Chapter I: Love Little Pussy (1)

"I love little pussy, her coat is so warm,
And if I don't hurt her, she'll do me no harm.
I'll sit by the fire and give her some food,
And pussy will love me because I am good."

I never will dress her again, that is sure.
Her scratches, you see, are not easy to cure.
And I find that it takes much more time than you'd guess,
To sew up the rents in my dolly's best dress.

I'd give a good deal, if it wasn't for that,
To see how she'd look in my dolly's new hat.
But no, I'll not try it, you never can tell;
And politeness is best till one's scratches get well.

The Horner Brothers

BY Elizabeth Raymond Woodward

Jack Horner had three brothers,
Their names were Horner, too--
One was James, and one was George,
And the little one was Hugh.
And they always did exactly
What they saw Jackie do--
James and George and the littlest one,
The one whose name was Hugh.

So when Jack's Christmas pie was made,
They made three others, too--
One for James, and one for George,
And a little one for Hugh.
And _they_ sat up in corners,
As they'd seen Jackie do--
James and George and the littlest one,
The one whose name was Hugh.

I'm sure 't was _very_ lucky
(Does it not seem so to you?)
That the room had just four corners
For Jack James George and Hugh
For if Jackie had a corner,
There _must_ be corners, too,
For James and George and the littlest one,
The one whose name was Hugh.

* * *

A little old man
with a shiny bald head
Was told by his wife
they were all out of bread.
He puckered his lips
and replied with a frown,
"Then bring me some toast
that is crusty and brown."

JINGLES

THERE WAS A MAN IN OUR TOWN

There was a man in our town,
And all he did each day
Was to skip and hop along the streets
And on a trumpet play.

A MOST WONDERFUL SIGHT

The most wonderful sight I ever did see
Was an owl on the branch of our old oak-tree;
His eyes were so large and his head was so small
That he seemed all eyes and no head at all.

SAILING

Afloat, afloat, in a golden boat!
Hoist the sail to the breeze!
Steer by a star to lands afar
That sleep in the southern seas,
And then come home to our teas!

An Up-to-date Pussy-cat.

Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?
I've been to London in my new machine.
Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you there?
The auto broke down and was hard to repair.
Adeline Knapp.

MISERY IN COMPANY

The rain is falling,
The fire is out!
Jane has the toothache,
John has the gout!

COURT NEWS

BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS

The king and queen went out to-day,
A-riding on a load of hay.
The king fell off and lost his crown,
The queen fell, too, and tore her gown.

A MESSAGE TO MOTHER GOOSE.

By Ellen Manly.

Once on a time there lived a child--so it was told to me--
Who never heard of Mother Goose and her fine family.
The man who lived up in the moon he saw her with his eyes,
And told the shocking story to the Man so Wondrous Wise,
Who said the proper thing to do in such a case would be
To send the dreadful news at once to good old Mother G.

So off he ran to Old King Cole and told the Fiddlers Three,
And Old King Cole said, "Bless my soul! such things must never be!"
And, putting up his pipe, dispatched a Fiddler in a trice
To find Jack Horner and request the aid of his advice.

Jack Horner cried; "Alack-a-day! and can it really be,
There lives a child who never heard about my pie and me?
I cannot spread the news myself--I'm busy finding plums.
You'd better ask the King of France when next this way he comes!"

The King of France was close at hand, a-marching up the hill,
But kindly turned his men about to search for Jack and Jill;
And Jack and Jill, with all good-will, they hunted up Bo-Peep,
And then they wakened poor Boy Blue, beside the hay asleep.

Bo-Peep she left her wandering sheep; Boy Blue he blew his horn,
And sent the Knave of Hearts to tell the Maiden all Forlorn.
John Barleycorn, he heard the news, and Tom the Piper's Son;
And Tom set out to find John Stout as fast as he could run.

The story shocked Miss Muffet so she dropped her curds and whey
And flew to Mother Hubbard's house, but found her gone away
To buy her poor old dog a bone, and so she told Jack Sprat
As he was lecturing Tommy Green for drowning pussy cat.

Brave Tommy Tucker stopped his song at hearing what she said,
And, quite forgetting supper-time, his butter and his bread,
To Mary Quite Contrary went, as in the garden row
She raked the shells and silver bells that she had coaxed to grow!

Then Mary left her precious flowers and ran with might and main,
(The Man in Leather lent his coat in case it chanced to rain),
And came to Mother Goose's farm before Bow Bells could ring,
Which, Little Polly Flinders said, was quite a lucky thing.

Within her cosy little house beneath the jimcrack-tree
The worthy dame was just about to brew a cup of tea.
But when she heard the dreadful news she let the teapot fall,
And for her Sunday cap and gown impatiently did call.

"Quick! get my steeple hat," quoth she, "my newest high heeled shoes,
And bring my gander to the door; there is no time to lose!
I must away to Santa Claus before the set of sun,
To tell him this alarming tale and see what can be done!"

She wrapped her in her scarlet cloak, she donned her steeple hat;
The gander flapped his lovely wings and circled like a bat,
And then the noble bird away to Christmas Land did soar,
Nor slackened speed till they arrived at Santa Claus's door!

Good Santa Claus was overjoyed his dear old friend to see,
And treated her to cake and nuts from off a Christmas tree.
Just what was said on either side I can't exactly tell,
As nobody was near enough to hear it very well.

