A Child\'s Story Garden
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Compiled by Elizabeth Heber >> A Child\'s Story Garden
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
A CHILD'S STORY GARDEN
[Illustration]
TO THE LITTLE CHILDREN
[Illustration]
Elizabeth Heber
NOTE
These selected stories have been used by teachers of the kindergarten
and primary grades in the Indianapolis Schools. This little book has
been compiled for mothers and teachers with the purpose of meeting a
demand for children's literature that will not only add to the child's
literary culture, but will also suggest high ideals through the story
form. For material used we gratefully acknowledge our indebtedness to:
Rev. Neil McPherson, Sarah L. Kirlin, Leonore D. Eldridge, Martha A.
Gill, Bessie Brown Adkinson, Edith D. Wachstetter, Grace Erskine DeVere,
Fords Hulburt Publishing Co., for the selections, "The Anxious Leaf" and
"Coming and Going" from Henry Ward Beecher's, "Norwood."
... Compiled by ...
ELIZABETH HEBER
Primary Teacher School No. 4 Indianapolis,--Indiana
Illustrations by
GRACE GARFIELD
CONTENTS
Siegfried, the King's Son
The Song of the Pine Tree
A Christmas Story
The Myth of Arachne
The Birds of Killingworth
The Myth of Pan
The Bell of Atri
The Anxious Leaf
Coming and Going
How the Dimples Came
The Proud Little Apple Blossom
The Brave Knight
King Robert of Sicily
The Great Stone Face
The First Christmas Tree
The Story of Abraham
The Story of Moses
The Story of David
The Story of Joseph
The Courtesy of the Spartan Boy
Twenty-third Psalm
SIEGFRIED, THE KING'S SON
Siegfried was the son of the good King Siegmund. He lived in the great
palace with his father and the gentle queen, his mother.
Siegfried had everything his heart could desire. He was loved by every
one about the palace. He had many servants to wait upon him, and
beautiful clothes to wear at all times. More than this, the stables of
the great palace were full of horses, and Siegfried could ride or drive
whenever he wished to do so.
Now, the king was as wise as he was good, and he knew that if Siegfried
would grow to be a good king he must learn to work with his hands. The
king and queen talked of it, and, although they disliked to part with
their son, they decided to send Siegfried to Mimer, the wonderful
blacksmith.
Mimer was a queer little man. His back was bent and his hair was long
and white. He had a long white beard and two very sharp, black eyes.
Mimer's shop was out in the great, dark forest, and many boys came to
learn of this wonderful master, for Mimer, you must know, was the best
blacksmith in all the king's country.
To this shop Siegfried was sent. At first he was very lonely and
unhappy. There were no servants now to wait upon him. His soft,
beautiful clothing had been exchanged for a suit of the coarsest
material and a huge leather apron. There was no soft bed waiting for him
at night, only a pile of straw in the corner. But Siegfried was a brave
boy, and lost no time complaining. He worked patiently at his anvil, day
after day, learning from his master to make strong chains of iron, as
well as dainty chains of gold and silver, for the queen to wear. One day
Mimer came into the shop and sat down beside Siegfried's anvil. The boys
could see that he was troubled, and they left their anvils and came to
the master, begging him to tell them what troubled him.
Slowly he raised his head and looked at them all. Then he said: "A giant
has come into the country, who says he is the most wonderful smith of
all. He says he has made a coat of armor that no sword can pierce. I
have worked day and night, and cannot make a strong sword. Who is
willing to try for me?"
The boys all hung their heads, for they knew not how to help Mimer. Then
Siegfried stood before his master and said: "Let me try, oh, Mimer!" And
the master was willing. Siegfried went to work at once, and for seven
long days he did not leave his place at the anvil.
At the end of the time he brought to Mimer a sword that was strong and
bright. "We will try it," said Mimer, and called together all the boys,
and took them to a little stream near the shop. Mimer then took a single
thread of wool and threw it into the water. As it was carried along,
Mimer took the sword and held it before the thread. The water carried
the thread along until it reached the sword. Then one half of the thread
passed to the right of the sword and the other to the left, and the
thread was not moved from its course. "This is a good blade," said Mimer
proudly. But Siegfried was not satisfied. He took the sword and broke it
in pieces and put it into the fire again. For three long weeks Siegfried
worked patiently at the anvil. Then he brought to Mimer a sword that was
sharper and brighter and stronger than the first.
