 General Introduction to Childhood's Favourites and Fairy Stories Books are as much a part of the furnishing of a house as tables and chairs, and in the making of a home they belong, not with the luxuries, but with the necessities. A bookless house is not a home, for a home affords food and shelter for the mind as well as for the body. It is as great an offence against a child to starve his mind as to starve his body, and there is as much danger of reducing his vitality and putting him at a disadvantage in his life work in the one as in the other form of deprivation. There was a time when it was felt that shelter, clothing, food, and physical oversight comprised the whole duty of a charitable institution to dependent children. Today no community would permit such an institution to exist unless it provided school privileges. An acute sense of responsibility toward children is one of the prime characteristics of American society, shown in the vast expenditures for public education in all forms, in the increasing attention paid to light, ventilation, and safety in school buildings, in the opening of playgrounds in large cities, in physical supervision of children in schools, and the agitation against the employment of children in factories, and in other and less obvious ways. Children are helpless to protect themselves and secure what they need for health of body and mind. They are exceedingly impressionable, and the future is always in their hands. The first and most imperative duty of parents is to give their children the best attainable preparation for life no matter at what sacrifice to themselves. There are hosts of fathers and mothers who recognise this obligation, but do not know how to discharge it, who are eager to give their children the most wholesome conditions, but do not know how to secure them, who are especially anxious that their children should start early and start right on that highway of education which is the open road to honourable success. There are many homes in which books would find abundant room if the heads of the families knew what books to buy, or had the means to put into the hands of the growing child the reading matter it needs in the successive periods of its growth. This condition of eagerness to give the best, and of ignorance of how or where to find the best, is the justification for the publication of this set of books. The attempt has been made in a series of twelve volumes to bring together in convenient form the fairy stories, myths, and legends which have fed the children of many generations in the years when the imagination is awakening and cravings stimulus and material to work upon. That age of myth-making which is a prelude to the more scientific uses of the mind, and of immense importance in an intensely practical age, a group of tales of standard quality and an interest and value which have placed them among the permanent possessions of English literature, a careful selection of stories of animal life, a natural history familiar in style and thoroughly trustworthy in fact, an account of those travels and adventures which have opened up the earth and made its resources available, and which constitute one of the most heroic chapters in the history of the long struggle of men to possess the earth and make it a home for the highest kind of civilization, a record of heroism taken from the annals of the patriots, and of those brave men who, in all ages, ranks of society and occupations, have dared to face great dangers in the path of duty and science, with special attention to that everyday heroism in which the age is especially rich, and of which so many good people are grossly ignorant, a survey of scientific achievement with reports of recent discoveries in knowledge and adaptation of knowledge to human need, a group of biographies of the men and women mostly Americans, who are the most stimulating companions for boys and girls, a volume on the fine arts dealing with music, painting, sculpture, architecture, in a way to instruct young readers, and making accessible a large number of those songs which appeal in the best way to children in schools and homes, a collection of the best poetry for the youngest and oldest readers, chosen not only for excellence from the standpoint of art, but deep and abiding human interest, and a volume devoted to the occupations and resources of the home addressed to parents no less than to children, with practical suggestions about books and reading, games and amusements, exercise and health, and those kindred topics which have to do with making the home wholesome and attractive. These twelve volumes aim, in brief, to make the home the most inspiring school and the most attractive place for pleasure, and to bring the best the world has to offer of adventure, heroism, achievement and beauty within its four walls. Special attention has been given to the youngest children whose interests are often neglected because they are thought to be too immature to receive serious impressions from what is read to them. Psychology is beginning to make us understand that no greater mistake can be made in the education of children than underrating the importance of the years when the soil receives the seed most quickly. For education of the deepest sort, the planting of those formative ideas which give final direction and quality to the intellectual life, there is no period so important as the years between three and six and none so fruitful. To put in the seed at that time is, as a rule, to decide the kind of harvest the child will reap later, whether he shall be a shrewd, keen, clever, ambitious man with a hard mechanical mind bent on getting the best of the world, or a generous, fruitful, open-minded man intent on living the fullest life in mind and heart. No apology is offered for giving large space to myths, legends, fairy stories, tales of all sorts, and to poetry. For in these expressions of the creative mind is to be found the material on which the imagination has fed in every age, and which is, for the most part, conspicuously absent from our educational programs. America has at present greater facility in producing smart men than in producing able men. The alert, quick-witted money-maker abounds, but the men who live with ideas, who care for the principles of things, and who make life rich in resource and interest are comparatively few. America needs poetry more than it needs industrial training, though the two ought never to be separated. The time to awaken the imagination, which is the creative faculty, is early childhood, and the most accessible material for this education is the literature which the race created in its childhood. The creative man, whether in the arts or in practical affairs, in poetry, in engineering, or in business, is always the man of imagination. In this library for young people the attempt has been made not only to give the child what it needs, but in the form which is most easily understood. For this reason some well-known stories have been retold in simpler English than their classic forms present. This is especially true of many tales for any young children reprinted by special arrangement from recent English sources. In some cases, where the substance has seemed of more importance to the child than the form, simpler words and forms of expression have been substituted for more complex or abstract phrases, and passages of minor importance have been condensed or omitted. The aim in making the selections in this set of books has been to interest the child and give it what it needs for normal growth. The material has been taken from many sources, old and new. Much of the reading matter presented has been familiar in one form or another to generations of children. Much has appeared for the first time within the last ten years. A considerable part has been prepared especially for the treasury, and a large part has been selected from the best writing in the various fields. It is the hope of the editor that this treasury, or library, will justify its title by its real and fundamental service to children and parents alike. Hamilton W. Mayby Introduction Since this series of books is intended for all young people, from one to one hundred, it opens with about eighty of the old mother goose rhymes. Nothing better was ever invented to tell to little folks who are young enough for lullabies. Their rhythm, their humour, and their pith will always cause us to prize them as the baby's classics. Next, come a score of the most famous nursery tales, the kind that children cry for and love to hear fifty times over. And since, just as soon as little folks like stories, they love to hear them in rhyme, here are forty children's favourite poems. What would young life be without puss in boots and little red riding-hood and the sleeping beauty? Our treasury would indeed be poor without them, so these favourite stories come next, yoked with some old-fashioned poems in story form, as the night before Christmas, the wonderful world, and little orphaned Annie. All who love pets and animals have always liked fables, so here are the noted parables of Esop and the lesser known, but even more jolly tales from East Indian sources. The fairy tale age is supposed to come from four to nine, but the editors are sure it lasts much longer than that. However this may be, the better half of our first volume is given up to fairy tales and laughter stories from all over the world. It ends with tales for tiny tots, the kind that mother reads beside the fire at bedtime, some of them old, like the little red hen and Peter Rabbit, and some of them newer, like the greedy brownie and the birthday honours of the fairy queen. William Byron Forbush End of General Introduction Section 1 of Childhood's favourites and fairy stories This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ruth Golding Childhood's favourites and fairy stories by various authors. Section 1. Nursery Rhymes Harsher by baby on the treetop When the wind blows, the cradle will rock When the bow breaks, the cradle will fall Down will come baby, bow, cradle, and all Rocker by baby, thy cradle is green Fathers a nobleman, mothers a queen Betty's a lady and wears a gold ring And Johnny's a drummer and drums for the king By baby bunting, daddy's gone a hunting To get a little rabbit skin, to wrap his baby bunting in Hush thee, my baby, lie still With thy daddy, thy mummy has gone to the mill To grind thee some wheat, to make thee some meat And so, my dear baby, lie still, sleep, Baby, sleep, thy father watches the sheep Thy mother is shaking the dreamland tree And down falls a little dream on thee Sleep, baby, sleep, sleep, baby, sleep The large stars are the sheep The wee stars are the lambs, I guess The fair moon is the shepherdess Sleep, baby, sleep This little pig went to market This little pig stayed at home This little pig had roast beef This little pig had nun This little pig said wee, wee I can't find my way home Brow, bender, eye, peeper, nose, smeller, mouth, eater, chin, chopper Knock at the door, peeping Lift up the latch, walk in Eye, winker, tom, tinker, nose, smeller, mouth, eater, chin, chopper, chin, chopper Here sits the Lord Mayor Here sits his two men Here sits the cock And here sits