1LL.AN0 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 WHAT TO TELL AND HOW 
 TO TELL IT 
 
 BY 
 
 EDNA LYMAN 
 
 THIRD EDITION 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 1911 
 
COPYRIGHT 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 
 1910 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England 
 
 Published, Sept. 17, 1910 
 Second Edition, Nov., 1910 
 Third Edition, June, 1911 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 
 
TO 
 THE THREE WHO INSISTED 
 
 247056 
 
PREFACE 
 
 lost art of the troubadour has been 
 revived in the present day art of the 
 story teller; but the story teller, unlike his 
 early brotherhood, may not devote all his 
 time to the recital of tales merely because 
 they entertain. The spirit of education has 
 seized him and bound him to service, and the 
 delight which all people feel when they listen 
 to a story has been made to serve a second- 
 ary purpose in kindergartens and elementary 
 schools, in libraries and playgrounds. 
 
 The demand for stories has been carried by 
 the children from the school and the library 
 to the home, with the result that those who are 
 not, like the poet, born to the art, have asked 
 of any who would listen, " What shall we tell, 
 and how shall we tell it? " 
 
 As will be gathered from the body of the 
 
 book, there is no desire or attempt either to 
 
 train or equip the person who expects to 
 
 become a professional story teller, or to give 
 
 vii 
 
PREFACE 
 
 new ideas to those already familiar with this 
 art. The book is intended for those who, 
 untrained, must meet this demand for stories, 
 and are at a loss where to find material or 
 what to select, and who are limited by small 
 library resources. 
 
 The literature on story telling concerns it- 
 self, for the most part, with the requirements 
 of the kindergarten and earlier grades, and 
 very little which is suggestive and helpful 
 seems available for the child whose chief in- 
 terest is in heroes and adventure. It is this 
 child who has been chiefly considered in the 
 suggestions for stories to tell which have 
 been made in this volume. 
 
 The epic tales, of course, are familiar to 
 every one, but their peculiar fitness for the 
 needs of the hero-loving boy and girl has 
 not been appreciated, and the fact that no 
 general use has been made of them, except in 
 the case of a few isolated stories, has led 
 to the desire to bring them to the attention 
 of people who are telling stories. 
 
 The enthusiasm with which the stories, 
 one and all, have been greeted, as I have per- 
 sonally tested them in schools, libraries in 
 viM 
 
PREFACE 
 
 large cities and small towns, churches, settle- 
 ments, and with children gathered together 
 for social purposes or entertainment, has 
 convinced me that they have more than local 
 interest. 
 
 My thanks are due the several publishing 
 houses who have courteously granted per- 
 mission to use the copyrighted material in 
 
 chapters. ._ T 
 
 Ktf JL. 
 
 OAK PARK, ILL., July 1, 1910. 
 
 ix 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 I RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY FOR WHAT 
 
 CHILDREN READ 19 
 
 II READING ALOUD 31 
 
 Influence of reading aloud ; the "reading story 
 hour " in the public library ; suggestions for 
 books and selections to read. 
 
 III STORY TELLING 48 
 
 Revival of the art; necessity for training; 
 great short stories; Tolstoy's "Where Love 
 Is, There God Is Also" a type; difference 
 between text for ye'ading and one for telling; 
 selection of stories to tell from the " Jungle 
 Books." 
 
 IV ARRANGING THE PROGRAM OF MISCEL- 
 
 LANEOUS STORIES 79 
 
 Comparison between the construction of a 
 musical program and one of stories; illus- 
 trative programs ; stories for a Japanese 
 program ; stories for a Spring program. 
 
 V BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 162 
 
 Biography a source for stories to tell ; the dra- 
 matic element necessary for a good story to 
 tell; suggestions for biographies to tell. 
 
 VI NATIONAL EPIC TALES 174 
 
 What is an epic ? Why they are good stories to 
 tell. 
 
 xi 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 VII HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES . . . 1 84 
 
 Robin Hood ; Roland ; The Cid ; Frithiof ; The 
 Odyssey ; King Arthur ; Rustem ; Beowulf ; 
 Sigurd. 
 
 LIST OF BOOKS SUGGESTED FOR THE STORY 
 
 TELLER * , , . 226 
 
 xn 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 rilHE fresh appreciation of childhood, 
 -^ which is one of the most outstanding 
 features of our generation, has brought with 
 it a revival of interest in the literary materi- 
 als on which the childhood of the race has 
 been nourished. At the very moment when 
 the outpouring volume of modern writing on 
 every theme, coming like a veritable Niagara 
 from the press, was in danger of flooding out 
 the classics and the earlier folk-lore of the 
 world, suddenly the child appears, and with 
 insistent persuasion leads us back to the 
 morning-time of literature, where he and all 
 who have the childlike spirit must ever love 
 to go. 
 
 No movement of recent years is more sig- 
 nificant in the field of education than the re- 
 vival of interest in story telling as a fine 
 art. That delightful occupation which was 
 the pastime of motherhood, in days before 
 the lives of children were hemmed in by such 
 13 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 a multitude of interests many of them of 
 questionable value has now become a 
 serious and impressive vocation, to be fol- 
 lowed not only by mothers, but by teachers, 
 librarians, and specialists who have brought 
 the art to a high level of effectiveness. 
 
 And this enthusiastic labor of the inter- 
 preters of great stories takes us back in 
 memory to the dawn of that glorious awak- 
 ening of the world of which our modern age is 
 the fortunate heir. For the forerunners of 
 the Renaissance were the troubadours, min- 
 nesingers, bards, and minstrels, who aroused 
 in the soul of a slumbering Europe the sense 
 of nobler living in a time when Church and 
 State were both asleep. Are not our story 
 tellers, who are calling our age back to the 
 poems and romances that nourished the 
 strong and adventurous youth of the world, 
 the true pioneers of a new revival of learn- 
 ing, in which not only the mind and emotions, 
 but the social and civic conscience, the will 
 and purpose of the race, are to share? 
 
 The telling of noble stories is one of the 
 most effective methods of furnishing child- 
 hood with the literary materials which all 
 14 
 

 INTRODUCTION 
 
 well-informed people must know, and for 
 which later years afford so small a margin 
 of time. The child wants the story. He 
 wants the fairy tale, the world-legend, the 
 adventures of the hero of mythology, or of 
 his own national experience. He wants the 
 story vividly told, with all its struggle, its 
 carnage, its cruelty, and its bravery. More 
 than this, he wants it always in the same 
 form. Once its lilt and rhythm have caught 
 his attention, he wants it repeated in just 
 that form. To change its sentences, to mod- 
 ify its phrases, is to vitiate it in his regard. 
 The value of this quality as an aid in the 
 memorization of the best literature by the 
 child is instantly apparent to those who are 
 charged with his training. 
 
 But the ethical value of story telling is 
 even more impressive. It is not through 
 formal instruction that a child receives his 
 impulses toward virtue, honor, and courtesy. 
 It is rather from such appeal to the emo- 
 tions as can be made most effectively through 
 the telling of a story. The inculcation of a 
 duty leaves him passionless and unmoved. 
 The narrative of an experience in which that 
 15 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 same virtue finds concrete embodiment fires 
 him with the desire to try the same conduct 
 for himself. Few children fail to make the 
 immediate connection between the hero or 
 heroine of the story and themselves. An ad- 
 venture told to a child is never an objective 
 thing, but a personal experience as it goes 
 forward. The frank generosity of Robin 
 Hood, the hardy prowess of the Cid, the 
 courageous endurance of Ulysses, the stain- 
 less character of King Arthur, are all trans- 
 lated by the child into personal qualities of 
 his own life, to mar which would be dis- 
 loyalty to his heroes. 
 
 It is one thing, however, to have some ap- 
 preciation of these facts as aids in the train- 
 ing of children, and quite a different thing 
 to know where to find suitable material for 
 this purpose, and the method by which it 
 may be organized for effective use. The lit- 
 erature which attempts to give suggestion 
 regarding these two problems is rapidly in- 
 creasing, as the vital character of the theme 
 is perceived. But none of the works thus 
 far provided deals with the matter in just 
 the concise, direct, and suggestive manner 
 16 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 in which the author of this book treats it. 
 She comes to her task with the training of a 
 teacher, the experience of a librarian, the 
 discipline of several years of most successful 
 work in the new vocation of a trained story 
 teller, and, above all, with the enthusiasm 
 which only the lover of a great and inspiring 
 work can bring to such an enterprise. 
 
 It is out of such ample store that she 
 brings us these things new and old. With 
 marked singleness of purpose she has chosen 
 a very modest, yet very vital, section of the 
 total field in which she is so skilful a worker. 
 She has undertaken to provide in the most 
 concise manner the very suggestions which 
 the parent or teacher, untrained in the tech- 
 nique of the art of story telling, needs most 
 to know. In so doing she has placed all 
 lovers of the child under obligations to her. 
 This book will bring to many seekers of the 
 inner path to the child life the direction for 
 which they have wished. 
 
 HERBERT L. WILLETT. 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO. 
 
 17 
 

 STORY TELLING 
 
 WHAT TO TELL AND HOW TO TELL IT 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY FOB WHAT CHILDREN 
 READ 
 
 E most potent influences in the devel- 
 opment of the life of the child are ex- 
 erted through the home, through educational 
 institutions, and through social environment. 
 For the first five years of the child's life 
 the home has practically exclusive direction 
 pf his physical life, his moral training, his 
 play, or his occupation. An educator of wide 
 reputation recently stated that, if at the 
 end of the sixth year the child has not ac- 
 quired self-control and a fair ability to be an 
 agreeable member of society, it is the fault 
 of the home. A failure to arrive at such a 
 happy state of affairs may be due to economic 
 or social conditions back of the home, but 
 normally this responsibility for the care and 
 training of children lies with the parents. 
 19 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 At five the school steps in and for several 
 hours each day assumes control of the dis- 
 cipline and occupation of the child, so that 
 the home is no longer entirely responsible 
 for its offspring, but divides the responsibility 
 with this new agency. Neither school nor 
 home alone can now be held accountable for 
 what the child becomes, for each has its in- 
 fluence, felt not only during the hours of 
 its specific environment, but quite as much 
 during the period when the child has gone 
 out from its immediate dictum. It is for 
 this reason that any lack of the spirit of 
 cooperation between parents and teachers is 
 to be so greatly deplored. If the standards 
 and ideals of home and school could be identi- 
 cal, no time would be lost in the work of their 
 realization. 
 
 No sooner has the school entered into the 
 life of the child as a factor in his development 
 than we may logically say the third force of 
 destiny begins its work. Contact with the ele- 
 ments which make the social environment of 
 the child becomes an influence to be reckoned 
 with as soon as he steps out of the home into 
 the world. 
 
 20 
 
RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY 
 
 The life of the street and the playground, 
 the influence of employment or recreation, 
 help to mould his character as definitely and 
 often more unalterably than the precepts of 
 the home or the teaching of the schools. It 
 makes little difference that society does not 
 recognize either its responsibility or its privi- 
 lege in thus forming humanity; the charges 
 which must be made for certain existent con- 
 ditions materially modifying, sometimes alto- 
 gether changing the outcome of the child's 
 life, can be brought nowhere but to the door 
 of society. 
 
 We recognize this fact when we pass laws 
 dictating the limitations of employers of la- 
 bor, and demanding the freedom from labor 
 which is the child's right; in the same way 
 society recognizes its power to provide proper 
 conditions for the physical development of 
 its children when, through its municipalities, 
 it establishes public playgrounds and public 
 baths/ Specific instances of this character 
 seem to awaken the public, so called, to the 
 fact that with it lies not only the cause for 
 evil conditions, but also the remedy and the 
 power to make real the ideals it cherishes. 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 We can no longer work upon a basis which 
 assumes that the home has to do with one 
 part of a child's life, the school with another, 
 and which disregards society altogether. So- 
 ciety is responsible for the child, and must 
 therefore recognize the interdependence of its 
 various constituents. 
 
 We have suggested that the constituents of 
 society are all accountable for the physical 
 environment and condition of the child that 
 they must see to it that men and women are 
 produced physically equal to the work of 
 the coming generation. If we do not give 
 our children proper conditions for living, 
 pure air, pure water, and pure food, they 
 are not properly equipped to begin the real 
 living which is before them. If we fail to 
 recognize that play is an essential to their 
 normal development, and that, as we cut off 
 the opportunity for it, we dwarf the capa- 
 bilities of mature life, we have ourselves to 
 blame for the type of manhood we supply to 
 the world. 
 
 The problem of the proper discipline of 
 the child rests with the home while it cares 
 for him exclusively, but the school takes 
 
RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY 
 
 charge of him for a large per cent of his 
 time during many years of his life, and 
 the school must accept its share of the 
 burden. 
 
 Once more, society at large is answerable 
 for the manner in which the child learns to 
 know his relationship to municipality, State, 
 and country as they directly or indirectly 
 touch his life, and is also to be held account- 
 able for its methods of discipline where rights 
 and laws have been disregarded. Each and 
 all, as members of society, are our brothers' 
 keepers ; and lawlessness, immorality, and 
 crime may fairly turn to respectable, moral, 
 and law-abiding citizenship to inquire why 
 they exist. 
 
 In moments of sanity, we all admit that 
 education has as its fundamental purpose to 
 teach men to live, rather than to help them 
 merely to acquire knowledge. Experience is 
 the really valuable thing in life, and since it 
 is necessary to begin living with a very small 
 basis of experience, we gain much if we accept 
 that of others, for at least an experimental 
 basis. 
 
 It is the wonderful power which books have 
 23 
 
STORY JELLING 
 
 of presenting experience, picturing life in its 
 manifold relations and infinite variety, that 
 gives their supreme value as a supplement to, 
 I might almost say a substitute for, formal 
 education. 
 
 The word books is used in the sense of liter- 
 ature, and not merely printed pages, and the 
 time has come when it is necessary to distin- 
 guish in the minds of some between the two. 
 As a people we have not outgrown the atti- 
 tude of reverence which mere print inspires 
 in the minds of the recently educated. We 
 have made a fetish of printing ; we have pride 
 in our education, but we have not arrived 
 where culture takes education for granted 
 and discriminates between the ephemeral out- 
 put of the press and the book of permanent 
 value. 
 
 The home has recognized the value of read- 
 ing as a part of the education of the child, 
 and has placed him under the jurisdiction of 
 the school that he may acquire the mechanical 
 ability to read. The question naturally arises, 
 What shall he read when he has acquired the 
 ability? and neither home nor school can 
 settle the question finally, because once more 
 24 
 

 
 RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY 
 
 the attitude of society enters into the answer 
 to the question. 
 
 Society has accepted the public library as 
 a solution of the matter and says, " Here is 
 an agency which shall represent us, properly 
 equipped to meet the problem of reading for 
 children, not only by supplying the books, 
 but also by making suggestions concerning 
 such books, and influencing so far as possible 
 the reading taste of the community." 
 
 This solution at first seems all that could 
 be desired until we analyze the real conditions, 
 and then we realize that it is impossible for 
 the library alone fully to represent society in 
 these respects, since at the same time society 
 is equally responsible for the many other 
 agencies for supplying books to the public. 
 Under present conditions, the libraries are 
 unable to master the situation, for they are 
 limited as to funds not only for providing a 
 proper number of books, but also for main- 
 taining a staff of skilled workers with ability 
 to select and recommend the books. 
 
 As long as children eager to read are 
 greeted by empty shelves or meagre numbers 
 of books in the libraries, society is defeat- 
 25 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 ing its own claims, and strengthening the 
 defeat by offering through regular book 
 houses, and other commercial sources, not 
 only mediocre books, but books of a posi- 
 tively pernicious character. Society allows 
 those who control the corner cigar store, the 
 general supply store, the news stand, the com- 
 mercial circulating library, and those seek- 
 ing to make money by appealing to the lower 
 instincts of boys and girls to supply reading 
 matter for its children; meanwhile congratu- 
 lating itself that the establishment of public 
 libraries equipped to reach only a small per 
 cent of the public cancels its obligations. So- 
 ciety is, after all, composed of individuals, and 
 it is the attitude and indifference of individu- 
 als which create a condition so to be deplored. 
 The home and the school are elements of 
 organized society, and as such must bear their 
 part of the humiliation for the present state 
 of affairs ; and parents and teachers are as 
 much to be blamed for failing to provide in- 
 spiring, uplifting, and ennobling books, as for 
 failing to supply pure milk for babies or 
 proper open-air spaces in which children may 
 play. 
 
 26 
 
RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY 
 
 The children of the State are our chil- 
 dren, without regard to the fact of parent- 
 hood. They are the greatest asset of any 
 commonwealth, and as such are to be reared 
 in such a physical, mental, and moral envi- 
 ronment that they shall come to manhood 
 and womanhood, strong and pure in body, 
 in mind, and in soul. 
 
 The ideals which children gain from books 
 are their constant associates and mould their 
 characters even more than human compan- 
 ions. They live with them not only while 
 they read, but while they are otherwise en- 
 gaged; and suggestions so subtle as to pass 
 almost unnoticed linger in the mind, to in- 
 fluence emotions and express themselves in 
 actions. 
 
 Books are the backgrounds of their wak- 
 ing dreams, and as surely as children read, 
 just as surely do they imitate the heroes whom 
 they find in their books. Judgment they do 
 not possess, life they do not know, experience 
 is all before them, one book is as desirable as 
 another, provided only it has the power to 
 hold. If we tolerate books where moral cow- 
 ardice takes the guise of physical courage, 
 7 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 trickery and dishonesty seem like cleverness, 
 books in which opposition to law and order 
 is made to look like heroism, and the great 
 facts of life and love something to be con- 
 cealed and misused instead of cherished and 
 honored, how are we to expect the readers of 
 these books to acquire high standards of 
 honesty, moral courage, and true manliness? 
 
 If we tolerate even the commonplace 
 type of books, lacking in strength and viril- 
 ity, poor in presentation, uncertain in moral 
 tone, and insipid in character, we can expect 
 nothing strong or fine as a result of its 
 influence. We are loath to admit this. It 
 is far easier to argue against the really evil 
 book than against the kind commonly termed 
 " harmless." But if surroundings either of 
 a material character or of ideas really have 
 any influence upon the human mind, then we 
 may fairly agree that mediocrity will breed 
 mediocrity with as great certainty as evil 
 will produce evil. 
 
 Every year public schools are turning out 
 thousands of children able to read. They 
 may not be attracted to books in general, 
 but read they will, sometime or somewhere, 
 
RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY 
 
 and when that time comes it is society that 
 is responsible for what those children read. 
 