Again the boys were taken to the little stream, and this time a handful
of wool was thrown into the water. When it reached the edge of the sword
half of the wool passed to the right and half to the left of the sword,
and not one single thread was moved from its place. Siegfried, however,
was not satisfied, and again broke the sword into pieces and put it back
into the fire.
Patiently and faithfully he worked for seven long weeks. The sword that
he brought to Mimer now was stronger and brighter and more beautiful
than either of the others. The handle was wound with flowers, and the
edge was as bright as the lightning.
This time, when the boys gathered at the little stream, a pack of wool
was thrown into the water. When the wool reached the edge of the blade,
half passed to one side and half to the other, and not one thread was
moved from its place.
"We will give it another trial," said Siegfried. He ran quickly to the
shop and paused a moment before the great anvil. Then he swung the
sword, once, twice, thrice, about his head, and then brought it down
onto the iron. There was no noise, but the great anvil fell apart, and
the sword was as sharp and bright as ever.
"This is the best I can do," said Siegfried. "Good master, my sword is
done!" Then Mimer sent his swiftest messenger to the king to tell him
that he was ready to meet the giant.
The day of the contest came. Mimer's friends sat on one side of the
road, the giant's friends on the other. At the top of the hill the two
masters were to meet, the giant with his armor, Mimer with his sword.
Soon a mighty shout arose! The giant, wearing the wonderful coat of
glittering steel, came up the hill. He sat down on a huge rock at the
top of the hill. As the people waited, a queer little man was seen
coming slowly up the hill. His back was bent, and his white hair hung
about his shoulders. At his side he carried a sword so bright that the
lightning seemed to play about its edge, as he walked.
Slowly he went to the top of the hill and stood before the giant. It was
Mimer, the master. He loosed the sword from his side and raised it above
his head. "Are you ready?" he asked. "Yes; strike," said the giant,
laughing, for he was not afraid. One, two, three times the sword flashed
about Mimer's head. Then it fell again at his side. "I do not wish to
hurt you," he said, "but if you will take off your armor and place it on
that stone, I will show you what this wonderful blade can do." The giant
only laughed again--laughed so loud and so long that the very earth
seemed to tremble. Then he took off the armor and laid it on the rock.
Mimer stepped back, raised the sword again, swung it about his head
until the light seemed to blind the people. Then it came down. The
people waited. There was no clash of iron. All was still.
Then Mimer stepped up to the armor and touched it with his foot. It fell
apart, and the rock beneath it fell apart, too. Half the rock started to
roll down the hill. On, on it went, faster and faster, and fell with a
mighty splash into the river at the foot of the hill, and if you should
go to that far-away country you could see it lying there, far down below
the surface of the water.
Then a mighty shout arose! Mimer's friends, and the great king, too,
joined in the applause. The giant, no longer boastful, stooped down,
gathered up the two parts of the armor, and went with his friends into a
far country. Mimer took the wonderful sword and went back to his place
in the blacksmith shop, still the master of all the smiths.
Very few people, however, knew that it was the king's own son,
Siegfried, who had made the wonderful sword.
THE SONG OF THE PINE TREE
It was a wee pine tree in a very large forest. It could not see anything
around it, for the other pine trees about it were so very tall. They
could only tell the little pine tree what they saw. At night the little
tree would often gaze at the sky and the stars that peeped out. And
sometimes the big, round moon would pass over the sky. And all day long,
all that the little pine tree could see above it was the blue sky, and
the beautiful white clouds that went sailing by like so many ships on
the sea. The little pine tree wished to grow and be tall, like the rest
of the trees, for it wanted to see what was in the world outside of the
forest. The tall pine trees would sing songs as the wind whistled
through their branches, and the little pine tree waited day after day,
so that it might be tall and sing songs, too. When summer came the birds
would rest on the branches of this wee tree, but would not build nests,
because it was too low. When winter came little white snowflakes came
fluttering down and rested on the branches of the little pine tree.
Year after year the little tree waited, but it grew all this time, and
seemed to stretch higher and higher its beautiful green branches.
