Laura Richards
Five Minute Stories
NAUGHTY
I took the sugar-tongs, and tried
To curl my doggie’s hair;
I heated them until they burned,
Which filled him with despair.
The sugar-tongs were spoiled,
And the hair would not curl,
And now I’m sent to bed,
An unhappy little girl.
HARD TIMES
“No Christmas for us this year!” said Fred, coming out of his father’s study with his hands in his empty pockets, and a blank look on his face.
“No Christmas?” cried Edith. “What do you mean, Fred?”
“Hard times!” said her brother. “Father says he shall have all he can do to get through the winter, and that we mustn’t expect presents, or anything of that kind. Of course it’s all right, only, – it will seem queer, won’t it?”
“Oh, no money Christmas!” said Edith, looking relieved. “Yes, I knew that before. But we can have a merry Christmas, Fred, without money. I mean to have a particularly merry one, and you must help me.”
“I should like to know what you can do without any money!”
“Wait and see! and come out into the woods with me this afternoon, that’s a good boy!”
It was about a month before Christmas when this conversation took place; and all through December there were no busier young people in Woodville than Fred and Edith Brown. They slighted none of their lessons; but Fred spent a good part of his home time in the barn, with a hammer in his hand and a Latin grammar at his elbow; while Edith’s knitting needles flew as she bent over her history lesson. The day before Christmas, Papa and Mamma were summoned to dine and spend the day with Grandmamma. Mamma rather wondered that the children were not invited, and did not want to go without them; but their faces grew so direfully long at this suggestion that she saw through the little plot, though Papa did not, and she cheerfully took her shawl and departed, charging Edith to keep up the fire, and Fred to take care of the house.
When the parents returned in the evening the house was a bower of green. “Here is one thing that costs nothing!” Edith had said, “and it is half of a merry Christmas.” So she and Fred had brought great armfuls of fragrant cedar and hemlock, and tall fir saplings, which were set up in every corner, while wreaths hung in the windows, and long garlands festooned fireplace and picture frames. Papa looked very much pleased. “Why, it is Christmas already!” he said. “And I thought we should not have any celebration at all this year. You were too bright for me, children.”
“It’s all Edith, Papa!” said honest Fred.
“All but about two-thirds, Papa!” said Edith. “I could have done nothing without Fred’s strong arms.”
Next morning the sun was out, and the snow sparkled like diamonds in the golden light. “Here is something else that costs nothing, Edie!” cried Fred, who had entered heart and soul into his sister’s idea. “Sunshine is a pretty good present, isn’t it? And we have the very best article to-day.”
“Hurrah!” cried Edith, “this is glorious. Merry Christmas, boy! Smiles are another thing, Fred. Let’s be sure not to look gloomy for a single minute all day.”
“All right!” said Fred. “I’ll grin like the Cheshire cat from morning till night. Now, here’s mother’s work-table, all ready. It has taken a good polish, hasn’t it?”
“Splendid!” cried Edith. “And here’s father’s portfolio. Do you recognize the cover, Fred?”
“Looks like that pretty dress you had ever so long ago, when you were a little shaver, – I mean shaveress!”
“Just what it is! The pieces were folded away all this time, of no use to anybody. And there was enough to make this pretty work-bag for mother, and another like it for Aunt May. And, – look here, Fred! Merry Christmas, dear old fellow!”
Fred looked at the blue and gray toboggan cap with astonishment and delight. “Oh, Sis, that is a stunner! But, I say! you have broken the rule. This wool must have cost you something, and a good deal.”
“Not a penny!” rejoined his sister, triumphantly. “Do you remember that huge old comforter that Aunt Eliza sent me three years ago? I never could wear it out, though it was just as dear and kind of her to make it for me. That gave me the wool for the cap, and for several other things beside.”
“Well, it is a beauty!” said Fred. “Here’s all the present I have for you, and I wish it was a better one.” He produced a birchbark basket, filled with chestnuts and hickories, and was rewarded by a good old-fashioned hug.
“As if you could have found anything I should have liked better!” cried Edith. “Such beauties, too! Why, you must have picked out every single nut, Fred Brown!”
“Something like it!” admitted Fred.
“How about those partridges for dinner?”
“They are all ready to put in the oven!” Edith said. “Mother knows nothing about them yet, but is sighing a little because she has no chicken for us. And you know Mrs. Spicer gave me a jar of mince-meat for the cranberries I brought her. I am a little proud of my pie, Fred!”
“Hurrah for you!” said Fred.
Somehow or other the Browns had never had a merrier Christmas than this one of the hard winter. Edith said it was all the sunshine and the green boughs; Fred said it was all Edith; but Mr. and Mrs. Brown, as they sat by the cheerful hearth, and watched the chestnuts roasting, and listened to the merry young voices, gave reverent thanks for their treasure of love, and felt that they were rich in spite of the hard times.