 The homes are not equipped to solve the 
 matter. The school stands as a strong factor 
 in influencing the character of what the child 
 reads, but it is so occupied with the accom- 
 plishment of tasks that these come to be the 
 significant thing. Many teachers are famil- 
 iar only with the literature which relates to 
 the grade they teach, and do not see how 
 vital it is to make each grade a link in the 
 great chain of what has gone before and 
 what is to follow. 
 
 While parents remain unconcerned as to 
 the relative importance of carefully selected 
 clothes and thoughtfully selected books, 
 while schools lay emphasis on the side of 
 education which will bring the most rapid 
 return in dollars and cents, it would seem 
 that the library, that agency of society most 
 alert to the necessity of cultivating a love 
 of literature in children, must make a greater 
 effort to solve the problem of reaching larger 
 numbers and effectively introducing them to 
 the world's great books. 
 
 The call of the child's need has been heard 
 29 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 by a very few; by them it must be answered, 
 while they in their turn cry aloud to the 
 great body of society of which they are but 
 a part, " Our children cry for bread ; will 
 you give them a stone? " 
 
 30 
 

 CHAPTER II 
 
 BEADING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 
 
 Influence of reading aloud ; the " reading story hour " in the 
 public library; suggestions for books and selections to 
 read. 
 
 TN the good old days, to which occasionally 
 * we must hark back, in spite of the fact 
 that the home was the field of more varied 
 occupations than at present, and that it was 
 impossible to command much assistance from 
 outside, there must have been a leisure of 
 mind which is almost unknown to us now. 
 Whether it is the greater ease with which we 
 are conveyed from one spot on the earth to a 
 far distant one, and the rate of speed which is 
 ours to command, that has affected our men- 
 tal attitude so that we feel the necessity ol 
 equal rapidity in all we do, certain it is that 
 things which once had a place in our lives 
 are now crowded out on the plea that there 
 is no time for them. It is to be greatly re- 
 gretted that among the things which have 
 31 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 been pushed aside and almost entirely neg- 
 lected is the gentle art of reading aloud. 
 
 Not long ago, a man who knows success 
 gave me a glimpse into the not far distant 
 past, when his father and mother were pio- 
 neers in our Middle West. Among the experi- 
 ences of his boyhood which he recounted was 
 that of reading aloud, when his mother chose 
 some volume from the small hoard of books 
 which she had brought from old Virginia, 
 and together mother and son read and talked 
 beside the fire in the old log cabin. There 
 was no duty which her hands were not called 
 upon to do, yet she found time to read aloud 
 to her boy that so he might come to know 
 the authors whom she prized. One could 
 not but feel that something of the son's suc- 
 cess was due to a mother who so truly recog- 
 nized comparative values. 
 
 When speaking to a friend of the mar- 
 vellous use of words which has made her son 
 a lecturer of unusual eloquence, she replied 
 without hesitation, " Yes, the poets that we 
 read aloud together taught him words." In 
 still another home it was not freedom from 
 care and anxiety or the leisure that money 
 32 
 
READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 
 
 can command which made the story-hour 
 one of the things which linger in the mem- 
 ory. There was no time for books that were 
 trivial, but those which live from one gen- 
 eration to another found place for them- 
 selves, and ears eager to hear. Together, 
 father and mother and children went slowly 
 over the pages, which were not only a joy 
 while the voice sounded the words, but have 
 ever since had a glamour which no other lit- 
 erature can possibly possess. 
 
 To the most of us, children as well as 
 grown-ups, the joy that is shared is twice 
 joy, and nowhere is this more true than in 
 the book which is read with some one of like 
 taste. 
 
 If those who are seeking to influence the 
 reading tastes of children could only realize 
 how potent a means lies in this simple method, 
 they would hasten to revive this long neg- 
 lected art. 
 
 The search is for something new, and for 
 that very reason there is a failure to recog- 
 nize the efficiency of what is already possessed. 
 Yet the child's eagerness to listen to anything 
 we are willing to read ought to be a constant 
 33 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 reminder that here is our opportunity to 
 make him familiar with the books which he 
 himself would never open. 
 
 Much of the great literature of the world 
 has failed to reach children because they have 
 never come in contact with it, or if they 
 have seen these books they have been titles 
 merely. Every day of their lives a personal 
 appeal comes from someone to read this or 
 that book, thrilling in title, and set forth in 
 graphic verb&l picture by the recent reader's 
 enthusiasm. When such books are made so 
 alluring, why venture in untrodden paths? 
 
 Children are at heart conservatives ; they 
 prefer to do as generations before them have 
 done. There must be a leader, then there 
 will be numberless followers. Who of us has 
 not witnessed the agony which the child feels 
 who is forced to wear clothes unlike those of 
 his mates? What the "crowd" wears and 
 does and reads is what each desires to wear 
 and do and read in his turn. 
 
 If we can accept this condition as the basis 
 
 of our efforts ; if we can either catch the most 
 
 venturesome spirit long enough to gain his 
 
 interest, or win the crowd, as a crowd, and 
 
 34 
 
 
READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 
 
 bring them to a knowledge of the real life 
 which lies behind the titles of unfamiliar 
 books, we shall in the end accomplish our 
 purpose. 
 
 As we have suggested, the first appeal 
 which reading aloud makes to children is 
 doubtless the delight they feel in sharing a 
 common interest. The feeling, though un- 
 analyzed, is gratification and pleasure that 
 the book appeals sufficiently to the older 
 person, so that it is worth while to read word 
 for word. 
 
 The appreciation of the reader adds to the 
 grasp of the listener, unhampered by the 
 mechanical difficulties of reading which usu- 
 ally beset him, and often the opportunity for 
 a laugh together makes a bond of sympathy 
 which no other contact could afford. 
 
 " Then read from the treasured volume 
 
 The poem of thy choice, 
 And lend to the rhyme of the poet 
 
 The beauty of thy voice." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say specifically 
 that when the child has made the acquain- 
 tance of books of real merit and literary 
 value they will unconsciously become the 
 35 
 
TELLING 
 
 standard by which he measures the books of 
 his future choice. Personally, I have great 
 faith in the unspoiled instincts of children, 
 and I think, when once they have felt the 
 beat of a great story of adventure or the 
 charm of one of the genuine folk stories, 
 they turn from the imitation, feeling its un- 
 reality for themselves. They instinctively 
 feel what the boy tried to express when he 
 turned away from ineffective rendering in 
 prose of the Robin Hood ballads, and said, 
 " No, I want the book about the real Robin 
 Hood." 
 
 The influence of beautiful English is also 
 worthy of consideration. Modern books are 
 put together with little regard for style or 
 use of words, and careless writing is followed 
 by careless reading, so that there is little 
 gain to the child from the time he has spent 
 with many books. It is generally admitted 
 that the child acquires his vocabulary much 
 more rapidly by hearing the words than by 
 seeing them. Here, then, is an added value 
 which results from the practice of reading 
 aloud to children. They become familiar 
 with the use of the best English, with new 
 36 
 
READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 
 
 words and combinations to which they are 
 unaccustomed. 
 
 The poverty of English found in the aver- 
 age home, the constant use of slang expres- 
 sions on the street and the playground, the 
 influence of the tide of immigration with its 
 foreign tongues should make us realize that 
 if we have any regard for one of the most 
 beautiful and expressive languages in the 
 world, we must take some positive stand to 
 prevent its deterioration. 
 
 It has been well said, " What you make 
 a child love and desire is more important 
 than what you make him learn." It is as he 
 loves noble English that he will use it; it is 
 as he cherishes the books read to him that he 
 will desire others of a similar character; it 
 is as the reader's enthusiasm puts life and 
 forcefulness, or cleverness and daring into 
 the pages read, that they will captivate his 
 emotions and stimulate him to imitation. 
 
 No argument is half so convincing as a 
 little experience. On every side one hears 
 confirming testimony which points to the 
 splendid influence of reading aloud to chil- 
 dren. No one questions the value of time so 
 37 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 used. What then shall we say of the spirit 
 of the modern home which finds no time to 
 gratify or cultivate this taste? Something 
 surely is wrong when clubs, or recreation, or 
 philanthropy, or social intercourse, or bus- 
 iness, or even household duties, are allowed 
 to usurp the portion of time which should go 
 to the training of the mental life of the child. 
 There is a duty in this respect which parents 
 owe their children that they cannot delegate 
 to any one else. There are values to the 
 child of a positive nature which come from 
 associating this delightful practice with his 
 home and his family circle, and for the loss 
 of this there can be no possible compensa- 
 tion. This is a duty, and should be a pleas- 
 ure, which fathers might well assume, since 
 there is so small a realm where they can cul- 
 tivate the spirit of companionship with their 
 children. There has been much amusement 
 over the old story of the child who referred to 
 his father as " the man who stays here Sun- 
 days " ; yet there is ground 1 for considering 
 whether the fathers of this country should 
 not have some other relation to their children 
 than that of the source of financial support. 
 38 
 
READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 
 
 The school has already established to a 
 certain extent the habit of reading aloud, 
 sometimes as a reward for the accomplish- 
 ment of tasks, and sometimes with the delib- 
 erate intention of giving the children a wider 
 view of some subject or introducing them to 
 outside reading. 
 
 The busy teacher who is wise enough to 
 recognize the return she gets for this from 
 the children in the spirit of companionship, 
 enlarged interests, added force to think, and 
 increased vocabulary is greatly to be con- 
 gratulated. There is an unwise tendency 
 among certain teachers to read to the chil- 
 dren books not only of ephemeral character 
 but those absolutely lacking in merit, when 
 the child is entitled to the best. The eager- 
 ness of children to hear what one is willing 
 to read is itself an opportunity for intro- 
 ducing something which requires thought in- 
 stead of merely affording entertainment. It 
 is worth while to ask this eager mind to reach 
 up out of the trend of his ordinary thoughts, 
 and to give him something to " ponder in his 
 heart." 
 
 There should be a portion of the selections 
 39 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 which are made to be read aloud that remain 
 free from any connection with a task. There 
 is material enough for reproduction without 
 using this ; and half of the gain to the child, 
 all of his real love for what he is hearing, will 
 be lost in his sense of impending doom. 
 
 As far as libraries are concerned, it seems 
 strange that with all their eagerness to bring 
 the book and the child into successful contact 
 they have so often disregarded this simplest 
 of methods. They have been over-anxious, it 
 would seem, to incorporate story telling as 
 a regular feature of their work with children, 
 and have failed to realize that a "story- 
 hour " utilized for good reading has far bet- 
 ter results than twice that time devoted to 
 inferior story telling. 
 
 Many people either on a library staff or 
 outside are very acceptable readers, and have 
 a wide knowledge of books, which might be 
 put at the service of the library if only they 
 were asked to do what they can do instead of 
 required to do that for which they have no 
 training. 
 
 It would seem wise in a library story-hour 
 not to attempt to read an entire book as we 
 40 
 
READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 
 
 would naturally do at home or in school, but 
 to take up such portions of it as will arouse 
 the curiosity of the child, or get him well 
 started on a long and difficult opening. 
 
 The greatest cause of the failures which 
 are experienced in these special phases of 
 library work are due to hasty preparation or 
 to the lack of any preparation at all. One 
 may occasionally reap the reward of in- 
 spiration, when out of the enthusiasm of a 
 conversation or the appeal of a situation, at 
 the psychological moment a group of boys 
 and girls is gathered together and their at- 
 tention is arrested by exactly the right story ; 
 but ordinarily the carefully prepared plan 
 carries much better. 
 
 It is not necessary to thrust the machinery 
 of the drama into view, but the actor who re- 
 lies on principle rather than on inspiration 
 is less likely to be overwhelmed when the in- 
 spiration is not there. 
 
 It may not be amiss to suggest how large 
 an element the beauty of the voice is in the 
 delight which people feel when listening to 
 reading. Children are quite as sensitive as 
 grown people to quality of tone and pitch, to 
 41 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 distinct enunciation, and to artistic expres- 
 sion. Judging from the examples of style 
 which one hears, not only in the schoolroom 
 but in the club and elsewhere, it would seem 
 that foreigners are entirely justified in the 
 criticism of what they term the " American 
 voice." The disregard for punctuation and 
 the habitual argumentative and dictatorial 
 style of reading are extremely monotonous 
 and inexpressive. Down go the voices like so 
 many hammers, at every comma, semicolon, 
 colon, or period. It would be impossible in 
 most cases in this country to punctuate cor- 
 rectly from dictation as is the custom every- 
 where in France. A little thought as to the 
 relation of punctuation and expression, and 
 an effort to visualize the pictures as we read, 
 will do much toward giving color and expres- 
 sion to our performance. 
 
 A knowledge of the community, and of the 
 books which have been most read, is an in- 
 dispensable background for effective work. 
 One must know what he can take as his 
 " point of contact " before he can success- 
 fully approach a group of children or young 
 people. 
 
 42 
 
READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 
 
 It may be helpful to become familiar with 
 the lists of books used by other libraries for 
 reading aloud, but they ought always to be 
 treated as suggestions, the success of which 
 may be due somewhat to the modified condi- 
 tions and environment in each particular 
 case. 
 
 Two suggestive lists are the monthly Bulle- 
 tin of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, 
 Vol. 12, No. 1, Jan. 1907, Reading Circles 
 for Boys and Girls ; and Harriet E. Hassler's 
 Graded List of Stories for Reading Aloud, 
 Public Library Commission of Indiana, 1908, 
 for including both whole books and selections, 
 which will prove stimulating and helpful, par- 
 ticularly in the beginning of the effort to in- 
 troduce children to books in this way. As 
 growth comes through experience, there will 
 be less need for following outlines and more 
 ability to see independently what is worth 
 using. 
 
 Librarians will find that the teachers will 
 greatly appreciate familiarity with school 
 courses of study and supplementary reading 
 as well as the books which they desire to read 
 to the children, so that the school work shall 
 43 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 not suffer from repetition and a consequent 
 lack of freshness. 
 
 Not only must the story itself be con- 
 sidered, in making selections for reading 
 aloud, but the form and beauty of the Eng- 
 lish as well, though there are occasions 
 when a restless group of children who are 
 unused to listening must be held merely by 
 the interest of the plot. 
 
 Such books and stories as the following 
 seem to represent worthy examples of the 
 things desirable for reading aloud: Van 
 Dyke's " Other Wise Man," Parkman's " Ore- 
 gon Trail," " Uncle Remus's Stories," Haw- 
 thorne's "Great Stone Face," "Wonder 
 Book," and " Tanglewood Tales," Hale's 
 "Man Without a Country" and "In His 
 Name," Kingsley's " Greek Heroes," Lamb's 
 " Tales from Shakespeare," Irving's " Rip 
 Van Winkle " and " Legend of Sleepy Hol- 
 low," portions of " Gulliver's Travels " and 
 " Pilgrim's Progress," Stein's " Gabriel and 
 the Hour Book," Dickens's " Christmas 
 Carol," "Cricket on the Hearth," and 
 enough of many of the other novels to serve 
 as a good introduction, perhaps begin- 
 44 
 
READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 
 
 ning with " Oliver Twist " ; Raskin's " King 
 of the Golden River," Foe's "Fall of the 
 House of Usher," Gold Bug," and " Pur- 
 loined Letter," Scott's " Ivanhoe," " Quentin 
 Durward," and " Guy Mannering," Mark 
 Twain's " Prince and the Pauper," and Lan- 
 ier's editions of " Froissart " and " Malory," 
 Morris's " Sundering Flood," " Famous Ad- 
 ventures and Escapes of the Civil War," 
 Hughes's " Tom Brown's School Days," 
 Baldwin's " Golden Age," which is an excel- 
 lent introduction to the Odyssey, F. Hop- 
 kinson Smith's " Captain Joe," La Motte- 
 Fouque's " Undine," and Kipling's " Drums 
 of the Fore and Aft." 
 
 These are only a few of the things which 
 will supply material for the " reading story- 
 hour," and to these selections of prose works 
 it is important to add a great deal of poetry. 
 Often it is quite possible to find poems which 
 relate themselves to the subject of the story 
 and which can be utilized in connection with 
 it. 
 
 But aside from this incidental use of po- 
 etry, the " reading story-hour " is certainly 
 the place where the children may learn to 
 45 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 love the beauty of verse. A few exceptional 
 children will respond quickly to the rhythm 
 and pulse of poetry, but with most children 
 who have passed beyond the years of the 
 greatest appeal of imaginative literature, 
 the response will be to the narrative element, 
 and it will be necessary to select poetry in 
 which the story element is dominant. 
 
 Nothing supplies this element more per- 
 fectly than the old ballads filled as they are 
 with combat, adventure, and romance, with 
 virtues which are elemental, perhaps, but 
 nevertheless are not to be despised. Cour- 
 age, justice, a love of nature, fairness, pa- 
 triotic devotion, these are all part and 
 parcel of ballad literature, and if rightly 
 brought to the attention of children, will be 
 as popular as they were among the people 
 who first sung them. There is so much humor 
 in the ballads of " Robin Hood," so much 
 spirit and thrill to Morris's " Sigurd the 
 Volsung," so much breadth to Joaquin Mil- 
 ler's " Columbus," such daring and courage 
 in Macaulay's " Lays," and Longfellow's 
 ballads, so much adventure and romance in 
 Scott's "Lady of the Lake" and "Lay of 
 46 
 
READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 
 
 the Last Minstrel," that if there is any music 
 in the reader, any feeling for what he is read- 
 ing, any response to the spirit of the great 
 out-of-doors, it will inevitably be reflected in 
 those who listen to him. 
 
CHAPTER IH 
 
 STORY TELLING 
 
 Revival of the art ; necessity for training ; great short stories ; 
 Tolstoy's " Where Love Is, There God Is Also " a type ; 
 difference between text for reading and one for telling ; 
 selection of stories to tell from the "Jungle Books" 
 
 WITH the suddenness of a storm on a 
 small lake an interest in story telling 
 has recently been revived, and with our usual 
 [American enthusiasm, many have undertaken 
 to tell stories with very little consideration for 
 what the art is. To some it has appealed as 
 a pleasing occupation, to others as a new 
 and better method of teaching English, by 
 still others it has been confused with the art 
 of acting or that of impersonation, but seem- 
 ingly to few has it been revealed as an art 
 in itself, with the great underlying purpose 
 of all art, to give joy to the world. 
 