One day, when the little snowflakes had fluttered down and made all the
world white, and the wind was whistling a merry tune, the little pine
tree heard some strange noises. The tall pine trees nodded their heads,
for they knew who were coming. They were the woodmen. They had a sled
with them, drawn by horses. The sight was strange to the pine tree, for
it had never before seen woodmen, nor a sled, nor horses. But the old
pine trees knew what it all meant, for they had seen the woodmen many
times. They wondered which tree the woodmen would choose. Now, the
little pine tree had grown, and it was not a wee tree any longer, but
was a straight, strong, beautiful tree. The woodmen walked about with
something very bright and shining in their hands. When they came to this
pine tree they looked at it, shook it and sounded the ax against its
trunk.
How queer the pine tree felt! It wondered what they were going to do
with it. Suddenly a sharp sound rang out in the air, and another, and
still another one. And the pine tree felt itself swaying and swaying,
and down it went, lower and lower, until its branches touched the soft
white snow on the ground. The woodmen lifted the pine tree very
carefully, placed it on the sled and drove the horses away. Pine Tree
was happy now, for he was going to see something of the great, wonderful
world.
The woodmen drove the horses out of the forest into the beautiful white
world. On and on they went until at last they came to a little village
by the sea. They drove through the village and into a great shipyard,
where saws were buzzing, hammers were pounding, and busy men were
hurrying about. Pine Tree had never seen anything like this before. He
was lifted from the sled and his beautiful branches were taken from the
trunk. Then he lay with, many other logs for a long time, until one day
the carpenters took him away, and he found that he was helping to make a
part of a ship. Boards were nailed on, and the busy carpenters worked
day after day.
At last the strong and stately ship was finished. It glided gracefully
into the water and sailed away. Pine Tree was very happy now, for he was
seeing new and strange things. The waves dashed carelessly against the
ship. They seemed to have a song, too. Pine Tree had not forgotten the
songs that the old pines used to sing. The waves did not always sing the
same song--sometimes they would rush and roll against the ship very hard
until they grew tired, and then they would roll on, and sing a quiet
song again.
Sometimes the ship would stop at strange countries, people would get
off, other people would get on, and then the ship would sail off out
into the sea again. Now, the pine tree had been a part of the ship for
many years, when one night while the ship was sailing the seas the waves
grew so high and strong that the parts of the ship could not stay
together. So Pine Tree was thrown out upon the angry waves and was
rocked all night long--very roughly at first, but gently afterwards.
When the sunshine looked down upon the sand the next morning it saw Pine
Tree. Pine Tree lay there many days.
How lonesome Pine Tree was! He seemed to hear the songs of the old
pines, and sometimes the songs of the waves. One day he heard another
song. It was a new song to the pine tree, for the song was sung by some
little children who were digging in the sand close by. They came here
every day to play, and once a man came with them. When he saw Pine Tree
lying upon the sand he said: "This is just what I have been looking for.
I will use this for the ridge-pole for my little cottage." So he took
Pine Tree away with him. After a time Pine Tree found himself a part of
the man's cottage, and, of course, he could not hear the songs of the
forest, nor the songs of the waves, but he heard new songs. They were
rock-a-bye-baby songs that the mother in this little cottage would sing
to her children in the evening, when it was time for them to go to
sleep.
Years passed, and the children grew to be men and women, and after a
while all the songs Pine Tree heard were those of the grandmother, which
were soft and low. At last these, too, were heard no more--the little
cottage grew quiet and everything was still. Pine Tree wondered where
everybody was. The only company he had were the birds that came in
through the window and built nests in the attic. Now the cottage was no
longer a home, but was used as a barn, and the gentle cows, the woolly
sheep and the kind horses rested there at night. They, too, seemed to
sing a song to Pine Tree, but by and by even their song could not be
heard--nothing but the wind and the owls in the trees outside--because
what had once been the cottage, and then a barn, was now a forsaken
little hut.
One day Pine Tree heard a man whistling. Oh! how he hoped he would come
in, for he had not seen anybody nor heard any of the songs he had loved
for so long. Pine Tree heard the whistle come nearer and nearer, and at
last the man stepped through the doorway. He looked about him and saw
the spider webs hanging in the corners and the birds flying in and out
of the windows, and he wondered how long it had been since people had
lived there. He looked up and saw the ridge-pole, which had once been
Pine Tree. "Oh!" he said, "I have found what I have long been looking
for." So he climbed up and loosened the boards and took Pine Tree out of
his resting place. Now Pine Tree was going once more out into the world.