But this I've learned: old Santa Claus that very Christmas took
That poor, benighted little child a most enchanting book,
And now she knows old Mother Goose--her children great and small,
And, as good little folks should do, she dearly loves them all!

#SLEEPY-TIME SONGS AND STORIES#

SWEET AND LOW

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the Western Sea.
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the Western Sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying Moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest on Mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his Babe in the Nest,
Silver sails all out of the West
Under the Silver Moon;
Sleep, my little one, sleep my pretty one, sleep.

THE SLEEPY-TIME STORY[C]

BY GERTRUDE SMITH

One night Arabella and Araminta's mamma was sewing, and their papa was reading his newspaper. And there was a fire in the grate--a warm, bright fire in the grate.

And Arabella sat on the rug before the fire, and Araminta sat on the rug before the fire.

And Arabella was playing with her little white kitty, and Araminta was playing with her little black kitty.

And Arabella's little white kitty's name was Annabel, and Araminta's little black kitty's name was Lillabel.

Arabella had a little red ball fastened to a long string, and Araminta had a little blue ball fastened to a long string. Arabella would roll her ball, and her little white kitty would run and jump for it. And Araminta would roll her ball, and her little black kitty would run and jump for it.

The kittens were so cunning and funny, and they were having such a splendid time.

Sometimes when Arabella's kitty would run very fast, or jump very high, Arabella would laugh until she tumbled right over on the floor.

And sometimes when Araminta's kitty would run very fast, or jump very high, Araminta would laugh until she would tumble right over on the floor.

Oh, they were having a splendid time.

But all at once their mamma looked up from her sewing, and said, "Good-night, Arabella. Good-night, Araminta. The clock is on the stroke of eight."

And their papa looked up from his paper, and said, "Yes, good-night, Arabella. Good-night, Araminta. The clock is on the stroke of eight."

And Arabella said, "Oh, must we go to bed right now?"

And Araminta said, "Oh, must we go to bed right now?"

And their papa said, "Yes, indeed; yes, indeed. Good-night, Arabella. Good-night, Araminta. The clock is on the stroke of eight."

Always, when it was bedtime, their papa and mamma would say, "Good-night, Arabella. Good-night, Araminta."

And sometimes they were good, and sometimes they were bad; but they always ran away to bed.

And their dear mamma always went with them and tucked them in and kissed them, and then came away downstairs and left them. And sometimes they were good, and sometimes they were bad; but they always went to sleep.

But to-night their mamma said,

"Run and get your nighties, dears,
And get each a flannel gown,
And we'll sit and rock you here,
Till you go to sleepy-town."

And Arabella ran upstairs and got her nighty and her little flannel gown. And Araminta ran upstairs and got her nighty and her little flannel gown. And their mamma undressed Arabella, and their papa undressed Araminta.

Arabella's little flannel gown was red, and Araminta's little flannel gown was pink. When they had put them on over their nighties they were just as warm as toast.

Arabella's kitty was playing with Araminta's kitty on the rug before the fire. They were rolling and tumbling and chasing each other, and they looked so cunning and sweet.

And Arabella's mamma took Arabella on her lap, and Araminta's papa took Araminta on his lap.

Arabella said, "Oh, I want my kitty in my lap, mamma!"

And Araminta said, "Oh, I want my kitty in my lap, papa!"

So they jumped down and caught the kitties.

Their mamma rocked Arabella, and their papa rocked Araminta; and they sang to them,

"Now a nice little rock,
And never mind the clock,
Now a nice little rock,
And never mind the clock!"

And they sang it over, and over, and over.

"Now a nice little rock,
And never mind the clock,
Now a nice little rock,
And never mind the clock!"

And Arabella cuddled in her mamma's arms, and hugged her little kitty close; and Araminta cuddled in her papa's arms, and hugged her little kitty close.

And their mamma sang, and their papa sang,

"Now she goes to sleepy-town, sleepy-town, sleepy-town;
Cuddled in her little gown, here she goes to sleepy-town."

And they sang it over, and over, and over.

"Now she goes to sleepy-town, sleepy-town, sleepy-town;
Cuddled in her little gown, here she goes to sleepy-town."

And very soon Arabella could only just hear her mamma singing, and very soon Araminta could only just hear her papa singing, "Sleepy-town, sleepy-town." And soon they couldn't hear them at all. They were sound asleep!

And their mamma looked at their papa, and said, "Our precious little dears are both sound asleep."

And their papa said, "Yes, our little pets have both reached sleepy-town."

And Arabella's mamma carried her upstairs and put her in her little bed, and Araminta's papa carried her upstairs and put her in her little bed. And Arabella was hugging her white kitty up close in her arms and Araminta was hugging her black kitty up close in her arms. And the kitties were both sound asleep, too.

But Arabella's kitty and Araminta's kitty did not sleep with them all night--oh, no indeed! They had a nice little, warm little, soft little bed down in the basement, close to the furnace.

And their papa took the kitties out of their arms, and carried them down to their bed.

And Arabella slept, and slept, and slept, and slept, and slept. And Araminta slept, and slept, and slept, and slept, and slept.

And the little kitties in their soft little bed slept, and slept, too. All through the long, dark, beautiful night they slept.

And the sun came, and the morning came, and it was another day!

[C] From "Arabella and Araminta Stories." Used by permission of
publishers, Small, Maynard & Co., Boston.