 Only as story telling is given its real 
 place in the world of art can it attain its 
 full significance. The art of the actor is a 
 48 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 means of our understanding a masterpiece, 
 like Shakespeare, better as literature, but it 
 has a value of its own beyond its interpre- 
 tation of the text of the drama. So story 
 telling is an art of itself, regardless of the 
 material which it presents or the effect pro- 
 duced by that material. It must give de- 
 light and joy in itself or it is without 
 justification, no matter what secondary ob- 
 jects seem to be accomplished. 
 
 All that has been said of the value of 
 reading aloud to children as a means of cul- 
 tivating literary taste and appreciation, 
 establishing standards of language and ex- 
 pression, and giving opportunity for as- 
 sociating with great thoughts and ideals 
 as they are crystallized in books, is, if any- 
 thing, more true of the results of story tell- 
 ing, because of the deeper impression created 
 by the magnetic quality of story telling and 
 the dramatic power of the story teller. 
 
 This^ power of the story Jbeller lies in his 
 opportunity to let his message come from his 
 _eyes as well as jiis lips, a thing which is pos- 
 sible since he has neither book nor memory 
 of printed page to burden him. 
 49 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 The gift of telling stories is an endowment 
 of nature, like a beautiful voice or a talent 
 for painting; so the real story teller can 
 never be made, either by hearing a course of 
 lectures on the subject, or by reading a 
 book devoted to technique; but cultivation 
 is as necessary for perfection with the story 
 teller as with the singer or the painter. 
 There are those who hold that training of 
 talent is a dangerous thing, and feel that 
 what is gained in technique from training is 
 lost in spontaneity and the expression of the 
 individual. The error of this theory lies in 
 the fact that the theorists have failed to 
 recognize the real outcome of training. 
 
 Training leads out of unconscious self- 
 expression into a certain self-consciousness, 
 it is true, but true art comes only when the 
 training has gone a step farther and made 
 it possible to lose self-consciousness again 
 in the greatness of art. Until this is ac- 
 complished there is still need of training. 
 
 A book on the art of story telling is re- 
 lated to the art in much the same way that a 
 grammar is to the writing of poetry, a 
 treatise on sculpture to a statue of Michael 
 50 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Angelo, or a volume on how to play the piano 
 to a performance of a great pianist. Before 
 it can take a place as an element of training, 
 there must be the spirit and artistry of the 
 thing itself to illuminate any treatise, how- 
 ever good. Training involves the study of 
 the technique of the use of the voice and of 
 gesture, sources for stories, selection and 
 preparation of material, practice in actual 
 presentation of stories, and not least im- 
 portant, hearing stories told by artists, the 
 character of whose work may unconsciously 
 become the ideal for the story teller. 
 
 In this day of willingness to attempt any- 
 thing, no matter how slight the equipment, 
 it may be well to consider the time which 
 the actor in France takes for preparation. 
 Seven years of study and preparatory work, 
 we are told, he feels none too much to devote 
 to the perfecting of his art before he shall 
 appear upon the stage as a full-fledged pro- 
 fessional. It is no wonder that such rever- 
 ence for dramatic art and such standards 
 of training have produced the marvellous 
 actors of France. A similar regard for the 
 art of story telling would do away with the 
 51 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 idea that anyone can become a story teller and 
 would induce serious thought as to the neces- 
 sity of training and proper preparation be- 
 fore entering the field of the professional 
 story teller. 
 
 Outside of this field, however, there are 
 those who have been invited by necessity or 
 expediency or inclination into the paths of 
 story telling, as an adjunct to their other 
 work. 
 
 The purpose of this book is not in any 
 way to attempt to give information to those 
 who have devoted both time and study to 
 the subject, or who have had practical expe- 
 rience in story telling, but rather to make a 
 few suggestions to those mothers, teachers, 
 and librarians who are interested in its use 
 as a phase of another occupation. 
 
 My observation leads me to believe that 
 average mothers, librarians, and teachers are 
 not likely to have much time at their disposal 
 in which to search for good material to use. 
 They feel the necessity for using stories which 
 can be easily obtained and which will require 
 the least possible preparation in the matter 
 of adaptation. The larger the list of 
 52 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 "sources for the story teller" and "books 
 for the use of the children," the more con- 
 fusing it seems, and they are not familiar 
 enough with versions to feel that they can 
 choose from that standpoint, however schol- 
 arly. 
 
 It is the desire to meet such a need that 
 lead-s to the suggestions herein included, made 
 from a personal experience, with the realiza- 
 tion that they are quite unnecessary for the 
 student of literature, or the professional. 
 
 Nothing is more helpful to a novice in 
 story telling, for obtaining familiarity with 
 the principles of construction and the essen- 
 tial qualities of a narration, than the study 
 of a few of the world's great short stories, 
 such as Daudet's " Death of the Dauphin," 
 Hawthorne's " Great Stone Face," Kipling's 
 "Man Who Would Be King," Dickens's 
 " Child's Dream of a Star," Stevenson's 
 " Markheim," Maupassant's " Necklace " 
 and his " Coward," Balzac's " Passion in the 
 Desert," Irving's "Rip Van Winkle," and 
 Foe's " Gold Bug " or his " Black Cat." 
 
 As an aid in the appreciation of the short 
 story the following books will be of assist- 
 53 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 ance : Brander Matthews's " Philosophy of 
 the Short Story," Charles S. Baldwin's 
 " American Short Stories," and Bliss Perry's 
 " Study of Prose Fiction." 
 
 These stories are great because they are 
 universal in character, and in the majority 
 of cases are marked by that simplicity which 
 should be a vital part of the rehearsal of any 
 story whether written or verbal. 
 
 Tolstoy's " Where Love Is, There God Is 
 Also " is a typical story for analysis. It may 
 prove somewhat long to tell in combination" 
 with other stories, but as a story to use by 
 itself it needs little modification of the writ- 
 ten form. 
 
 The introductory paragraphs, stating the 
 conditions of Martin's life, may be short- 
 ened into a few sentences which will still pic- 
 ture the lonely old man and the visit from his 
 friend. In a similar way the part which 
 tells of his experience in reading the Bible 
 may be shortened, care being taken, however, 
 not to omit the fact of the influence of the 
 story of the anointing of Jesus' feet, for on 
 that the rest of the story hangs. The por- 
 tions bracketed in the text given below in- 
 54 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 dicate the parts omitted or condensed in the 
 story as I have told it. 
 
 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO 1 
 
 BY COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOY 
 
 Iisr a certain city dwelt Martin Avdyeeich, the cob- 
 bler. He lived in a cellar, a wretched little hole with 
 a single window. The window looked up to- 
 wards the street, and through it Martin could just 
 see the passers-by. It is true that he could see little 
 more than their boots, but [Martin Avdyeeich could 
 read a man's character by his boots, so he needed no 
 more. Martin Avdyeeich had lived long in that one 
 place, and had many acquaintances.] Few indeed were 
 the boots in that neighborhood which had not passed 
 through his hands at some time or other. [On some 
 he would fasten new soles, to others he would give 
 side-pieces, others again he would stitch all round, 
 and even give them new uppers if need be. And often 
 he saw his own handiAvork through the window. There 
 was always lots of work for him, for Avdyeeich's 
 hand was cunning and his leather good; nor did he 
 overcharge, and he always kept his word. He always 
 engaged to do a job by a fixed time if he could; but 
 if he could not, he said so at once, and deceived no 
 man. So every one knew Avdyeeich, and he had no 
 lack of work. Avdyeeich had always been a pretty 
 good man, but as he grew old he began to think more 
 about his soul, and draw nearer to his God.] While 
 1 Reprinted, by permission, from The Outlook, New York. 
 55 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Martin was still a journeyman his wife had died; 
 but his wife had left him a little boy three years 
 old. Their other children had not lived. [All the 
 eldest had died early. Martin wished at first 
 to send his little child into the country to his 
 sister, but afterwards he thought better of it. "My 
 Kapitoshka," thought he, "will feel miserable in a 
 strange household. He shall stay here with me." 
 And so Avdyeeich left his master, and took to living 
 in lodgings alone with his little son. But God did 
 not give Avdyeeich happiness in his children.] No 
 sooner had the little one begun to grow up and be a 
 help and a joy to his father's heart, than a sickness 
 fell upon Kapitoshka, the little one took to his bed, 
 lay there in a raging fever for a week, and then died. 
 Martin buried his son in despair so desperate was 
 he that he began to murmur against God. [Such dis- 
 gust of life overcame him that he more than once 
 begged God that he might die; and he reproached 
 God for taking not him, an old man, but his darling, 
 his only son, instead. And after that Avdyeeich left 
 off going to church.] 
 
 And, lo! one day there came to Avdyeeich [from 
 the Troitsa Monastery] an aged peasant-pilgrim 
 [it was already the eighth year of his pilgrimage.] 
 Avdyeeich fell a- talking with him, and began to com- 
 plain of his great sorrow. " As for living any longer, 
 thou man of God," said he, " I desire it not. Would 
 only that I might die! [That is my sole prayer to 
 God. I am now a man who has no hope."] 
 
 And the old man said to him : " Thy speech, Martin, 
 
 is not good. How shall we judge the doings of God? 
 
 [God's judgments are not our thoughts. God willed 
 
 that thy son shouldst die, but that thou shouldst live. 
 
 56 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Therefore 'twas the best thing both for him and for 
 thee.] It is because thou wouldst fain have lived for 
 thy own delight that thou dost now despair." 
 
 " But what then is a man to live for ? " asked 
 Avdyeeich. 
 
 And the old man answered: "For God, Martin! 
 He gave thee life, and for Him therefore must thou 
 live. When thou dost begin to live for Him, thou wilt 
 grieve about nothing more, and all things will come 
 easy to thee." 
 
 Martin was silent for a moment, and then he said: 
 " And how must one live for God ? " 
 
 " [Christ hath shown us the way. Thou knowest 
 thy letters.] Buy the Gospels and read; there thou 
 wilt find out how to live for God. There everything 
 is explained." 
 
 These words made the heart of Avdyeeich burn 
 within him, and he went the same day and bought 
 for himself a New Testament printed in very large 
 type, and began to read. 
 
 Avdyeeich set out with the determination to read 
 it only on holidays; but as he read, it did his heart 
 so much good that he took to reading it every day. 
 [And the second time he read until all the kerosene 
 in the lamp had burnt itself out, and for all that he 
 could not tear himself away from the book. And so 
 it was every evening.] And the more he read, the 
 more clearly he understood what God wanted of him, 
 and how it behooved him to live for God; and his 
 heart grew lighter and lighter continually. [For- 
 merly, whenever he lay down to sleep he would only 
 sigh and groan, and think of nothing but Kapitoshka, 
 but now he would only say to himself : " Glory to 
 Thee! Glory to Thee, Lord! Thy will be done! "] 
 
 57 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Henceforth the whole life of Avdyeeich was changed. 
 Formerly, whenever he had a holiday, he would go to 
 the tavern to drink tea, nor would he say no to a 
 drop of brandy now and again. [He would tipple 
 with his comrades, and though not actually drunk, 
 would, for all that, leave the inn a bit merry, bab- 
 bling nonsense and talking loudly and censoriously.] 
 He had done with all that now. His life became 
 quiet and joyful. With the morning light he sat 
 down to his work, worked out his time, then took 
 down his lamp from the hook, placed it on the table, 
 took down his book from the shelf, bent over it, 
 and sat him down to read. And the more he read 
 the more he understood, and his heart grew brighter 
 and happier. 
 
 It happened once that Martin was up reading till 
 very late. He was reading St. Luke's Gospel. [He 
 was reading the sixth chapter, and as he read he 
 came to the words: "And to him that smiteth thee 
 on the one cheek, offer also the other." This passage 
 he read several times, and presently he came to that 
 place where the Lord says : " And why call ye me 
 Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say? 
 Whosoever cometh to Me, and heareth My sayings, 
 and doeth them, I will show you to whom he is like. 
 He is like a man which built an house, and dug 
 deep, and laid the foundations on a rock. And when 
 the flood arose, the storm beat vehemently upon that 
 house, and could not shake it, for it was founded 
 upon a rock. But he that heareth, and doeth not, is 
 like a man that without a foundation built an house 
 upon the earth, against which the stream did beat 
 vehemently, and immediately it fell, and the ruin of 
 that house was great." 
 
 58 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Avdyeeich read these words through and through, 
 and his heart was glad. He took off his glasses, 
 laid them on the book, rested his elbow on the table, 
 and fell a-thinking. And he began to measure his 
 own life by these words. And he thought to himself, 
 " Is my house built on the rock or on the sand ? How 
 good to be as on a rock! How easy it all seems to 
 thee sitting alone here! It seems as if thou wert 
 doing God's will to the full, and so thou takest no 
 heed and fallest away again. And yet thou wouldst 
 go on striving, for so it is good for thee. Lord, 
 help me! " Thus thought he, and would have laid 
 him down, but it was a grief to tear himself away 
 from the book. And so he began reading the seventh 
 chapter. He read all about the Centurion, he read all 
 about the Widow's Son, he read all about the answer 
 to the disciples of St. John; and so he came to that 
 place where the rich Pharisee invites our Lord to be 
 his guest.] And he read all about how the woman 
 who was a sinner anointed His feet and washed them 
 with her tears, and how He justified her. [And so 
 he came at last to the forty-fourth verse, and there 
 he read these words, "And He turned to the woman 
 and said to Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered 
 into thine house, thou gavest Me no water for My 
 feet; but she has washed My feet with tears and 
 wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gav- 
 est Me no kiss, but this woman, since the time I 
 came in, hath not ceased to kiss My feet. Mine 
 head with oil thou didst not anoint."] And again 
 Avdyeeich took off his glasses, and laid them on 
 the book, and fell a-thinking. 
 
 " So it is quite plain that I too have something 
 of the Pharisee about me. Am I not always think- 
 
 59 
 
STORY .TELLING 
 
 ing of myself? Am I not always thinking of drink- 
 ing tea, and keeping myself as warm and cozy as 
 possible, without thinking at all about the guest? 
 Simon thought about himself, but did not give 
 the slightest thought to his guest. But who was 
 his guest? The Lord Himself. And suppose he 
 were to come to me, should I treat Him as the Phar- 
 isee did?" 
 
 And Avdyeeich leaned both his elbows on the table 
 and, without perceiving it, fell a-dozing. 
 
 " Martin ! " it was as though the voice of some 
 one close to his ear. 
 
 Martin started up from his nap. " Who 's there ? " 
 
 He turned round, he gazed at the door, but there 
 was no one. Again he dozed off. Suddenly he heard 
 quite plainly, " Martin, Martin, I say ! Look to- 
 morrow into the street. I am coming." 
 
 Martin awoke, rose from his chair, and began to 
 rub his eyes. And he did not know himself whether 
 he had heard these words asleep or awake. He 
 turned down the lamp and laid him down to rest. 
 
 At dawn next day Avdyeeich arose, prayed 
 to God, [lit his stove, got ready his gruel and cab- 
 bage soup, filled his samovar, put on his apron,] and 
 sat him down by his window to work. There Avdy- 
 eeich sits and works, and thinks of nothing but the 
 things of yesternight. His thoughts were divided. 
 [He thought at one time that he must have gone 
 off dozing, and then again he thought he really 
 must have heard that voice. It might have been so, 
 thought he.] 
 
 Martin sits at the window and looks as much at 
 his window as at his work, and whenever a strange 
 pair of boots passes by he bends forward and looks 
 60 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 out of the window, so as to see the face as well as 
 the feet of the passers-by. [The house porter passed 
 by in new felt boots, the water-carrier passed by, 
 and after that] there passed close to the window an 
 old soldier, one of Nicholas's veterans, in tattered 
 old boots, with a shovel in his hands. [Avdyeeich 
 knew him by his boots.] The old fellow was called 
 Stepanuich, and lived with the neighboring shopkeeper, 
 who harbored him of his charity. [His duty was to 
 help the porter.] Stepanuich stopped before Avdy- 
 eeich's window to sweep away the snow. [Avdyeeich 
 cast a glance at him, and then went on working as 
 before.] 
 
 " I J m not growing sager as I grow older," thought 
 Avdyeeich, with some self-contempt. " I make up 
 my mind that Christ is coming to me, and, lo! 'tis 
 only Stepanuich clearing away the snow. [Thou 
 simpleton, thou! thou art wool-gathering! " Then 
 Avdyeeich made ten more stitches, and then he 
 stretched his head once more towards the window. 
 He looked through the window again, and there he 
 saw that Stepanuich had placed the shovel against 
 the wall, and was warming himself and taking breath 
 a bit.] 
 
 "The old man is very much broken," thought 
 Avdyeeich to himself. "It is quite plain that he 
 has scarcely strength enough to scrape away the 
 snow. Suppose I make him drink a little tea! the 
 samovar, too, is just on the boil." Avdyeeich put 
 down his awl, got up, placed the samovar on the 
 table, put some tea in it, and tapped on the window 
 with his fingers. [Stepanuich turned round and 
 came to the window.] Avdyeeich beckoned to him, 
 and then went and opened the door. 
 
 61 
 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 " Come in and warm yourself a bit," cried he. 
 "You're a bit chilled, eh?" 
 
 " Christ requite you ! Yes, and all my bones ache 
 too," said Stepanuich. Stepanuich came in, shook 
 off the snow, [and began to wipe his feet so as not to 
 soil the floor, but he tottered sadly. 
 
 " Don't trouble about wiping your feet. I '11 rub 
 it off myself. It's all in the day's work.} Come in 
 and sit down," said Avdyeeich. " Here, take a cup 
 of tea." 
 
 And Avdyeeich filled two cups, and gave one to 
 his guest, [and he poured his own tea out into the 
 saucer and began to blow it. 
 
 Stepanuich drank his cup, turned it upside down, 
 put a gnawed crust on the top of it, and said, 
 " Thank you." But it was quite plain that he wanted 
 to be asked to have some more. 
 
 " Have a drop more. Do ! " said Avdyeeich, and 
 poured out fresh cups for his guest and himself,] 
 and as Avdyeeich drank his cup, he could not help 
 glancing at the window from time to time. 
 
 " Dost thou expect any one ? " asked his guest. 
 
 " Do I expect any one ? Well, honestly, I hardly 
 know. I am expecting and I am not expecting, and 
 there's a word which has burnt itself right into my 
 heart. Whether it was a vision or no, I know not. 
 Look now, my brother ! I was reading yesterday about 
 our little Father 1 Christ, how He suffered, how He 
 came on earth. [Hast thou heard of Him, eh?" 
 
 " I have heard, I have heard," replied Stepanuich, 
 '* but we poor ignorant ones know not our letters."] 
 