ON THE STEEPLE
Weathercock, up on the steeple,
Flap your wings and crow!
Weathercock, plenty of people
Say that you can’t, you know.
But I know better! I hear you,
And Johnny Boy hears you, too,
When you think that there’s no one near you,
Cry “Cock-a-doo-doodle-do!”
NAUGHTY BILLY
Billy put the puppy-dog
In the water-pail;
Billy tied the toasting-fork
To the kitten’s tail.
Puppy bit his naughty legs,
Kitty scratched his nose.
Somebody is screaming now,
Who, do you suppose?
A LAD
There was a lad,
Whose name was Chad.
He had a brother
Whose name was Bother.
He had a sister
Whose name was Twister.
He had an uncle
Whose name was Buncle.
He had an aunt, —
Tell her name I sha’n’t!
SAINT VALENTINE’S HOUSE
Do you know, children, how and where all the valentines are made that you see in the shops nowadays?
Well, suppose I tell you all about it.
When you go to fairy-land, turn to the left after you enter the gate, and the first house you come to will be Saint Valentine’s.
This is what I did when I went there, and you shall hear what I saw.
On entering the house, I found myself in a large hall hung with gold and silver paper, and glittering with an incomparable brightness. Here were hundreds of little cupids with tiny wings, who were running and flying about, as busy as bees.
One was carrying a roll of gold paper as big as himself; another was painting beautiful flowers on white paper; others were making paper lace. But all seemed to be helping and waiting on a person who sat by a huge table at the farther end of the hall, and this person I soon found to be Saint Valentine himself.
He was a young man, and very handsome. He was dressed in sky-blue velvet, embroidered with gold, and had great fat pearls for buttons. He seemed as busy as the rest, and merely nodded and smiled when he saw me, and called out, —
“Number Three Shears,
Approach, my dears!”
I heard a queer, sharp voice at my elbow, saying, “Now, then, by your leave!” and turning, saw at my elbow an enormous pair of shears, walking about on two legs, and looking as proud as you please.
“Dear Number Threes,
A million sevens, if you please!”
said Saint Valentine.
Snip-snap! snip-snap! went the shears, and there lay a million little sheets of white paper.
Then the Saint cried, —
“Bring me some hearts,
And flaming darts!”
and a dozen cupids came up, dragging a great basket full of hearts, and carrying bundles of darts under their arms. Quick as lightning, Saint Valentine took a couple of hearts out of the basket, clapped them on a sheet of paper, stuck a dart into them, flung a wreath of flowers round them, then, thump! a great stamp came down on the paper, and out of it came a lovely valentine.
That was quick work! in five minutes, I should think, five hundred valentines were turned out. I stood looking on in delight.
Suddenly the Saint called out, —
“A big one let us now begin,
And let us put the lady in!”
At first I did not know what he meant: but he took an enormous sheet, and after showering hearts and roses and cupids upon it, turned to me, and said, sweetly, —
“Now if you will venture in it,
I’ll stamp you out in half a minute.”
This was too much, and making him a low bow, I awoke!
THE GENTLEMAN
There once was an elderly gentleman,
Whose manners were soft and mild:
He doffed his hat to each woman he met,
He kissed his hand to each child.
He smiled and he bowed to meek and proud,
And thus to himself said he:
“A gentleman I, as none can deny,
So gentle I still must be!”
A-walking he went in a lane one day, —
A lane that was long and narrow;
And there in the path a rustic lay,
Beside his plough and harrow.
A ruffian and a gruffian he,
A horrid rustic for to see:
And all in the way he sprawling lay,
And never a foot budged he.
“I pray you, worthy friend, to rise!”
The gentleman mildly said;
But the ruffian glared with his ugly eyes,
And shook his ugly head.
“The ditch is wide on either side,
And dry enough,” quoth he;
“There’s room to pass, old Timothy-grass,
Without disturbing me.”
The gentleman smiled a charming smile,
And bowed a gracious bow;
And looking around with his glass the while,
He spied a grazing cow.
“As sure as I live, a lesson I’ll give,”
Thought he, “to my rustic friend.
I’ll warrant me yet he’ll not forget
This day to his life’s long end.”
The rustic lay in the path and snored;
The cow ate grass and lowed;
The gentleman took her and gently shook her,
And led her along the road.
Then he took a string, and an iron ring,
And the end of the cow’s loose tether,
And harrow and plough and ruffian and cow,
He fastened them all together.
“And now, my friend,” he sweetly said,
“Since you have not the strength to rise,
The means for a ride I am glad to provide,
And I trust that the same you’ll prize!”
He pulled a switch from the wayside ditch,
Gave Moolly a sounding blow,
And off with a wallop she set at a gallop,
As fast as her legs could go.
