How To Tell Stories To Children [10]
valuable in forming fine habits of speech; and that an increasingly high and general standard of English speech is one of our greatest needs and our most instant opportunities in the American schools of to-day.
And now we come to the stories!
STORIES TO TELL TO CHILDREN
TWO LITTLE RIDDLES IN RHYME[1]
[1] These riddles were taken from the Gaelic, and are charming examples of the naive beauty of the old Irish, and of Dr. Hyde's accurate and sympathetic modern rendering. From "Beside the Fire" (David Nutt, London).
There's a garden that I ken, Full of little gentlemen; Little caps of blue they wear, And green ribbons, very fair. (Flax.)
From house to house he goes, A messenger small and slight, And whether it rains or snows, He sleeps outside in the night. (The path.)
THE LITTLE PINK ROSE
Once there was a little pink Rosebud, and she lived down in a little dark house under the ground. One day she was sitting there, all by herself, and it was very still. Suddenly, she heard a little TAP, TAP, TAP, at the door.
"Who is that?" she said.
"It's the Rain, and I want to come in;" said a soft, sad, little voice.
"No, you can't come in," the little Rosebud said.
By and by she heard another little TAP, TAP, TAP on the window pane.
"Who is there?" she said.
The same soft little voice answered, "It's the Rain, and I want to come in!"
"No, you can't come in," said the little Rosebud.
Then it was very still for a long time. At last, there came a little rustling, whispering sound, all round the window: RUSTLE, WHISPER, WHISPER.
"Who is there?" said the little Rosebud.
"It's the Sunshine," said a little, soft, cheery voice, "and I want to come in!"
"N--no," said the little pink rose, "you can't come in." And she sat still again.
Pretty soon she heard the sweet little rustling noise at the key-hole.
"Who is there?" she said.
"It's the Sunshine," said the cheery little voice, "and I want to come in, I want to come in!"
"No, no," said the little pink rose, "you cannot come in."
By and by, as she sat so still, she heard TAP, TAP, TAP, and RUSTLE, WHISPER, RUSTLE, all up and down the window pane, and on the door, and at the key-hole.
"WHO IS THERE?" she said.
"It's the Rain and the Sun, the Rain and the Sun," said two little voices, together, "and we want to come in! We want to come in! We want to come in!"
"Dear, dear!" said the little Rosebud, "if there are two of you, I s'pose I shall have to let you in."
So she opened the door a little wee crack, and in they came. And one took one of her little hands, and the other took her other little hand, and they ran, ran, ran with her, right up to the top of the ground. Then they said,--
"Poke your head through!"
So she poked her head through; and she was in the midst of a beautiful garden. It was springtime, and all the other flowers had their heads poked through; and she was the prettiest little pink rose in the whole garden!
THE COCK-A-DOO-DLE-DOO[1]
[1] From "The Ignominy of being Grown Up," by Dr. Samuel M. Crothers, in the Atlantic Monthly for July, 1906.
A very little boy made this story up "out of his head," and told it to his papa I think you littlest ones will like it; I do.
Once upon a time there was a little boy, and he wanted to be a cock-a-doo-dle-doo So he was a cock-a-doo-dle-doo. And he wanted to fly up into the sky. So he did fly up into the sky. And he wanted to get wings and a tail. So he did get some wings and a tail.
THE CLOUD[2]
[2] Adapted from the German of Robert Reinick's Maarchen, Lieder-und Geschichtenbuch (Velhagen und Klasing, Bielefeld and Leipsic).
One hot summer morning a little Cloud rose out of the sea and floated lightly and happily across the blue sky. Far below lay the earth, brown, dry, and desolate, from drouth. The little Cloud could see the poor people of the earth working and suffering in the hot fields, while she herself floated on the morning breeze, hither and thither, without a care.
"Oh, if I could only help
And now we come to the stories!
STORIES TO TELL TO CHILDREN
TWO LITTLE RIDDLES IN RHYME[1]
[1] These riddles were taken from the Gaelic, and are charming examples of the naive beauty of the old Irish, and of Dr. Hyde's accurate and sympathetic modern rendering. From "Beside the Fire" (David Nutt, London).
There's a garden that I ken, Full of little gentlemen; Little caps of blue they wear, And green ribbons, very fair. (Flax.)
From house to house he goes, A messenger small and slight, And whether it rains or snows, He sleeps outside in the night. (The path.)
THE LITTLE PINK ROSE
Once there was a little pink Rosebud, and she lived down in a little dark house under the ground. One day she was sitting there, all by herself, and it was very still. Suddenly, she heard a little TAP, TAP, TAP, at the door.
"Who is that?" she said.
"It's the Rain, and I want to come in;" said a soft, sad, little voice.
"No, you can't come in," the little Rosebud said.
By and by she heard another little TAP, TAP, TAP on the window pane.
"Who is there?" she said.
The same soft little voice answered, "It's the Rain, and I want to come in!"
"No, you can't come in," said the little Rosebud.
Then it was very still for a long time. At last, there came a little rustling, whispering sound, all round the window: RUSTLE, WHISPER, WHISPER.
"Who is there?" said the little Rosebud.
"It's the Sunshine," said a little, soft, cheery voice, "and I want to come in!"
"N--no," said the little pink rose, "you can't come in." And she sat still again.
Pretty soon she heard the sweet little rustling noise at the key-hole.
"Who is there?" she said.
"It's the Sunshine," said the cheery little voice, "and I want to come in, I want to come in!"
"No, no," said the little pink rose, "you cannot come in."
By and by, as she sat so still, she heard TAP, TAP, TAP, and RUSTLE, WHISPER, RUSTLE, all up and down the window pane, and on the door, and at the key-hole.
"WHO IS THERE?" she said.
"It's the Rain and the Sun, the Rain and the Sun," said two little voices, together, "and we want to come in! We want to come in! We want to come in!"
"Dear, dear!" said the little Rosebud, "if there are two of you, I s'pose I shall have to let you in."
So she opened the door a little wee crack, and in they came. And one took one of her little hands, and the other took her other little hand, and they ran, ran, ran with her, right up to the top of the ground. Then they said,--
"Poke your head through!"
So she poked her head through; and she was in the midst of a beautiful garden. It was springtime, and all the other flowers had their heads poked through; and she was the prettiest little pink rose in the whole garden!
THE COCK-A-DOO-DLE-DOO[1]
[1] From "The Ignominy of being Grown Up," by Dr. Samuel M. Crothers, in the Atlantic Monthly for July, 1906.
A very little boy made this story up "out of his head," and told it to his papa I think you littlest ones will like it; I do.
Once upon a time there was a little boy, and he wanted to be a cock-a-doo-dle-doo So he was a cock-a-doo-dle-doo. And he wanted to fly up into the sky. So he did fly up into the sky. And he wanted to get wings and a tail. So he did get some wings and a tail.
THE CLOUD[2]
[2] Adapted from the German of Robert Reinick's Maarchen, Lieder-und Geschichtenbuch (Velhagen und Klasing, Bielefeld and Leipsic).
One hot summer morning a little Cloud rose out of the sea and floated lightly and happily across the blue sky. Far below lay the earth, brown, dry, and desolate, from drouth. The little Cloud could see the poor people of the earth working and suffering in the hot fields, while she herself floated on the morning breeze, hither and thither, without a care.
"Oh, if I could only help