 1 Rus. Batushka. No translation can adequately express the 
 meaning of this caressing diminutive. The German Papachen is 
 the nearest approach to it. All the Slavonic languages have its 
 equivalent. 
 
 62 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 "Anyhow, I was reading about this very thing 
 how He came down upon earth. I was reading how 
 He went to the Pharisee, and how the Pharisee did 
 not receive Him at all. [Thus I thought, and so, 
 about yesternight, little brother mine, I read that 
 very thing, and bethought me how the Honorable 
 did not receive our little Father Christ honorably.] 
 But suppose, I thought, if He came to one like me 
 would I receive Him? Simon at any rate did not 
 receive Him at all. Thus I thought, and so think- 
 ing, fell asleep. I fell asleep, I say, little brother 
 mine, and I heard my name called. I started up. 
 A voice was whispering at my very ear. ' Look out 
 to-morrow ! ' it said, * I am coming.' And so it befell 
 twice. Now look! wouldst thou believe it? the idea 
 stuck to me I scold myself for my folly, and yet 
 I look for Him, our little Father Christ! " 
 
 Stepanuich shook his head and said nothing, but 
 he drank his cup dry and put it aside. [Then Avdy- 
 eeich took up the cup and filled it again. 
 
 " Drink some more. 'Twill do thee good. Now 
 it seems to me that when our little Father went 
 about on earth, He despised no one, but sought unto 
 the simple folk most of all. He was always among 
 the simple folk. Those disciples of His too, he 
 chose most of them from amongst our brother-labor- 
 ers, sinners like unto us. He that exalteth himself, 
 He says, shall be abased, and he that abaseth him- 
 self shall be exalted. Ye, says He, call me Lord, and 
 I, says He, wash your feet. He who would be the 
 first among you, He says, let him become the ser- 
 vant of all. And therefore it is that He says, 
 Blessed are the lowly, the peacemakers, the humble, 
 and the long-suffering." 
 
 63 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Stepanuich forgot his tea. He was an old man, 
 soft-hearted, and tearful. He sat and listened, and 
 the tears rolled down his cheeks. 
 
 " Come, drink a little more," said Avdyeeich. 
 But Stepanuich crossed himself, expressed his thanks, 
 pushed away his cup, and got up.] 
 
 "I thank thee, Martin Avdyeeich," said he. "I 
 have fared well at thy hands, and thou hast re- 
 freshed me both in body and soul." 
 
 " Thou wilt show me a kindness by coming again. 
 I am so glad to have a guest," said Avdyeeich. 
 Stepanuich departed, and Martin [poured out the 
 last drop of tea, drank it, washed up, and again] 
 sat down by the window to work [he had some 
 back-stitching to do. He stitched and stitched, and 
 now and then cast glances at the window he was 
 looking for Christ, and could think of nothing but 
 Him and His works. And the divers sayings of 
 Christ were in his head all the time. 
 
 Two soldiers passed by, one in regimental boots, 
 the other in boots of his own making; after that, 
 the owner of the next house passed by in nicely 
 brushed goloshes. A baker with a basket also p-assed 
 by. All these passed by in turn, and] then there 
 came alongside the window a woman in worsted 
 stockings and rustic shoes, and as she was passing 
 by she stopped short in front of the partition wall. 
 Avdyeeich looked up at her from his window, and 
 he saw that the woman was a stranger and poorly 
 clad, and that she had a little child with her. She 
 was leaning up against the wall with her back to 
 the wind, and tried to wrap the child up, but she 
 had nothing to wrap it up with. The woman 
 wore summer clothes, and thin enough they were. 
 64 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 And from out of his corner Avdyeeich heard the 
 child crying and the woman trying to comfort it, 
 but she could not. Then Avdyeeich got up, went out 
 of the door and on to the steps, and cried, " My good 
 woman! my good woman! " 
 
 The woman heard him and turned round. 
 
 " Why dost thou stand out in the cold there with 
 the child? Come inside! In the warm room thou 
 wilt be better able to tend him. This way! " 
 
 The woman was amazed. What she saw was an 
 old fellow in an apron and with glasses on his nose 
 calling to her. She came towards him. 
 
 They went down the steps together they went 
 into the room. The old man led the woman to the 
 bed. " There," said he, " sit down, gossip, nearer to 
 the stove, and warm and feed thy little one. . . ." 
 
 He went to the table, got some bread and a dish, 
 [opened the oven door, put some cabbage soup into 
 the dish, took out a pot of gruel, but it was not 
 quite ready, so he put some cabbage soup only into 
 the dish, and placed it on the table. Then he fetched 
 bread, took down the cloth from the hook, and 
 spread it on the table.] 
 
 " Sit down and have something to eat, gossip," 
 said he, " and I will sit down a little with the 
 youngster. I have had children of my own, and 
 know how to manage them." 
 
 The woman crossed herself, sat down at the table, 
 and began to eat, and Avdyeeich sat down on the bed 
 with the child. [Avdyeeich smacked his lips at him 
 again and again, but his lack of teeth made it a 
 clumsy joke at best. And all the time the child never 
 left off shrieking. Then Avdyeeich hit upon the idea 
 of shaking his finger at him, so he snapped his fingers 
 
 65 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 up and down, backwards and forwards, right in front 
 of the child's mouth. He did not put his finger into 
 its mouth, because his finger -was black and sticky 
 with cobbler's wax. And the child stared at the 
 finger and was silent, and presently it began to 
 laugh. And Avdyeeich was delighted. But] the 
 woman went on eating, and told him who she was 
 and whence she came. 
 
 "I am a soldier's wife," she said: "my eight 
 months' husband they drove right away from me, 
 and nothing has been heard of him since. I took a 
 cook's place till I became a mother. They could 
 not keep me and the child. It is now three months 
 since I have been drifting about without any fixed 
 resting-place. I have eaten away my all. [I wanted 
 to be a wet-nurse, but people wouldn't have me: 
 ' Thou art too thin,' they said. I have just been to 
 the merchant's wife where our grandmother lives, 
 and there they promised to take me in. I thought 
 it was all right, but she told me to come again 
 in a week. But she lives a long way off.] I am 
 chilled to death, and he is quite tired out. But, 
 God be praised! our landlady has compassion on us, 
 and gives us shelter for Christ's sake. But for that 
 I don't know how we could live through it all." 
 
 Avdyeeich sighed, and said, " And have you nq 
 warm clothes ? " 
 
 "Ah, kind friend! this is indeed warm-clothes 
 time, but yesterday I pawned away my last shawl for 
 two grivenki" 1 * 
 
 The woman went to the bed and took up the child, 
 but Avdyeeich stood up, went to the wall cupboard, 
 
 1 A grivenka is the tenth part of a ruble about 5 cents. 
 66 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 rummaged about a bit, and then brought back with 
 him an old jacket. 
 
 " Look ! " said he, " 'tis a shabby thing, 'tis true, 
 but it will do to wrap up in." 
 
 The woman looked at the old jacket, then she 
 gazed at the old man, and, taking the jacket, fell 
 a-weeping. [Avdyeeieh also turned away, crept under 
 the bed, drew out a trunk, and seemed to be very 
 busy about it, whereupon he again sat down opposite 
 the woman.] 
 
 Then the woman said : " Christ requite thee, dear 
 little father! It is plain that it was He who sent 
 me by thy window. When I first came out it was 
 warm, and now it has turned very cold. And He 
 it was, little father, who made thee look out of the 
 window and have compassion on wretched me." 
 
 Avdyeeich smiled slightly, and said: "Yes, He 
 must have done it, for I looked not out of the window 
 in vain, dear gossip! " 
 
 [And Avdyeeich told his dream to the soldier's wife 
 also, and how he had heard a voice promising that 
 the Lord should come to him that day. 
 
 "All things are possible," said the woman. Then 
 she rose up, put on the jacket, wrapped it round her 
 little one, and then began to curtsy and thank 
 Avdyeeich once more. 
 
 "Take this for Christ's sake," said Avdyeeich, 
 giving her a two-grivenka piece, "and redeem your 
 shawl." The w^oman crossed herself, Avdyeeich 
 crossed himself, and then he led the woman to the 
 door.] 
 
 The woman went away. Avdyeeich ate up the 
 remainder of the cabbage soup, washed up, and again 
 sat down to work. He worked on and on, but he did 
 
 67 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 not forget the window, and whenever the window 
 was darkened he immediately looked up to see who 
 was passing. [Acquaintances passed, strangers 
 passed, but there was no one in particular.] 
 
 But now Avdyeeich sees how, right in front of his 
 window, an old woman, a huckster, has taken her 
 stand. She carries a basket of apples. Not many 
 now remained; she had evidently sold them nearly 
 all. Across her shoulder she carried a sack full of 
 shavings. She must have picked them up near some 
 new building, and was taking them home with her. 
 It was plain that the sack was straining her shoulder. 
 She wanted to shift it on to the other shoulder, so she 
 rested the sack on the pavement, placed the apple- 
 basket on a small post, and set about shaking down 
 the shavings in the sack. Now while she was shak- 
 ing down the sack, an urchin in a ragged cap sud- 
 denly turned up, goodness knows from whence, grabbed 
 at one of the apples in the basket, and would 
 have made off with it, but the wary old woman 
 turned quickly round and gripped the youth by the 
 sleeve. The lad fought and tried to tear himself 
 loose, but the old woman seized him with both 
 hands, knocked his hat off, and tugged hard at his 
 hair. The lad howled, and the woman reviled him. 
 Avdyeeich did not stop to put away his awl, but 
 pitched it on the floor, rushed into the courtyard, 
 and in his haste stumbled on the steps and dropped 
 his glasses. Avdyeeich ran out into the street. The 
 old woman was tugging at the lad's hair and wanted 
 to drag him off to the police, while the boy fought 
 and kicked. 
 
 "I didn't take it," said he. "What are you 
 whacking me for ? Let me go ! " 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Avdyeeich came up and tried to part them. He 
 seized the lad by the arm and said : " Let him go, 
 little mother! Forgive him for Christ's sake! " 
 
 " I '11 forgive him so that he sha'n't forget the 
 taste of fresh birch-rods. I mean to take the rascal 
 to the police station." 
 
 Avdyeeich began to entreat with the old woman. 
 
 " Let him go, little mother ; he will not do so 
 any more. Let him go for Christ's sake." 
 
 The old woman let him go. The lad would have 
 bolted, but Avdyeeich held him fast. 
 
 " Beg the little mother's pardon," said he, " and 
 don't do such things any more. I saw thee take 
 them." 
 
 Then the lad began to cry and beg pardon. 
 
 "Well, that's all right! And now, there's an 
 apple for thee." And Avdyeeich took one out of the 
 basket and gave it to the boy. " I '11 pay thee for it, 
 little mother," he said to the old woman. 
 
 " Thou wilt ruin them that way, the blackguards," 
 said the old woman. " If I had the rewarding of 
 him, he should not be able to sit down for a week." 
 
 " Oh, little mother, little mother ! " cried Av- 
 dyeeich, " that is our way of looking at things, but 
 it is not God's way. If we ought to be whipped so 
 for the sake of one apple, what do we deserve for 
 our sins ? " 
 
 The old woman was silent. 
 
 [And Avdyeeich told the old woman about the 
 parable of the master who forgave his servant a 
 very great debt, and how that servant immediately 
 went out and caught his fellow- servant by the throat 
 because he was his debtor. The old woman listened 
 to the end, and the lad listened too.] 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 " God bade us forgive," said Avdyeeich, " other- 
 wise He will not forgive us. We must forgive every 
 one, especially the thoughtless." 
 
 The old woman shook her head and sighed. 
 
 [" That 's all very well," she said, " but they are 
 spoiled enough already." 
 
 " Then it is for us old people to teach them better," 
 said Avdyeeich. 
 
 " So say I," replied the old woman. " I had seven 
 of them at one time, and now I have but a single 
 daughter left." And the old woman began telling 
 him where and how she lived with her daughter, 
 and how many grandchildren she had. " I 'm not 
 what I was," she said, " but I work all I can. I 
 am sorry for my grandchildren, and good children 
 they are, too. No one is so glad to see me as they 
 are. Little Aksyutka will go to none but me. 
 * Grandma dear ! darling grandma ! ' " and the old 
 woman was melted to tears. " As for him," she 
 added, pointing to the lad, " boys will be boys, I 
 suppose. Well, God be with him! "] 
 
 Now just as the old woman was about to hoist 
 the sack on to her shoulder, the lad rushed forward 
 and said: 
 
 "Give it here, and I'll carry it for thee, granny! 
 It is all in my way." 
 
 The old woman shook her head, but she did put 
 the sack on the lad's shoulder. 
 
 And so they trudged down the street together 
 side by side. [And the old woman forgot to ask 
 Avdyeeich for the money for the apple. Avdyeeich 
 kept standing and looking after them, and heard 
 how they talked to each other, as they went, about 
 all sorts of things.] 
 
 70 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Avdyeeich followed them with his eyes till they 
 were out of sight, then he turned homewards [and 
 found his glasses on the steps (they were not bro- 
 ken), picked up his awl,] and sat down to work 
 again. He worked away for a little while, but soon 
 he was scarcely able to distinguish the stitches, 
 [and he saw the lamplighter going round to light 
 the lamps.] "I see it is time to light up," thought 
 he, [so he trimmed his little lamp, lighted it, and 
 again sat down to work. He finished one boot com- 
 pletely, turned it round and inspected it. " Good ! " 
 he cried.] He put away his tools, swept up the cut- 
 tings, removed the brushes and tips, put away the 
 awl, took down the lamp, placed it on the table, and 
 took down the Gospels from the shelf. He wanted 
 to find the passage where he had last evening placed 
 a strip of morocco leather by way of a marker, but 
 he lit upon another place. And just as Avdy- 
 eeich opened the Gospel, he recollected his dream of 
 yesterday evening. And no sooner did he call it to 
 mind than it seemed to him as if some persons were 
 moving about and shuffling with their feet behind him. 
 Avdyeeich glanced round and saw that somebody was 
 indeed standing in the dark corner yes, someone 
 was really there, but who, he could not exactly make 
 out. Then a voice whispered in his ear: 
 
 " Martin ! Martin ! dost thou not know me ? " 
 
 "Who art thou?" cried Avdyeeich. 
 
 "'Tis I," cried the voice, " lo, 'tis I! " And forth 
 from the dark corner stepped Stepanuich. He smiled, 
 and it was as though a little cloud were breaking, 
 and he was gone. 
 
 " It is I ! " cried the voice, and forth from the 
 corner stepped a woman with a little child; and the 
 
 71 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 woman smiled and the child laughed, and they also 
 disappeared. 
 
 " And it is I ! " cried the voice, and the old woman 
 and the lad with the apple stepped forth, and both 
 of them smiled, and they also disappeared. 
 
 And the heart of Avdyeeich was glad. He crossed 
 himself, put on his glasses, and began to read the 
 Gospels at the place where he had opened them. 
 And at the top of the page he read these words: 
 "And I was an hungered and thirsty, and ye gave 
 Me to drink. I was a stranger, and ye took Me in." 
 
 And at the bottom of the page he read this : " In- 
 asmuch as ye have done it to the least of these My 
 brethren, ye have done it unto Me." 
 
 And Avdyeeich understood that his dream had not 
 deceived him, and that the Saviour had really come 
 to him that day, and he had really received Him, 
 
 One difference between the text of the story 
 for reading and one for telling lies in the 
 more colloquial style of the latter. A text 
 for reading requires a certain dignity and 
 precision of style which is not necessary in 
 the story which is to be told, not that the 
 story teller should lower his standard of 
 English, or allow himself a loose or shift- 
 less style, but because the more intimate re- 
 lations between the story teller and his 
 audience admit of a freedom which would 
 not be permissible in written form. 
 72 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 A long introduction to a story may be con- 
 densed for telling into a few sentences which 
 will preserve the atmosphere and setting of 
 the story, at the same time hastening the in- 
 cidents for which the listener waits. The 
 story teller must keep in mind that his audi- 
 ence is preeminently interested in the devel- 
 opment of the plot of the story rather than 
 in descriptions or explanatory incidents. 
 These he may use, but only as something 
 which shall make the action of the story more 
 vital and interesting. Another difference 
 between the text of the story for reading and 
 for telling must be made by eliminating any 
 secondary stories of the written version, and 
 keeping to the line of the main plot; what- 
 ever does not bear directly on it may be 
 considered irrelevant. 
 
 Story telling is in no sense reading, either 
 with or without a book; and while care 
 should be taken to select the very best pos- 
 sible version of the story for reproduction, 
 it is not necessary to attempt a verbatim 
 recitation of the same. 
 
 It is impossible for one who has not spent 
 much time in study to understand the sig- 
 73 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 nificance and production of tone and gesture 
 and all the carefully concealed machinery 
 which lies back of any art. But there is one 
 thing which any one must be willing to do 
 before he attempts to tell stories in even the 
 most unassuming way; namely, to so live 
 with the literature which he is to interpret 
 that he becomes filled with the spirit and at- 
 mosphere of the tale and it becomes in a sense 
 his own. Too much emphasis cannot be laid 
 upon the necessity of this one thing. I have 
 known artists who live with the stories they 
 are to tell a year, sometimes two years, be- 
 fore they feel that they are ready, to give 
 them to an audience. 
 
 The experience of great artists in the 
 dramatic world is identical in this regard. 
 No matter how marvellous their memories, 
 they are not guilty of running over the lines 
 of a play as they go to the theatre, and re- 
 producing it in the next breath. Long as- 
 sociation with the character whom they are 
 to impersonate is one of the essentials to an 
 understanding of that character. The more 
 one can know of the historical surroundings, 
 the geographical setting, the manners and 
 74 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 customs of the people that form the back- 
 ground of a story no matter how little they 
 seem to come into the story itself, the more 
 the story will mean to him and the more he 
 can make it mean to others, because it be- 
 comes nearer like an experience of his own. 
 
 As to the performance, to use the technical 
 term, it should be remembered that story 
 tellers are temperamentally as unlike as sing- 
 ers, and their manner of telling a story will 
 vary from a dramatic one to one of the ut- 
 most simplicity; but the more they know of 
 the history and customs of the first story 
 tellers, troubadours, skalds, or minnesingers, 
 the more they keep their art before them as 
 an ideal, the more truly will they merit the 
 name and earn the laurels of real story tellers. 
 Imitation tends to make spontaneity impos- 
 sible; but absolute freedom to tell the story 
 which has made a personal appeal to the 
 story teller, which he himself enjoys no mat- 
 ter how others regard it, such an atmosphere 
 is the only one which can insure success. An 
 unpleasant association with a story during 
 childhood, or a present lack of interest in it, 
 will rob the story teller of the element of 
 75 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 personal enjoyment in it which is vital to a 
 successful rendering, and no matter how 
 charming others may find it, it is not his 
 story to tell. 
 