THE GO-SLEEP STORY[D]

BY EUDORA S. BUMSTEAD

"How can I go to bed," said Penny, the flossy dog, "till I say good-night to Baby Ray? He gives me part of his bread and milk, and pats me with his little, soft hand. It is bedtime now for dogs and babies. I wonder if he is asleep?"

So he trotted along in his silky, white nightgown till he found Baby Ray on the porch in mamma's arms.

And she was telling him the same little story that I am telling you:

The doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said Snowdrop and Thistledown, the youngest children of Tabby, the cat, "till we have once more looked at Baby Ray? He lets us play with his blocks and ball, and laughs when we climb on the table. It is bedtime now for kitties and dogs and babies. Perhaps we shall find him asleep." And this is what the kitties heard:

One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said the three little Bunnies, "till we have seen Baby Ray?" Then away they went in their white, velvet nightgowns as softly as three flakes of snow. And they, too, when they got as far as the porch, heard Ray's mamma telling the same little story:

One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap,
Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said the four white Geese, "till we know that Baby Ray is all right? He loves to watch us sail on the duck-pond, and he brings us corn in his little blue apron. It is bedtime now for geese and rabbits and kitties and dogs and babies, and he really ought to be asleep."

So they waddled away in their white, feather nightgowns, around by the porch, where they saw Baby Ray, and heard mamma tell the "Go-Sleep" story:

One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap,
Four geese from the duck-pond, deep, deep, deep,
Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said the five white Chicks, "till we have seen Baby Ray once more? He scatters crumbs for us and calls us. Now it is bedtime for chicks and geese and rabbits and kittens and dogs and babies, so little Ray must be asleep."

Then they ran and fluttered in their downy, white nightgowns till they came to the porch, where little Ray was just closing his eyes, while mamma told the "Go-Sleep" story:

One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap,
Four geese from the duck-pond, deep, deep, deep,
Five downy little chicks, crying peep, peep, peep,
All saw that Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

[D] Used by permission of _The Youth's Companion_.

THE GENTLE DARK[E]

BY W. GRAHAME ROBERTSON

So it is over, the long bright Day,
And little Maid Twilight, quiet and meek,
Comes stealing along in her creep-mouse way
Whispering low--for she may not speak--
"The Gentle Dark is coming to play
At a game of Hide and Seek."

Some babies are cross when she whispers them this,
And some are afraid and begin to cry.
I never can think what they find amiss.
Afraid of the Dark! I wonder why.
The Gentle Dark that falls like a kiss
Down from the sleepy sky.

O Gentle Dark, we know you are kind
By the lingering touch of your cool soft hand;
As over our eyes the veil you bind
We shut them tight at word of command,
You are only playing at Hoodman-Blind,
A game that we understand.

The voice is tender (O little one, hark!),
The eyes are kindly under the hood,
Blow out the candle, leave not a spark,
Trusting your friend as a playmate should.
Hold up your arms to the Gentle Dark,
The Dark that is kind and good.

[E] From "A Year of Song," by W. Grahame Robertson; used by permission
of the publishers, John Lane Company.

THE FERRY FOR SHADOWTOWN

Sway to and fro in the twilight gray;
This is the ferry for Shadowtown;
It always sails at the end of the day,
Just as the darkness closes down.

Rest little head, on my shoulder, so;
A sleepy kiss is the only fare,
Drifting away from the world, we go,
Baby and I in the rocking-chair.

See where the fire-logs glow and spark,
Glitter the lights of the shadowland,
The raining drops on the window, hark!
Are ripples lapping upon its strand.

There, where the mirror is glancing dim,
A lake lies shimmering, cool and still.
Blossoms are waving above its brim,
Those over there on the window-sill.

Rock slow, more slow in the dusky light,
Silently lower the anchor down;
Dear little passenger, say "Good-night."
We've reached the harbor of Shadowtown.

HUSH-A-BYE, BABY

Hush-a-bye, baby, in the tree top:
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
Down will come baby, cradle, and all.

THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

See the kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves--one--two--and three--
From the lofty elder tree!
Through the calm and frosty air
Of this morning bright and fair,
Eddying round and round they sink
Softly, slowly: one might think
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or fairy hither tending,
To this lower world descending,
Each invisible and mute,
In his wavering parachute.
But the kitten, how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws and darts!
First at one and then its fellow,
Just as light and just as yellow;
There are many now--now one--
Now they stop and there are none:
What intenseness of desire
In her upward eye of fire!
With a tiger-leap, halfway,
Now she meets the coming prey;
Lets it go as fast and then
Has it in her power again.
Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian conjuror;
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart.

LATE

By Josephine Preston Peabody

My father brought Somebody up
To show us all asleep.
They came as softly up the Stairs
As you could creep.

They whispered in the Doorway there,
And looked at us awhile.
I had my Eyes shut up, but I
Could feel him smile.

I shut my Eyes up close, and lay
As still as I could keep.
Because I knew He wanted us
To be asleep.

From "The Book of the Little Past," by Josephine Preston Peabody; used by permission of the publishers, Houghton Mifflin Co.

A BLESSING FOR THE BLESSED

BY LAURENCE ALMA-TADEMA

When the sun has left the hilltop,
And the daisy-fringe is furled,
When the birds from wood and meadow
In their hidden nests are curled,
Then I think of all the babies
That are sleeping in the world.

