Books: Mother Goose in Prose
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L. Frank Baum >> Mother Goose in Prose
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Mary's mother knew that the harsh winds had killed the flowers before
their time, but she did not like to disappoint her darling, so she
only said, with a sigh,
"I hope you are right, Mary, for we both shall be glad to welcome our
dear ones home again."
But soon afterward the big bluff Squire came riding up, as was his
wont, to where Mary stood by her garden, and he at once asked,
"Pray tell me, dear, though much I fear
The answer sad I know,
How grow the sturdy cockle-shells
And cowslips, all in a row?"
And Mary looked up at him with her bright smile and answered,
"Dingle-bells and cockle-shells
And cowslips are all dead,
And now my papa's coming home,
For so he surely said."
"Ah," said the Squire, looking at her curiously, "I 'm afraid you are
getting way ahead of time. See here, Mary, how would you like a little
ride with me on my nag?"
"I would like it very much, sir," replied Mary.
"Then reach up your hand. Now!--there you are, little one!" and Mary
found herself seated safely in front of the Squire, who clasped her
with one strong arm so that she could not slip off.
"Now, then," he said "we 'll take a little ride down the hill and by
the path that runs beside the wood."
So he gave the rein to his mare and they rode along, chatting merrily
together, till they came to the wood. Then said the Squire,
"Take a look within that nook
And tell me what is there."
And Mary exclaimed,
"A dingle-bell, and truth to tell
In full bloom, I declare!"
The Squire now clucked to his nag, and as they rode away he said,
"Now come with me and you shall see
A field with cowslips bright
And not a garden in the land
Can show so fair a sight."
And so it was, for as they rode through the pastures the cowslips
bloomed on every hand, and Mary's eyes grew bigger and bigger as she
thought of her poor garden with its dead flowers.
And then the Squire took her toward the little brook that wandered
through the meadows, flowing over the pebbles with a soft, gurgling
sound that was very nearly as sweet as music; and when they reached it
the big Squire said,
"If you will look beside the brook
You 'll see, I know quite well,
That hidden in each mossy nook
Is many a cockle-shell."
This was indeed true, and as Mary saw them she suddenly dropped her
head and began to weep.
"What 's the matter, little one?" asked the Squire in his kind, bluff
voice. And Mary answered,
"Although the flowers I much admire,
You know papa did say
He won't be home again, Squire,
Till all have passed away."
"You must be patient, my child," replied her friend; "and surely you
would not have been thus disappointed had you not tried to make the
field flowers grow where they do not belong. Gardens are all well
enough for fancy flowers to grow in, but the posies that God gave to
all the world, and made to grow wild in the great garden of Nature,
will never thrive in other places. Your father meant you to watch the
flowers in the field; and if you will come and visit them each day,
you will find the time waiting very short indeed."
Mary dried her eyes and thanked the kindly old Squire, and after that
she visited the fields each day and watched the flowers grow.
And it was not so very long, as the Squire said before the blossoms
began to wither and fall away; and finally one day Mary looked out
over the sea and saw a little speck upon the waters that looked like a
sail. And when it came nearer and had grown larger, both she and her
mother saw that it was the "Skylark" come home again, and you can
imagine how pleased and happy the sight of the pretty little ship made
them.
And soon after, when Mary had been hugged by her two sunburned
brothers and was clasped in her father's strong arms, she whispered,
"I knew you were coming soon, papa."
"And how did you know, sweetheart?" he asked, giving her an extra
kiss.
"Because I watched the flowers; and the dingle-bells and cowslips and
cockle-shells are all withered and faded away. And did you not say
that, God willing, when this happened you would come back to us?"
"To be sure I did," answered her father, with a happy laugh; "and I
must have spoken truly, sweetheart, for God in His goodness was
willing, and here I am!"
The Wond'rous Wise Man
The Wond'rous Wise Man
There was a man in our town
And he was wond'rous wise;
He jumped into a bramble bush
And scratched out both his eyes.
And when he saw his eyes were out,
With all his might and main
He jumped into another bush
And scratched them in again!
Our town is a quiet little town, and lies nestling in a little valley
surrounded by pretty green hills. I do not think you would ever have
heard our town mentioned had not the man lived there who was so wise
that everyone marvelled at his great knowledge.