 The important thing, of course, to con- 
 sider first is the adaptability of the story to 
 the age which one expects to interest. If it 
 seems suited to this particular point of view 
 and experience, a careful reading, perhaps 
 more than one, will be necessary before it 
 becomes evident where to condense, what the 
 simple development of the plot is, and what 
 the real climax of the story. This is neces- 
 sary for a single story, or for a cycle of 
 stories which, each a complete incident in it- 
 self, yet form links in a chain of some one 
 inclusive experience. 
 
 The Jungle Books will serve as an excel- 
 lent illustration of material which needs edit- 
 ing for the use of the story teller. They are 
 fascinating stories for children of fourth 
 and fifth grades when they once catch the 
 idea of the books, but they seem difficult and 
 baffling to many children who have not been 
 fortunate in their introduction to them. 
 
 The story teller selects from the two vol- 
 76 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 umes of stories those relating to Mowgli, 
 and arranges them as nearly as possible in 
 chronological order, thus makes a series of 
 unfailing charm. 
 
 JUNGLE STORIES 
 
 Story 1. "MOWGLI'S BROTHERS" 
 
 Early life. Jungle Book. 
 Story 2. " KAA'-S HUNTING " 
 
 Life in the jungle. Jungle Book. 
 (Begin second or third sentence) 
 Story 3. " How FEAR CAME " 
 
 Life in the jungle. Second Jungle 
 
 Book. 
 Story 4. " RED FIRE." Jungle Book. 
 
 Page 27 Begin: " It was a very warm 
 day (when Mowgli was ten or twelve) 
 that a new " etc. 
 Story 5. "TIGER! TIGER!" Jungle Book. 
 
 (Begin second sentence) 
 Story 6. " LETTING IN THE JUNGLE." Second Jungle 
 
 Book. 
 
 Story 7. "RED DOG." Second Jungle Book. 
 Story 8. " SPRING RUNNING." Second Jungle Book. 
 
 If the eight stories make too long a cycle, 
 " Kaa's Hunting," and " How Fear Came," 
 may be omitted; or, the story telling may 
 be used merely to introduce the book and 
 leave the children to read it themselves. 
 77 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Other stories in these collections are in- 
 teresting as giving pictures of jungle life, 
 but any child once having become acquainted 
 with Mowgli will be eager to hear what hap- 
 pened to him and what his adventures were; 
 everything else is for the time being of no 
 moment at all; more than that, to the real 
 child nothing but a present interest has any 
 existence. 
 
 Having discussed the question of the value 
 of reading aloud to children, it will be scarcely 
 necessary to say, there are many pieces of 
 literature that will lose so much in charm 
 and effectiveness from a failure to reproduce 
 their exact form, that it is far better to read 
 than to tell them. Kipling's " Just-so 
 Stories " are typical examples of stories 
 which should be read or recited rather than 
 told. 
 
 78 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 ARRANGING THE PROGRAM OF MISCELLANEOUS 
 STORIES 
 
 Comparison between the construction of a musical pro- 
 gram and one of stories; illustrative programs; stories 
 for a Japanese program; stories for a Spring program. 
 
 TT is probable that the teacher and the 
 * fireside story teller will find one story, or 
 at the most two, sufficient for the requirements 
 of their story-hours; but the library story- 
 hour will often necessitate the arrangement 
 of a number of miscellaneous stories so that 
 they can be given one after the other during 
 a specified time. 
 
 Some of the larger libraries have under- 
 taken a series of story-hours at each of which 
 a single story is told, the stories all having 
 the same hero, and taken together forming a 
 cycle; but by far the greater number have 
 used what may be termed the miscellaneous 
 program. 
 
 79 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 This kind of program seems best adapted 
 for children who have not learned to be good 
 listeners, and for younger children, as they 
 lack the fully developed power of concentra- 
 tion which is needed if they are to listen for a 
 long period at one time, without the relief 
 which comes from a break in the stories and 
 a change of subject. 
 
 It is claimed that the spirit of the artist 
 is revealed in his ability to " build pro- 
 grams," and if this is true I am afraid that 
 many story-hours have little claim to rank 
 above vaudeville performances, for they 
 merely shift from one " attraction" to an- 
 other, without sequence or relation of any 
 kind. There is, of course, some gain to the 
 child from the stories themselves, provided 
 the selection has been a good one, but the 
 effect of one story is often much lessened 
 because of the character of the one which 
 preceded or which followed it. 
 
 The construction of a program for an 
 entertainment or for an isolated story-hour 
 is a difficult problem ; the task becomes much 
 less difficult if the audience is one which as- 
 sembles regularly and is familiar with the 
 80 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 stories which have been told already, for 
 their interest has in a measure already been 
 secured, and their attitude toward the story- 
 hour is an established thing. 
 
 In the regular story-hour, even where it is 
 devoted to a variety of stories, much more can 
 be accomplished when some central thought 
 forms the unobtrusive background of the 
 tales. Such a background is supplied when 
 the effort is made to have the stories related 
 to some special season or holiday, that un- 
 derlying thought furnishing the reason for 
 the selection, though, to change the figure, 
 the thread which binds the units in one artis- 
 tic whole may have a certain elasticity. 
 Take for example, a program for Spring, 
 the main portion of which will naturally be 
 made of legends and stories about the season 
 itself, or its birds or flowers. Into such a 
 program it would be quite permissible to 
 introduce a Robin Hood story, if it were 
 one of those picturing the outdoor life of the 
 famous outlaw, because the freedom, the for- 
 est, the singing birds and even the spirit of 
 adventure, have in them the very essence 
 of the springtime, and the introduction of 
 81 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 the human interest is always an acceptable 
 contrast to fairies, dryads, and creatures of 
 pure imagination. 
 
 With stories as with music, the grouping 
 may be made about the compositions of a 
 single man, like an Andersen or a Grimm 
 program; or it may be illustrative of a 
 certain kind of stories, for example, those 
 which portray the hero idea or ghost story 
 type; stories characteristic of a country, 
 such as Irish fairy tales or Uncle Remus 
 stories ; or one may use a definite theme 
 and build a program about that, making the 
 secondary stories contribute to the strength 
 and significance of the central thought. 
 
 The Story Tellers' League of Adrian, 
 Michigan, has made a year's program on this 
 last basis, the central theme being " England 
 in Story." Each program illustrates some 
 phase of the subject, as for example, " Glee- 
 men and minstrels," " Famous ballads and 
 ballad stories " ; " Chaucer's England and 
 stories from Chaucer." 
 
 When a child has heard a thoughtfully 
 conceived program, he has gained not only 
 what the individual stories have meant to 
 82 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 him, but the value of each story has betn 
 increased by its relation to the whole and to 
 each part. 
 
 One has only to recall some of the story- 
 hours he has attended to remember the im- 
 pression they made of being a mere jumble, 
 in which there seemed to be neither beginning 
 nor end, and certainly no underlying pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Nothing has been so suggestive in my 
 own program-making as a study of musi- 
 cal programs, particularly those of great 
 orchestras. They attempt through a differ- 
 ent medium to reach people through intellect 
 and emotions as those who use the medium 
 of speech should do, and the programs of 
 great conductors who are masters of 
 program-making show that they understand 
 the psychology of this art. 
 
 The first thing necessary in approaching 
 an audience is to get control of it, to 
 make it listen to what you have to say. 
 This cannot be accomplished with a lullaby, 
 or a delicate bit of folklore, a very gem of 
 art though it may be^ J^e very quality 
 of softness and delicacy requires a set- 
 83 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 ting of perfect sympathy for its production, 
 and nothing has been done to create that 
 sympathy. 
 
 The orchestra is demanding attention, the 
 clear notes of the overture catch the ear, and 
 the audience listens. A song like " Hark ! 
 Hark ! the Lark " has this same quality in it, 
 and so is fitted to gain the attention of those 
 who wait to hear. An analysis of stories 
 with this in mind will discover those which 
 sound the trumpet tone and so have the power 
 to win attention. 
 
 When the music, or the story, has won the 
 interest of the hearers, then is the opportun- 
 ity to say the larger, more serious and 
 thoughtful thing, often the thing full of in- 
 spiration and uplift. Here is the symphony, 
 speaking to the clear, awakened thought of 
 the listener, stirring his emotions and ideals, 
 but appealing to his intellect as well. This 
 is the body of the program, which in story 
 telling may sometimes be composed of more 
 than one story ; but whether one or more, its 
 function should be similar to that of the sym- 
 phony, having the effect produced, for ex- 
 ample, by a great hero story. 
 84 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 What should have been gained when the 
 program has advanced thus far, is not only 
 interest, but the attitude of understanding 
 and appreciation, a willingness to see things 
 through the eyes of the story teller. Now is 
 the opportunity for the greatest thing to be 
 revealed which the program has to say. This 
 is the climax not only of artistic skill, but of 
 thought; the end toward which all the rest 
 has led. 
 
 This does not mean that there may l)e only 
 three numbers on the program, but rather 
 that there are three movements, requiring 
 more or less material to express themselves. 
 
 For example, the opening story may be 
 emphasized and its note made more dominant 
 by an additional story or two of a type to 
 sustain the spirit of the introduction. Again, 
 after the body of the program, the hero story 
 or its equivalent, it is often desirable to in- 
 troduce a story of a lighter vein, perhaps a 
 humorous story which shall make the climax 
 stronger by the element of contrast. 
 
 There ought to be variety of emotion, a 
 proper balance of parts, so that the effect 
 will not to be too sombre or too high-keyed, 
 85 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 and the form of the stories should also be 
 considered, so that the audience may not be 
 surfeited with any one type. The legend is 
 one of the most charming forms of literature 
 for telling, but if one tells nothing but legends 
 they lose their charm and fascination. There 
 should always be a play of light and shadow, 
 just a little touch of pathos, and the sug- 
 gestion or clear note of humor, but, partic- 
 ularly with children, the emotions should 
 never be roused simply for gratifying the 
 sense of power of the story teller, nor to 
 produce effects by over-stimulation of their 
 sensitiveness. 
 
 It is far better to leave children eager for 
 more stories than tired and restless because 
 they have too many. For this reason a short 
 program full of suggestiveness and incentive 
 for future reading is ideal. 
 
 The following stories have been selected 
 and arranged for two programs, one giving 
 a group of Japanese stories, the other with 
 the central idea that of Spring. The opening 
 stories of both programs have the quality of 
 catching the attention of the listeners, as al- 
 ready suggested, and there is a development 
 86 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 in the programs which leaves the more serious 
 impression for the climax. 
 
 It is often a wise thing to make a short in- 
 troduction before giving any of the stories, 
 just a few sentences which shall give the 
 proper atmosphere for the full enjoyment 
 of them. Perhaps a few words about Japan 
 and the charm of its picturesque customs 
 and people would give the children the set- 
 ting desired, or the stories themselves may 
 advantageously be introduced if there is 
 something of particular interest about them. 
 
 The story teller often takes for granted that 
 the audience is as familiar with the circum- 
 stances connected with the origin and history 
 of the stories as he is after years of study, 
 when such is not the case. It is interesting to 
 know, for instance, of the custom among the 
 Japanese of telling certain stories regarding 
 the flowers which they honor with festivals; 
 or it may be a new idea to the children that 
 the story of the " Stone-cutter " is only one 
 of the versions of the story told almost every- 
 where in the Orient. 
 
 One must be careful not to take on the tone 
 of instruction, and not to break into the at- 
 87 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 mosphere of the program by the introduction 
 of anything of a prosaic character. It is a 
 mark of artistic achievement to be able to 
 sustain the interest in the entire program, 
 wihout letting it drop or permitting it to lose 
 its distinctive characteristic. 
 
 A PROGRAM OF JAPANESE 
 STORIES 1 
 
 THE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW 
 
 THE WHITE HARE AND THE CROCODILES 
 
 THE BOASTFUL BAMBOO 
 
 PRINCESS MOONBEAM 
 
 THE MIRROR OF MATSUYAMA," 
 
 THE OLD MAN WHO BROUGHT WITHERED TREES 
 
 TO LIFE 
 THE STONE-CUTTEB 
 
 THE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW 2 
 
 FROM WILLISTON'S " JAPANESE FAIRY TALES " 
 
 IN a little old house in a little old village in Japan 
 lived a little old man and his little old wife. 
 
 One morning when the old woman slid open the 
 screens which form the sides of the Japanese houses, 
 she saw on the doorstep a poor little sparrow. She 
 
 1 Some of these stories will need abridging for telling. 
 
 2 Copyright, RAND, MCNALLY & Co. Used by permission. 
 
 88 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 took him up gently and fed him. Then she held 
 him in the bright morning sunshine until the cold 
 dew was dried from his wings. Afterward she let 
 him go, so that he might fly home to his nest, but he 
 stayed to thank her with his songs. 
 
 Each morning, when the pink on the mountain tops 
 told that the sun was near, the sparrow perched on 
 the roof of the house and sang out his joy. 
 
 The old man and woman thanked the sparrow for 
 this, for they liked to be up early and at work. But 
 near them there lived a cross old woman who did not 
 like to be awakened so early. At last she became so 
 angry that she caught the sparrow and cut his 
 tongue. Then the poor little sparrow flew away to 
 his home. But he could never sing again. 
 
 When the kind woman knew what had happened 
 to her pet she was very sad. She said to her hus- 
 band, " Let us go and find our poor little spar- 
 row." So they started together, and asked of each 
 bird by the wayside : " Do you know where the 
 tongue-cut sparrow lives? Do you know where the 
 tongue-cut sparrow went ? " 
 
 In this way they followed until they came to a 
 bridge. They did not know which way to turn, and 
 at first could see no one to ask. 
 
 At last they saw a bat hanging head downward, 
 taking his daytime nap. " friend Bat, do you know 
 where the tongue-cut sparrow went ? " they asked. 
 
 " Yes. Over the bridge and up the mountain," said 
 the bat. Then he blinked his sleepy eyes and was fast 
 asleep again. 
 
 They went over the bridge and up the mountain, 
 but again they found two roads and did not know 
 which one to take. A little field mouse peeped through 
 
 89 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 the leaves and grass, so they asked him, " Do you 
 know where the tongue-cut sparrow went ? " 
 
 " Yes. Down the mountain and through the woods," 
 said the field mouse. 
 
 Down the mountain and through the woods they 
 went, and at last came to the home of their little 
 friend. 
 
 When he saw them coming the poor little sparrow 
 was very happy indeed. He and his wife and children 
 all came and bowed their heads down to the ground 
 to show their respect. Then the sparrow rose and 
 led the old man and the old woman into the house, 
 while his wife and children hastened to bring them 
 boiled rice, fish, cress, and sak. 
 
 After they had feasted the sparrow wished to please 
 them still more, so he danced for them what is called 
 the " sparrow dance." 
 
 When the sun began to sink the old man and woman 
 started home. The sparrow brought out two baskets. 
 "I would like to give you one of these," he said. 
 "Which will you take?" One basket was large and 
 looked very full, while the other one seemed very 
 small and light. The old people thought they would 
 not take the large basket, for that might have all the 
 sparrow's treasure in it, so they said, " The way is 
 long and we are very old, so please let us take the 
 smaller one." 
 
 They took it and walked home over the mountain 
 and across the bridge, happy and contented. 
 
 When they reached their own home they decided to 
 open the basket and see what the sparrow had given 
 them. Within the basket they found many rolls of 
 silk and piles of gold, enough to make them rich, so 
 they were more grateful than ever to the sparrow. 
 
 90 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 The cross old woman who had cut the sparrow's 
 tongue was peering in through the screen when they 
 opened their basket. She saw the rolls of silk and 
 piles of gold, and planned how she might get some 
 for herself. 
 
 The next morning she went to the kind woman and 
 said, " I am so sorry that I cut the tongue of your 
 sparrow. Please tell me the way to his home so 
 that I may go to him and tell him I am sorry." 
 
 The kind woman told her the way and she set out. 
 She went across the bridge, over the mountain, and 
 through the woods. At last she came to the home of 
 the little sparrow. 
 
 He was not so glad to see this old woman, yet he 
 was very kind to her and did everything to make her 
 feel welcome. They made a feast for her, and when 
 she started home the sparrow brought out two bas- 
 kets as before. Of course the woman chose the large 
 basket, for she thought that would have even more 
 wealth than the other one. 
 
 It was very heavy, and caught on the trees as she 
 was going through the wood. She could hardly pull 
 it up the mountain with her, and she was all out of 
 breath when she reached the top. She did not get 
 to the bridge until it was dark. Then she was so 
 afraid of dropping the basket into the river that she 
 scarcely dared to step. 
 
 When at last she reached home she was so tired 
 that she was half dead, but she pulled the screens 
 close shut, so that no one could look in, and opened 
 her treasure. 
 
 Treasure indeed I A whole swarm of horrible crea- 
 tures burst from the basket the moment she opened 
 it. They stung her and bit her, they pushed her and 
 
 91 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 pulled her, they scratched her and laughed at her 
 screams. 
 
 At last she crawled to the edge of the room and 
 slid aside the screen to get away from the pests. The 
 moment the door was opened they swooped down upon 
 her, picked her up, and flew away with her. Since 
 then nothing has ever been heard of the old woman. 
 
 THE WHITE HARE AND THE CROCODILES 1 
 FBOM OZAKI'S "THE JAPANESE FAIRY BOOK" 
 
 LONG, long ago, when all the animals could talk, 
 there lived in the province of Inaba in Japan, a little 
 white hare. His home was on the island of Oki, and 
 just across the sea was the mainland of Inaba. 
 
 Now the hare wanted very much to cross over to 
 Inaba. Day after day he would go out and sit on 
 the shore and look longingly over the water in the 
 direction of Inaba, and day after day he hoped to 
 find some way of getting across. 
 
 One day as usual, the hare was standing on the 
 beach, looking towards the mainland across the water, 
 when he saw a great crocodile swimming near the 
 island. 
 
 " This is very lucky ! " thought the hare. " Now I 
 shall be able to get my wish. I will ask the crocodile 
 to carry me across the sea! " 
 
 But he was doubtful whether the crocodile would 
 consent to do what he asked, so he thought instead of 
 asking a favor he would try to get what he wanted 
 by a trick. 
 
