more and more popular, and will keep on doing so as long as children love fun and wonderful happenings.

The pictures which Sir John Tenniel made for Lewis Carroll's books are almost as famous as the books themselves, and every child who has studied them knows exactly how dear little Alice looked, and feels certain that he would recognize a Gryphon or a Mock Turtle anywhere. The pictures given here are after Tenniel's drawings.

They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance, sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She pitied him deeply.

"What is his sorrow?" she asked the Gryphon, and the Gryphon answered, "It's all his fancy, that: he hasn't got no sorrow, you know. Come on!"

So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes full of tears, but said nothing.

"This here young lady," said the Gryphon, "she wants for to know your history, she do."

"I'll tell it her," said the Mock Turtle in a deep-hollow tone: "sit down both of you, and don't speak a word till I've finished."

So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought to herself, "I don't see how he can EVER finish, if he doesn't begin." But she waited patiently.

[Illustration: THE GRYPHON]

"Once," said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, "I was a real
Turtle."

These words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by an occasional exclamation of "Hjckrrh!" from the Gryphon, and the constant heavy sighing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly getting up and saying "Thank you, sir, for your interesting story," but she could not help thinking there MUST be more to come, so she sat still and said nothing.

"When we were little," the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly, though still sobbing a little now and then, "we went to school in the sea. The master was an old Turtle—we used to call him Tortoise—"

[Illustration: ALICE SAT STILL]

"Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn't one?" Alice asked.

"We called him Tortoise because he taught us," said the Mock Turtle angrily; "really you are very dull."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple question," added the Gryphon; and then they both sat silent and looked at poor Alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth. At last the Gryphon said to the Mock Turtle, "Drive on, old fellow! Don't be all day about it!" and he went on in these words:

"Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn't believe it—"

"I never said I didn't!" interrupted Alice.

"You did," said the Mock Turtle.

"Hold your tongue!" added the Gryphon, before Alice could speak again.
The Mock Turtle went on:

"We had the best of educations—in fact, we went to school every day-"

"I'VE been to a day-school too," said Alice; "you needn't be so proud as all that."

"With extras?" asked the Mock Turtle a little anxiously.

"Yes," said Alice, "we learned French and music."

"And washing?" said the Mock Turtle.

"Certainly not!" said Alice indignantly.

"Ah! then yours wasn't a really good school," said the Mock Turtle in a tone of great relief. "Now at OURS they had at the end of the bill, 'French, music, AND WASHING—extra.'"

"You couldn't have wanted it much," said Alice, "living at the bottom of the sea."

"I couldn't afford to learn it," said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. "I only took the regular course."

"What was that?" inquired Alice.

"Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with," the Mock Turtle replied; "and then the different branches of Arithmetic—Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision."

"I never heard of 'Uglification'," Alice ventured to say. "What is it?"

The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. "Never heard of uglifying!" it exclaimed. "You know what to beautify is, I suppose?"

"Yes," said Alice, doubtfully; "it means—to—make—anything— prettier.

"Well then," the Gryphon went on, "if you don't know what to uglify is, you ARE a simpleton."

Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so she turned to the Mock Turtle, and said, "What else had you to learn?"

"Well, there was Mystery," the Mock Turtle replied, counting off the subjects on his flappers—"Mystery, ancient and modern, with Seaography: then Drawling—the Drawling-master was an old conger eel, that used to come once a week: HE taught us Drawling, Stretching, and Fainting in Coils."

"What was THAT like?" said Alice.

"Well, I can't show it you, myself," the Mock Turtle said: "I'm too stiff. And the Gryphon never learned it."

"Hadn't time," said the Gryphon. "I went to the Classical master, though. He was an old crab, HE was."

"I never went to him," the Mock Turtle said with a sigh: "he taught Laughing and Grief, they used to say." "So he did, so he did." said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn, and both creatures hid their faces in their paws.

"And how many hours a day did you do lessons?" said Alice, in a hurry to change the subject.

"Ten hours the first day," said the Mock Turtle; "nine the next, and so on."

"What a curious plan!" exclaimed Alice.

"That's the reason they're called lessons," the Gryphon remarked: "because they lessen from day to day."

This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a little before she made her next remark. "Then the eleventh day must have been a holiday?"

"Of course it was," said the Mock Turtle.

"And how did you manage on the twelfth?" Alice went on eagerly.

"That's enough about lessons," the Gryphon interrupted in a very decided tone: "tell her something about the games now."