the hen Here sit the chickens And here they go in Chippity, chippity, chippity, chin Pat a cake, pat a cake, baker's man So I do master as fast as I can Pat it and prick it and mark it with tea Put it in the oven for Tommy and me Pat it, kiss it, stroke it, bless it Three days sunshine, three days rain Little hand, all well again Ba, ba, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes, Mary, have I three bags full One for my master, one for my dame And one for the little boy who lives in the lane Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been? I've been to London to look at the queen Pussycat, pussycat, what did you there? I've frightened a little mouse under her chair Fried a cock-horse to Banbury Cross To see an old lady upon a white horse Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes She shall have music wherever she goes Bobby Shafto's gone to sea Silver buckles on his knee He'll come back and marry me Pretty Bobby Shafto Bobby Shafto's fat and fair Coming down his yellow hair He's my love for ever, ma'er Pretty Bobby Shafto Tom, he was a Piper's son He learned to play when he was young And all the tune that he could play Was over the hills and far away Over the hills and a great way off The wind will blow my topknot off Now Tom, with his pipe, made such a noise That he well pleased both the girls and boys And they always stopped to hear him play Over the hills and far away Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home Thy houses on fire, thy children all gone All but one whose name is Anne And she crept under the pudding pan The north wind does blow And we shall have snow And what will the robbing do then, poor thing? He'll sit in a barn and keep himself warm And hide his head under his wing, poor thing I had a little pony His name was Dappel Gray I lent him to a lady To ride a mile away She whipped him, she lashed him She rode him through the mire I would not lend my pony Now for all the ladies hire I had a little doggy that used to sit and beg But doggy tumbled down the stairs And broke his little leg Oh, doggy, I will nurse you And try to make you well And you shall have a collar With a little silver bell Simple Simon met a pieman Going to the fair Says simple Simon to the pieman Let me taste your ware Says the pieman to simple Simon Show me first your penny Says simple Simon to the pieman Indeed I have not any Simple Simon went a fishing fore To catch a whale But all the water he could find Was in his mother's pale Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water Jack fell down and broke his crown And Jill came tumbling after Up Jack got and home Did trot as fast as he could caper Went to bed to mend his head With vinegar and brown paper Jill came in and she did grin To see his paper plaster Mother fexted with her neck For causing Jack's disaster Little boy blue, come blow your horn The sheep's in the meadow The cows in the corn Where's the boy that looks after the sheep He's under the haycock, fast asleep Old mother Goose, when she wanted to wander, Would ride through the air On a very fine gander Mother Goose had a house, Twas built in a wood, Where an owl at the door for sentinels stood She had a son Jack, a plain looking lad, He was not very good, nor yet very bad. She sent him to market, a live Goose he bought, Here mother says he, it will not go for naught. Jack's Goose and her gander grew very fond, They'd both eat together, or swim in one pond. Jack found one morning, as I have been told, His Goose had laid him an egg of pure gold. Jack rode to his mother the news for to tell, She called him a good boy, and said it was well. Goosey, goosey, gander, Where shall I wander Upstairs, downstairs, and in my lady's chamber? There I met an old man who would not say his prayers, I took him by the left leg, and threw him downstairs. I'll tell you a story about Mary Maury, and now my story's begun. I'll tell you another about her brother, and now my story's done. Three wise men of Gotham went to see in a bowl. If the bowl had been stronger, my song had been longer. There was a crooked man, and he went a crooked mile. He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked style. He bought a crooked cat that caught a crooked mouse, and they all lived together in a little crooked house. There was a man in our town, and he was wondrous wise. He jumped into a bramble bush, and scratched out both his eyes. But when he saw his eyes were out, with all his might and pain, he jumped into another bush, and scratched them in again. Hey, diddle, diddle, the cat, and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such sport while the dish ran away with the spoon. Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one, the mouse ran down. Hickory dickory dock. There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. She had so many children, she didn't know what to do. She gave them some broth without any bread. She whipped them all soundly, and put them to bed. Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey. There came a great spider, and sat down beside her, and frightened Miss Muffet away. If all the seas were one sea, what a great sea that would be! And if all the trees were one tree, what a great tree that would be! And if all the axes were one axe, what a great axe that would be! And if all the men were one man, what a great man he would be! And if the great man took the great axe, and cut down the great tree, and let it fall into the great sea, what a splish-splash that would be! There was an old man, and he had a calf, and that's half. He took him out of the stall, and tied him to the wall. And that's all. The man in the wilderness asked me how many strawberries grew in the sea. I answered him as I thought good, as many as red herrings grew in the wood. If all the world were apple pie, and all the sea were ink, and all the trees were bread and cheese, what should we have for drink? I saw a ship, a sailing, a sailing on the sea, and it was full of pretty things for baby and for me. There were sweet-meats in the cabin, and apples in the hold. The sails were made of silk, and the masts were made of gold. The four-and-twenty sailors that stood between the decks were four-and-twenty white mice with chains about their necks. The captain was a duck, with a packet on his back, and when the ship began to move, the captain cried, Quack quack! My dear, do you know how a long time ago, to poor little children whose names I don't know, were stolen away on a fine summer's day, and left in a wood, as I've heard people saying. And when it was night, so sad was their plight, the sun it went down, and the moon gave no light. They sobbed, and they sighed, and they bitterly cried, and the poor little things they lay down and died. And when they were dead, the robins so red, brought strawberry leaves and over them spread, and all the day long they sung them this song, Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood, Oh, don't you remember the babes in the wood? The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, all on her summer's day. The Nave of Hearts, he stoned the tarts, and took them clean away. The King of Hearts called for the tarts, and beat the Nave full sore. The Nave of Hearts brought back the tarts, and vowed he'd steal no more. I had a little husband, no bigger than my thumb. I put him in a pint pot, and there I bad him drum. I bought a little horse, that galloped up and down. I bridled him, and saddled, and sent him out of town. I gave him little garters to garter up his hose, and a little handkerchief to wipe his little nose. Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye. Four and twenty black birds baked in a pie. When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing. Was not that a dainty dish to set before the King? The King was in his counting house, counting out his money. The Queen was in the parlor, eating bread and honey. The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes. When up came a blackbird, nipped off her nose. Little Bo Peep, she's lost her sheep, and can't tell where to find them. Leave them alone, and they'll come home, and bring their tails behind them. Little Bo Peep fell fast asleep, and dreamed she heard them pleading. When she awoke, she found it a joke, for they still were all fleeting. Then up she took her little crook, determined for to find them. She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed, for they'd left their tails behind them. It happened one day, as Bo Peep did stray, on to a meadow hard by. There she aspired, their tails side by side, all hung on a tree to dry. She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye, and over the hillock she raced. And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should, that each tail should be properly played. What a little boy's made of, made of, what a little boy's made of. Snips and snails and puppy-dogs' tails, and that's what little boys are made of, made of. What a little girl's made of, made of, what a little girl's made of. Sugar and spice and all that's nice, and that's what little girls are made of, made of. A farmer went trotting upon his grey mare, bumpety, bumpety, bump, with his daughter behind him so rosy and fair, lumpety, lumpety, lump. A raven cried croak, and they all tumbled down, bumpety, bumpety, bump. The mare broke her knees, and the farmer his crown, lumpety, lumpety, lump. The mischief as raven flew laughing away, bumpety, bumpety, bump, and vowed he would serve them the same the next day, bumpety, bumpety, bump. This is the way the ladies ride, saddle aside, saddle aside. This is the way the gentlemen ride, sitting astride, sitting astride. This is the way the grandmothers ride, bundled and tied, bundled and tied. This is the way the babykins ride, snuggled inside, snuggled inside. What does little birdie say? What does little birdie say in her nest at peep of day? Let me fly, says little birdie, mother, let me fly away. Birdie rests a little longer, till the little wings are stronger. So she rests a little longer, then she flies away. What does little baby say in her bed at peep of day? Baby says like little birdie, let me rise and fly away. Baby, sleep a little longer, till the little limbs are stronger. If she sleeps a little longer, baby too shall fly away. Alfred, Lord Tennyson, good night. Little baby, lay your head on your pretty cradle bed. Shut your eye peeps, now the day and the light are gone away. All the clothes are tucked in tight. Little baby, dear, good night. Yes, my darling, well I know how the bitter wind doth blow, and the winter's snow and rain patter on the window pane, but they cannot come in here to my little baby, dear. For the window shutteth fast till the stormy night is past. And the curtain's warm are spread round about her cradle bed. So till morning shineth bright, little baby, dear, good night. Jane Taylor, sweet and low. Sweet and low, sweet and low, wind of the western sea. Low, low, breeze and blow, wind of the western sea. Over the rolling waters go, come from the dying moon, and blow, blow him again to me, while my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, father will come to thee soon. Rest, rest, on mother's breast, father will come to thee soon. Father will come to his babe in the nest, silver sails all out of the west, under the silver moon. Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. Alfred Lord Tennyson, Babyland. Which is the way to Babyland? Anyone can tell. Up one flight to your right, please to ring the bell. What can you see in Babyland? Little folks in white, downy heads, cradle beds, faces pure and bright. What do they do in Babyland? Dream and wake and play, laugh and grow, shout and grow, jolly times have they. What do they say in Babyland? Why, the oddest things, might as well try to tell what a birdie sings. Who is the queen of Babyland? Mother, kind and sweet, and her love, born above, guides the little feet. George Cooper. Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cupboard to get her poor dog a bone. When she got there, the cupboard was bare, and so the poor dog had none. She went to the bakers to buy him some bread, but when she came back, the poor dog was dead. She went to the undertakers to buy him a coffin, and when she came back, the dog was laughing. She went to the drapers to buy him some linen, and when she came back, the good dog was spinning. She went to the hosiers to buy him some hose, and when she came back, he was dressed in his clothes. The dame made a curtsy, the dog made a bow. The dame said, you're servant. The dog said, wow, wow. She went to the hatters to buy him a hat, and when she came back, he was feeding the cat. She went to the tailors to buy him a coat, and when she came back, he was riding the goat. She went to the barbers to buy him a wig, and when she came back, he was dancing a jig. She went to the bookchairs to get him some tripe, and when she came back, he was smoking a pipe. She went to the fish shop to buy him some fish, and when she came back, he was washing the dish. She went to the tavern for white wine and red, and when she came back, the dog stood on his head. As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives. Every wife had seven sacks. Every sack had seven cats. Every cat had seven kits. Kits, cats, sacks, and wives. How many were going to St. Ives? Polly. Brown eyes, straight nose, dirt pies, rumpled clothes, torn books, spoiled toys, arch looks unlike a boy's. Little rages, obvious arts, three her ages, cakes, tarts, falling down off chairs, breaking crown downstairs, catching flies on the pain, deep sighs, cause not plain, bribing you with kisses for a few farthing blisses. Wide awake, as you hear, mercy's sake, quiet, dear. New shoes, new frock, vague views of what's a clock when it's time to go to bed, and scorn sublime for what is said. Folded hands, saying prayers, understands not, nor cares, thinks it odd, smiles away, yet may God hear her pray. Bedgown white, kiss Dolly. Good night, that's Polly. Faster sleep, as you see. Heaven keep my girl for me. William bright he rands. Cradle him. Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber. Holy angels guard thy bed. Heavenly blessings without number gently falling on thy head. Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment, house and home thy friends provide. All without thy care or payment, all thy wants are well supplied. How much better that attended than the Son of God could be, when from heaven he descended and became a child like thee. Soft and easy is thy cradle. Course and hard thy Saviour lay. When his birthplace was a stable, and his softest bed was hay. See the kindly shepherds round him, telling wonders from the sky. When they sought him, there they found him, with his virgin mother by. See the lovely babe adressing, lovely infant, how he smiled. When he wept, the mother's blessings soothed and hushed the holy child. Low he slumbers in his manger, where the honest oxen fed. Peace, my darling, here's no danger. Here's no ox near thy bed. Mayst thou live to know and fear him, trust and love him all thy days. Then go dwell for ever near him, see his face and sing his praise. I could give thee thousand kisses, hoping what I most desire. Not a mother's fondest wishes can to greater joys aspire. Where? Isaac Watts. I like little Pussy. I like little Pussy, her coat is so warm. And if I don't hurt her, she'll do me no harm. So I'll not pull her tail, nor drive her away. But Pussy and I very gently will play. She shall sit by my side, and I'll give her some food. And she'll love me because I am gentle and good. I'll pat little Pussy, and then she will purr. And I'll show her thanks for my kindness to her. I'll not pinch her ears, nor tread on her paw. Blessed I should provoke her to use her sharp claw. I never will vex her, nor make her displeased. For Pussy can't bear to be worried or teased. Jane Taylor. The gravel path. Baby mustn't frown when she tumbles down. If the wind should change, ah me, what a face her face would be. Rub away the dirt, say she wasn't hurt. What a world would be, oh my, if all who fell began to cry. Lawrence Alma Tedima. Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree. Up went Pussycat, and down went he. Down came Pussycat, and away Robin ran, said Little Robin Redbreast, catch me if you can. Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a wall. Pussycat jumped after him, and almost got a fall. Little Robin chirped and sang, and what did Pussy say? Pussycat said nought, but mew, and Robin flew away. Sleep, my treasure. Sleep, sleep, my treasure. The long day's pleasure has tired the birds, to their nests they creep. The garden still is a light with lilies, but all the daisies are fast asleep. Sleep, sleep, my darling. Dawn wakes the starling. The sparrow stirs when he sees day break, but all the meadow is wrapped in shadow, and you must sleep till the daisies wake. Enesbit. Lullaby of an infant chief. Oh, hush, see, my baby, thy sigh was a night. Thy mother, a lady both lovely and bright. The woods and the glens from the tower which we see, they all are belonging, dear baby, to thee. Oh, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, it calls but the waters that guard thy repose. Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red, ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed. Oh, hush, see, my baby, the time will soon come, when thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum. Then hush, see, my darling, take rest while you may, for strife comes with manhood and waking with day. Sir Walter Scott. The Orphan's Song I had a little bird, I took it from the nest, I pressed it and blessed it, and nursed it in my breast. I set it on the ground, danced round and round, and sang about it so cheerly, with hey my little bird, and ho my little bird, and oh, but I love thee dearly. I make a little feast, a food soft and sweet, I hold it in my breast, and coax it to eat. I pit and I pat, I call this and that, and I sing about so cheerly, with hey my little bird, and ho my little bird, and oh, but I love thee dearly. Sidney Doebell. The Death and Burial of Cock Robin Who killed Cock Robin? I said the sparrow, with my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin. Who saw him die? I said the fly, with my little eye, I saw him die. Who caught his blood? I said the fish, with my little dish, I caught his blood. Who'll make his shroud? I said the beetle, with my thread and needle, I'll make his shroud. Who'll bear the torch? I said the limit, I'll come in a minute, I'll bear the torch. Who'll be the clock? I said the lock, I'll say our men in the dark, I'll be the clock. Who'll dig his grave? I said the owl, with my spade and trowel, I'll dig his grave. Who'll be the parson? I said the rook, with my little book, I'll be the parson. Who'll be chief mourner? I said the dove, I mourn for my love, I'll be chief mourner. Who'll sing his dirge? I said the thrush, as I sing in a bush, I'll sing his dirge. Do you know how many stars? Do you know how many stars there are shining in the skies? Do you know how many clouds every day go floating by? God in heaven has counted all. He would miss one, should it fall? Do you know how many children go to little beds at night, and without a care or sorrow wake up in the morning light? God in heaven each name can tell, loves you too and loves you well. Where do all the daisies go? Where do all the daisies go? I know, I know. Underneath the snow they creep, nod their little heads and sleep. In the springtime, out they peep, that is where they go. Where do all the birdies go? I know, I know. Far away from winter snow, to the fair warm south they go. There they stay till daisies blow, that is where they go. Where do all the babies go? I know, I know. In the glancing firelight warm, safely sheltered from all harm, soft they lie on mother's arm, that is where they go. Unknown. Cock crows in the morn to tell us to rise, and he who lies late will never be wise. For early to bed and early to rise is the way to be healthy and wealthy and wise. The house that Jack built. This is the house that Jack built. This is the malt that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the rat that ate the malt that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cat that killed the rat that ate the malt that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the dog that worried the cat that killed the rat that ate the malt that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cow with the crumpled horn that tossed the dog that worried the cat that killed the rat that ate the malt that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the maiden all for lawn that milks the cow with the crumpled horn that tossed the dog that worried the cat that killed the rat that ate the malt that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the man, all tattered and torn, that kissed the maiden, all for lawn, that milked the cow, with the crumpled horn, that tossed the dog that worried the cat, that killed the rat, that ate the malt, that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the priest, all shaven and shorn, that married the man, all tattered and torn, that kissed the maiden, all for lawn, that milked the cow, with the crumpled horn, that tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that killed the rat, that ate the malt, that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cock that croed in the morn, that waked the priest, or shaven, and shorn, That married the man, all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden, all forlorn. That milked the cow, with the crumpled horn That tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that killed the rat, that ate the malt, that lay in the house, that jack built. This is the farmer sowing his corn, that kept the cock, that crowed in the morn, that waked the priest, all shaven and shorn, that married the man, all tattered and torn, that kissed the maiden, all forlorn, that milked the cow, with the crumpled horn, that tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that killed the rat, that ate the malt, that lay in the house that Jack built. Tree on the hill. On yonder hill there stands a tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still. And on the tree there was a branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still. And on the branch there was a nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still. And in the nest there was an egg, egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still. And in the egg there was a bird, bird in the egg, egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still. And on the bird there was a feather. Feather on the bird, bird in the egg, egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still. A little boy's pocket. Do you know what's in my pot it? Such a lot of treasures in it. Listen now while I bid in it. Such a lot of things it holds. And every sin that's in my pot it, and when and where, and how I dot it. First of all, here's in my pot it a beauty-shell. I pit it it up. And here's the handle of a tub that somebody has broke at tea. The shells are holding it, you see. Nobody knows that I dot it. I keep it safe here in my pot it. And here's my ball-toe in my pot it. And here's my pennies one, two, three, that Auntie Mary gave to me. Tomorrow day I'll buy a spade while I'm out walking with the maid. I can't put that in here, my pot it. But I can use it when I've got it. Here's some more things in my pot it. Here's my lead, and here's my string. And once I had an iron ring, but through a hole it lost one day. And this is what I always say, a hole's the worst thing in a pot it. Be sure and mend it when you've got it. Unknown. End of section one, recording by Ruth Golding. Section two of Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ruth Golding. Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories by various authors. Section two, The Three Bears. Little Goldilocks was a pretty girl who lived once upon a time in a far-off country. One day she was sitting on the hearthrug playing with her two kittens, and you would have thought she was as happy as a queen, and quite contented to stay where she was instead of wanting to run about the world meddling with other people's property. But it happened that she was rather a mischievous little maid, and could not resist teasing her pets, so one of them scratched her, and then she would play with them no longer. She got up, and trotted away into the wood behind her mother's house. And it was such a warm, pleasant day, that she wandered on and on until she came into a part of the wood where she had never been before. Now in this wood there lived a family of three bears. The first was a great big bear. The second was a middling-sized bear. And the third was a little teeny, tiny bear. And they all lived together in a funny little house, and very happy they were. Goldilocks stopped when she came to the bear's house, and began to wonder who lived there. I'll just look in and see, she said, and so she did. But there was no one there, for the bears had all gone out for a morning walk, whilst the soup they were going to have for dinner cruel upon the table. Goldilocks was rather hungry after her walk, and the soup smelled so good that she began to wish the people of the house would come home and invite her to have some. But although she looked everywhere under the table and into the cupboards, she could find no one. And at last she could resist no longer, but made up her mind to take just a little sip to see how the soup tasted. The soup had been put into three bowls, a great big bowl for the great big bear, a middling-sized bowl for the middling-sized bear, and a teeny, tiny bowl for the teeny, tiny bear. Beside each bowl lay a spoon, and Goldilocks took one and helped herself to a spoonful of soup from the great big bowl. Ugg! How it burnt her mouth! It was so hot with pepper that she did not like it at all. Still she was very hungry, so she thought she would try again. This time she took a sip of the middling-sized bear's soup, but she liked that no better, for it was too salt. But when she tasted the teeny, tiny bear's soup, it was just as she liked it, so she ate it up every drop without thinking twice about it. When she had finished her dinner, she noticed three chairs standing by the wall. One was a great big chair, and she climbed upon that and sat down. Oh dear, how hard it was! She was sure she could not sit there for long, so she climbed up on the next, which was only a middling-sized chair, but that was too soft for her taste. So she went on to the last, which was a teeny, tiny chair, and suited her exactly. It was so comfortable that she sat on and on until, if you'll believe it, she actually sat the bottom out. Then, of course, she was comfortable no longer, so she got up and began to wonder what she should do next. There was a staircase in the bear's house, and Goldilocks thought she would go up it and see where it led to. So up she went, and when she reached the top, she laughed out right, for the bear's bedroom was the funniest she had ever seen. In the middle of the room stood a great big bed. On one side of it there was a middling-sized bed, and on the other side there was a teeny, tiny bed. Goldilocks was sleepy, so she thought she would lie down and have a little nap. First, she got upon the great big bed, but it was just as hard as the great big chair had been. So she jumped off and tried the middling-sized bed, but it was so soft that she sank right down into the feather cushions and was nearly smothered. I will try the teeny, tiny bed, she said, and so she did, and it was so comfortable that she soon fell fast asleep. Whilst she lay there dreaming of all sorts of pleasant things, the three bears came home from their walk very hungry and quite ready for their dinner. But, oh dear me, how cross the great big bear looked when he saw his spoon had been used and thrown under the table. Who has been tasting my soup? He cried in a great big voice. And who has been tasting mine? cried the middling-sized bear in a middling-sized voice. But who cried the poor little teeny, tiny bear in a teeny, tiny voice with the tears running down his teeny, tiny face? When the great big bear went to sit down in his great big chair, he cried out in his great big voice, who has been sitting on my chair? And the middling-sized bear cried in a middling-sized voice, who has been sitting on my chair? But the teeny, tiny bear cried out in a teeny, tiny voice of anger. My chair and sat the bottom out. By this time the bears were sure that someone had been in their house quite lately, so they looked about to see if someone were not there still. There was certainly no one downstairs, so they went up the staircase to their bedroom. As soon as the great big bear looked at his bed, he cried out in his great big voice, who has been lying on my bed? And the middling-sized bear, seeing that the coverlet was all rumpled, cried out in a middling-sized voice, who has been lying on my bed? But the teeny, tiny bear cried out in a teeny, tiny voice of astonishment, who has been lying on my bed and lies there still? Now, when the great big bear began to speak, Goldilocks dreamt that there was a bee buzzing in the room, and when the middling-sized bear began to speak, she dreamt that it was flying out of the window. But when the teeny, tiny bear began to speak, she dreamt that the bee had come back and stung her on the ear, and up she jumped. Oh, how frightened she was when she saw the three bears standing beside her. She hopped out of bed, and in a second was out through the open window. Never stopping to wonder if the fall had hurt her, she caught up and ran and ran and ran until she could go no farther, always thinking that the bears were close behind her. And when at length she fell down in a heap on the ground, because she was too tired to run any more, it was her own mother who picked her up, because in her fright she had run straight home without knowing it. End of section two, recording by Ruth Golding. Section three of Childhood's Favourites and Fairy Stories. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Christine Brashford. Childhood's Favourites and Fairy Stories by various authors. Section three, Cinderella. Once upon a time there lived a noble gentleman who had one dear little daughter. Poor child, her own kind mother was dead, and her father who loved her very dearly was afraid that his little girl was sometimes lonely. So he married a grandlady who had two daughters of her own and who, he thought, would be kind and good to his little one. But no sooner did the stepmother enter her new home than she began to show her true character. Her stepdaughter was so much prettier and sweeter than her own children that she was jealous of her, and gave her all the hard work of the house to do, whilst the two proud sisters spent their time at pleasant parties and entertainments. The only pleasure the poor child had was to spend her evening sitting in the chimney-corner, resting her weary limbs, and for this reason her sisters mockingly nicknamed her Cinderella. The sisters' fine clothes made Cinderella feel very shabby, but in her little torn frock and ragged shoes she was a thousand times more lovely than they. Now it chanced that the king's son gave a grand ball to which he invited all the lords and ladies in the country, and amongst the rest Cinderella's two sisters were asked. How pleased and excited they were when the invitation arrived! For days they could talk of nothing but the clothes they should wear and the grand folk they hoped to meet. When at last the great day arrived Cinderella was kept running about from early till late, decking the sisters and dressing their hair. Don't you wish you were going to the ball, said one of them. Indeed I do, sighed the poor little maid. The sisters burst out laughing. A pretty spectacle you would be, they said rudely. Go back to your cinders, they are fit company for rags. Then stepping carefully into their carriage so that they might not crush their fine clothes, they drove away to the ball. Cinderella went back to her chimney-corner and tried not to feel envious, but the tears would gather in the pretty eyes and trickle down the sorrowful little face. What are you crying for, child? cried a silvery voice. Cinderella started and raised her eyes. Who could it be? Then in a moment she knew it was her fairy godmother. I do so want, began Cinderella, then her sobs stopped her. To go to the ball, finished the godmother. Cinderella nodded. We'll leave off crying, be a good girl, and you shall go. Run quickly into the garden and bring the largest pumpkin you can find. Cinderella could not imagine how a pumpkin could help her go to the ball, but her only thought was to obey her godmother. In a few moments she was back again with a splendid pumpkin. Her godmother scooped out the inside, one touch of the wand, and the pumpkin was a golden coach lined with white satin. Now, Godchild, quick, the mouse-trap from the pantry. Here it is, godmother, said Cinderella breathlessly. One by one, six fat, sleek mice passed through the trapdoor, as each appeared a touch of the wand transformed it into a cream coloured horse, fit for a queen. Now, Cinderella, can you find a coachman? There is a large grey rat in the rat-trap. Would he do godmother? Run and fetch him, child, and then I can judge. So Cinderella ran to fetch the rat, and her godmother said he was just made for a coachman, and I think you would have agreed with her had you seen him a moment later with his powdered wig and silk stockings. Six