 1 Copyright, E. P. DUTTON & Co. Used by permission. 
 92 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 So with a loud voice he called to the crocodile, and 
 said: 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Crocodile, is n't it a lovely day ? " 
 
 The crocodile, who had come out all by itself that 
 day to enjoy the bright sunshine, was just beginning 
 to feel a bit lonely when the hare's cheerful greeting 
 broke the silence. The crocodile swam nearer the 
 shore, very pleased to hear someone speak. 
 
 " I wonder who it was that spoke to me just now ! 
 Was it you, Mr Hare? You must be very lonely all 
 by yourself! " 
 
 " Oh* no, I am not at all lonely," said the hare, 
 "but as it was such a fine day I came out here to 
 enjoy myself. Won't you stop and play with me a 
 little while?" 
 
 The crocodile came out of the sea and sat on the 
 shore, and the two played together for some time. 
 Then the hare said: 
 
 " Mr. Crocodile, you live in the sea and I live on 
 this island, and we do not often meet, so I know very 
 little about you. Tell me, do you think the number of 
 your company is greater than mine ? " 
 
 "Of course there are more crocodiles than hares," 
 answered the crocodile. " Can you not see that for 
 yourself? You live on this small island, while I live 
 in the sea, which spreads through all parts of the 
 world; so if I call together all the crocodiles who 
 dwell in the sea you hares will be as nothing com- 
 pared to us! " The crocodile was very conceited. 
 
 The hare, who meant to play a trick on the croco- 
 dile, said: 
 
 " Do you think it possible for you to call up enough 
 crocodiles to form a line from this island across the 
 sea to Inaba ? " 
 
 93 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 The crocodile thought for a moment, and then 
 answered : 
 
 " Of course it is possible." 
 
 "Then do try," said the artful hare, "and I will 
 count the number from here! " 
 
 The crocodile, who was very simple-minded, and 
 who hadn't the least idea that the hare intended to 
 play a trick on him, agreed to do what the hare asked, 
 and said: 
 
 " Wait a little while I go back into the sea and call 
 my company together! " 
 
 The crocodile plunged into the sea and was gone 
 for some time. The hare, meanwhile, waited patiently 
 on the shore. At last the crocodile appeared, bringing 
 with him a large number of other crocodiles. 
 
 " Look, Mr. Hare ! " said the crocodile, " it is noth- 
 ing for my friends to form a line between here and 
 Inaba. There are enough crocodiles to stretch from 
 here even as far as China or India. Did you ever see 
 so many crocodiles ? " 
 
 Then the whole company of crocodiles arranged 
 themselves in the water so as to form a bridge between 
 the island of Oki and the mainland of Inaba. When 
 the hare saw the bridge of crocodiles, he said: 
 
 " How splendid ! I did not believe this was pos- 
 sible. Now let me count you all! To do this, how- 
 ever, with your permission, I must walk over on your 
 backs to the other side, so please be so good as not 
 to move, or else I shall fall into the sea and be 
 drowned! " 
 
 So the hare hopped off the island on to the strange 
 bridge of crocodiles, counting as he jumped from one 
 crocodile's back to the other: 
 
 "Please keep quite still, or I shall not be able to 
 
 94 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 count. One, two, tliree, four, five, six, seven, eight, 
 nine " 
 
 Thus the cunning hare walked right across to the 
 mainland of Inaba. Not content with getting his wish, 
 he began to jeer at the crocodiles instead of thank- 
 ing them and said, as he leapt off the last one's 
 back: 
 
 "Oh! you stupid crocodiles, now I have done with 
 you! " 
 
 And he was just about to run away as fast as he 
 could. But he did not escape so easily, for as soon 
 as the crocodiles understood that this was a trick 
 played upon them by the hare so as to enable him to 
 cross the sea, and that the hare was now laughing 
 at them for their stupidity, they became furiously 
 angry and made up their minds to take revenge. So 
 some of them ran after the hare and caught him. 
 Then all surrounded the poor little animal and pulled 
 out all his fur. He cried out loudly and entreated 
 them to spare him, but with each tuft of fur they 
 pulled out, they said: 
 
 "Serve you right! " 
 
 When the crocodiles had pulled out the last bit of 
 fur, they threw the poor hare on the beach, and all 
 swam away laughing at what they had done. 
 
 The hare was now in a pitiful plight, all his beau- 
 tiful white fur had been pulled out, and his bare 
 little body was quivering with pain and bleeding all 
 over. He could hardly move, and all he could do was 
 to lie on the beach quite helpless and weep over the 
 misfortune that had befallen him. Notwithstand- 
 ing that it was his own fault that had brought all 
 this misery and suffering upon the white hare of 
 Inaba, anyone seeing the poor little creature could 
 
 95 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 not help feeling sorry for him in his sad condition, 
 for the crocodiles had been very cruel in their 
 revenge. 
 
 Just at this time a number of men, who looked like 
 kings' sons, happened to pass by, and seeing the hare 
 lying on the beach crying, stopped and asked what was 
 the matter. 
 
 The hare lifted up his head from between his paws, 
 and answered them, saying: 
 
 " I had a fight with some crocodiles, but I was 
 beaten, and they pulled out all my fur and left me 
 to suffer here that is why I am crying." 
 
 Now one of these young men had a bad and spiteful 
 disposition. But he feigned kindness, and said to the 
 hare: 
 
 " I feel very sorry for you. If you will only try it, 
 I know of a remedy which will cure your sore body. 
 Go and bathe yourself in the sea, and then come and 
 sit in the wind. This will make your fur grow again, 
 and you will be just as you were before." 
 
 Then all the young men passed on. The hare was 
 very pleased, thinking that he had found a cure. He 
 went and bathed in the sea and then came out and 
 sat where the wind could blow upon him. 
 
 But as the wind blew and dried him, his skin be- 
 came drawn and hardened, and the salt increased the 
 pain so much that he rolled on the sand in his agony 
 and cried aloud. 
 
 Just then another king's son passed by, carrying a 
 great bag on his back. He saw the hare, and stopped 
 and asked why he was crying so loudly. 
 
 But the poor hare, remembering that he had been 
 deceived by one very like the man who now spoke to 
 him, did not answer, but continued to cry, 
 
 96 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 But this man had a kind heart, and looked at the 
 hare very pityingly, and said: 
 
 " You poor thing! I see that your fur is all pulled 
 out and that your skin is quite bare. Who can have 
 treated you so cruelly ? " 
 
 When the hare heard these kind words he felt 
 very grateful to the man, and encouraged by his gentle 
 manner the hare told him all that had befallen him. 
 The little animal hid nothing from his friend, but told 
 him frankly how he had played a trick on the croco- 
 diles and how he had come across the bridge they 
 had made, thinking that he wished to count their 
 number; how he had jeered at them for their stupid- 
 ity, and then how the crocodiles had revenged them- 
 selves on him. Then he went on to say how he had 
 been deceived by a party of men who looked very like 
 his kind friend; and the hare ended his long tale of 
 woe by begging the man to give him some medicine 
 that would cure him and make his fur grow again. 
 
 When the hare had finished his story, the man was 
 full of pity towards him, and said: 
 
 " I am very sorry for all you have suffered, but 
 remember, it was only the consequence of the deceit 
 you practised on the crocodiles." 
 
 " I know," answered the sorrowful hare, " but I have 
 repented and made up my mind never to use deceit 
 again, so I beg you to show me how I may cure my 
 sore body and make the fur grow again." 
 
 " Then I will tell you of a good remedy," said the 
 man. " First go and bathe well in that pond over 
 there and try to wash all the salt from your body. 
 Then pick some of those kaba flowers that are grow- 
 ing near the edge of the water, spread them on the 
 ground and roll yourself on them. If you do this the 
 
 97 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 pollen will cause your fur to grow again, and you will 
 be quite well in a little while." 
 
 The hare was very glad to be told what to do so 
 kindly. He crawled to the pond pointed out to him, 
 bathed well in it, and then picked the kaba flowers 
 growing near the water, and rolled himself on them. 
 
 To his amazement, even while he was doing this, he 
 saw his nice white fur growing again, the pain ceased, 
 and he felt just as he had done before all his mis- 
 fortunes. 
 
 The hare was overjoyed at his quick recovery, and 
 went hopping joyfully towards the young man who 
 had so helped him, and kneeling down at his feet, 
 said: 
 
 " I cannot express my thanks for all you have done 
 for me! It is my earnest wish to do something for 
 you in return. Please tell me who you are ? " 
 
 "I am no king's son, as you think me. I am a 
 fairy, and my name is Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto," an- 
 swered the man, " and those beings who passed here 
 before me are my brothers. They have heard of a 
 beautiful princess called Yakami who lives in this 
 province of Inaba, and they are on their way to find 
 her and to ask her to marry one of them. But on 
 this expedition, I am only an attendant, so I am 
 walking behind them with this great bag on my 
 back." 
 
 The hare humbled himself before this great fairy 
 Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto, whom many in that part of 
 the land worshipped as a god. 
 
 " Oh, I did not know that you were Okuni-nushi- 
 no-Mikoto. How kind you have been to me! It is 
 impossible to believe that that unkind fellow who sent 
 me to bathe in the sea is one of your brothers. I am 
 quite sure that the Princess whom your brothers 
 
 98 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 have gone to seek will refuse to be the bride of any 
 of them, and will prefer you for your goodness of 
 heart. I am quite sure that you will win her heart 
 without intending to do so, and she will ask to be 
 your bride." 
 
 Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto took no notice of what the 
 hare said, but bidding the little animal good-bye, 
 went on his way quickly, and soon overtook hia 
 brothers. He found them just entering the Prin- 
 cess's gate. 
 
 Just as the hare had said, the Princess could not 
 be persuaded to become the bride of any of the 
 brothers, but when she looked at the kind brother's 
 face she went straight up to him and said: 
 
 " To you I give myself." And so they were married. 
 
 This is the end of the story. Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto 
 is worshipped by the people in some parts of Japan, 
 as a god, and the hare has become famous as " The 
 White Hare of Inaba." But what became of the 
 crocodiles nobody knows. 
 
 THE BOASTFUL BAMBOO 1 
 
 FBOM ROULET'S "JAPANESE FOLK STORIES AND 
 FAIRY TALES " 
 
 BENEATH the gleaming snows of Fuji lay a great 
 
 forest. There many giant trees grew, the fir, the pine, 
 
 the graceful bamboo, and the camellia trees. The 
 
 balmy azaleas and the crinkled iris bloomed in the 
 
 shade. The blue heavens were fleecy with snowy 
 
 clouds, and gentle zephyrs caressed the blossoms and 
 
 made them bow like worshippers before a shrine. 
 
 Side by side there grew two bamboo trees. One 
 
 1 Copyright, AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY. Used by permission. 
 
 99 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 of these was tall, strong, and stately; and he 
 reared his haughty head to heaven and bowed not to 
 the North Wind as he passed. The other was a 
 slender bamboo, so slight and delicate that it swayed 
 with every breeze, and moaned with fright when a 
 storm swept down the wrath of the mountain. 
 
 The children loved the graceful bamboo, and named 
 her Silver Mist; but the big bamboo looked down 
 upon her with scorn. 
 
 " You bend and bow to every breeze. Have you 
 no pride? It is not fitting that a bamboo should 
 show fear. I stand straight and strong and bow to 
 no one," he said. 
 
 " You are going to be of some great use in the 
 world, I am sure," said the humble bamboo. " I am 
 only fit to trim the houses for the New Year's 
 feast. But you will become a beam in some great 
 house or, maybe, even in a palace." 
 
 " Do you think I shall be only that," cried the 
 boastful bamboo with a scornful laugh. " I am 
 indeed intended for something great. I think I shall 
 be chosen for the mast of a mighty ship. Then will 
 the wings of the ship swell with the breeze, and it 
 will fly over the ocean, and I shall see strange lands 
 and new peoples. All men will behold me and will 
 say, ' See the stately bamboo which graces yonder 
 junk! ' As for you, poor timorous one, you are not 
 even brave enough to deck the New Year's feast. 
 You will be used to make mats for people to tread 
 under foot." 
 
 The slim little bamboo did not answer back. She 
 only bent her head and cried bitterly. The flowers 
 felt sorry for her and breathed their soft perfume 
 about her to comfort her. 
 
 100 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 As the days went by the slim bamboo grew pret- 
 tier, and the children loved her more and more. 
 They played beneath her waving branches, they made 
 flower chains and garlands and hung them from her 
 boughs. 
 
 " See," they cried in childish glee. " This is the 
 Lady Silver Mist. Let us tie a flower obi around her 
 slender waist " ; and they bound a girdle of flowers 
 about her. 
 
 One day there came woodmen to the forest, and 
 they chopped down many of the trees, trampling the 
 grass and the flowers under foot. When they saw 
 the big bamboo they said: 
 
 " Here is a tall straight tree. It will do for a 
 mast. We will cut it first." 
 
 " Good-bye," said the boastful bamboo to the slen- 
 der one. " I am going to see the world and do great 
 things. Good-bye, child, I hope you will not be used 
 to make rain coats. When I am on the bright and 
 beautiful sea I shall remember and pity you! " 
 
 " Good-bye," sighed his little comrade. " Good for- 
 tune go with you." 
 
 The big bamboo was cut down, and the hillside 
 saw him no more. When, however, the woodmen came 
 to the little tree, they smiled to see it so beautifully 
 garlanded with flowers and they said, " This little tree 
 has friends." 
 
 Then the children took courage and ran to the 
 woodcutters and cried, " Pray do not cut down our 
 tree! In all the forest we love it best. It is the 
 Lady Silver Mist and it has been our playmate for 
 many moons." 
 
 " You must dig it up and bear it away if you wish 
 to save its life," said the chief woodman. " We are 
 
 101 
 
STORY -TELLING 
 
 sent to this forest to clear it, so that a grand palace 
 may be built upon the hillside where all is so fair 
 and beautiful." 
 
 " Gladly will we root her up and take her to our 
 home," answered the eldest child.; and very care- 
 fully they dug her up, not destroying even a single 
 root, for the woodman helped them, so kind was he 
 and of a good heart. 
 
 They placed the slim bamboo in a lovely garden 
 beside the sea, and she grew fair and stately and 
 was happy. All around was calm and beautiful. 
 The sea waves lapped the coral strand. By day, the 
 sun shone on the tawny sands and turned them to 
 gold; the sky was blue as a turquoise, and pearly 
 clouds floated across it like shadowy angel's wings. 
 By night the moon goddess rose in silvery beauty and 
 bathed the garden in light; it kissed the leaves of 
 the bamboo, until the dew sparkled upon them like 
 diamonds in a setting of silver. 
 
 Fragrant flowers bloomed at the bamboo's feet: 
 irises from their meadow home, azaleas, rare lotus 
 lilies, and a fringe of purple wistaria wafting its 
 breath in friendship upon her. Here she grew in 
 strength and grace. All things were her friends, for 
 she gave to all of her sweetness; and to the winds 
 she bowed her head. 
 
 " Great North Wind," she said gently, " how thou 
 art strong! " And to the South Wind she said, 
 " How sweet and kind thou art! " To the flowers she 
 gave shade and to the children, who still loved her, 
 companionship. 
 
 One night she shivered and bowed her head very, 
 very low, for there came a storm from the sea, a 
 storm so fierce and wild as to frighten her very 
 
 102 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 soul. The waves of the sea tossed the white foam 
 heavenward; they rose up in giant walls of fury 
 until ships sunk in the troughs between and were 
 dashed to pieces. The beach was strewn with 
 wrecks, and when daylight came, Lady Silver Mist 
 gazed upon the scene. She recognized her old friend, 
 the great bamboo, prostrate upon the ground, while 
 all around him lay bits of the junk over which he 
 had reared his haughty head. 
 
 " Alas ! my poor friend ! " she cried. " What a sad 
 fate is yours! Would that I could aid you! " 
 
 " No one can help me, " he replied with a moan. 
 " Would that I had been made into a common coolie 
 pole with which to push a country junk! Then 
 might I have been useful for many years! No, my 
 heart is broken, Silver Mist. Farewell." 
 
 He gave a long shuddering sigh and spoke no more. 
 Soon some men, who came to clear up the wreckage, 
 chopped the mast up for firewood; and that was the 
 end of the boastful bamboo. 
 
 THE PRINCESS MOONBEAM 1 
 
 FROM ROULET'S " JAPANESE FOLK STORIES AND 
 FAIRY TALES" 
 
 A WOODMAN once dwelt with his wife at the edge of 
 the forest, under the shadow of the Honorable Moun- 
 tain. The two were industrious and good, but though 
 they loved each other they were not happy. No- 
 children had come to bless them and this the wife 
 mourned deeply. 
 
 The husband pitied her and treated her very kindly, 
 
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STORY TELLING 
 
 yet still she was sad. As she gazed upon the snows 
 of Fujiyama her heart swelled within her and she 
 prostrated herself and said, " Fuji no yama, Hon- 
 orable Mountain, my heart is heavy because no 
 childish arms encircle my neck, no little head nestles 
 in my bosom. From thy eternal purity send some 
 little white soul to comfort me! " 
 
 The Honorable Mountain spoke not; yet as she 
 prayed, lo, from its heights there sparkled and glowed 
 a tiny light. Fitful and gleaming it seemed, yet it 
 had a silver radiance as of the moon. 
 
 The woodman's wife beheld it, and she called to her 
 husband eagerly, " Come hither, I pray you. See 
 the strange light which comes from Fuji San. I 
 seem to see a face smiling at me. It is the face 
 of a little child! " 
 
 Then her husband smiled at her fancy, but, be- 
 cause he loved her, he said indulgently, "I will go 
 and see what it is." 
 
 " I thank you, my lord ; go quickly ! " she replied. 
 
 So quickly he went to the forest, and as he 
 neared a mountain stream, with Fuji gleaming cold 
 and white in the moonlight, he saw the strange light, 
 which seemed to hover and rest upon the branches 
 of a tall bamboo. Hastening thither he found there 
 a moon child, a tiny, fragile, fairy thing, more 
 beautiful than any child he had ever seen. 
 
 " Little creature," he said. " Who are you ? " 
 
 "My name is Princess Moonbeam," she answered 
 sweetly. " My mother is the Moon Lady, and she 
 has sent me to Earth because every moon child must 
 do some good thing, else will its silvery light be- 
 come pale and wan and be of no avail." 
 
 " Little Princess," he said eagerly, " the best of 
 
 104 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 good deeds is to comfort a sad heart. Come home 
 with me and be a child to my wife, who weeps for 
 children. Thus will your beams grow bright." 
 
 " I will go with you," said the little Moonbeam, 
 and, rejoicing greatly, he bore her tenderly to his 
 wife. 
 