There are babies in the high lands
And babies in the low,
There are pale ones wrapped in furry skins
On the margin of the snow,
And brown ones naked in the isles
Where all the spices grow.

And some are in the palace,
On a white and downy bed;
And some are in the garret,
With a clout beneath their head;
And some are on the cold, hard earth,
Whose mothers have no bread.

O little men and women,
Dear flowers yet unblown--
O little kings and beggars
Of the pageant yet unshown--
Sleep soft and dream pale dreams now,
To-morrow is your own.

MY DOLLY

Hush, Dolly, bye, Dolly, sleep, Dolly, dear,
See what a bed, Dolly, I've for you here;
Therefore, to sleep, Dolly! don't fret and cry;
Lay down your head, Dolly, shut up your eye.

When the bright morn, Dolly, once more has come,
Up gets the sun, and goes forth to roam;
Then shall my dear Dolly soon get up, too;
Then shall be playtime for me and for you.

Now go to sleep, Dolly, good night to you;
You must to bed, Dolly--I'm going too;
Just go to sleep without trouble or pain,
And in the morning I'll come back again.

THE CHILD AND THE WORLD

I see a nest in a green elm-tree
With little brown sparrows--one, two, three!
The elm-tree stretches its branches wide,
And the nest is soft and warm inside.
At morn the sun, so golden bright,
Climbs up to fill the world with light;
It opens the flowers, it wakens me,
And wakens the birdies--one, two, three.
And leaning out of my window high,
I look far up at the blue, blue sky,
And then far out at the earth so green,
And think it the loveliest ever seen--
The loveliest world that ever was seen!

EVENING SONG

BY C. FRANCES ALEXANDER

Little birds sleep sweetly
In their soft round nests,
Crouching in the cover
Of their mother's breasts.
Little lambs lie quiet,
All the summer night,
With their old ewe mothers,
Warm, and soft, and white.

But more sweet and quiet
Lie our little heads,
With our own dear mothers
Sitting by our beds;
And their soft sweet voices
Sing our hush-a-byes,
While the room grows darker,
As we shut our eyes.

And we play at evening
Round our father's knees;
Birds are not so merry,
Singing on the trees,
Lambs are not so happy,
'Mid the meadow flowers;
They have play and pleasure,
But not love like ours.

ROCK-A-BYE, BABY

Rock-a-bye, baby, your cradle is green,
Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen,
And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring,
And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the King.

THE SANDMAN

BY MARGARET VANDERGRIFT

The rosy clouds float overhead
The sun is going down,
And now the Sandman's gentle tread
Comes stealing through the town.
"White sand, white sand," he softly cries,
And as he shakes his hand,
Straightway there lies on babies' eyes
His gift of shining sand.
Blue eyes, black eyes, gray eyes and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
when he goes through the town.

From sunny beaches far away--
Yes, in another land--
He gathers up at break of day
His store of shining sand.
No tempests beat that shore remote,
No ships may sail that way,
His little boat alone may float
Within that lovely bay.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
when he goes through the town.

He smiles to see the eyelids close
Above the happy eyes;
And every child right well he knows--
Oh, he is very wise!
But if, as he goes through the land,
A naughty baby cries,
His other hand takes dull gray sand
To close the wakeful eyes.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
when he goes through the town.

So when you hear the Sandman's song
Sound through the twilight sweet,
Be sure you do not keep him long
A-waiting on the street.
Lie softly down, dear little head,
Rest quiet, busy hands,
Till, by your bed his good-night said,
He strews the shining sands.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
when he goes through the town.

THE FAIRY FOLK

BY ROBERT BIRD

Come cuddle close in daddy's coat
Beside the fire so bright,
And hear about the fairy folk
That wander in the night.
For when the stars are shining clear
And all the world is still,
They float across the silver moon
From hill to cloudy hill.

Their caps of red, their cloaks of green,
Are hung with silver bells,
And when they're shaken with the wind
Their merry ringing swells,
And riding on the crimson moth,
With black spots on his wings,
They guide them down the purple sky
With golden bridle rings.

They love to visit girls and boys,
To see how sweet they sleep,
To stand beside their cozy cots
And at their faces peep.
For in the whole of fairy-land
They have no finer sight
Than little children sleeping sound
With faces rosy bright.

On tiptoe crowding round their heads,
When bright the moonlight beams,
They whisper little tender words
That fill their minds with dreams;
And when they see a sunny smile,
With lightest finger tips
They lay a hundred kisses sweet
Upon the ruddy lips.

And then the little spotted moths
Spread out their crimson wings,
And bear away the fairy crowd
With shaking bridle rings.
Come bairnies, hide in daddy's coat,
Beside the fire so bright--
Perhaps the little fairy folk
Will visit you to-night.

QUEEN MAB

BY THOMAS HOOD

A little fairy comes at night;
Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown,
With silver spots upon her wings,
And from the moon she flutters down.

She has a little silver wand,
And when a good child goes to bed,
She waves her wand from right to left,
And makes a circle round its head.

And then it dreams of pleasant things--
Of fountains filled with fairy fish,
And trees that bear delicious fruit.
And bow their branches at a wish.

Of arbors filled with dainty scents
From lovely flowers that never fade,
Bright flies that glitter in the sun,
And glow-worms shining in the shade.