The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across his eyes. He looked at Alice and tried to speak, but for a minute or two sobs choked his voice. "Same as if he had a bone in his throat," said the Gryphon, and it set to work shaking him and punching him in the back.

At last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears running down his cheeks, he went on again:

"You may not have lived much under the sea"—("I haven't," said
Alice)—"and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster"—
(Alice began to say "I once tasted"—but checked herself hastily, and
said, "No, never")—"so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a
Lobster-Quadrille is!"

"No, indeed," said Alice. "What sort of a dance is it?"

"Why," said the Gryphon, "you first form into a line along the seashore—"

"Two lines!" cried the Mock Turtle. "Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on: then, when you've cleared all the jellyfish out of the way—"

"THAT generally takes some time," interrupted the Gryphon.

"You advance twice—"

"Each with a lobster as a partner!" cried the Gryphon.

"Of course," the Mock Turtle said: "advance twice, set to partners—"

"Change lobsters, and retire in same order," continued the Gryphon.

"Then you know," the Mock Turtle went on, "you throw the—"

"The lobsters!" shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air. "As far out to the sea as you can—"

"Swim after them!" screamed the Gryphon.

"Turn a somersault in the sea!" cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly about.

"Change lobsters again!" yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice.

"Back to land again, and—that's all the first figure," said the Mock Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had been jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very sadly and quietly, and looked at Alice.

"It must be a very pretty dance," said Alice timidly.

"Would you like to see a little of it?" said the Mock Turtle.

[Illustration: THE LOBSTER QUADRILLE]

"Very much indeed," said Alice.

"Come, let's try the first figure!" said the Mock Turtle to the
Gryphon. "We can do it without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing?"

"Oh, YOU sing," said the Gryphon. "I've forgotten the words."

So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and
then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their
fore paws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very
slowly and sadly:
"'Will you walk a little faster!' said a whiting to a snail,
'There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?

"'You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!'
But the snail replied 'Too far, too far!' and gave a look askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.

"'What matters it how far we go?' his scaly friend replied,
'There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France;
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?'"

"Thank you, it's a very interesting dance to watch," said Alice, feeling very glad that it was over at last; "and I do so like that curious song about the whiting!"

"Oh, as to the whiting," said the Mock Turtle, "they—you've seen them, of course?"

"Yes," said Alice, "I've often seen them at dinn—" she checked herself hastily.

"I don't know where Dinn may be," said the Mock Turtle, "but if you've seen them so often, of course you know what they're like."

"I believe so," Alice replied thoughtfully. "They have their tails in their mouths; and they're all over crumbs."

"You're wrong about the crumbs," said the Mock Turtle; "crumbs would all wash off in the sea. But they HAVE their tails in their mouths; and the reason is"—here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his eyes. "Tell her about the reason and all that," he said to the Gryphon.

"The reason is," said the Gryphon, "that they WOULD go with the lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they couldn't get them out again. That's all."

"Thank you," said Alice, "it's very interesting. I never knew so much about a whiting before."

"I can tell you more than that, if you like," said the Gryphon. "Do you know why it's called a whiting?"

"I never thought about it," said Alice. "Why?"

"IT DOES THE BOOTS AND SHOES," the Gryphon replied very solemnly.

Alice was thoroughly puzzled. "Does the boots and shoes!" she repeated in a wondering tone.

"Why, what are YOUR shoes done with?" said the Gryphon. "I mean, what makes them so shiny?"

Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her answer. "They're done with blacking, I believe."

"Boots and shoes under the sea," the Gryphon went on in a deep voice, "are done with whiting. Now you know."

"And what are they made of?" Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity.

"Soles and eels, of course," the Gryphon replied rather impatiently; "any shrimp could have told you that."

"If I'd been the whiting," said Alice, whose thoughts were still running on the song, "I'd have said, to the porpoise, 'Keep back, please; we don't want YOU with us!'"

"They were obliged to have him with them," the Mock Turtle said; "no wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise."

"Wouldn't it really?" said Alice in a tone of great surprise.

"Of course not," said the Mock Turtle; "why, if a fish came to ME, and told me he was going a journey, I should say 'With what porpoise?'"

"Don't you mean 'purpose'?" said Alice.

"I mean what I say," the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone.

And the Gryphon added, "Come, let's hear some of YOUR adventures."

"I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning," said Alice a little timidly; "but it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."

"Explain all that," said the Mock Turtle.