 " I bring you a treasure," he said. " The Moon Lady 
 sends you this beam of light to lighten your sad 
 heart." 
 
 Then was his wife much overjoyed, and she took 
 the little creature to her bosom and cared for her. 
 
 Lovelier grew the Moon Child every year and much 
 she rejoiced the hearts of her foster parents. Her 
 hair was like a golden aureole about her face. Her 
 eyes were deep and tender, her cheeks were pale 
 and delicate, and about her there was a subtle and 
 unearthly charm. Every one loved her, even the em- 
 peror's son, who, hunting in the forest, saw her light- 
 ing up the humble cottage with her heavenly light. 
 He loved her dearly and she loved him, but alas! she 
 could not marry him because her life upon earth 
 could be but twenty years. Then she must return to 
 her home in the moon, for so willed her mother the 
 Moon Lady. 
 
 At last the day came when she must go. Her par- 
 ents wept, and could not be consoled; and her lover, 
 who was now the Emperor, could not keep her, al- 
 though he besought High Heaven to spare her. 
 
 Her mother caught her up in a silver moonbeam; 
 and all the way to the moon the little Princess wept 
 silvery tears. As the tears fell from her eyes, lo! 
 they took wings and floated away, looking for the 
 form of her beloved, the Emperor, who might see her 
 no more. 
 
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STORY TELLING 
 
 But the silver-bright tears are seen to this day 
 floating hither and yon about the vales and marshes 
 of fair Nippon. The children chase them with happy 
 cries, and say, " See the fireflies ! How fair they are 1 
 Whence came they ? " 
 
 Then their mothers relate to them the legend and 
 say, " These are the tears of the little Princess, flit- 
 ting to seek her beloved " ; and over all, calm and 
 eternal, smiles the Honorable Mountain. 
 
 THE MIRROR OP MATSUYAMA 
 
 TOLD BY A TEACHES IN JAPAN 
 
 ONCE long, ago in Matsuyama, there lived a father 
 and mother and little girl. They were very happy, 
 for they loved each other dearly. 
 
 One day a very exciting thing happened, when the 
 father came home with the news that the Emperor had 
 sent for him to come to Tokio. The little girl was 
 very glad, because she knew her father would have 
 such interesting things to tell when he came back, and 
 perhaps he would bring her some presents, too. The 
 mother was very proud, because no one had ever been 
 sent for by the Emperor before, and the father was 
 proud too; only he knew how long he would be gone, 
 for there were no trains, and he had no horse, so he 
 must walk all the way there and back. 
 
 At last the day came when the father was to set 
 out, and the mother took the little girl by the hand, 
 and the three of them walked through the village till 
 they came to the path which led up the mountain. 
 They said " Good-bye " and the mother and little girl 
 
 106 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 stood and watched the father till he disappeared up 
 the mountain; then they did just what mothers and 
 little girls have always done, they went home and 
 began to count on their fingers the days before his 
 return. 
 
 At last the days ran away, the very day came when 
 the father was expected, and hand in hand the mother 
 and little girl went to the foot of the mountain where 
 they had said good-bye and waited. By-and-by they 
 caught a glimpse of some one coming through the 
 trees of the forest, and, sure enough, there was the 
 father. 
 
 Oh! how glad the little girl was to see him again, 
 and how happy the mother was to have her husband 
 again! The father brought some presents for the little 
 girl, a slant-eyed dolly, and a queer little canton- 
 flannel monkey that ran up and down a pole when 
 you pulled a string, and, last of all, something which 
 they called a dragon-fly. It did n't look like a dragon- 
 fly, but when you twisted it in your fingers, it spread 
 its wings and flew away like a real dragon-fly. 
 
 As soon as the little girl had looked at all her pres- 
 ents and heard of the wonderful things her father had 
 seen, she ran away to play. 
 
 When they were alone, the father took out a white 
 box and handed it to his wife. " Here is a present 
 for you, my dear," he said. 
 
 His wife opened the box and looked in. There was 
 a round shining silver thing, with beautiful carved 
 fruit and flowers on it, and when she turned it over, 
 it was smooth and shining like a pool of water. 
 
 She leaned over to look at it more closely and she 
 exclaimed, " Oh ! what a beautiful picture." Then 
 her eyes grew large with wonder. " How strange/' 
 
 107 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 she cried, "her dress is blue like mine, and her eyes 
 are like mine; and when I talk she seems to be talk- 
 ing too! " 
 
 Then her husband laughed. " That 's a mirror," he 
 said. "All the ladies in Tokio have them, and that 
 is yourself you are looking at." 
 
 She took the box to her room, and put it away, but 
 ever she found herself going to it, and looking in, for 
 she loved to see how her eyes shone and how red her 
 lips were. 
 
 One day she said to herself, " Why should I look so 
 much at myself? Surely I 'm no more beautiful than 
 many other women. I will put the mirror away and 
 look at it only once every year to see if my face is 
 full of as much joy as it has been." 
 
 So she put the mirror away, and only once in the 
 year did she open the box and look at her face. 
 
 The years passed by, and the little girl grew from 
 a girl to a woman and put away her toys and 
 her dolls. As she grew older, she grew every day to 
 look more and more like her mother, until, when 
 she was a woman, she was the very image of her 
 mother. 
 
 Finally, a great sadness came into the home. The 
 mother was taken ill, and though the father and 
 daughter did all they could, they could not bring 
 health to her again. One day she called to her daugh- 
 ter and said, " My dear, I know I am soon going to 
 take the long journey from whence none ever return. 
 I want you to have something which will always re- 
 mind you of me. Go now and bring the white box 
 from my room, and look in." 
 
 The daughter went and found the white box, and 
 when she opened it and looked in, as her mother had 
 
 108 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 done so long before, she cried out, " Oh, mother ! Why, 
 mother, it 'a you ! Not tired and sick as you are now, 
 but young and beautiful as I remember you, when 
 I was a little girl ! " And her mother said, " Yes, 
 that is my face. I want you to open the box and look 
 at my face when I am gone, twice every day. Be sure 
 and bring only smiles, then I will smile back at you, 
 but if you bring tears, then you will see only tears 
 and sadness in my face." 
 
 When the mother had gone, never to return, the 
 daughter remembered her words. 
 
 Twice every day, once when the sky was pink 
 with the rising sun, and once when it set red in the 
 west, she opened the box and looked at the face of 
 her mother. And always she tried to bring nothing 
 but smiles when she opened the box, so her mother's 
 face would smile back at her. 
 
 The version as given in Ozaki's " Japanese 
 Fairy Book" and in Ballard's " Fairy Tales 
 from Far Japan" has an added incident of 
 a stepmother which is not given in the text 
 here. It was not told to the author by the 
 teacher who gave the version just quoted, and 
 it seems likely that it may have been added 
 in some recitals as the incident of the ogre- 
 mother is given in some versions of the " Sleep- 
 ing Beauty." 
 
 The dramatic climax for the story teller 
 certainly is the death of the mother, and the 
 109 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 influence of the mirror in the life of the 
 daughter, as in the text here given. 
 
 THE OLD MAN WHO BROUGHT WITHERED 
 TREES TO LIFE 1 
 
 FROM LORD'S "THE TOUCH OF NATURE" 
 
 LONG, long ago, the Japanese story teller says, a good 
 old man and his wife bought a dog. They had no 
 children, poor old people, so they lavished all their 
 attentions on the dog. The old lady used to say 
 roguishly to her more fortunate neighbors, " I think 
 I can see how people get fond of children if they can't 
 have a dog." The dog got all the dainty bits from 
 their table, and of course he grew as fond of his 
 owners as they were of him. One day they noticed 
 the dog was making a terrible fuss in the little gar- 
 den behind the house, throwing up the dirt with his 
 paws, and working away for dear life, stopping now 
 and then to bark, and then going at the hole he had 
 made in the ground with fresh vigor and a great wag- 
 ging of his tail. They thought he must be after some 
 animal, perhaps a mischievous rat which had been 
 raiding their pantry; so they ran out to help him 
 with hoe and spade. What was their surprise and 
 delight when just a few feet below ground they came 
 across a great chest full of gold and silver and all 
 sorts of precious things. Out of it they gave gener- 
 ous gifts to the poor, and with what was left they 
 bought some fine rice-fields, and soon became very rich. 
 Now in the very next house on the same road there 
 
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 permission. 
 
 110 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 lived a bad old man and his wife; and as soon as 
 they heard the cause of their neighbors' good luck, 
 they borrowed the dog, and after giving him a great 
 feast, led him into their garden by a string; but al- 
 though they patted and petted him, he never offered 
 to dig anywhere, and not a bark or a wag of the tail 
 could they get out of him. He kept his tail between 
 his legs, and made frantic efforts to get away and 
 run back home. Then the old man got angry and 
 beat the dog, who, when he was led around the garden 
 once more, stopped by a bush and began to sniff. The 
 old couple thought treasure must surely be hidden 
 there, and began to dig; but all they found was an 
 old bone. Then they killed the dog and buried him 
 under a pine-tree. 
 
 Well, the days went on, and the dog did not come 
 home; and by-and-by the wicked old man had to 
 tell what had happened. Then the dog's master went 
 to the grave and strewed flowers on it, and burned 
 incense over it, and set a tray full of food near it 
 for the dog's spirit to take on his journey to the 
 spirit land, where all good dogs go when they die, and 
 went home feeling very lonely and sad; for he loved 
 the dog and missed him. 
 
 That night the dog appeared to him in a dream and 
 told him to cut down the pine-tree and make from the 
 trunk near the roots a mortar and pestle, and to 
 think of them as- if they were his lost pet. Now of 
 course the wicked old man, having killed the dog, did 
 not dare to refuse the request of his neighbor; so 
 the tree was cut down, and the mortar and pestle 
 made. 
 
 It turned out to be a wonderful mortar; for when- 
 ever the good old man ground his rice in it, the rice 
 
 111 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 was changed into jewels. Then the neighbors came 
 to borrow the mortar; now of course it was foolish 
 to lend it to them, after what had happened to the 
 dog. But the old man was perfectly willing that 
 every one should share in his good fortune. No 
 sooner did the bad-hearted neighbors put rice into the 
 mortar, however, than the rice became dirt. In a 
 rage they threw mortar and pestle into the fire and 
 burned them up. 
 
 The simple-souled old owner of the mortar won- 
 dered why it was not returned, until one night the 
 dog again appeared in a dream, and after revealing 
 the meanness and treachery of the old couple next 
 door, told the good old man to gather up the ashes of 
 the mortar, for they were very precious. Just a pinch 
 of them thrown in the air among the branches of a 
 withered tree would cause it to revive and break out 
 into full blossom. So the old man, grieving over the 
 loss of his treasure, ran to his neighbors' house and 
 asked for the ashes, which they gave him willingly, 
 congratulating themselves that they had escaped pun- 
 ishment, and laughing at the old man's foolishness. 
 
 When the old man got home, he climbed up into a 
 withered cherry-tree in his garden and threw a pinch 
 of the precious ashes into the air. Sure enough, 
 every twig broke out into blossom, and the air was 
 sweet with their fragrance. Then, taking the ashes, 
 the old man, intent on giving pleasure to other people 
 also, journeyed through the country, and everywhere 
 he went the withered cherry-trees and plum-trees and 
 peach-trees blossomed as no trees ever blossomed be- 
 fore; and all the land was filled with light and color. 
 News of the marvel soon reached the prince, who sent 
 for the old man, and after witnessing in the palace 
 
 112 
 
 1 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 gardens an exhibition of his skill, gave him a present 
 of fine silks and thanked him heartily for so beauti- 
 fying the land. 
 
 Now the bad neighbor, who had not cared at all 
 about what his old acquaintance had been doing be- 
 fore, the moment he heard of the prince's reward, 
 gathered up some of the ashes of the mortar that 
 remained where it had been burnt, and hastening to 
 the castle town, proclaimed that he also could bring 
 dead trees to life. But when he climbed up in a 
 dead plum-tree and threw the ashes into the air, not 
 a blossom appeared; but the ashes flew into the 
 prince's eyes. Then the servants seized the old man 
 and beat him and threw him out of the palace garden. 
 
 So the dog brought joy to his friends, confusion to 
 his foes, and beauty to the whole country-side. 
 
 THE STONE-CUTTER 1 
 
 FROM LANG'S "CRIMSON FAIRY BOOK" 
 
 ONCE upon a time there lived a stone-cutter who 
 went every day to a great rock in the side of a big 
 mountain and cut out slabs for gravestones or for 
 houses. He understood very well the kinds of stones 
 wanted for the different purposes, and as he was a 
 careful workman he had plenty of customers. For a 
 long time he was quite happy and contented, and 
 asked for nothing better than what he had. 
 
 Now in the mountains dwelt a spirit which now 
 and then appeared to men, and helped them in many 
 ways to become rich and prosperous. The stone- 
 cutter, however, had never seen this spirit, and only 
 shook his head, with an unbelieving air, when any- 
 
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STORY TELLING 
 
 one spoke of it. But a time was coming when he 
 learned to change his opinion. 
 
 One day the stone-cutter carried a gravestone to 
 the house of a rich man, and saw there all sorts of 
 beautiful things, of which he had never even dreamed. 
 Suddenly his daily work seemed to grow harder and 
 heavier, and he said to himself, " Oh, if I were only 
 a rich man, and could sleep in a bed with silken cur- 
 tains and golden tassels, how happy I should be! " 
 
 And a voice answered him, " Your wish is heard ; 
 a rich man you shall be! " 
 
 At the sound of the voice the stone-cutter looked 
 round, but could see nobody. He thought it was all 
 his fancy, and picked up his tools and went home, for 
 he did not feel inclined to do any more work that 
 day. But when he reached the little house where he 
 lived, he stood still with amazement ; for instead of 
 his wooden hut was a stately palace filled with splen- 
 did furniture, and most splendid of all was the bed, 
 in every respect like the one he had envied. He was 
 nearly beside himself with joy, and in his new life 
 the old one was soon forgotten. 
 
 It was now the beginning of summer, and each day 
 the sun blazed more fiercely. One morning the heat 
 was so great that the stone-cutter could scarcely 
 breathe, and he determined he would stop at home 
 till the evening. He was rather dull, for he had never 
 learned how to amuse himself, and was peeping 
 through the closed blinds to see what was going on 
 in the street, when a little carriage passed by, drawn 
 by servants dressed in blue and silver. In the car- 
 riage sat a prince, and over his head a golden um- 
 brella was held, to protect him from the sun's rays. 
 
 " Oh, if I were only a prince! " said the stone- 
 
 114 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 cutter to himself, as the carriage vanished around the 
 corner. " Oh, if I were only a prince, and could go 
 in such a carriage and have a golden umbrella held 
 over me, how happy I should be! " 
 
 And the voice of the mountain spirit answered, 
 " Your wish is heard ; a prince you shall be." 
 
 And a prince he was. Before his carriage rode one 
 company of men and another behind it; servants 
 dressed in scarlet and gold bore him along; the cov- 
 eted umbrella was held over his head; everything 
 heart could desire was his. But yet it was not 
 enough. He looked round still for something to wish 
 for, and when he saw that in spite of the water he 
 poured on his grass the rays of the sun scorched it, 
 and that in spite of the umbrella held over his head 
 each day his face grew browner and browner, he cried 
 in his anger, " The sun is mightier than I ; oh, if I 
 were only the sun! " 
 
 And the mountain spirit answered, " Your wish is 
 heard; the sun you shall be." 
 
 And the sun he was, and he felt himself proud in 
 his power. He shot his beams above and below, on 
 earth and in heaven; and he burnt up the grass in 
 the fields and scorched the faces of princes as well 
 as of poorer folk. But in a short time he began to 
 grow tired of his might, for there seemed nothing 
 left for him to do. Discontent once more filled his 
 soul, and when a cloud covered his face, and hid the 
 earth from him, he cried in his anger, " Does the 
 cloud hold captive my rays, and is it mightier than 
 I ? Oh, that I were a cloud and mightier than any ! " 
 
 And the mountain spirit answered : " Your wish ia 
 heard; a cloud you shall be! " 
 
 And a cloud he was, and lay between the sun and 
 
 115 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 the earth. He caught the sun's beams and held 
 them, and to his joy the earth grew green again 
 and flowers blossomed. But that was not enough for 
 him, and for days and weeks he poured forth rain 
 till the rivers overflowed their banks and the crops 
 of rice stood in water. Towns and villages were de- 
 stroyed by the power of the rain, only the great 
 rock on the mountain side remained unmoved. The 
 cloud was amazed at the sight, and cried in wonder, 
 " Is the rock, then, mightier than I ? Oh, if I were 
 only the rock! " 
 
 And the mountain spirit answered: "Your wish 
 is heard; the rock you shall be! " 
 
 And the rock he was, and gloried in his power. 
 Proudly he stood, and neither the heat of the sun 
 nor the force of the rain could move him. " This is 
 better than all! " he said to himself. But one day 
 he heard a strange noise at his feet, and when he 
 looked down to see what it could be, he saw a stone- 
 cutter driving tools into his surface. Even while he 
 looked a trembling feeling ran all through him, and 
 a great block broke off and fell upon the ground. 
 Then he cried in his wrath, " Is a mere child of earth 
 mightier than a rock? Oh, if I were only a man! " 
 
 And the mountain spirit answered : " Your wish is 
 heard. A man once more you shall be! " 
 
 And a man he was, and in the sweat of his brow 
 he toiled again at his trade of stone-cutting. His 
 bed was hard and his food scanty, but he had learned 
 to be satisfied with it, and did not long to be some- 
 thing or somebody else. And as he never asked for 
 things he had not got, or desired to be greater or 
 mightier than other people, he was happy at last, and 
 heard the voice of the mountain spirit no longer. 
 116 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 A PROGRAM OF SPRING STORIES 
 
 WHAT WAS HEB NAME? 
 
 THE WOODPECKEB 
 
 How THE ROBIN'S BBEAST BECAME RED 
 
 LITTLE IDA'S FLO WEBS 
 
 OLD PIPES AND THE DBYAD 
 
 THE MONK AND THE BIBD 
 
 WHAT WAS HER NAME? 1 
 FBOM RICHABDS' " FIVE MINUTE STOBIES " 
 
 " WAKE UP ! " said an old gentleman, dressed in 
 brown and white, as he gently shook the shoulder of 
 a young lady in green, who was lying sound asleep 
 under the trees. " Wake up, ma'am ! it is your 
 watch now, and time for me to take myself off." 
 The young lady stirred a very little, and opened one 
 of her eyes the least little bit. "Who are you?" 
 she said drowsily. " What is your name ? " 
 
 "My name is Winter," replied the old man. 
 "What is yours?" 
 