The rustic, the plough and the harrow went, too,
A-bumping along the stones;
The rustic did yell, oh! and Moolly did bellow,
You’d think they were breaking their bones.
But the gentleman smiled, and pensive and mild,
On his peaceful way went he:
“A gentleman I, as none can deny,
So gentle I still must be!”
A LEAP YEAR BOY
“To-morrow is my birthday!” said Robby to Bobby.
“What is your birfday?” said Bobby to Robby.
“Why, to-morrow, Silly!” said Robby.
Now Robby was nearly six years old, and a person of great importance.
“I don’t mean that!” said little Bobby, who was not yet four. “I mean, what is our birfday? Is it good to eat?”
“Why! why-ee! Bobby Bell! Don’t you have birthdays?” cried Robby, opening his eyes.
“No!” said Bobby, opening his mouth. “I neber saw one.”
“You don’t see them!” said Robby, in a patronizing tone, “you have them! It is the day you were born, and you have a party and presents, and a birthday cake with frosting, and your name on it in pink letters, and candy and oranges, and a gold dollar with Grandmamma’s love to her dear little boy. Do you really mean that you never had one, Bobby Bell?”
Little Bobby looked very grave. “Perhaps I wasn’t born!” he said. “I’s going to ask Mamma.” So he trotted in to his mother.
“Mamma,” he said, “was I born?”
Mamma looked at him a moment in mute surprise. “Were you born, dear?” she repeated. “Yes, certainly you were born. Why do you ask me that, little boy?”
Bobby’s lip began to quiver, and his blue eyes filled with tears. “Den why, – why don’t I have birfdays?” he asked.
Mamma looked very sorry. “Dear! dear!” she said. “Now who has been telling my leap year boy about birthdays? Come and sit in Mamma’s lap and tell me all about it, and then I will tell you all about it.”
So Bobby climbed up into Mamma’s lap and hid his face in her dress, and sobbed out his little story about frosted cake and pink letters, and gold dollars with Grandmamma’s love to her dear little boy. “And I neber – I neber had any!” he said, piteously.
Then Mamma told Bobby a funny little story. It was about the years, and it told how they came along, one after another, and how each year had just the same number of days in it.
“Three – hundred – and sixty-five!
So many days I’ve been alive.
Storm and shine, and sorrow and cheer,
Really, there never was such a year!”
That is what each one says before it puts on its nightcap and goes to sleep.
But every fourth year there comes one who is bigger than the rest. He has one day more, and he is very proud of it, and holds his head very high, and says, —
“Three – hundred – and sixty-six!
One more day for frolicsome tricks.
One day more for work and for play.
Look at me! look at me! One MORE DAY!!!”
“And so four years ago,” said Mamma, “there came one of these extra days, and it was the very best day that any year ever brought, for on that day my Bobby was born! Think of that!”
Bobby laughed and clapped his little fat hands.
“And so,” continued Mamma, “of course my Bobby couldn’t have another birthday till another long year came round, with another extra day. And now, – whisper, Bobby! now the long year has come, and next Friday is your birthday, dear, and you are going to have – oh! but I mustn’t tell!”
Mamma laughed and shook her head, and didn’t tell any more, but her eyes told a great deal; and that was all Bobby wanted, for he was very fond of surprises and secrets.
He hugged Mamma, and then he hugged himself, and then he went and hugged the kitten, and told her all about it, and what he thought he was going to have.
Well, and it all came true, and a great deal more; for Bobby had the finest birthday that ever any little boy had, or any little girl, either. In fact, it was so very fine that I couldn’t possibly write about it in common black ink on white paper. I should have to take silver paper and gold ink; and I cannot do that, so I shall have to stop now. Isn’t that too bad?
KING PIPPIN
Little King Pippin he had a long nose,
Little King Pippin wore doublet and hose;
Doublet and hose, and shoes for to trip in,
This was the person of little King Pippin.
Cho.– This was the person of little King Pippin.
Little King Pippin, his soldiers were three;
They drew out their swords and said “Fiddle-de-dee!
Where is the foe, that his blood we may dip in?”
These were the soldiers of little King Pippin.
Cho.– These were the soldiers of little King Pippin.
Little King Pippin, his sailors were five;
They thanked their dear stars that they yet were alive.
“Sure we should be drowned if the sea we should slip in!”
These were the sailors of little King Pippin.
Cho.– These were the sailors of little King Pippin.
Little King Pippin, his story is done;
Little King Pippin, his battles are won.
Never a fight that he did not whip in!
What do you think of little King Pippin?
Cho.– What do you think of little King Pippin?