He was not always a wise man; he was a wise boy before he grew to
manhood, and even when a child he was so remarkable for his wisdom
that people shook their heads gravely and said, "when he grows up
there will be no need of books, for he will know everything!"
His father thought he had a wond'rous wise look when he was born, and
so he named him Solomon, thinking that if indeed he turned out to be
wise the name would fit him nicely, whereas, should he be mistaken,
and the boy grow up stupid, his name could be easily changed to Simon.
But the father was not mistaken, and the boy's name remained Solomon.
When he was still a child Solomon confounded the schoolmaster by
asking, one day,
"Can you tell me, sir, why a cow drinks water from a brook?"
"Well really," replied the abashed schoolmaster, "I have never given
the subject serious thought. But I will sleep upon the question, and
try to give you an answer to-morrow."
"But the schoolmaster could not sleep; he remained awake all the night
trying to think why a cow drinks water from a brook, and in the
morning he was no nearer the answer than before. So he was obliged to
appear before the wise child and acknowledge that he could not solve
the problem.
"I have looked at the subject from every side," said he, "and given it
careful thought, and yet I cannot tell why a cow drinks water from a
brook."
"Sir," replied the wise child, "it is because the cow is thirsty."
The shock of this answer was so great that the schoolmaster fainted
away, and when they had brought him to he made a prophecy that Solomon
would grow up to be a wond'rous wise man.
It was the same way with the village doctor. Solomon came to him one
day and asked,
"Tell me, sir, why has a man two eyes?"
"Bless me!" exclaimed the doctor, "I must think I a bit before I
answer, for I have never yet had my attention called to this subject."
So he thought for a long time, and then he said, "I must really give
it up. I cannot tell, for the life of me, why a man has two eyes. Do
you know?"
"Yes, sir," answered the boy.
"Then," said the doctor, after taking a dose of quinine to brace up
his nerves, for he remembered the fate of the schoolmaster, "then
please tell me why a man as two eyes.
"A man has two eyes, sir," returned Solomon, solemnly, "because he was
born that way."
And the doctor marvelled greatly at so much wisdom in a little child,
and made a note of it in his note-book.
Solomon was so full of wisdom that it flowed from his mouth in a
perfect stream, and every day he gave new evidence to his friends that
he could scarcely hold all the wise thoughts that came to him. For
instance, one day he said to his father,
"I perceive our dog has six legs."
"Oh, no!" replied his father, "our dog has only four legs."
"You are surely mistaken, sir," said Solomon, with the gravity that
comes from great wisdom, "these are our dog's fore legs, are they
not?" pointing to the front legs of the dog.
"Yes," answered his father.
"Well," continued Solomon, "the dog has two other legs, besides, and
two and four are six; therefore the dog has six legs."
"But that is very old," exclaimed his father.
"True," replied Solomon, "but this is a young dog."
Then his father bowed his head in shame that his own child should
teach him wisdom.
Of course Solomon wore glasses upon his eyes--all wise people wear
them,--and his face was ever grave and solemn, while he walked slowly
and stiffly so that people might know he was the celebrated wise man,
and do him reverence.
And when he had grown to manhood the fame of his wisdom spread all
over the world, so that all the other wise men were jealous, and tried
in many ways to confound him; but Solomon always came out ahead and
maintained his reputation for wisdom.
Finally a very wise man came from Cumberland, to meet Solomon and see
which of them was the wisest. He was a very big man, and Solomon was a
very little man, and so the people all shook their heads sadly and
feared Solomon had met his match, for if the Cumberland man was as
full of wisdom as Solomon, he had much the advantage in size.
They formed a circle around the two wise men, and then began the trial
to see which was the wisest.
"Tell me," said Solomon, looking straight up into the big man's face
with an air of confidence that reassured his friends, "how many
sisters has a boy who has one father, one mother, and seven brothers?"
The big wise man got very red in the face, and scowled and coughed and
stammered, but he could not tell.
"I do not know," he acknowledged; "nor do you know, either, for there
is no rule to go by."
"Oh, yes, I know," replied Solomon; "he has two sisters. I know this
is the true answer, because I know the boy and his father and his
mother and his brothers and his sisters, so that I cannot be
mistaken."
Now all the people applauded at this, for they were sure Solomon had
got the best of the man from Cumberland.
But it was now the big man's turn to try Solomon, so he said,
"Fingers five are on my hand;
All of them upright do stand.