lizards from behind the pumpkin frame became six footmen in splendid liveries. You would have thought they had been footmen all their lives. Cinderella was so excited that she could scarcely speak. Oh, godmother, she cried. It is all so lovely. Then suddenly she thought of her shabby frock. There is my white muslin, she said wistfully. If—do you think? But before Cinderella could realise what was happening, her godmother's wand tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and in place of the shabby frock there was a gleam of satin, silver, and pearls. Ah, who can describe a robe made by the fairies? It was white as snow, and as dazzling, round the hem hung a fringe of diamonds, sparkling like dew-drops in the sunshine. The lace about the throat and arms could only have been spun by fairy-spiders. Surely it was a dream. Cinderella put her daintily gloved hand to her throat, and softly touched the pearls that encircled her neck. Come, child, said the godmother, or you will be late. As Cinderella moved the firelight shone upon her dainty shoes. They are of diamonds, she said. No, answered her godmother, smiling. They are better than that. They are of glass made by the fairies. And now, child, go and enjoy yourself to your heart's content. Only remember, if you stay at the palace one instant after midnight, your coach and servants will vanish, and you will be the little gray Cinderella once more. A few moments later the coach dashed into the royal courtyard. The door was flung open, and Cinderella alighted. As she walked slowly up the richly carpeted staircase, there was a murmur of admiration, and the king's son hastened to meet her. Never, said he to himself, have I seen any one so lovely. He led her into the ballroom, where the king, who was much taken with her sweet face and pretty modest manners, whispered to the queen that she must surely be a foreign princess. The evening passed away in a dream of delight, Cinderella dancing with no one but the handsome young prince, and being waited on by his own hands at supper time. The two sisters could not recognise their ragged little sister in the beautiful and graceful lady to whom the prince paid so much attention, and felt quite pleased and flattered when she addressed a few words to them. Presently a clock chimed the three-quarters past eleven, and remembering her godmother's warning, Cinderella at once took leave of the prince, and jumping into her coach was driven rapidly home. Here she found her godmother waiting to hear all about the ball. It was lovely, said Cinderella, and oh, godmother, there is to be another to-morrow night, and I should so much like to go to it. Then you shall, replied the kind fairy, and kissing her godchild tenderly, she vanished. When the sisters returned from the ball they found a sleepy little maiden sitting in the chimney-corner waiting for them. How late you are, cried Cinderella yawning. Are you not very tired? Not in the least, they answered, and then they told her what a delightful ball it had been, and how the loveliest princess in the world had been there, and had spoken to them and admired their pretty dresses. Who was she? asked Cinderella slyly. That, we cannot say, answered the sisters. She would not tell her name, though the prince begged her to do so on bended knee. Dear sister, said Cinderella, I too should like to see the beautiful princess. Will you not lend me your old yellow gown that I may go to the ball to-morrow with you? What! cried her sister angrily. Lend one of my dresses to a little cindermaid. Don't talk nonsense, child. The next night the sisters were more particular than ever about their attire, but at last they were dressed, and as soon as their carriage had driven away the godmother appeared. Once more she touched her godchild with her wand, and in a moment she was arrayed in a beautiful dress that seemed as though it had been woven of moonbeams and sunshine, so radiantly did it gleam and shimmer. She put her arms around her godmother's neck and kissed and thanked her. Goodbye, childy. Enjoy yourself, but whatever you do remember to leave the ball before the clock strikes twelve. The godmother said, and Cinderella promised. But the hours flew by so happily and so swiftly that Cinderella forgot her promise until she happened to look at a clock and saw that it was on the stroke of twelve. With a cry of alarm she fled from the room, dropping in her haste one of the little glass slippers, but with the sound of the clock strikes in her ears she dared not wait to pick it up. The prince hurried after her in alarm, but when he reached the entrance hall the beautiful princess had vanished, and there was no one to be seen but a forlorn little beggar maid creeping away into the darkness. Poor little Cinderella, she hurried home through the dark streets weary and overwhelmed with shame. The fire was out when she reached her home, and there was no godmother waiting to receive her, but she sat down in the chimney-corner to wait her sister's return. When they came in they could speak of nothing but the wonderful things that had happened at the ball. The beautiful princess had been there again, they said, but had disappeared just as the clock struck twelve, and though the prince had searched everywhere for her he had been unable to find her. He was quite beside himself with grief, said the elder sister, for there is no doubt he hoped to make her his bride. Cinderella listened in silence to all they had to say, and slipping her hand into her pocket, felt that the one remaining glass slipper was safe, for it was the only thing of all her grand apparel that remained to her. On the following morning there was a great noise of trumpets and drums, and a procession passed through the town at the head of which rode the king's son. Behind him came a herald bearing a velvet cushion upon which rested a little glass slipper. The herald blew a blast upon the trumpet and then read a proclamation, saying that the king's son would wed any lady in the land who could fit the slipper upon her foot if she could produce another to match it. Of course the sisters tried to squeeze their feet into the slipper, but it was of no use, they were much too large. Then Cinderella shyly begged that she might try. How the sisters laughed with scorn when the prince knelt to fit the slipper on the syndermade's foot, but what was their surprise when it slipped on with the greatest ease, and the next moment Cinderella produced the other from her pocket? Once more she stood in the slippers, and once more the sisters saw before them the lovely princess who was to be the prince's bride. For at the touch of the magic shoes the little gray frock disappeared for ever, and in place of it she wore the beautiful robe the fairy godmother had given to her. The sisters hung their heads with sorrow and vexation, but kind little Cinderella put her arms around their necks, kissed them, and forgave them for all their unkindness, so that they could not help but love her. The prince could not bear to part from his little love again, so he carried her back to the palace in his grandcoach, and they were married that very day. Cinderella's stepsisters were present at the feast, but in the place of honour sat the fairy godmother. So the poor little syndermade married the prince, and in time they came to be king and queen, and lived happily ever after. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Christine Blashford. Childhood's favourites and fairy stories by various authors. Section 4 The Three Brothers There was once a man who had three sons, but no fortune except the house he lived in. Now each of them wanted to have the house after his death, but their father was just as fond of one as of the other, and did not know how to treat them all fairly. He did not want to sell the house, because it had belonged to his forefathers, or he might have divided the money between them. At last an idea came into his head, and he said to his sons, Go out into the world and each learn a trade, and when you come home, the one who makes best use of his handicraft shall have the house. The sons were quite content with this plan, and the eldest decided to be a farrier, the second a barber, and the third a fencing-master. They fixed a time when they would all meet at home again, and then they set off. It so happened that they each found a clever master with whom they learned their business thoroughly. The farrier shod the king's horses, and he thought, I shall certainly be the one to have the house. The barber shaved nobody but grand gentlemen, so he thought it would fall to him. The fencing-master got many blows, but he set his teeth, and would not let himself be put out, because he thought, if I am afraid of a blow, I shall never get the house. Now when the given time had passed, they all went home together to their father, but they did not know how to get a good opportunity of showing off their powers, and sat down to discuss the matter. Suddenly a hare came running over the field, ah! cried the barber, she comes just in the nick of time. He took up his bowl and his soap, and got his lather by the time the hare came quite close, then he soaped her and shaved her as she raced along, without giving her a cut or missing a single hair. His father, astonished, said, if the others don't look out, the house will be yours. Before long a gentleman came along in his carriage at full gallop. Now, father, you shall see what I can do, said the farrier, and he ran after the carriage, and tore the four shoes off the horse as he galloped along, then without stopping a second shod him with the new ones. You are a fine fellow indeed, said his father, you know your business as well as your brother, I don't know which I shall give the house to at this rate. Then the third one said, let me have a chance too, father. As it was beginning to rain, he drew his sword and swelled it round and round his head, so that not a drop fell on him. Even when the rain grew heavier, so heavy that it seemed as if it were being poured from the sky out of buckets, he swung the sword faster and faster, and remained as dry as if he had been under a roof. His father was amazed and said, you have done the best, the house is yours. Both the other brothers were quite satisfied with this decision, and as they were all so devoted to one another, they lived together in the house, and carried on their trades, by which they made plenty of money since they were so perfect in them. They lived happily together to a good old age, and when one fell ill and died, the others grieved so much over him that they pined away, and soon after departed this life. Then, as they had been so fond of one another, they were all buried in one grave. One summer's day the bear and the wolf were walking in the forest, and the bear heard a bird singing very sweetly, and said, Brother Wolf, what kind of bird is that which is singing so delightfully? That is the king of the birds, before whom we must do reverence, replied the wolf, but it was only the wren. If that be so, said the bear, I should like to see his royal palace. Come, lead me to it. That cannot be as you like, replied the wolf. You must wait till the queen returns. Soon afterward the queen