And talking birds with gifted tongues
For singing songs and telling tales,
And pretty dwarfs to show the way
Through fairy hills and fairy dales.

But when a bad child goes to bed,
From left to right she weaves her rings,
And then it dreams all through the night
Of only ugly, horrid things!

Then lions come with glaring eyes,
And tigers growl, a dreadful noise,
And ogres draw their cruel knives,
To shed the blood of girls and boys.

Then stormy waves rush on to drown,
Or raging flames come scorching round,
Fierce dragons hover in the air,
And serpents crawl along the ground.

Then wicked children wake and weep,
And wish the long black gloom away;
But good ones love the dark, and find
The night as pleasant as the day.

LULLABY

BY GERTRUDE THOMPSON MILLER

Come lay your head on my breast, my dear,
That I may feel your sweet form near;
Then we'll rock, rock, in the rocking chair,
And play we're sailing up through the air.

Your body so warm, so close, and so round,
A more precious bundle ne'er was found;
Just nestle your head right here on my arm,
And Mother will keep you safe from all harm.

Now, we rock, rock, and away we go,
Over the houses and trees, just so,
Like the birds, we'll fly to a sunny land,
And there we'll join the fairies' band.

We'll take them to ride; we'll sail for home,
For Father is there, and he's all alone;
Then we'll alight on the nursery bed,
Fairies for company in Mother's stead.

KENTUCKY BABE[F]

BY RICHARD HENRY BUCK

Skeeters am a hummin' on de honeysuckle vine,
Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
San'man am a comin' to dis little coon of mine,--
Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
Silv'ry moon am shinin' in de heabens up above,
Bobolink am pinin' fo' his little lady love:
Yo' is mighty lucky, babe of old Kentucky,--
Close yo' eyes in sleep.

Fly away, Kentucky Babe, fly away to rest,
Lay yo' kinky, woolly head on yo' mammy's breast,--
Um-um-um-um,--
Close yo' eyes in sleep.

Daddy's in de canebrake wid his little dog and gun,--
Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
Possum fo' yo' breakfast when yo' sleepin' time is done,--
Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
Bogie man'll catch yo' sure unless yo' close yo' eyes,
Waitin' jes outside de doo' to take yo' by surprise!
Close yo' eyes in sleep.

[F] These words are published by the Company in the form of a musical
composition by Adam Geibel, the well-known composer.

MY POSSESSIONS

I'm a rich man,
If ever there was one:
I've a horse and an apple,
And both are my own.

But some others might wish
Such fine presents to keep;
So I'll take them to bed,
To hold while asleep.

And when in the morning
I wake up once more,
I've my toy and my apple,
To me a rich store.

THE WAKE-UP STORY[G]

BY EUDORA S. BUMSTEAD

The sun was up and the breeze was blowing, and the five chicks, and four geese, and three rabbits, and two kitties, and one little dog were just as noisy and lively as they knew how to be.

They were all watching for Baby Ray to appear at the window, but he was still fast asleep in his little white bed, while mamma was making ready the things he would need when he would wake up.

First, she went along the orchard path as far as the old wooden pump, and said: "Good pump, will you give me some nice, clear water for the baby's bath?"

And the pump was willing.

The good old pump by the orchard path
Gave nice, clear water for the baby's bath.

Then she went a little further on the path, and stopped at the woodpile, and said: "Good chips, the pump has given me nice, clear water for dear Baby Ray; will you come and warm the water and cook his food?"

And the chips were willing.

The good old pump by the orchard path
Gave nice clear water for the baby's bath.
And the clean white chips from the pile of wood
Were glad to warm it and cook his food.

So mamma went on till she came to the barn, and then said: "Good cow, the pump has given me nice, clear water, and the woodpile has given me clean, white chips for dear little Ray; will you give me warm, rich milk?"

And the cow was willing.

Then she said to the top-knot hen that was scratching in the straw: "Good Biddy, the pump has given me nice, clear water, and the woodpile has given me clean, white chips, and the cow has given me warm, rich milk for dear little Ray; will you give me a new-laid egg?"

And the hen was willing.

The good old pump by the orchard path
Gave nice, clear water for the baby's bath.
The clean, white chips from the pile of wood
Were glad to warm it and cook his food.
The cow gave milk in the milk-pail bright,
And the top-knot Biddy an egg new and white.

Then mamma went on till she came to the orchard, and said to a Red June apple tree: "Good tree, the pump has given me nice, clear water, and the woodpile has given me clean, white chips, and the cow has given me warm, rich milk, and the hen has given me a new-laid egg for dear little Ray; will you give me a pretty, red apple?"

And the tree was willing.

So mamma took the apple and the egg and the milk and the chips and the water to the house, and there was Baby Ray in his nightgown looking out of the window.

And she kissed him and bathed him and dressed him, and while she brushed and curled his soft, brown hair, she told him the Wake-Up Story that I am telling you.

The good old pump by the orchard path
Gave nice, clear water for the baby's bath.
The clean, white chips from the pile of wood
Were glad to warm it and cook his food.
The cow gave milk in the milk-pail bright;
The top-knot Biddy an egg new and white;
And the tree gave an apple so round and so red,
For dear little Ray who was just out of bed.

[G] Used by permission of _The Youth's Companion_.