One a dog is, chasing kittens;
One a cat is, wearing mittens;
One a rat is, eating cheese;
One a wolf is, full of fleas;
One a fly is, in a cup
How many fingers do I hold up?"
"Four," replied Solomon, promptly, "for one of them is a thumb!"
The wise man from Cumberland was so angry at being outwitted that he
sprang at Solomon and would no doubt have injured him had not our wise
man turned and run away as fast as he could go. The man from
Cumberland at once ran after him, and chased him through the streets
and down the lanes and up the side of the hill where the
bramble-bushes grow.
Solomon ran very fast, but the man from Cumberland was bigger, and he
was just about to grab our wise man by his coat-tails when Solomon
gave a great jump, and jumped right into the middle of a big
bramble-bush!
The people were all coming up behind, and as the big man did not dare
to follow Solomon into the bramble-bush, he turned away and ran home
to Cumberland.
All the men and women of our town were horrified when they came up and
found their wise man in the middle of the bramble-bush, and held fast
by the brambles, which scratched and pricked him on every side.
"Solomon! are you hurt?" they cried.
"I should say I am hurt!" replied Solomon, with a groan; "my eyes are
scratched out!"
"How do you know they are?" asked the village doctor.
"I can see they are scratched out!" replied Solomon; and the people
all wept with grief at this, and Solomon howled louder than any of
them.
Now the fact was that when Solomon jumped into the bramble-bush he was
wearing his spectacles, and the brambles pushed the glasses so close
against his eyes that he could not open them; and so, as every other
part of him was scratched and bleeding, and he could not open his
eyes, he made sure they were scratched out.
"How am I to get out of here?" he asked at last.
"You must jump out," replied the doctor, "since you have jumped in."
So Solomon made a great jump, and although the brambles tore him
cruelly, he sprang entirely out of the bush and fell plump into
another one. This last bush, however, by good luck, was not a
bramble-bush, but one of elderberry, and when he jumped into it his
spectacles fell off, and to his surprise he opened his eyes and found
that he could see again.
"Where are you now?" called out the doctor.
"I 'm in the elderberry bush, and I 've scratched my eyes in again!"
answered Solomon.
When the people heard this they marvelled greatly at the wisdom of a
man who knew how to scratch his eyes in after they were scratched out;
and they lifted Solomon from the bush and carried him home, where they
bound up the scratches and nursed him carefully until he was well
again.
And after that no one ever questioned the wond'rous wisdom of our wise
man, and when he finally died, at a good old age, they built a great
monument over his grave, and on one side of it were the words,
"Solomon; the Man who was Wond'rous Wise."
and on the other side was a picture of a bramble-bush.
What Jack Horner Did
What Jack Horner Did
Little Jack Horner sat in a corner,
Eating a Christmas pie;
He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum
And said, "What a good boy am I!"
Little Jack Horner lived in an old, tumble-down house at the edge of a
big wood; and there many generations of Horners had lived before him,
and had earned their living by chopping wood. Jack's father and mother
were both dead, and he lived with his grandfather and grandmother, who
took great pains to teach him all that a boy should know.
They lived very comfortably and happily together until one day a great
tree fell upon Grandpa Horner and crushed his legs; and from that time
on he could not work at all, but had to be nursed and tended very
carefully.
This calamity was a great affliction to the Horners. Grandma Horner
had a little money saved up in an old broken teapot that she kept in
the cupboard, but that would not last them a great time, and when it
was gone they would have nothing with which to buy food.
"I 'm sure I do n't know what is to become of us," she said to Jack,
"for I am too old to work, and you are too young." She always told her
troubles to Jack now; small though he was, he was the only one she
could talk freely with, since it would only bother the poor crippled
grandfather to tell him how low the money was getting in the teapot.
"It is true," replied Jack, "that you are too old to work, for your
rheumatism will barely allow you to care for the house and cook our
meals; and there is grandpa to be tended. But I am not too young to
work, grandma, and I shall take my little hatchet and go into the
wood. I cannot cut the big trees, but I can the smaller ones, and I am
sure I shall be able to pile up enough wood to secure the money we
need for food."
"You are a good boy, dear," said grandma Horner, patting his head
lovingly, "but you are too young for the task. We must think of some
other way to keep the wolf from the door."