The man carried him on and took him into a little shop. It was a queer
shop, too, for there were many bright, shining things lying on the
work-bench. They were tools, you know. The man had a kind face and he
handled Pine Tree very carefully. He sawed and smoothed Pine Tree many
days, and as he worked he whistled and sang, for he was happy. Sometimes
he would whistle some of the songs that Pine Tree had heard when he
lived in the forest, and then sometimes those he had heard on the ocean,
and again he would whistle the songs that Pine Tree had heard in the
home of the children.
At last the man's work was finished. Pine Tree had been made into a
wonderful musical instrument--a violin. The man took a bow and drew it
across the strings, and as he did so he smiled and nodded his head, for
the music was very sweet. The violin, which had once been Pine Tree, and
then part of a ship, and the ridge-pole of the cottage and the barn,
seemed to sing to the man the songs of the forest, the songs of the
ocean, the songs of the home, and the songs of the lowly barn.
One day the man put the violin in a case and took it away on a long
journey. When the case was opened, the violin saw that they were in a
strange hall full of people, and many of them were talking of this
man--the violin-maker.
The man lifted the violin from the case and went out upon a large
platform before the people, and began playing for them. He seemed to say
to the violin, "Sing for me," and as he drew the bow across the strings
the violin sang. It sang to the people, first the very songs that the
tall pines sang in the forest. The song changed, and the lap of the
waters, and the dip of the oar could be heard as on a moonlight summer
night; then the angry wind and the dash of the waves could be heard as
in a fierce storm. Slowly this song died, and everything was quiet.
Then, after a little while, the faraway sound of children's
voices--their laughter and singing--was heard, and then came the sweet
lullaby to the sleepy babes.
These songs all died away, and the violin sang the songs of the birds in
the summer-time, and the lowing of cattle, and the bleating of sheep in
the cold winter-time.
At last the violin could sing no longer the songs it knew, but a new
song came forth which was also very beautiful, and which caused the
people to bend forward and listen with eager faces, for it was the song
that came from the heart of the old man who was master of the violin.
A CHRISTMAS STORY
It was so long ago that the whole world has forgotten the date and even
the name of the little town in which lived a little boy whose name was
Hans.
Little Hans lived with his aunt, who was quite an old lady. She was not
always kind to Hans, but this made no difference to him. He loved her
just the same, and forgot that she was ever cross and very unkind to him
at times.
Hans went to school with many other boys, but he was not clothed as they
were. He had to wear the same clothes both week days and Sundays; the
same even in the summer that he wore in the winter.
It was now midwinter, when everything was wrapped in snow and glazed
with ice, while the north winds sang loud and whistled down the
chimneys, played very roughly with the bare trees, and crept through
every crack and crevice of the house. The frost, too, was busy pinching
the cheeks and biting the toes of the boys, and making them run, jump
and dance to keep warm.
The children were wild with the excitement and the joy that was astir at
this time. For there were secrets in the air. Every one was busy making
gifts for some loved one.
It was the night before Christmas, the one great birthday on which the
whole world rejoiceth and when all endeavor to make their fellow men
happy.
The schoolmaster and all of his pupils started for the midnight worship
and prayer at the church. All of the boys were well clothed, with heavy
coats, fur caps, thick mittens, and very heavy and warm shoes. But
little Hans had only a poor, plain, ragged suit, with no overcoat, no
mittens, and his shoes were only wooden ones. It was a very cold night,
and the boys and the schoolmaster had to walk very fast to keep warm.
But little Hans did not mind the cold so much, because the stars smiled
down upon him and seemed like so many diamonds set in a deep blue
canopy, each one glittering and flashing in the darkness. The snow, too,
was a sparkling mass, and Hans wondered if the stars could see
themselves reflected in the tiny snow crystals which covered the earth.
At last they reached the church, whose windows were shedding forth a
soft, golden light on the stillness and darkness of the cold winter
night. This little group of worshipers quietly passed into the church
and sank noiselessly into their pews. It was a beautiful place to Hans.