#FIRST STORIES FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK#

ABOUT SIX LITTLE CHICKENS

BY S. L. ELLIOTT

A Mother Biddy sat on her nest, with what do you think in the nest? Six smooth white eggs! After she had sat there quite a long time till she was very tired, what do you suppose happened to one of those eggs? There was a noise that went "snick, snick," and out of the shell stepped something like a little fuzzy ball, but with two bright eyes, and two bits of feet to walk on. What do you think it was? A little chicken? Yes, and Mother Biddy was so glad to see it, and she called it "Fluffy." And Fluffy said "Peep, peep! I have some brothers and sisters in the shells; if you call them, I think they will come." So Mother Biddy said "Cluck, cluck!" and something said: "Peep, peep!" and out came another chicken, as black as it could be, so Mother Biddy called it "Topsy." "Are there any more?" said Mother Biddy. "Yes. Peep, peep! We're coming; wait for us," and there came four more little chickens as fast as they could run. One was as white as snow, and Mother Biddy called it "Snowball." The next was yellow and white, and she named it "Daisy." Then there was a yellow one with a brown ring around its neck, and that was called "Brownie." And what do you think! one was all black, only it had a little white spot on the top of its head that looked like a cap, so Mother Biddy called it "Spottie." Now they were all out of their shells, and they said: "Peep, peep! We're hungry." So Mother Biddy said: "Cluck, cluck! Come see my babies," and out of the house, close by, came a little girl with some corn-meal in a dish, and my! wasn't she glad to see the chickens?

After they had eaten all they wanted, they thought they would take a walk and see this queer world they had come to live in.

Pretty soon they came to a brook, and they all stood in a row and looked in. "Let us have a drink," they said, so they put their heads down, when--

"Peep, peep!" said Spottie. "I see a little chicken with a spot on its head."

"No, no," said Brownie; "it has a ring around its neck, and looks like me."

"Peep, peep!" said Daisy. "I think it's like me, for it is yellow and white." And I don't know but they would all have tumbled in to see if they hadn't felt something drop right on the ends of their noses. "What's that?" said Fluffy.

"Cluck, cluck!" said Mother Biddy. "Every chicken of you come in, for it is going to rain, and you'll get your feathers wet."

So they ran as fast as they could, and in a few minutes the six little chickens were all cuddled under Mother Biddy's wing, fast asleep.

"TRADE-LAST"

BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS

"My frock is green."
"My frock is blue."
"You look pretty."
"So do you."

PHILIP'S HORSE

Little Philip was very fond of horses, and as he was too old to sit on a chair or box or trunk and make believe a rocking-horse was pulling it along his bedroom floor, his father bought him a horse all spotted brown and white, with a beautiful white mane; and Philip loved to get up on his back.

In winter he would go out in his sleigh, even when the snow was deep. It was jolly fun to be in the sleigh all wrapped up cozy and warm in furry robes. He would crack his long whip and make it sound almost as loud as a fire-cracker. He used to carry a make-believe pistol when he dressed up in his "Rough-Rider" suit and went horseback-riding. But all the neighbors thought it was funny that Philip would always leave the saddle on his horse when he went out in his sleigh. But you won't think it is funny when I tell you a secret--maybe you have guessed it already--Philip couldn't get the saddle off, because, don't you see, his horse was only a make-believe, hobby-horse.

The Kitten That Forgot How to Mew

By Stella George Stern

All little girls, and little boys too, like to read stories about kittens. Here is a story about a dear little kitten that belonged to a dear little girl named Peggy.

Peggy had two brothers, and three cousins--all boys--and every boy had a little dog. At first the dogs would tease the kitten, but they soon learned better. The dogs and the kitten played together. All day long, out in the yard, you could hear them going, "Bow-wow!" and "Mew!"

But, you see, there was only one little "Mew" and ever so many "Bow-wows," and after a while the kitten hardly ever spoke at all.

But one day the kitten wanted to mew, and--what do you suppose?--she had forgotten how to do it! She tried and tried, and all she could say was "M-m-m-bow!"--just as much like a dog as a kitten. She was so sad. She ran out into the yard and cried.

The Big White Hen passed by and asked what was the matter.

"Oh, Big White Hen," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Hen; "I will teach you to talk. Listen to this: M-m-m-cut, cut, cut, cut, cut-ca-_da_-cut!"

"No," said the kitten; "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she cried again.

Then along came the Sheep and asked, "What is the matter?"

"Oh, Sheep," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Sheep; "I will teach you to talk. Listen: M-m-m-baa!"

"No," said the kitten, "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she cried again.

Then along came the Horse and asked what was the matter.

"Oh, Horse," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Horse; "I will teach you to talk. Listen to this: M-m-m-neigh!"

"No," said the kitten; "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she cried again.

Then along came the Cow and asked what was the matter.

"Oh, Cow," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, as hard as I ever can, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Cow; "I will teach you to talk. Listen to this: M-m-m-moo!"

"No," said the kitten; "that is more like it, but that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she cried again.

The New Baby was sitting in her high chair at the kitchen door.

"Baby dear," sighed the kitten, "I am in trouble. I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow! Can't you teach me?"

The Baby nodded her head and began, "M-m-m-google-google-goo!"

"No," said the kitten; "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she sat on the kitchen step and cried again.

"What is the matter?" asked a soft voice behind her.

"Oh!" sobbed the kitten, without looking up, "I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and nothing can help me. All I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Look at me," said the soft voice.