But Jack was not shaken in his resolve, although he saw it was useless
to argue further with his grandmother. So the next morning he rose
very early and took his little axe and went into the wood to begin his
work. There were a good many branches scattered about, and these he
was able to cut with ease; and then he piled them up nicely to be sold
when the wood-carter next came around. When dinner-time came he
stopped long enough to eat some of the bread and cheese he had brought
with him, and then he resumed his work.
But scarcely had he chopped one branch when a faint cry from the wood
arrested his attention. It seemed as if some one was shouting for
help. Jack listened a moment, and again heard the cry.
Without hesitation he seized his axe and ran toward the place from
whence the cry had proceeded. The underbrush was very thick and the
thorns caught in his clothing and held him back, but with the aid of
his sharp little axe he overcame all difficulties and presently
reached a place where the wood was more open.
He paused here, for often he had been told by Grandpa Horner that
there were treacherous bogs in this part of the wood, which were so
covered with mosses and ferns that the ground seemed solid enough to
walk upon. But woe to the unlucky traveler who stepped unawares upon
their surface; for instantly he found himself caught by the clinging
moist clay, to sink farther and farther into the bog until, swallowed
up in the mire, he would meet a horrible death beneath its slimy
surface. His grandfather had told him never to go near these terrible
bogs, and Jack, who was an obedient boy, had always kept away from
this part of the wood. But as he paused, again that despairing cry
came to his ears, very near to him now, it seemed:
"Help!"
Forgetful of all save a desire to assist this unknown sufferer, Jack
sprang forward with an answering cry, and only halted when he found
himself upon the edge of a vast bog.
"Where are you?" he then shouted.
"Here!" answered a voice, and, looking down, Jack saw, a few feet
away, the head and shoulders of a man. He had walked into the bog and
sunk into its treacherous depths nearly to his waist, and, although he
struggled bravely, his efforts only seemed to draw him farther down
toward a frightful death.
For a moment, filled with horror and dismay, Jack stood looking at the
man. Then he remembered a story he had once heard of how a man had
been saved from the bog.
"Be quiet, sir!" he called to the unfortunate stranger; "save all your
strength, and I may yet be able to rescue you."
He then ran to a tall sapling that stood near and began chopping away
with his axe. The keen blade speedily cut through the young but tough
wood, and, then Jack dragged it to the edge of the bog, and, exerting
all his strength, pushed it out until the sapling was within reach of
the sinking man.
"Grab it, sir!" he called out, "and hold on tightly. It will keep you
from sinking farther into the mire, and when you have gained more
strength you may be able to pull yourself out."
"You are a brave boy," replied the stranger, "and I shall do as you
tell me."
It was a long and tedious struggle, and often Jack thought the
stranger would despair and be unable to drag his body from the firm
clutch of the bog; but little by little the man succeeded in drawing
himself up by the sapling, and at last he was saved, and sank down
exhausted upon the firm ground by Jack's side.
The boy then ran for some water that stood in a slough near by, and
with this he bathed the stranger's face and cooled his parched lips.
Then he gave him the remains of his bread and cheese, and soon the
gentleman became strong enough to walk with Jack's help to the cottage
at the edge of the wood.
Grandma Horner was greatly surprised to see the strange man
approaching, supported by her sturdy little grandson; but she ran to
help him, and afterward gave him some old clothing of Grandpa
Horner's, to replace his own muddy garments. When the man had fully
rested, she brewed him her last bit of tea, and by that time the
stranger declared he felt as good as new.
"Is this your son, ma'am?" he asked, pointing to Jack.
"He is my grandson, sir," answered the woman.
"He is a good boy," declared the stranger, "and a brave boy as well,
for he has saved my life. I live far away in a big city, and have
plenty of money. If you will give Jack to me I will take him home and
educate him, and make a great man of him when he grows up."
Grandma Horner hesitated, for the boy was very dear to her and the
pride of her old age; but Jack spoke up for himself.
"I 'll not go," he said, stoutly; "you are very kind, and mean well by
me, but grandma and grandpa have only me to care for them now, and I
must stay with them and cut the wood, and so keep them supplied with
food."
The stranger said nothing more, but he patted Jack's head kindly, and
soon after left them and took the road to the city.
The next morning Jack went to the wood again, and began chopping as
bravely as before. And by hard work he cut a great deal of wood, which
the wood-carter carried away and sold for him. The pay was not very
much, to be sure, but Jack was glad that he was able to earn something
to help his grandparents.