arrived with some food in her bill, and the king, too, to feed their young ones, and the bear would have gone off to see them, but the wolf, pulling his ear, said, No, you must wait till the queen and the king are both off again. So, after observing well the situation of the nest, the two tramped off, but the bear had no rest, for he wished still to see the royal palace, and after a short delay he set off to it again. He found the king and queen absent, and peeping into the nest, he saw five or six young birds lying in it. Is this the royal palace, exclaimed the bear, this miserable place? You are no king's children, but wretched young vagabonds. No, no, that we are not burst out the little wrens together in great passion, for to them this speech was addressed. No, no, we are born of honorable parents, and you, Mr. Bear, shall make your words good. At this speech the bear and the wolf were much frightened, and ran back to their holes, but the little wrens kept up an unceasing clamour till their parents return. As soon as they came back with food in their mouths, the little birds began, we will none of us touch a fly's leg, but will starve rather, until you decide whether we are fine and handsome children or not, for the bear has been here, and insulted us. Be quiet, replied the king, and that shall soon be settled, and thereupon he flew with his queen to the residence of the bear, and called to him from the entrance. Old grambler, why have you insulted my children? That shall cost you dear, for we will decide the matter by a pitched battle. War, having thus been declared against the bear, all the four-footed beasts were summoned, the ox, the ass, the cow, the goat, the stag, and every animal on the face of the earth. The wren, on the other hand, summoned every flying thing, not only the birds great and small, but also the nat, the hornet, the bee, and the flies. When the time arrived for the commencement of the war, the wren king sent out spies to see who was appointed commander-in-chief of the enemy. The nat was the most cunning of all the army, and he therefore buzzed away into the forest where the enemy was encamped, and alighted on a leaf of the tree beneath which the watchword was given out. There stood the bear, and called the fox to him, and said, You are the most crafty of animals, so you must be general, and lead us on. Well said the fox, but what sign shall we appoint? Nobody answered. Then the fox said, I have a fine long bushy tail, which looks like a red feather at a distance. If I hold this tail straight up, all is going well, and you must march after me. But if I suffer it to hang down, run away as fast as you can. As soon as the nat heard all this, she flew home, and told the wren king everything to a hair. When the day arrived for the battle to begin, the four-footed beasts all came running along to the field, shaking the earth with their roaring and bellowing. The wren king also came with his army, whirring and buzzing and humming enough to terrify anyone out of his senses. Then the wren king sent the hornet forward to settle upon the fox's tail, and sting it with all his power. As soon as the fox felt the first sting, he drew up his hind leg with the pain, still carrying, however, his tail as high in the air as before. At the second sting he was obliged to drop it a little bit, but at the third he could no longer bear the pain, but was forced to drop his tail between his legs. As soon as the other beasts saw this, they thought all was lost, and began to run each one to his own hole, so the birds won the battle without difficulty. When all was over, the wren king and his queen flew home to their children, and cried out, Rejoice! Rejoice! We have won the battle! Now eat and drink as much as you please. The young wrens, however, said, Still we will not eat till the bear has come to our nest and begged pardon, and admitted that we are fine and handsome children. So the wren king flew back to the cave of the bear, and called out, Old grumbler, you must come to the nest and beg pardon of my children, for calling them wretched young brats, else your ribs shall be crushed in your body. In great terror the bear crept out and begged pardon, and afterward the young wrens, being now made happy in their minds, settled down to eating and drinking, and I am afraid they were overexcited, and kept up their merriment far too late. End of Section Five Section Six of Childhood's Favourites and Fairy Stories This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Christine Blashford Childhood's Favourites and Fairy Stories by various authors Section Six Chicken Licken As Chicken Licken was going one day to the wood, whack! An acorn fell from a tree onto his head. Gracious goodness me, said Chicken Licken, the sky must have fallen, I must go and tell the king. So Chicken Licken turned back and met Henlen. Well, Henlen, where are you going, said he. I'm going to the wood, said she. Oh, Henlen, don't go, said he, for as I was going the sky fell onto my head, and I'm going to tell the king. So Henlen turned back with Chicken Licken and met Cocklock. I'm going to the wood, said he. Then Henlen said, Oh, Cocklock, don't go, for I was going, and I met Chicken Licken, and Chicken Licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen onto his head, and we are going to tell the king. So Cocklock turned back and they met Duck Luck. Well, Duck Luck, where are you going? And Duck Luck said, I'm going to the wood. Then Cocklock said, Oh, Duck Luck, don't go, for I was going and I met Henlen, and Henlen met Chicken Licken, and Chicken Licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen onto his head, and we are going to tell the king. So Duck Luck turned back and met Drake Lake. Well, Drake Lake, where are you going? And Drake Lake said, I'm going to the wood. Then Duck Luck said, Oh, Drake Lake, don't go, for I was going, and I met Cocklock, and Cocklock met Henlen, and Henlen met Chicken Licken, and Chicken Licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen onto his head, and we are going to tell the king. So Drake Lake turned back and met Goose Loose. Well, Goose Loose, where are you going? And Goose Loose said, I'm going to the wood. Then Drake Lake said, Oh, Goose Loose, don't go, for I was going, and I met Duck Luck, and Duck Luck met Cocklock, and Cocklock met Henlen, and Henlen met Chicken Licken, and Chicken Licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen onto his head, and we are going to tell the king. So Goose Loose turned back and met Gandalander. Well, Gandalander, where are you going? And Gandalander said, I'm going to the wood. Then Goose Loose said, Oh, Gandalander, don't go, for I was going, and I met Drake Lake, and Drake Lake met Duck Luck, and Duck Luck met Cocklock, and Cocklock met Henlen, and Henlen met Chicken Licken, and Chicken Licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen onto his head, and we are going to tell the king. So Gandalander turned back and met Turkey Lirky. Well, Turkey Lirky, where are you going? And Turkey Lirky said, I'm going to the wood. Then Gandalander said, Oh, Turkey Lirky, don't go, for I was going, and I met Goose Loose, and Goose Loose met Drake Lake, and Drake Lake met Duck Luck, and Duck Luck met Cocklock, and Cocklock met Henlen, and Henlen met Chicken Licken, and Chicken Licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen onto his head, and we are going to tell the king. So Turkey Lirky turned back, and walked with Gandalander, Goose Loose, Drake Lake, Duck Luck, Cocklock, Henlen, and Chicken Licken. And as they were going along, they met Fox Locks, and Fox Lock said, Where are you going? And they said, Chicken Licken went to the wood, and the sky fell onto his head, and we are going to tell the king. And Fox Lock said, Come along with me, and I will show you the way. But Fox Locks took them into the fox's hole, and he and his young one soon ate up poor Chicken Licken, Henlen, Cocklock, Duck Luck, Drake Lake, Goose Loose, Gandalander, and Turkey Lirky, and they never saw the king to tell him that the sky had fallen. Section 7 The Fox and the Cat It happened once that the cat met Mr. Fox in the wood, and because she thought he was clever and experienced in all the ways of the world, she addressed him in a friendly manner. Good morning, dear Mr. Fox. How are you, and how do you get along in these hard times? The Fox, full of pride, looked at the cat from head to foot for some time, hardly knowing whether he would deign to answer or not. At last he said, Oh, you poor whisker wiper, you silly piebald, you starvelling mouse-hunter, what has come into your head? How dare you ask me how I am getting on? What sort of education have you had? How many arts are you master of? Only one, said the cat. Only one, said the cat, meekly. And what might that one be, asked the Fox. When the dogs run after me, I can jump into a tree and save myself. Is that all, said the Fox? I am master of a hundred arts, and I have a sack full of cunning tricks in addition, but I pity you. Come with me, and I will teach you how to escape from the dogs. Just then a huntsman came along with four hounds. The cat sprang trembling into a tree, and crept stealthily up to the topmost branch, where she was entirely hidden by twigs and leaves. Open your sack, Mr. Fox. Open your sack, cried the cat, but the dogs had gripped him and held him fast. Oh, Mr. Fox, cried the cat, you with your hundred arts and your sack full of tricks are held fast, while I, with my one, am safe. Had you been able to creep up here, you would not have lost your life. End of Section 7. Section 8 of Childhood Favorites and Fairy Stories This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ralph Snelson. Childhoods Favorites and Fairy Stories by various authors. Section 8. The Rats and Their Son-in-Law There once lived in Japan a rat and his wife, folk of noble race, who had one beautiful daughter. They were exceedingly proud of her charms and dreamed, as parents will, of the grand marriage she was sure to make in time. Proud of his pure rodent blood, the father saw no son-in-law more to be desired than a young rat of ancient lineage, whose attentions to his daughter were very marked. This match, however, brilliant as it was, seemed not to the mother's taste. Like many people who think themselves made out of special clay, she had a very poor opinion of her own kind, and was ambitious for an alliance with the highest circles. To the stars, was her motto, she always said, and really, when one has a daughter of incomparable beauty, one may well hope for an equally incomparable son-in-law. Address yourself to the sun at once, then, cried the impatient father one day. There is nothing above him, surely. Quite so, I had already thought of it, she answered, and since you too are in sympathy with the idea, we will make our call to moral. So on the following morning the proud father and the haughty mother rat went together to present their lovely daughter to the orb of the day. Lord's son, said the mother, let me present our only daughter, who is so beautiful that there is nothing like her in the whole world. Naturally we desire a son-in-law as wonderful as she, and, as you see, we have come to you