The little kitten looked. And there stood a beautiful big gray cat!

"I can teach you to talk," said the Cat. And she did. She taught her so well that the little kitten never again forgot how to mew, though she played out on the soft, green grass with the dogs every day.

WHAT COULD THE FARMER DO?

BY GEORGE WILLIAM OGDEN

There was an old farmer who had a cow,
Moo, moo, moo!
She used to stand on the pump and bow,
And what could the farmer do?
Moo, moo, moo, moo,
Moo, moo, moo!
She used to stand on the pump and bow,
And what could the farmer do?

There was an old farmer who owned some sheep,
Baa, baa, baa!
They used to play cribbage while he was asleep,
And laugh at the farmer's ma.
Baa, baa, baa, baa!
Moo, moo, moo!
He owned a cow and he owned some sheep,
And what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who owned a pig,
Whoof, whoof, whoof!
He used to dress up in the farmer's wig,
And dance on the pig-pen roof.
Whoof, whoof! Baa, baa!
Moo, moo, moo!
He owned a pig, some sheep, and a cow,
And what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who owned a hen,
Cuk-a-ca-doo, ca-doo!
She used to lay eggs for the three hired men,
And some for the weasel, too.
Cuk-a-ca-doo! Whoof, whoof!
Baa, baa! Moo!
He owned a hen, pig, sheep, and a cow,
And what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who had a duck,
Quack, quack, quack!
She waddled under a two-horse truck
For four long miles and back.
Quack, quack! Cuk-a-ca-doo!
Whoof! Baa! Moo!
With a duck, hen, pig, a sheep, and a cow,
Pray what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who had a cat,
Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow!
She used to waltz with a gray old rat
By night in the farmer's mow.
Mee-ow! Quack! Cuk-a-ca-doo!
Whoof! Baa! Moo!
With cat, duck, hen, pig, sheep, and a cow,
Pray what could the poor man do?

FLEDGLINGS

BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS

I saw a stork on a chimney high,
And called to him as I passed by,
"O stork! what'll you bring,
Tucked away carefully under your wing?
A baby sister and a brother,
One for me, and one for mother."

"TIME TO GET UP!"

BY ELLEN FOSTER

Little Elinor Gray lived in a big city, but her grandmother lived in a big house in the country. Elinor and her Nurse Norah were going to visit her, and had to take a long ride in the railway-train, and another ride in a carriage that Grandmother sent to meet them, so it was almost dark when they drove up to the door.

Elinor's grandmother had two beautiful dogs--"Bruno," a big collie, and "Bounder," a little fox-terrier. And when they saw the little girl jump out of the carriage, they barked and barked because they were so glad to see her. And they said to themselves (I _think_ they said to themselves): "We will let her have a good sleep to-night, for she must be very tired and it is nearly dark. But to-morrow, bright and early, we will ask her to come for a romp with us in the garden, and show her how much nicer it is to live in the country than in the city, where little girls have to walk so quietly along the streets, and dogs have to be led along the sidewalk, and cannot frolic on the soft green grass."

Elinor was very sleepy after her long ride in the train, and so, after she had had her supper, her grandmother told her she might go to bed early and get a good sleep, and that Nurse Norah would call her at seven o'clock in the morning.

But what do you think happened? Why, Bruno and Bounder somehow got into the house _before_ seven o'clock that morning, and came leaping up the stairs, and went straight to Elinor's door. Elinor was a very sound sleeper, and did not hear them at first, and did not wake up. But soon Bounder began to scratch at the door with his little, sharp claws and to make queer little whine-y sounds; and Bruno's bushy tail went "Rap! rap! rap!" on the door, too. Then Elinor woke up, and listened a moment, and then she said: "Oh, _I_ know what it is! It's those darling dogs!" And she jumped out of bed and opened the door, and there, sure enough, was Bounder, dashing right into the room, barking, "Good morning! good morning!" and big Bruno, looking at Elinor as if saying, "Good morning! didn't you hear us? It's time to get up!"

Elinor said: "Oh, you beauties! Yes, I know! And I'll get dressed right away!"

But what do you think happened _then_! Why, Bruno and Bounder didn't give her time even to call Nurse Norah and get dressed. You see, Bruno and Bounder did not often have so nice a little visitor, and they were ready to begin play that very minute. Bounder was jumping up and down and all over the room, and at last he spied Elinor's slippers on the floor and caught up one of them between his sharp little teeth and ran round and round the room with it. But Bruno chased Bounder all round the room trying to make him drop the slipper, while Elinor stood still and laughed and laughed and laughed!

But just then Nurse Norah came rushing in from the next room, asking what _was_ the matter and in a minute, the naughty Bounder was made to give up Elinor's slipper, and Bruno chased him all the way out of the house.

And just as soon as Elinor had had her breakfast, she ran out and had a fine romp with Bruno and Bounder in Grandmother's garden.

MAGGIE'S VERY OWN SECRET

By SARA JOSEPHINE ALBRIGHT

(_For Very Little Folk_)

Mr. and Mrs. Squeaky were two little, gray mice. They lived away back in the corner of a great, big, empty box in the cellar.

One morning Mr. Squeaky went up the cellar stairs on tiptoes, to hunt for some bread and cheese in the kitchen.

All at once he heard some one talking, and he hid behind the broom and was as still as he could be.