THE STORY OF THE CRIMSON CRAB
The Crimson Crab was to be married to the Eldest Frog. The wedding guests were assembled on the great water-lily leaf, in their best dresses and best spirits. There were lizards and water-beetles, dragon-flies and butterflies, – in fact, all the best people of the neighbourhood. The musicians, young frogs of remarkable talent, were stationed with their instruments in the pink buds of the lily; in the largest blossom the bride was completing her toilet. But she wept as she polished her shining claws, and her feelers shook with grief; for she did not wish to marry the Eldest Frog. He was gray and grizzly, had no voice save a dismal croak, and was known to have an odious temper. The Crimson Crab thought of the gallant young Green Frog, whom she had met at the Pollywogs’ Ball. How handsome he was! She had danced nearly every dance with him, and he had pressed her claw tenderly, and whispered sweet words in her ear. Then, the next evening, he came and sang beneath her window; ah, how he sang! When the song was over he leaped lightly upon the window-sill, poured out his tale of love, and gained her promise to be his bride. Ah, moment of rapture! She thrilled even now with the recollection of it. But he vanished, and – she had never seen him since. She was told that he had disappeared, had probably gone to the Muskrat War, and been killed in battle.
Alone she sat and wept, till her stern father came and told her that she was to be the bride of the Eldest Frog. Vain were her tears, vain her entreaties. Preparations for the wedding were at once begun, the fine clothes were ordered, and now the fatal day was come.
“Alas!” cried the Crimson Crab, “why am I beautiful? Why does this lovely carmine mantle in my shining shell? If I were a plain green crab the Eldest Frog would not have sought me out, and I might still sit in my lonely bower and weep for my lost love.”
At this moment her father’s summons came, and she was forced to dry her tears.
“Console yourself, noble Lady!” cried her faithful Attendant Lizard. “See the beautiful gifts your bridegroom has sent you. A girdle of pearls! a mantle of glittering fish-scales! webs of gossamer, the finest that ever were seen! Never was bride so richly decked. So generous a bridegroom as the Eldest Frog is sure to make a kind husband.”
But the bride only sighed the more, and sadly took her way toward the great leaf, whereon the wedding guests were assembled.
The Eldest Frog was dressed in his best. His speckled coat was new, and his yellow breeches fitted to perfection; but for all that he was old and ugly. He leered at the bride with his goggle-eyes, and grinned till the two ends of his mouth nearly met behind.
“Croak! croak!” he said, laying his hand on his heart. “Ah! the fair bride! Ah! the lovely Crimson! What happiness to win the love of such an exquisite creature!” He held out his withered hand, and advanced a step or two; but at the same instant a voice was heard, crying, “Villain! do not dare to touch her!” and leaping across the lily-leaf, his eyes flashing fire, his bulrush spear in his hand, came the Green Frog.
With one thrust he sent the Eldest Frog sprawling on the floor. Then, while all the company looked on aghast, he caught the Crimson Crab in his arms, and hailed her as his bride. “This villain lay in wait for me,” he cried, “and captured me unawares the very night when last I saw thee, my own. For weeks I have lain fast bound, hand and foot, in a dungeon deep under the mud. To-day I was set free by a faithful Horned Pout, whom I had formerly befriended. Fly with me, my bright, my beautiful! My home among the reeds is lowly, but love will make it rich. Away! away!” He seized the slender claw of the Crimson Crab; and before her father could prevent it, the two had leaped from the leaf, and were scuttling swiftly through the clear water.
All the guests followed, – that is, all who could swim, – to see what would become of the venturous young couple. The old Crab went into his hole and sulked; while as for the Eldest Frog, he just lay on his back where his rival had thrown him, gasping and gurgling, and nobody took any notice of him, till at last a fat brown duck came along, and – gobbled him up!
MOTHER’S RIDDLE
Mother has a kitten,
Mother has a mouse,
Mother has a bird that sings
All about the house.
Mother has a lammie,
Mother has a chick:
All together have but two feet;
Guess my riddle, quick!
KING JOHN
I’m learning a lesson upon
King John:
A very great rascal was he.
He murdered Prince Arthur,
’Cause England would rather
The Prince should her sovereign be.
I’m learning a lesson upon
King John:
A coward and craven was he.
Up rose every baron
And said, “We’ll make war on
This king as our worst enemee!”
They beat him in many a field;
“Now yield!”
Cried they, “or Your Grace we must slay!
Or else, let us barter!
You’ll sign Magna Charta,
And we’ll take the soldiers away.”
He signed in a terrible hurry,
And flurry;
But soon as the soldiers were gone,
This pitiful fellow
Did shriek, howl and bellow,
To think of the thing he had done.
He bit, and he scratched, and he kicked,
And licked
Every person that came in his way;
He murdered their spouses
And burned up their houses,
Behaved in an odious way.
One night he took tea with some monks,
(Old hunks!
Just to save his own supper at home!)
But he put on such airs
That they poisoned his pears,
Which concludes both his life and my pome.