"No, no! the adventures first," said the Gryphon in an impatient tone; "explanations take such a dreadful time."

So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first saw the White Rabbit; she was a little nervous about it just at first, the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened their eyes and mouths so VERY wide, but she gained courage as she went on. Her listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part about her repeating, "You are old, Father William," to the caterpillar, and the words all coming different, and then the Mock Turtle drew a long breath, and said, "That's very curious."

"It's all about as curious as it can be," said the Gryphon.

"It all came different!" the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. "I should like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to begin." He looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of authority over Alice.

"Stand up and repeat, ''Tis the voice of the sluggard'," said the
Gryphon.

[Illustration: AND TURNS OUT HIS TOES]

"How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!" thought Alice. "I might just as well be at school at once."

However, she got up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster-Quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came very queer indeed:

"'Tis the voice of the lobster; I heard him declare,
'You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.'
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes."

"That's different from what I used to say when I was a child," said the Gryphon.

"Well, I never heard it before," said the Mock Turtle; "but it sounds uncommon nonsense."

Alice said nothing; she had sat down again with her face in her hands, wondering if anything would ever happen in a natural way again.

"I should like to have it explained," said the Mock Turtle.

"She can't explain it," said the Gryphon hastily. "Go on with the next verse."

"But about his toes?" the Mock Turtle persisted. "How COULD he turn them out with his nose, you know?"

"It's the first position in dancing," Alice said; but she was dreadfully puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject.

"Go on with the next verse," the Gryphon repeated impatiently; "it begins 'I passed by his garden.'"

Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:

"I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,
How the owl and the oyster were sharing the pie."

"What IS the use of repeating all that stuff," the Mock Turtle interrupted, "if you don't explain it as you go on? It's by far the most confusing thing I ever heard."

"Yes, I think you'd better leave off," said the Gryphon, and Alice was only too glad to do so.

"Shall we try another figure of the Lobster-Quadrille?" the Gryphon went on. "Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you a song?"

"Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind," Alice replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, "Hm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her 'Turtle Soup,' will you, old fellow?"

The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked
with sobs, to sing this:
"Beautiful Soup, so rich and green,
Waiting in a hot tureen!
Who for such dainties would not stoop?
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!

"Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,
Game, or any other dish?
Who would not give all else for two p
ennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beauti—FUL SOUP!"

THE SPIDER AND THE FLY

By MARY HOWITT

"Will you walk into my parlor?"
Said a spider to a fly:
'Tis the prettiest little parlor
That ever you did spy.
The way into my parlor
Is up a winding stair,
And I have many pretty things
To show when you are there."
"Oh, no, no!" said the little fly,
"To ask me is in vain;
For who goes up your winding stair
Can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary
With soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?"
Said the spider to the fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around,
The sheets are fine and thin;
And if you like to rest awhile,
I'll snugly tuck you in."
"Oh, no, no!" said the little fly,
"For I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again
Who sleep upon your bed."

Said the cunning spider to the fly,
"Dear friend, what shall I do
To prove the warm affection
I've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry
Good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome—
Will you please to take a slice?"
"Oh, no, no!" said the little fly;
"Kind sir, that cannot be;
I've heard what's in your pantry,
And I do not wish to see."

"Sweet creature," said the spider,
"You're witty and you're wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings,
How brilliant are your eyes.
I have a little looking-glass
Upon my parlor shelf;
If you'll step in one moment, dear,
You shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said,
"For what you're pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning, now,
I'll call another day."

The spider turned him round about,
And went into his den,
For well he knew the silly fly
Would soon be back again;
So he wove a subtle thread
In a little corner sly,
And set his table ready
To dine upon the fly.
He went out to his door again,
And merrily did sing,
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly,
With the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple,
There's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright,
But mine are dull as lead."

Alas, alas! how very soon
This silly little fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words,
Came slowly flitting by:
With buzzing wings she hung aloft,
Then near and nearer drew—
Thought only of her brilliant eyes
And green and purple hue;
Thought only of her crested head—
Poor foolish thing! At last
Up jumped the cunning spider,
And fiercely held her fast.

He dragged her up his winding stair,
Into his dismal den,
Within his little parlor—but
She ne'er came out again!
And now, dear little children
Who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words,
I pray you, ne'er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor
Close heart and ear and eye,
And learn a lesson from this tale
Of the spider and the fly.

A FAREWELL

By CHARLES KINGSLEY

My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
And so make life, death, and that vast forever
One grand sweet song.