It was the little boy Johnnie, who lived up-stairs. He had a big hammer and a saw in his hand, and he was talking to his little sister.

"I think that big, empty box down cellar would make a fine dolls' house, Maggie. I can fix a little porch on it, and make an up-stairs and a down-stairs," the little boy said.

"Oh, Johnnie, that will be lovely," his little sister said. "I'll do something for you sometime. Maybe--maybe--I'll draw a whole slate full of el'phants, for you to look at!"

Then they started down the cellar steps.

Mr. Squeaky was so frightened that he almost tumbled down the stairs.

"Oh, my dear," he whispered, "they are going to break up our house with a big hammer and a saw, and make a dolls' house out of it! Let's run as fast as we can!"

Poor little Mrs. Squeaky began to cry.

"Where shall we go?" she whispered. "Oh, I am so afraid, and there are always those dreadful traps around to catch us!"

But they ran as fast as they could to the darkest corner. Mrs. Squeaky's sharp little eyes saw a hole, and she ran into it, and Mr. Squeaky squeezed in after her.

Now where do you think they found themselves? Right inside of an old shoe! The hole that they came through was just a hole in the shoe and made a nice little door. And there was another hole a little higher up that made a nice little window to peep out of.

"Why, this is the dearest little house, so cozy and warm," Mrs. Squeaky said. "Nobody will ever find us in here, I know."

After they lived there a while, a whole family of little pink baby mice came to live with them. The papa mouse and the mama mouse were so proud and so glad, they got little bits of cotton and soft paper and rags, and made the nicest little beds you ever saw.

The little pink baby mice could only say, "Squeak! Squeak!" and cuddle up under the warm covers, but Mr. and Mrs. Squeaky laughed, and thought they were the smartest babies in the whole world.

"Why, I feel like 'The Old Woman Who Lived in the Shoe and had so many children she didn't know what to do,'" Mrs. Squeaky said one day. She was sitting by the little window rocking the baby mouse and taking a little rest.

Mr. Squeaky had gone out to hunt for some supper, and the four other little mice were peeping out of the little hole in the toe of their shoe house, for Papa to come home.

All at once, Maggie, the little girl who lived up-stairs, ran into the dark corner to hide from Johnnie, just for fun. And what do you think she saw?

The four little mice peeping out of the door, and the poor, frightened mama mouse and the little baby at the window.

Maggie stopped just a minute to whisper gently to little, gray Mrs. Squeaky, "Don't be frightened, 'Little Old Woman Who Lives in the Shoe.' I'll never, never tell anybody where you live. No, I won't even tell Johnnie or my kitty. They might try to catch you. It shall be my VERY OWN SECRET--and yours!"

So nobody but little Maggie ever knew about Mr. and Mrs. Squeaky, and their little pink babies in the old shoe--until long afterward, when she told me the story, as I have told it to you.

THE GOOD LITTLE PIGGIE AND HIS FRIENDS

BY L. WALDO LOCKLING

Once there was a little piggie, a very good little piggie, who obeyed his mother so well that often she let him out of the pen to play with his friends on the farm. One afternoon this little piggie was playing with them, when suddenly he heard his mother calling "Piggie, wiggie, wiggie, wiggie, wiggie!"

"Piggie, dear," she said, as he ran to her, "take this and trot as fast as you can to market and get me a pail of milk for Father's supper to-night."

So Piggie took the pail between his teeth, and off he went to do what his mother told him. Now, you must remember that this little piggie was such a dear, good little piggie, that he had a great many friends among the other animals. So he had not gone far when who should spy him but his friend Bossie Calf. "Hello, there!" said the calf. "Where are you off to, Piggie?"

"I'm going to market to bring my mother a pail of milk for Father's supper to-night," squealed Piggie.

"Are you? I believe I'll go, too. I am so fond of milk." And the calf leaped over his master's fence, and away he went scampering after Piggie.

By and by, who should come along but Piggie's friend Billie Goat. "Mercy on us!" baa-ed Billie. "Where are you going in such a hurry, Bossie?"

"Going with Piggie," said the calf.

"Where are you going, Piggie?"

"Going to market to bring my mother a pail of milk for Father's supper to-night," squealed Piggie, in a great hurry.

"Are you? I believe I'll go, too. I am so fond of milk." So Billie Goat ran out of the barn-yard and hurried after the calf.

Just as they were passing the house, who should spy them but Rover the dog.

"Where are you going, Billie," barked Rover, running out to the gate as he saw them rushing along. "Going with Bossie," said the goat.

"Where are you going, Bossie?" "Going with Piggie."

"Where are you going, Piggie?"

"I am going to market to bring Mother a pail of milk for Father's supper to-night," squealed Piggie, in a great hurry.

"Are you? I believe I'll go, too. I am so fond of milk." So Rover hurried along up the road after the goat.

Just as they turned into the road, who should come jumping along but Tabby the cat.

"Well, well!" he meowed. "When did the circus come to town, Rover?"

"This is not a circus parade," said the dog, the goat, the calf, and Piggie all at once, as they ran on.

"Then, where are you going, Rover?" again meowed Tabby.

"Going with Billie," barked Rover.

"Where are you going, Billie?" "Going with Bossie."

"Where are you going, Bossie?" "Going with Piggie."

"Where are you going, Piggie?"

"I am going to market to get my mother a pail of milk for Father's supper to-night," squealed Piggie in a great hurry.