How To Tell Stories To Children [11]
the poor people down there!" she thought. "If I could but make their work easier, or give the hungry ones food, or the thirsty a drink!"
And as the day passed, and the Cloud became larger, this wish to do something for the people of earth was ever greater in her heart.
On earth it grew hotter and hotter; the sun burned down so fiercely that the people were fainting in its rays; it seemed as if they must die of heat, and yet they were obliged to go on with their work, for they were very poor. Sometimes they stood and looked up at the Cloud, as if they were praying, and saying, "Ah, if you could help us!"
"I will help you; I will!" said the Cloud. And she began to sink softly down toward the earth.
But suddenly, as she floated down, she remembered something which had been told her when she was a tiny Cloud-child, in the lap of Mother Ocean: it had been whispered that if the Clouds go too near the earth they die. When she remembered this she held herself from sinking, and swayed here and there on the breeze, thinking,--thinking. But at last she stood quite still, and spoke boldly and proudly. She said, "Men of earth, I will help you, come what may!"
The thought made her suddenly marvelously big and strong and powerful. Never had she dreamed that she could be so big. Like a mighty angel of blessing she stood above the earth, and lifted her head and spread her wings far over the fields and woods. She was so great, so majestic, that men and animals were awe-struck at the sight; the trees and the grasses bowed before her; yet all the earth-creatures felt that she meant them well.
"Yes, I will help you," cried the Cloud once more. "Take me to yourselves; I will give my life for you!"
As she said the words a wonderful light glowed from her heart, the sound of thunder rolled through the sky, and a love greater than words can tell filled the Cloud; down, down, close to the earth she swept, and gave up her life in a blessed, healing shower of rain.
That rain was the Cloud's great deed; it was her death, too; but it was also her glory. Over the whole country-side, as far as the rain fell, a lovely rainbow sprang its arch, and all the brightest rays of heaven made its colors; it was the last greeting of a love so great that it sacrificed itself.
Soon that, too, was gone, but long, long afterward the men and animals who were saved by the Cloud kept her blessing in their hearts.
THE LITTLE RED HEN
The little Red Hen was in the farmyard with her chickens, when she found a grain of wheat.
"Who will plant this wheat?" she said.
"Not I," said the Goose.
"Not I," said the Duck.
"I will, then," said the little Red Hen, and she planted the grain of wheat.
When the wheat was ripe she said, "Who will take this wheat to the mill?"
"Not I," said the Goose.
"Not I," said the Duck.
"I will, then," said the little Red Hen, and she took the wheat to the mill.
When she brought the flour home she said, "Who will make some bread with this flour?"
"Not I," said the Goose.
"Not I," said the Duck.
"I will, then," said the little Red Hen.
When the bread was baked, she said, "Who will eat this bread?"
"I will," said the Goose
"I will," said the Duck
"No, you won't," said the little Red Hen. "I shall eat it myself. Cluck! cluck!" And she called her chickens to help her.
THE GINGERBREAD MAN[1]
[1] I have tried to give this story in the most familiar form; it varies a good deal in the hands of different story-tellers, but this is substantially the version I was "brought up on." The form of the ending was suggested to me by the story in Carolyn Bailey's For the Children's Hour (Milton Bradley Co.).
Once upon a time there was a little old woman and a little old man, and they lived all alone in a little old house. They hadn't any little girls or any little boys, at all. So one day, the little old woman made a boy out of gingerbread; she made him a chocolate jacket, and put cinnamon seeds in it for buttons; his eyes were made of fine, fat currants; his
And as the day passed, and the Cloud became larger, this wish to do something for the people of earth was ever greater in her heart.
On earth it grew hotter and hotter; the sun burned down so fiercely that the people were fainting in its rays; it seemed as if they must die of heat, and yet they were obliged to go on with their work, for they were very poor. Sometimes they stood and looked up at the Cloud, as if they were praying, and saying, "Ah, if you could help us!"
"I will help you; I will!" said the Cloud. And she began to sink softly down toward the earth.
But suddenly, as she floated down, she remembered something which had been told her when she was a tiny Cloud-child, in the lap of Mother Ocean: it had been whispered that if the Clouds go too near the earth they die. When she remembered this she held herself from sinking, and swayed here and there on the breeze, thinking,--thinking. But at last she stood quite still, and spoke boldly and proudly. She said, "Men of earth, I will help you, come what may!"
The thought made her suddenly marvelously big and strong and powerful. Never had she dreamed that she could be so big. Like a mighty angel of blessing she stood above the earth, and lifted her head and spread her wings far over the fields and woods. She was so great, so majestic, that men and animals were awe-struck at the sight; the trees and the grasses bowed before her; yet all the earth-creatures felt that she meant them well.
"Yes, I will help you," cried the Cloud once more. "Take me to yourselves; I will give my life for you!"
As she said the words a wonderful light glowed from her heart, the sound of thunder rolled through the sky, and a love greater than words can tell filled the Cloud; down, down, close to the earth she swept, and gave up her life in a blessed, healing shower of rain.
That rain was the Cloud's great deed; it was her death, too; but it was also her glory. Over the whole country-side, as far as the rain fell, a lovely rainbow sprang its arch, and all the brightest rays of heaven made its colors; it was the last greeting of a love so great that it sacrificed itself.
Soon that, too, was gone, but long, long afterward the men and animals who were saved by the Cloud kept her blessing in their hearts.
THE LITTLE RED HEN
The little Red Hen was in the farmyard with her chickens, when she found a grain of wheat.
"Who will plant this wheat?" she said.
"Not I," said the Goose.
"Not I," said the Duck.
"I will, then," said the little Red Hen, and she planted the grain of wheat.
When the wheat was ripe she said, "Who will take this wheat to the mill?"
"Not I," said the Goose.
"Not I," said the Duck.
"I will, then," said the little Red Hen, and she took the wheat to the mill.
When she brought the flour home she said, "Who will make some bread with this flour?"
"Not I," said the Goose.
"Not I," said the Duck.
"I will, then," said the little Red Hen.
When the bread was baked, she said, "Who will eat this bread?"
"I will," said the Goose
"I will," said the Duck
"No, you won't," said the little Red Hen. "I shall eat it myself. Cluck! cluck!" And she called her chickens to help her.
THE GINGERBREAD MAN[1]
[1] I have tried to give this story in the most familiar form; it varies a good deal in the hands of different story-tellers, but this is substantially the version I was "brought up on." The form of the ending was suggested to me by the story in Carolyn Bailey's For the Children's Hour (Milton Bradley Co.).
Once upon a time there was a little old woman and a little old man, and they lived all alone in a little old house. They hadn't any little girls or any little boys, at all. So one day, the little old woman made a boy out of gingerbread; she made him a chocolate jacket, and put cinnamon seeds in it for buttons; his eyes were made of fine, fat currants; his