QUEEN ALICE

By LEWIS CARROLL

Alice threw herself down to rest on a lawn as soft as moss, with little flower beds dotted about it here and there. "Oh, how glad I am to get here! And what IS this on my head?" she exclaimed, as she put her hands up to something very heavy, that fitted tight all round her head.

"But how CAN it have got there without my knowing it?" she said to herself, as she lifted it off, and set it on her lap to make out what it could possibly be. It was a golden crown.

"Well, this IS grand!" said Alice. "I never expected I should be a queen so soon—and I'll tell you what it is, your majesty," she went on in a severe tone (she was always rather fond of scolding herself), "it'll never do for you to be lolling about on the grass like that! Queens have to be dignified, you know!"

So she got up and walked about—rather stiffly just at first, as she was afraid that the crown might come off: but she comforted herself with the thought that there was nobody to see her; "and if I really am a queen," she said, as she sat down again, "I shall be able to manage it quite well in time."

Everything was happening so oddly that she didn't feel a bit surprised at finding the Red Queen and the White Queen sitting close to her, one on each side: she would have liked very much to ask them how they came there, but she feared it would not be quite civil. However, there would be no harm, she thought, in asking if the game was over.

[Illustration: IT WAS A GOLDEN CROWN]

"Please, would you tell me—" she began, looking timidly at the Red
Queen.

"Speak when you're spoken to!" the Queen sharply interrupted her.

"But if everybody obeyed that rule," said Alice, who was always ready for a little argument, "and if you only spoke when you were spoken to, and the other person always waited for YOU to begin, you see nobody would ever say anything, so—"

"Ridiculous!" cried the Queen. "Why, don't you see, child—" here she broke off with a frown, and, after thinking for a minute, suddenly changed the subject of the conversation. "What do you mean by 'If you really are a queen?' What right have you to call yourself so? You can't be a queen, you know, till you've passed the proper examination. And the sooner we begin it, the better."

"I only said 'if'," poor Alice pleaded in a piteous tone.

The two queens looked at each other, and the Red Queen remarked, with a little shudder, "She SAYS she only said 'if'—"

"But she said a great deal more than that," the White Queen moaned, wringing her hands. "Oh, ever so much more than that."

"So you did, you know," the Red Queen said to Alice. "Always speak the truth—think before you speak—and write it down afterward."

"I'm sure I didn't mean—" Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen interrupted her impatiently.

"That's just what I complain of. You SHOULD have meant! What do you suppose is the use of a child without any meaning? Even a joke should have some meaning—and a child's more important than a joke, I hope. You couldn't deny that, even if you tried with both hands."

"I don't deny things with my HANDS," Alice objected. "Nobody said you did," said the Red Queen. "I said you couldn't if you tried."

"She's in that state of mind," said the White Queen, "that she wants to deny SOMETHING—only she doesn't know what to deny."

"A nasty, vicious temper," the Red Queen remarked; and there was an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two.

The Red Queen broke the silence by saying to the White Queen, "I invite you to Alice's dinner party this afternoon."

The White Queen smiled feebly, and said, "And I invite YOU."

"I didn't know I was to have a party at all," said Alice; "but if there is to be one, I think I ought to invite the guests."

"We gave you the opportunity of doing it," the Red Queen remarked: "but I dare say you've not had many lessons in manners yet?"

"Manners are not taught in lessons," said Alice. "Lessons teach you to do sums, and things of that sort."

"Can you do addition?" the White Queen asked. "What's one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?"

"I don't know," said Alice. "I lost count."

"She can't do Addition," the Red Queen interrupted. "Can you do
Subtraction? Take nine from eight."

"Nine from eight I can't, you know," Alice replied very readily: "but—"

"She can't do Subtraction," said the White Queen. "Can you do
Division? Divide a loaf by a knife—what's the answer to that?"

"I suppose—" Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen answered for her. "Bread-and-butter, of course. Try another Subtraction sum. Take a bone from a dog: what remains?"

Alice considered. "The bone wouldn't remain, of course, if I took it— and the dog wouldn't remain; it would come to bite me—and I'm sure I shouldn't remain!"

[Illustration: ALICE CONSIDERED]

"Then you think nothing would remain?" said the Red Queen.

"I think that's the answer."

"Wrong as usual," said the Red Queen; "the dog's temper would remain."

"But I don't see how—"

"Why, look here!" the Red Queen cried. "The dog would lose its temper, wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps it would," Alice replied cautiously.