And so the days passed rapidly away until it was nearly Christmas
time, and now, in spite of Jack's earnings, the money was very low
indeed in the broken teapot.
One day, just before Christmas, a great wagon drove up to the door of
the little cottage, and in it was the stranger Jack had rescued from
the bog. The wagon was loaded with a store of good things which would
add to the comfort of the aged pair and their grandson, including
medicines for grandpa and rare teas for grandma, and a fine suit of
clothes for Jack, who was just then away at work in the wood.
When the stranger had brought all these things into the house, he
asked to see the old teapot. Trembling with the excitement of their
good fortune, Grandma Horner brought out the teapot, and the gentleman
drew a bag from beneath his coat and filled the pot to the brim with
shining gold pieces.
"If ever you need more," he said, "send to me, and you shall have all
you wish to make you comfortable."
Then he told her his name, and where he lived, so that she might find
him if need be, and then he drove away in the empty wagon before
Grandma Horner had half finished thanking him.
You can imagine how astonished and happy little Jack was when he
returned from his work and found all the good things his kind
benefactor had brought. Grandma Horner was herself so delighted that
she caught the boy in her arms, and hugged and kissed him, declaring
that his brave rescue of the gentleman had brought them all this
happiness in their hour of need.
"To-morrow is Christmas," she said, "and we shall have an abundance
with which to celebrate the good day. So I shall make you a Christmas
pie, Jack dear, and stuff it full of plums, for you must have your
share of our unexpected prosperity."
And Grandma Horner was as good as her word, and made a very delicious
pie indeed for her darling grandson.
And that is was how it came that
"Little Jack Horner sat in a corner
Eating a Christmas pie;
He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum
And said, "What a good boy am I!
And he was--a very good boy. Do n't you think so?
The Man in the Moon
The Man in the Moon
The Man in the Moon came tumbling down,
And enquired the way to Norwich;
He went by the south and burned his mouth
With eating cold pease porridge!
What! Have you never heard the story of the Man in the Moon? Then I
must surely tell it, for it is very amusing, and there is not a word
of truth in it.
The Man in the Moon was rather lonesome, and often he peeked over the
edge of the moon and looked down upon the earth and envied all the
people who lived together, for he thought it must be vastly more
pleasant to have companions to talk to than to be shut up in a big
planet all by himself, where he had to whistle to keep himself
company.
One day he looked down and saw an alderman sailing up through the air
towards him. This alderman was being translated (instead of being
transported, owing to a misprint in the law) and as he came near the
Man in the Moon called to him and said,
"How is everything down on the earth?"
"Everything is lovely," replied the alderman, "and I would n't leave
it if I was not obliged to."
"What 's a good place to visit down there?" enquired the Man in the
Moon.
"Oh, Norwich is a mighty fine place," returned the alderman, "and it
's famous for its pease porridge;" and then he sailed out of sight and
left the Man in the Moon to reflect upon what he had said.
The words of the alderman made him more anxious than ever to visit the
earth, and so he walked thoughtfully home, and put a few lumps of ice
in the stove to keep him warm, and sat down to think how he should
manage the trip.
You see, everything went by contraries in the Moon, and when the Man
wished to keep warm he knocked off a few chunks of ice and put them in
his stove; and he cooled his drinking water by throwing red-hot coals
of fire into the pitcher. Likewise, when he became chilly he took off
his hat and coat, and even his shoes, and so became warm; and in the
hot days of summer he put on his overcoat to cool off.
All of which seems very queer to you, no doubt; but it was n't at all
queer to the Man in the Moon, for he was accustomed to it.
Well, he sat by his ice-cool fire and thought about his journey to the
earth, and finally he decided the only way he could get there was to
slide down a moonbeam.
So he left the house and locked the door and put the key in his
pocket, for he was uncertain how long he should be gone; and then he
went to the edge of the moon and began to search for a good strong
moonbeam.
At last he found one that seemed rather substantial and reached right
down to a pleasant-looking spot on the earth; and so he swung himself
over the edge of the moon, and put both arms tight around the moonbeam
and started to slide down. But he found it rather slippery, and in
spite of all his efforts to hold on he found himself going faster and
faster, so that just before he reached the earth he lost his hold and
came tumbling down head over heels and fell plump into a river.
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