He loved it dearly, and was always happy to come here. The candles were
all lighted, and they burned steadily brighter and brighter, filling the
church with a beautiful mellow light. The grand old organ softly and
clearly sent forth its tones, each one growing richer, deeper and
sweeter, and gradually the voices of the choir boys and the tones of the
organ filled the old church with such beautiful music that little Hans's
heart seemed to bound within him, and his whole soul was enraptured,
while there shone from his face a radiance that only a divine
inspiration could bring forth.
At length, after the people had sung, each one knelt and offered
thanksgiving to the Heavenly Father, little Hans, too, knelt and offered
thanks for the blessings which he had received during that year, and for
the tender care of the Father of all.
The people then quietly passed out of the warm church into the cold of
the night. Hans was the last one out, and as he carefully made his way
down the icy steps he noticed a little boy no larger than himself
sitting on the steps, with his head resting against the church. He was
fast asleep. His face was beautiful, and seemed clothed in a golden
light. Beside him, tied in a cloth, were a square, a hammer, a saw and
other tools of a carpenter. He had neither shoes nor stockings on his
feet, although his clothing was spotless and of the purest white. It
grieved Hans that the child should have no shoes, not even one to place
for the Christ-child to fill with gifts.
Hans stooped and took from his right foot the wooden shoe and placed it
in front of the sleeping child, so that the Christ-child would not pass
him by. Hans then limped along on the ice and snow, not feeling how cold
it was, but only thinking of the poor child asleep out in the cold.
The other boys were talking of the good things awaiting them at home, of
the feasts, the plum pudding, the Christmas trees, and the many drums,
wagons and blocks the Christ-child would put in their shoes that night.
When Hans arrived home he found his aunt awaiting him, and when she saw
that he had only one shoe, and he had told her all about the other one,
she was very angry with him, and sent him to bed. Hans placed the wooden
shoe from his left foot at the fireside, hoping that the Christ-child
would remember him as he passed by.
The first sunbeam that crept into Hans's bedroom and kissed him the next
morning awoke him, and he bounded downstairs, and flew to the great open
fireplace to find his shoe.
Hans rubbed his eyes and caught his breath, for, to his great surprise,
there were both of his wooden shoes, filled with beautiful toys; by the
fireside he found warm clothing and many other things to make him
comfortable and happy.
Hearing loud voices, Hans went to the door. The people were standing in
a crowd about the priest, who was talking to them. He told Hans that
where he had seen the child asleep on the church steps there was now in
the window above a beautiful crown set with precious jewels. He said
that the child was the Christ-child, whom the Heavenly Father had again
sent among men on earth for that night, and that it was He with whom
Hans had shared his wooden shoes.
The people bowed themselves before that miracle that the good God had
seen fit to work, to reward the faith and charity of a child.
Francois Coppee, [Adapted]
THE MYTH OF ARACHNE
A long time ago there lived a maiden whose name was Arachne. She could
weave the most beautiful fabrics that people had ever seen. She chose
the most exquisite colors. They were the colors that were found in the
flowers, the green of the trees and grass, and the varied, dainty tints
and shades from the blue sky and its gorgeous sunsets.
People had said that Arachne learned to weave from the birds, although
some of them thought that Arachne had been taught to weave by the
goddess Athena. When Arachne heard that the people thought that Athena
had taught her to weave she became very angry. She declared that Athena
had not taught her to weave; that no one had taught her. She said she
would compete with the goddess Athena in weaving. The goddess Athena was
a noble goddess. She was the Goddess of Wisdom, and of all the Arts and
Crafts. When she heard what Arachne had declared she said: "It is very
wrong that Arachne should be so proud and envious. I will go to see
her."
The goddess Athena disguised herself in humble apparel and visited
Arachne. She talked with her about her weaving, and still Arachne
boasted of the wonderful weaving she could do; but the goddess told her
that she was foolish to be so boastful.
This made Arachne angry, and she said: "I am not afraid at all, not of
any one in the world." At this moment the goddess threw aside her plain
garments and revealed herself the goddess Athena. This did not frighten
Arachne. She looked calmly at Athena and told her that she would give up
anything, even her life, to prove to the people that she could weave
even better than the goddess.
They then set about to arrange their looms, to select their threads, and
to begin work. At last they began. Whirr! Whirr! went the shuttles.
Spin! Spin! they sang, faster and faster, in and out, over and under,
flew the shuttles.