"Then if the dog went away, its temper would remain!" the Queen exclaimed triumphantly.

Alice said, as gravely as she could, "They might go different ways." But she couldn't help thinking to herself, "What nonsense we ARE talking!"

"She can't do sums a BIT," the queens said together, with great emphasis.

"Can YOU do sums?" Alice said, turning suddenly on the White Queen, for she didn't like being found fault with so much.

The Queen gasped and shut her eyes. "I can do Addition," she said, "if you give me time—but I can't do Subtraction under ANY circumstances!"

"Of course you know your A B C?" said the Red Queen.

"To be sure I do," said Alice.

"So do I," the White Queen whispered: "we'll often say it over together, dear. And I'll tell you a secret—I can read words of one letter! Isn't THAT grand? However, don't be discouraged. You'll come to it in time."

Here the Red Queen began again. "Can you answer useful questions?" she said. "How is bread made?"

"I know THAT," Alice cried eagerly. "You take some flour—"

"Where do you pick the flower?" the White Queen asked. "In a garden, or in the hedges?"

"Well, it isn't PICKED at all," Alice explained: "it's GROUND—"

"How many acres of ground?" said the White Queen. "You mustn't leave out so many things."

"Fan her head!" the Red Queen anxiously interrupted. "She'll be feverish after so much thinking." So they set to work and fanned her with bunches of leaves, till she had to beg them to leave off, it blew her hair about so.

"She's all right again now," said the Red Queen. "Do you know languages? What's the French for fiddle-de-dee?"

"Fiddle-de-dee's not English," Alice replied gravely.

"Who ever said it was?" said the Red Queen.

Alice thought she saw a way out of the difficulty this time. "If you'll tell me what language 'fiddle-de-dee' is, I'll tell you the French for it!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

But the Red Queen drew herself up rather stiffly, and said, "Queens never make bargains."

"I wish queens never asked questions," Alice thought to herself.

"Don't let us quarrel," the White Queen said, in an anxious tone.
"What is the cause of lightning?"

"The cause of lightning," Alice said, very decidedly, for she felt quite certain about this, "is the thunder—no, no!" she hastily corrected herself. "I meant the other way."

"It's too late to correct it," said the Red Queen: "when you've once said a thing, that fixes it, and you must take the consequences."

"Which reminds me," the White Queen said, looking down and nervously clasping and unclasping her hands, "we had SUCH a thunderstorm last Tuesday—I mean one of the last set of Tuesdays, you know."

Alice was puzzled. "In OUR country," she remarked, "there's only one day at a time."

The Red Queen said, "That's a poor thin way of doing things. Now HERE, we mostly have days and nights two or three at a time, and sometimes in the winter we take as many as five nights together—for warmth, you know."

"Are five nights warmer than one night, then?" Alice ventured to ask.

"Five times as warm, of course."

"But they should be five times as COLD, by the same rule—"

"Just so!" cried the Red Queen. "Five times as warm, AND five times as cold—just as I'm five times as rich as you are, AND five times as clever!"

Alice sighed and gave it up. "It's exactly like a riddle with no answer!" she thought.

"Humpty Dumpty saw it too," the White Queen went on in a low voice, more as if she were talking to herself. "He came to the door with a corkscrew in his hand—"

"What did he want?" said the Red Queen.

"He said he WOULD come in," the White Queen went on, "because he was looking for a hippopotamus. Now, as it happened, there wasn't such a thing in the house, that morning."

"Is there generally?" Alice asked in an astonished tone.

"Well, only on Thursdays," said the Queen.

"I know what he came for," said Alice: "he wanted to punish the fish, because—"

Here the White Queen began again. "It was SUCH a thunderstorm, you can't think!" ("She NEVER could, you know," said the Red Queen.) "And part of the roof came off, and ever so much thunder got in—and it went rolling round the room in great lumps—and knocking over the tables and things—till I was so frightened, I couldn't remember my own name!"

Alice thought to herself, "I never should TRY to remember my name in the middle of an accident! Where would be the use of it?" but she did not say this aloud, for fear of hurting the poor Queen's feelings.

"Your Majesty must excuse her," the Red Queen said to Alice, taking one of the White Queen's hands in her own, and gently stroking it: "she means well, but she can't help saying foolish things, as a general rule."

The White Queen looked timidly at Alice, who felt she OUGHT to say something kind, but really couldn't think of anything at the moment.