first of all. Really, said the son, I am extremely flattered by your proposal, but you do me too much honour. There is someone greater than I. It is the cloud. Look, if you do not believe. And at that moment the cloud arrived, and with one waft of his folds extinguished the sun with all his golden rays. Very well, let us speak to the cloud, then, said the mother rat, not in the least disconcerted. Immensely honoured, I am sure, replied the cloud in his turn, but you are again mistaken. There is someone greater than I. It is the wind. You shall see. At the same moment along came the wind, and with one blow swept the cloud out of sight, after which, overturning father, mother, and daughter, he tumbled with them pal-mel at the foot of an old wall. Quick, quick, cried the mother rat, straggling to her feet, and let us repeat our compliments to the wind. You'd better address yourself to the wall, growled the wind roughly. You see very well he is greater than I, for he stops me and makes me draw back. No sooner had she heard these words than mother rat faced about and presented her daughter to the wall. Ah, but now the fair rat maiden imitated the wind. She drew back also. He whom she really adored in her heart of hearts was the fascinating young rat who had paid his court to her so well. However, to please her mother, she had consented to wed the sun, in spite of his blinding rays, or the cloud, in spite of his sulky look. Even the wind, in spite of his brusque manner. But an old broken wall? No, death would be better a thousand times. Fortunately the wall excused himself like all the rest. Certainly, he said, I can stop the wind, who can sweep away the cloud, who can cover up the sun, but there is someone greater than I. It is the rat who can pass through my body and can even, if he chooses, reduce me to powder with his teeth. Believe me, you need seek no better son-in-law. Greater than the rat, there is nothing in the world. Do you hear that, wife? Do you hear it, cried father rat in triumph? Didn't I always say so? Quite true, you always did, returned the mother rat in wonder, and suddenly glowed with pride in her ancient name and lineage. So they all three went home, very happy and contented, and on the moral, the lovely rat maiden married her faithful rat lover. End of Section 8. Section 9 of Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Clarica. Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories by various authors. Section 9. The Mouse and the Sausage Once upon a time a little mouse and a little sausage, who loved each other like sisters, decided to live together, and made their arrangements in such a way that every day one would go to walk in the fields or make purchases in town, while the other remained at home to keep the house. One day when the little sausage had prepared cabbage for dinner, the little mouse, who had come back from town with a fine appetite, enjoyed it so greatly that she exclaimed, How delicious the cabbage is today, my dear! Ah! answered the little sausage. That is because I popped myself into the pot while it was cooking. On the next day, as it was her turn to prepare the meals, the little mouse said to herself, Now I will do as much for my friend as she did for me. We will have lentils for dinner, and I will jump into the pot while they are boiling. And she let the action follow the word without reflecting that a simple sausage can do some things which are out of the reach of even the wisest mouse. When the sausage came home she found the house lonely and silent. She called again and again, my little mouse, mouse of my heart, but no one answered. Then she went to look at the lentils boiling on the stove, and, alas, found within the pot her good little friend, who had perished at the post of duty. Poor mousey, with the best intentions in the world, had stayed too long at her cookery, and when she desired to climb out of the pot, had no longer the strength to do so. And the poor sausage could never be consoled. That is why today, when you put one in the pan or on the gridiron, you will hear her weep inside, my poor mouse, ah, my poor mouse. End of Section 9. Section 10 of Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ralph Snelson. Childhood Favorites and Fairy Stories by various authors. Section 10. Johnny and the Golden Goose. There once was a man who had three sons. Johnny, the youngest, was always looked upon as the simpleton of the family, and had very little consideration or kindness shown him. It happened one day that the eldest son was going out into the wood to cut fuel, and before he started his mother gave him a slice of rich plum cake and a flask of wine so that he might not suffer from hunger or thirst. Just as he reached the wood he met a queer old man dressed in gray who wished him good day and begged for a piece of the young man's cake and a drink of wine. But the greedy youth replied, if I were to give you cake and wine I should not have enough left for myself, so be off with you and leave me in peace. Then he pushed the little man rudely on one side and went his way. He soon came to a lightly looking tree and began to hew it down, but he made a false stroke, and instead of striking the tree he buried his axe in his own arm, and was obliged to hurry home as fast as he could to have the wound dressed. And this was what came of offending the little grey man. The following day the second son set out to the wood, and his mother treated him just as she had done her eldest son, gave him a slice of cake and a flask of wine in case he should feel hungry. The little grey man met him at the entrance to the wood and begged for a share of his food, but the young man answered, the more I give to you the less I have for myself, be off with you. Then he left the little grey man standing in the road and went on his way. But it was not long before he too was punished, for the first stroke he aimed at a tree glanced aside and wounded his leg so that he was obliged to be carried home. Then said the simpleton, Father, let me go to the wood for once. I will bring you home plenty of fuel. Nonsense answered the father. Both your brothers have got into trouble, and it is not likely that I am going to trust you. But Johnny would not you up the idea, and worried his father till at last he said, Very well, my son, have your own way. You shall learn by experience that I know better than you. There was no rich cake for the simpleton of the family. His mother just gave him a little loaf of dough and a bottle of sour beer. No sooner had he reached the wood than the little grey man appeared. Give me a piece of your cake and a drink of your wine, said he. But the young man told him he had only a dough, loaf, and a bottle of sour beer. Still, said he, you are welcome to a share of the food, such as it is. So the two sat down together. But when Johnny took his humble fare from his pocket, what was his surprise to find it changed into the most delicious cake and wine. Then the young man and his guest made a hearty meal, and when it was ended the little grey man said, Because you have such a kind heart and have willingly shared your food with me, I am going to reward you. Yonder stands an old tree, hew it down, and deep in the heart of the roots you will find something. The old man then nodded kindly and disappeared in a moment. Johnny at once dead as he had been told, and as soon as the tree fell he saw sitting in the midst of the roots a goose with feathers of purest gold. He lifted it carefully out and carried it with him to the inn where he meant to spend the night. Now the landlord had three daughters, and no sooner did they see the goose than they wanted to know what curious kind of bird it might be. For never before had they seen a fowl of any kind with feathers of pure gold. The eldest made up her mind to wait for a good opportunity, and then pluck a feather for herself. So as soon as Johnny went out of the room she put out her hand and seized the wing of the goose. But what was her horror to find that she could not enclasp her fingers again nor even move her hand from the golden goose? Very soon the second sister came creeping into the room, meaning also to steal a feather. But no sooner did she touch her sister than she too was unable to draw her hand away. Lastly came the third, anxious to secure a feather before the goose's master returned. Go away, go away, screamed her two sisters. But she could not understand why she should not help herself as well as the others. So she paid no heed to their cries, but came toward them and stretched out her hand to the goose. In doing so she touched her second sister, and then alas she too was held fast. They pulled and tugged with night and main, but it was all of no use. They could not get away, and there they had to remain the whole night. The next morning Johnny tucked the goose under his arm and went on his way, never troubling himself about the three girls hanging on behind. Then what a dance he led them, over hedges and ditches, highways and byways. Wherever he led them they were bound to follow. Halfway across a sunny meadow they met the parson, who was terribly shocked to see the three girls running after a young man. For shame, he cried angrily, and seized the youngest by the hand to drag her away. But no sooner did he touch her than the poor parson was made fast too, and had to run behind the girls, whether he would or no. They had scarcely gone half a dozen paces before they met the sexton, who stared with astonishment to see his master running at the heels of the three girls. Hi, stop your reverence, he cried. You will be late for the christening. He seized the parson's sleeve as he ran past him, but the poor sexton had to join the procession too. So now there were five of them, and just as they turned a corner the parson saw two peasants and called to them to set him and his sexton free. They threw down their spades at once and tried to do so, but they too stuck fast, and so Johnny had a fine string of seven folk hanging on to the wing of his golden goose. On and on they ran, until at length they came into the country of a powerful king. This king had an only daughter, who all her life had been so sad that no one had ever been able to make her laugh. So the king made a decree that the man who could bring a smile to his daughter's face should have her for his bride. When Johnny heard what the king had promised, he at once made his way into the princess's presence, and when she saw the goose with the seven queer-looking companions hanging on behind, she burst into such a hearty fit of laughter that it was thought she would never be able to stop again. Of course the simpleton claimed her as his bride, but the king did not fancy him for a son-in-law, so he made all sorts of excuses. You shall have her, said he, if you can first bring me a man who can drink up a whole cellar full of wine. Johnny at once remembered the little grey man, and feeling sure that he would help him, he set out for the wood where he had first met him. When he reached the stump of the old tree, which he had himself hewn down, he noticed a man sitting beside it with a face as gloomy as a rainy day. Johnny asked politely what ailed him, and the man answered, I