"She never was really well brought up," the Red Queen went on: "but it's amazing how good-tempered she is! Pat her on the head, and see how pleased she'll be!" But this was more than Alice had courage to do.

"A little kindness—and putting her hair in papers—would do wonders with her—"

The White Queen gave a deep sigh, and laid her head on Alice's shoulder. "I AM so sleepy!" she moaned.

"She's tired, poor thing!" said the Red Queen. "Smooth her hair—lend her your nightcap—and sing her a soothing lullaby."

"I haven't got a nightcap with me," said Alice, as she tried to obey the first direction: "and I don't know any soothing lullabies."

"I must do it myself, then," said the Red Queen, and she began:

"Hush-a-by, lady, in Alice's lap!
Till the feast's ready, we've time for a nap:
When the feast's over, we'll go to the ball—
Red Queen, and White Queen, and Alice, and all!"

"And now you know the words," she added, as she put her head down on Alice's other shoulder, "just sing it through to ME; I'm getting sleepy, too." In another moment both queens were fast asleep, and snoring loud.

[Illustration: TWO QUEENS ASLEEP AT ONCE]

"What AM I to do?" exclaimed Alice, looking about in great perplexity, as first one round head, and then the other, rolled down from her shoulder, and lay like a heavy lump in her lap. "I don't think it EVER happened before, that any one had to take care of two queens asleep at once! No, not in all the history of England—it couldn't, you know, because there never was more than one queen at a time. Do wake up, you heavy things!" she went on in an impatient tone; but there was no answer but a gentle snoring.

THE LEPRECAUN

By WILLIAM ALLINGHAM

NOTE.—The Leprecaun, or Shoemaker, is one of the solitary fairies of Ireland. He is a little fellow who wears a red coat with seven buttons in each row, and a cocked or pointed hat, on the point of which he often spins round like a top. You may often see him under the hedge mending shoes; where, if you are sharp enough, you may catch him and make him give up the big crocks of gold, of which the little miser has saved many and many. But you must be careful, for if after you have seen him once you take your eyes off him for a single instant, he vanishes into the air like a wreath of smoke.

Little cowboy, what have you heard,
Up on the lonely rath's green mound?
Only the plaintive yellow-bird
Singing in sultry fields around?
Chary, chary, chary, chee-e!
Only the grasshopper and the bee?
"Tip-tap, rip-rap,
Tick-a-tack-too!
Scarlet leather sewn together,
This will make a shoe.
Left, right, pull it tight,
Summer days are warm;
Underground in winter,
Laughing at the storm!"

Lay your ear close to the hill:
Do you not catch the tiny clamor,
Busy click of an elfin hammer,
Voice of the Leprecaun singing shrill
As he merrily plies his trade?
He's a span
And a quarter in height;
Get him in sight, hold him fast,
And you're a made
Man!

You watch your cattle the summer day,
Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay;
How should you like to roll in your carriage
And look for a duchess's daughter in marriage?
Seize the shoemaker, so you may!
"Big boots a-hunting,
Sandals in the hall,
White for a wedding feast,
And pink for a ball:
This way, that way,
So we make a shoe,
Getting rich every stitch,
Tick-tack-too!"

Nine and ninety treasure crocks
This keen miser-fairy hath,
Hid in mountain, wood and rocks,
Ruin and round-tower, cave or rath,
And where the cormorants build;
From the times of old
Guarded by him;
Each of them filled
Full to the brim
With gold!

[Illustration: THIS WAY, THAT WAY, SO WE MAKE A SHOE]

I caught him at work one day myself,
In the castle ditch where the foxglove grows,
A wrinkled, wizened and bearded elf,
Spectacles stuck on the top of his nose,
Silver buckles to his hose,
Leather apron, shoe in his lap.
"Rip-rap, tip-tap,
Tick-tack-too!

A grig stepped upon my cap,
Away the moth flew.
Buskins for a fairy prince,
Brogues for his son,
Pay me well, pay me well,
When the job's done."

The rogue was mine beyond a doubt;
I stared at him, he stared at me!
"Servant, Sir!" "Humph," said he,
And pulled a snuff-box out;
He took a long pinch, looked better pleased,
The queer little Leprecaun,
Offered the box with a whimsical grace,
Pouf! he flung the dust in my face,
And, while I sneezed, was gone!

THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER

By LEWIS CARROLL

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright—
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done—
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky;
No birds were flying overhead—
There were no birds to fly.

[Illustration: THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER]

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

"Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach;
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head—
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat—
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.