suffer from a thirst I cannot quench, cold water disagrees with me, and though I have, it is true emptied a barrel of wine, it was no more to me than a single drop of water upon a hot stove. You can think how pleased Johnny was to hear these words. He took the man to the king's cellar, where he seated himself before the huge barrels, and drank and drank till, at the end of the day, not a drop of wine was left. Then Johnny claimed his bride, but the king could not make up his mind to give his daughter to a nair-dwell, who went by such a name as Simpleton. So he made fresh excuses, and said that he would not give her up until the young man had found someone who could eat up a mountain of bread in a single day. So the young man had no choice but to set out once more for the wood, and again he found a man sitting beside the stump of the tree. He was very sad and hungry-looking, and sat tightening the belt around his waist. I have eaten a whole oven full of bread, he said sadly, but when one is as hungry as I am, such a meal only serves to make one more hungry still. I am so empty that if I did not tighten my belt I should die of hunger. You are the man for me, said Johnny, follow me, and I will give you a meal that will satisfy even your hunger. He led the man into the courtyard of the king's palace, where all the meal in the kingdom had been collected together and mixed into an enormous mountain of bread. The man from the wood placed himself in front of it and began to eat, and before the day was over the mountain of bread had vanished. A third time the Simpleton demanded his bride, but again the king found an excuse. First bring me a ship that can sail both on land and sea, and then you shall wed the princess, he said. Johnny went straight away to the wood, where he met the little grey man with whom he had once shared his food. Good day, he said, nodding his wise little head, so you've come to visit me again, eh? It was I, you know, who drank the wine and ate the bread for you, and now I will finish by giving you the wonderful ship which is to sail on either land or sea. All this I do for you because you were kind and good to me. Then he gave him the ship, and when the king saw it he could find no further excuse. So he gave the young man his daughter, and the pair were married that very day. When the old king died the Simpleton became king in his stead, and he and his wife lived happily ever after. End of section 10. Section 11 of Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories by various authors. Section 11. Titty Mouse and Tattie Mouse. Titty Mouse and Tattie Mouse both lived in a house. Titty Mouse went a leasing, and Tattie Mouse went a leasing. So they both went a leasing. Titty Mouse leased an ear of corn, and Tattie Mouse leased an ear of corn. So they both leased an ear of corn. Titty Mouse made a pudding, and Tattie Mouse made a pudding. So they both made a pudding. And Tattie Mouse put her pudding into the pot to boil. But when Titty went to put hers in, the pot tumbled over, and scolded her to death. Then Tattie sat down and wept, and a three-legged stool said, Tattie, why do you weep? Titty's dead, said Tattie, and so I weep. Then said the stool, I'll hop, so the stool hopped. Then a broom in the corner of the room said, stool, why do you hop? Oh, said the stool, Titty's dead, and Tattie weeps, and so I hop. Then said the broom, I'll sweep, so the broom began to sweep. Then said the door, broom, why do you sweep? Oh, said the broom, Titty's dead, and Tattie weeps, and the stool hops, and so I sweep. Then said the door, I'll jar, so the door jarred. Then said the window, door, why do you jar? Oh, said the door, Titty's dead, and Tattie weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, and so I jar. Then said the window, I'll creak, so the window creaked. Now there was an old form outside the house, and when the window creaked, the form said, window, why do you creak? Oh, said the window, Titty's dead, and Tattie weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps. The door jars, and so I creak. Then said the old form, I'll run round the house. Then the old form ran around the house. Now there was a fine large walnut tree growing by the cottage, and the tree said to the form, form, why do you run round the house? Oh, said the form, Titty's dead, and Tattie weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps. The door jars, and the window creaks, and so I run round the house. Then said the walnut tree, I'll shed my leaves, so the walnut tree shed all its beautiful green leaves. Now there was a little bird perched on one of the boughs of the tree, and when all the leaves fell, it said, walnut tree, why do you shed your leaves? Oh, said the tree, Titty's dead, and Tattie weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps. The door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, and so I shed my leaves. Then said the little bird, I'll molt all my feathers, so he molted all his pretty feathers. Now there was a little girl walking below, carrying a jug of milk for her brothers and sisters supper, and when she saw the poor little bird, molt all its feathers, she said, little bird, why do you molt all your feathers? Oh, said the little bird, Titty's dead, and Tattie weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps. The door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, the walnut tree sheds its leaves, and so I molt all my feathers. Then said the little girl, I'll spill the milk, so she dropped the picture and spilled the milk. Now there was an old man just by on the top of a ladder, catching a rick, and when he saw the little girl spill the milk, he said, little girl, what do you mean by spilling the milk? Your little brothers and sisters must go without their supper. Then said the little girl, Titty's dead, and Tattie weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps. The door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, the walnut tree sheds all its leaves, the little bird molts all its feathers, and so I spill the milk. Oh, said the old man, then I'll tumble off the ladder and break my neck, so he tumbled off the ladder and broke his neck, and when the old man broke his neck the great walnut tree fell down with a crash and upset the old form and house, and the house falling knocked the window out, and the window knocked the door down, and the door upset the broom, and the broom upset the stool, and poor little Tattie Mouse was buried beneath the ruins. End of Section 11, Section 12 of Childhoods Favourites and Fairy Stories. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Childhoods Favourites and Fairy Stories by various authors. Section 12, Teeny Tiny. There was once upon a time a teeny tiny woman who lived in a teeny tiny house in a teeny tiny village. Now one day this teeny tiny woman put on her teeny tiny bonnet and went out of her teeny tiny house to take a teeny tiny walk. And when this teeny tiny woman had gone a teeny tiny way she came to a teeny tiny gate, so the teeny tiny woman opened the teeny tiny gate and went into a teeny tiny churchyard. And when this teeny tiny woman had got into the teeny tiny churchyard she saw a teeny tiny bone on a teeny tiny grave and the teeny tiny woman said to her teeny tiny self, this teeny tiny bone will make me some teeny tiny soup for my teeny tiny supper. So the teeny tiny woman put the teeny tiny bone into her teeny tiny pocket and went home to her teeny tiny house. Now when the teeny tiny woman got home to her teeny tiny house she was a teeny tiny tired, so she went up her teeny tiny stairs to her teeny tiny bed and put the teeny tiny bone into a teeny tiny cupboard. And when this teeny tiny woman had been to sleep a teeny tiny time she was awakened by a teeny tiny voice from the teeny tiny cupboard which said, give me my bone. And this teeny tiny woman was a teeny tiny frightened so she hid her teeny tiny head under the teeny tiny clothes and went to sleep again. And when she had been asleep again a teeny tiny time the teeny tiny voice cried out from the teeny tiny cupboard a teeny tiny louder, give me my bone. This made the teeny tiny woman a teeny tiny more frightened so she hid her teeny tiny head a teeny tiny father under the teeny tiny clothes. And when the teeny tiny woman had been asleep again a teeny tiny time the teeny tiny voice from the teeny tiny cupboard said again a teeny tiny louder, give me my bone. At this the teeny tiny woman was a teeny tiny bit more frightened but she put her teeny tiny head out of the teeny tiny clothes and said in her loudest teeny tiny voice, take it. End of section 12, section 13 of Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories by various authors. Section 13, The Spider and the Flea. A spider and a flea dwelt together in one house and brewed their beer in an egg shell. One day when the spider was stirring it up she fell in and scolded herself. There upon the flea began to scream and then the door asked why are you screaming flea? Because little spider had scolded herself in the beer tub, replied she. There upon the door began to creak as if it were in pain and a broom which stood in the corner asked what are you creaking for door? May I not creak? It replied. The little spider's sculpt herself and the flea weeps. So the broom began to sweep industriously and presently a little cart came by and asked the reason. May I not sweep? replied the broom. The little spider's sculpt herself and the flea weeps. The little door creaks with the pain. There upon the little cart said so will I run and began to run very fast past a heap of ashes which cried out why do you run little cart? Because replied the cart. The little spider's sculpt herself and the flea weeps. The little door creaks with the pain and the broom sweeps. Then said the ashes I will burn furiously. Now next the ashes there grew a tree which asked little heap why do you burn? Because was the reply the little spider's sculpt herself and the flea weeps. The little door creaks with the pain and the broom sweeps. The little cart runs on so fast. There upon the tree cried I will shake myself and went on shaking till all its leaves fell off. A little girl passing by with a water picture saw it shaking and asked why do you shake yourself little tree? Why may I not? Said the tree. The little spider's sculpt herself and the flea weeps. The little door creaks with the pain and the broom sweeps. The little cart runs on so fast and the ashes burn. Then the maiden said if so I will break my picture and she threw it down and broke it. At this the streamlet from which she drew the water asked why do you break your picture my little girl? Why may I not? She replied for. The little spider's sculpt herself and the flea weeps. The little door creaks with the pain and the broom sweeps. The little cart runs on so fast and the ashes burn. The little tree shakes down its leaves. Now it is my turn. Ah then said the streamlet. Now must I begin to flow. And it flowed and flowed along in a great stream which kept getting bigger and bigger until at last it swallowed up the little girl, the little tree, the ashes, the cart, the broom, the door, the flea and last of all the spider all together. End of 6th