 " I have not the faintest idea," said the lady, clos- 
 ing her eyes again. 
 
 " Humph ! " growled the old man, " a pretty per- 
 son you are to take my place! Well, good-day, 
 Madam Sleepyhead, and good luck to you! " 
 
 And off he stumped over the dead leaves, which 
 crackled and rustled beneath his feet. As soon as 
 he was gone, the young lady in green opened her 
 eyes in good earnest and looked about her. " Madam 
 Sleepyhead, indeed ! " she reechoed indignantly. " I 
 
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STORY TELLING 
 
 am sure that is not my name, anyhow. The question 
 is, What is it?" 
 
 She looked about her again, but nothing was to be 
 seen save the bare branches of the trees, and the dead, 
 brown leaves and dry moss underfoot. 
 
 " Trees, do you happen to know what my name 
 is?" she asked. The trees shook their heads. "No, 
 ma'am," they said, "we do not know; but perhaps 
 when the Wind comes, he will be able to give you 
 some information." The girl shivered a little, and 
 drew her green mantle about her and waited. 
 
 By-and-by the Wind came blustering along. He 
 caught the trees by their branches, and shook them 
 in rough friendly greeting. 
 
 "Well, boys!" he shouted, "Old Winter is gone, 
 is he? I wish you joy of his departure! But where 
 is the lady who was coming to take his place ? " 
 
 " She is here," answered the trees, " sitting on the 
 ground; but she does not know her own name, which 
 seems to trouble her." 
 
 "Ho! ho!" roared the Wind. "Not know her 
 own name? That is news, indeed! And here she 
 has been sleeping, while all the world has been look- 
 ing for her, and calling her, and wondering where 
 upon earth she was. Come, young lady," he added, 
 addressing the girl with rough courtesy, " I will show 
 you the way to your dressing-room, which has been 
 ready and waiting for you for a fortnight and more." 
 
 So he led the way through the forest, and the girl 
 followed, rubbing her pretty, sleepy eyes, and drag- 
 ging her mantle behind her. 
 
 Now it was a very singular thing that whatever the 
 green mantle touched instantly turned green itself. 
 The brown moss put out little tufts of emerald velvet ; 
 
 118 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 fresh shoots came pushing up from the dead, dry 
 grass; and even the shrubs and twigs against which 
 the edges of the garment brushed broke out with tiny 
 swelling buds, all ready to open into leaves. 
 
 By-and-by the Wind paused and pushed aside the 
 branches, which made a close screen before him. 
 
 " Here is your dressing-room, young madam," he 
 said, with a low bow ; " be pleased to enter it, and 
 you will find all things in readiness. But let me 
 entreat you to make your toilet speedily, for all the 
 world is waiting for you." 
 
 Greatly wondering, the young girl passed through 
 the screen of branches, and found herself in a most 
 marvellous place. 
 
 The ground was carpeted with pine-needles, soft 
 and thick and brown. The pine-trees made a dense 
 green wall around, and as the wind passed softly 
 through the boughs, the air was sweet with their 
 spicy fragrance. On the ground were piled great 
 heaps of buds, all ready to blossom, violets, anem- 
 ones, hepaticas, blood-root, while from under a huge 
 pile of brown leaves peeped the pale pink buds of the 
 Mayflower. 
 
 The young girl in the green mantle looked wonder- 
 ingly at all these things. "How strange! " she said. 
 "They are all asleep, and waiting for someone to 
 waken them. Perhaps if I do it, they will tell me in 
 return what my name is." 
 
 She shook the buds lightly, and lo! every blossom 
 opened its eyes and raised its head, and said, " Wel- 
 come, gracious lady! Welcome! We have looked for 
 you long, long! " 
 
 The young girl, in delight, took the lovely blos- 
 soms, rosy and purple, golden and white, and twined 
 
 119 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 them in her fair locks, and hung them in garlands 
 round her white neck; and still they were opening 
 by thousands, till the pine-tree hollow was filled with 
 them. 
 
 Presently the girl spied a beautiful carved casket, 
 which had been hidden under a pile of spicy leaves, 
 and from inside of it came a rustling sound, the 
 softest sound that was ever heard. 
 
 She lifted the lid, and out flew a cloud of butter- 
 flies. Rainbow-tinted, softly, glitteringly, gayly flut- 
 tering, out they flew by thousands and thousands, 
 and hovered about the maiden's head; and the soft 
 sound of their wings, which mortal ears are too dull 
 to hear, seemed to say, " Welcome ! Welcome ! " 
 
 At the same moment a great flock of beautiful birds 
 came flying, and lighted on the branches all around, 
 and they, too, sang, " Welcome ! Welcome ! " 
 
 The maiden clasped her hands and cried, " Why are 
 you all so glad to see me? I feel I know that 
 you are all mine, and I am yours; but how is it? 
 Who am I ? What is my name ? " 
 
 And buds and flowers and rainbow-hued butter- 
 flies and sombre pine-trees all answered in joyous 
 chorus, "Spring! the beautiful, the long expected! 
 Hail to the maiden Spring! " 
 
 THE WOODPECKER 
 FBOM AN OLD LEGEND 
 
 ONCE upon a time, longer than long ago, when the 
 good St. Peter walked about the earth looking to see 
 how men lived, he came one day to the door of a 
 cottage where an old woman was baking cakes. 
 
 120 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 She was neat and tidy, with a red cap on her head, 
 a black silk dress, and a white apron which she tied 
 behind in a great white bow. 
 
 She was baking spice cakes, with raisins and cur- 
 rants in them, and they smelled wonderfully good as 
 St. Peter stopped at the door and asked for something 
 to eat. 
 
 " Madam," he said, " I have travelled far and am 
 tired and hungry. Will you give me one of the cakes 
 you are baking ? " 
 
 The old woman looked at the stranger and then 
 at her cakes, but she had lived so long by herself 
 she had grown selfish, and she thought to herself, 
 " They are all too large to give away ; I '11 bake a 
 small one for him." 
 
 So she took a little dough in the spoon and dropped 
 it into the pan, and put the pan in the oven; but 
 when she opened the door and took out the pan, the 
 cake was as large as any she had baked. She took 
 it out and put it on the table with the others, and 
 this time she took just a teaspoonful of dough and 
 put it in the pan to bake. 
 
 When she opened the oven door and looked in, the 
 strangest thing had happened! The cake had grown 
 till it was larger than any of the cakes she had. 
 She couldn't part with such a cake, so she put it 
 on the table with her others. Then she took just a 
 teeny-weeny bit of dough about as big as a pin-head 
 and put it in the pan to bake. When she pulled out 
 the pan and looked at the cake, it was strange be- 
 yond anything that ever happened ! That teeny- 
 weeny bit of dough had grown to be a cake three 
 times as large as any she had. 
 
 When she saw what had happened she couldn't 
 
 121 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 make up her mind to part with it, and she put it 
 away and took out an old dry piece of bread and gave 
 that to St. Peter. 
 
 The good St. Peter took the bread and ate it, and 
 turning to the old woman he said, " I have no money 
 to pay for what you have given me, but the first 
 thing you wish, when I 'm gone, that shall you have," 
 and with that he turned and walked away from the 
 cottage door. 
 
 He looked so old and feeble as he walked away, 
 that the old woman began to be sorry she had given 
 him nothing but the dry bread. 
 
 " I wish I were a bird," she said, " then I J d fly 
 after him and take him a cake, for they do smell 
 good." 
 
 The words were no sooner out of her mouth than 
 a change took place. When the old lady looked down 
 at her hands they had changed to wings, her feet 
 had become claws, and as she glanced at herself in 
 the glass she saw herself a bird. She still had her 
 red cap on her head, her white apron with the bow 
 behind, and the black dress, but bird she was. Then 
 along came the wind, and lifted her up as she stood 
 in the open door, and carried her away over the tops 
 of the houses and out to the woods, and there dropped 
 her to the branch of a tree. 
 
 Any one can see her climbing up and down the trees 
 looking for something to eat; and when they see her, 
 people say, "Oh, there's a red-headed woodpecker! " 
 But we know it's only the little old woman always 
 looking for something to eat. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 HOW THE ROBIN'S BREAST BECAME REDi 
 FROM COOKE'S " NATUEE MYTHS AND STOEIES " 
 
 LONG ago in the far North, where it is very cold, 
 there was only one fire. 
 
 A hunter and his little son took care of this fire 
 and kept it burning day and night. They knew that 
 if the fire went out the people would freeze and the 
 white bear would have the Northland all to himself. 
 One day the hunter became ill and his son had the 
 work to do. 
 
 FoiHpany days and nights he bravely took care of 
 his fatner and kept the fire burning. 
 
 The white bear was always hiding near, watching 
 the fire. He longed to put it out, but he did not 
 dare for he feared the hunter's arrows. 
 
 When he saw how tired and sleepy the little boy 
 was, he came closer to the fire and laughed to him- 
 self. 
 
 One night the poor boy could endure the fatigue 
 no longer, and fell fast asleep. 
 
 The white bear ran as fast as he could and jumped 
 upon the fire with his wet feet, and rolled upon it. 
 At last, he thought it was all out and went happily 
 away to his cave. 
 
 A gray robin was flying near and saw what the 
 white bear was doing. 
 
 She waited until the bear went away. Then she 
 flew down and searched with her sharp little eyes 
 until she found a tiny live coal. This she fanned 
 patiently with her wings for a long time. 
 
 Her little breast was scorched red, but she did 
 1 Copyright, A. FLANAGAN Co. Used by permission. 
 123 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 not stop until a fine red flame blazed up from the 
 ashes. 
 
 Then she flew away to every hut in the North- 
 land. 
 
 Wherever she touched the ground a fire began to 
 burn. 
 
 Soon instead of one little fire the whole north 
 country was lighted up. 
 
 The white bear went further back into his cave in 
 the iceberg and growled terribly. 
 
 He knew that there was now no hope that he 
 would ever have the Northland all to himself. 
 
 This is the reason that the people in the north 
 country love the robin, and are never tired of tell- 
 ing their children how its breast became red. 
 
 LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS* 
 FROM ANDERSEN'S " FAIRY TALES " 
 
 " MY poor flowers are quite dead ! " said little Ida. 
 "They were so beautiful last night, and now all the 
 leaves are hanging down quite faded! Why are they 
 doing that ? " she asked the student, who sat on the 
 sofa. She was very fond of him; he could tell the 
 most beautiful stories and cut out the funniest 
 pictures, such as hearts with little damsels who 
 danced, and flowers, and large castles with doors 
 that could be opened; he was indeed a merry 
 student ! 
 
 " Why do the flowers look so poorly to-day?" she 
 asked again, and showed him a whole bouquet which 
 was entirely faded. 
 
 1 Copyright, THE CENTURY Co. Used by permission. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 " Don't you know what 's the matter with them ? " 
 said the student. " The flowers were at a ball last 
 night, and that 's why they hang their heads ! " 
 
 " But flowers cannot dance ! " said little Ida. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said the student, " when it is dark and 
 we are asleep, they run about quite merrily; al- 
 most every night they hold a ball I " 
 
 " Can't children go to these balls ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the student, " as tiny daisies and lilies 
 of the valley." 
 
 "Where do the prettiest flowers dance?" asked 
 little Ida. 
 
 "Haven't you often been outside the gate of the 
 great palace, where the king lives in summer, and 
 where there is a beautiful garden with many flowers? 
 You have seen the swans, which swim toward you 
 when you want to give them bread crumbs. They 
 hold real balls out there, I can tell you! " 
 
 " I was there in the garden, yesterday, with my 
 mother," said Ida ; " but all the leaves had fallen 
 off the trees, and there were no flowers at all! 
 Where are they? Last summer I saw so many! " .. 
 
 "They are in the palace," said the student. ",You 
 must know that as soon as ever the king aiyi all the 
 court move into the town, the flowers . aif once" run 
 away from the garden up to the palace and make 
 merry. You ought to see that! Two most beautiful 
 roses take a seat on the throne, and then they are 
 king and queen?*. All the red cockscombs range 
 themselves by their side and stand bowing; they are 
 the chamberlains. Then all sorts df lovely flowers 
 arrive, and then they have a great ball; the blue 
 violets represent little midshipmen, and dance with 
 hyacinths and crocuses, whom they call young ladies. 
 
 125 
 
 N 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 The tulips and the large tiger-lilies are the old 
 ladies; they see that the dancing is done well and 
 that everything is properly conducted! " 
 
 " But," asked little Ida, " does n't any one do any- 
 thing to the flowers for dancing in the king's 
 palace?" 
 
 " There is no one who really knows anything about 
 that," said the student. " Sometimes the old keeper 
 who looks after the palace out there, comes round at 
 night; but he has a large bunch of keys, and as soon 
 as the flowers hear the keys rattle, they are quite 
 quiet and hide themselves behind the long curtains 
 and peep out. 
 
 " ' I can smell that there are some flowers in 
 here! ' says the keeper, but he cannot see them." 
 
 " That 's great fun," said little Ida, clapping her 
 hands. " But should n't I be able to see the flowers 
 either?" 
 
 " Yes," said the student, u just remember when you 
 go there again to peep in through the window, and 
 you are sure to see them. I did so to-day, and there 
 lay a long yellow daffodil on the sofa, stretching 
 herself and imagining herself to be one of the ladies 
 of the court! " 
 
 " Can the flowers in the Botanical Gardens also 
 go there ? Can they go such a long way ? " 
 
 " Yes, of course ! " said the student, " for they 
 can fly if they like. Haven't you seen the beautiful 
 butterflies, red, yellow, and white? They almost look 
 like flowers, and that is what they once were. They 
 have flown from the stalks right up into the air, 
 flapping with their leaves as if they were little wings. 
 And as they behaved well, they were allowed to fly 
 about in the daytime also, and were not obliged to 
 126 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 remain at home and sit still on the stalk, and so 
 the leaves became real wings at last. You have seen 
 that yourself! It may be, however, that the flowers 
 in the Botanical Gardens have never been to the 
 king's palace, and do not know that they have such 
 a merry time at night out there. I will therefore 
 tell you something which will greatly surprise the 
 botanical professor who lives next door you know 
 him, don't you? When you go into his garden, you 
 must tell one of the flowers that there is going to be 
 a great ball at the palace, and he again will tell it 
 to all the others, and then they will all fly off. 
 When the professor comes into the garden there will 
 not be a single flower left, and he will not be able 
 to make out what has become of them." 
 
 " But how can the flowers tell it to the others ? 
 The flowers cannot talk! " 
 
 " That J s true ! " answered the student, " but they 
 make signs to one another. Haven't you seen when 
 the wind blows a little that the flowers nod to one 
 another and move all their green leaves? They un- 
 derstand it as plainly as if they spoke! " 
 
 " Can the professor understand their language ? " 
 asked Ida. 
 
 " Yes, of course! He came down into his garden 
 one morning and saw a big nettle making signs with 
 its leaves to a beautiful red carnation; it said, 
 * You are so lovely, and I am so fond of you ! ' The 
 professor does not like such things going on, so he 
 gave the nettle a slap across its leaves, for they are 
 its fingers, you know; but he stung himself, and 
 eince then he never dares to touch a nettle." 
 
 "How funny! " said little Ida with a laugh. 
 
 " What ideas to put into the child's head ! " re- 
 
 127 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 marked the tiresome counsellor, who had come on 
 a visit and was sitting on the sofa. He did not like 
 the student, and was always grumbling when he saw 
 him cutting out the funny, comic pictures; some- 
 times a man hanging on a gallows and holding a 
 heart in his hand, for he had been a destroyer of 
 hearts, sometimes an old witch riding on a broom 
 and carrying her husband on her nose. The coun- 
 sellor did not like that, and so he would say as he 
 had done just now : " What ideas to put into the 
 child's head! It is pure imagination! " 
 
 But it seemed to little Ida that what the student 
 had told her about her flowers was very amusing, and 
 she thought a great deal about it. The flowers hung 
 their heads, because they were tired of dancing all 
 the night; they must be poorly. So she carried 
 them with her to a nice little table where she kept 
 all her toys, and the whole drawer was full of pretty 
 things. In the doll's bed lay her doll Sophia, asleep, 
 but little Ida said to her : " You must really get up, 
 Sophia, and be content with lying in the drawer to- 
 night; the poor flowers are poorly and they must 
 lie in your bed; perhaps they will then get well 
 again! " And so she took the doll, who looked very 
 cross but did not say a single word, because she was 
 angry at not being allowed to keep her bed. 
 
 Ida put the flowers in the doll's bed, pulled the 
 little quilt over them, and said they must lie quiet 
 and she would make tea for them, so that they might 
 get well again and be able to get up in the morning. 
 She then drew the curtains closely round the little 
 bed, so that the sun should not shine in their eyes. 
 
 The whole evening she could not help thinking 
 about what the student had told her, and when she 
 128 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 had to go to bed herself, she felt she must first go 
 behind the curtains which hung before the windows 
 where her mother's lovely flowers were standing, both 
 hyacinths and tulips, and then she whispered quite 
 softly, " I know you are going to a ball to-night ! " 
 but the flowers appeared as if they understood 
 nothing and did not move a leaf, but little Ida 
 knew what she knew. 
 
 When she had got into bed she lay for a long time 
 thinking how nice it would be to see the beautiful 
 flowers dance at the king's palace. 
 
 "I wonder if my flowers really have been there! " 
 And so she fell asleep. In the course of the night 
 she awoke; she had been dreaming about the flowers 
 and the student, whom the counsellor used to scold for 
 putting silly ideas into her head. It was quite 
 quiet in the bedroom where Ida was lying; the 
 night-lamp was burning on the table and her father 
 and mother were asleep. 
 
 " I wonder if my flowers are now lying in Sophia's 
 bed," she said to herself; "how I should like to 
 know! " She raised herself a little and looked to- 
 ward the door, which was half open; in there lay 
 the flowers and her toys. She listened, and it ap- 
 peared to her as if she heard someone playing the 
 piano in the next room, very softly, and more beau- 
 tifully than she had ever heard it before. 
 
 " I expect all my flowers are now dancing in 
 there ! " she said, " how I should like to see them ! " 
 But she dared not get up for fear of waking her 
 father and mother. "If they would only come in 
 here," she said; but the flowers did not come, and 
 the music continued to play so beautifully that she 
 could not resist it any longer, it was too en- 
 
 129 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 trancing, so she crept out of her little bed and 
 went quite softly to the door and looked into the 
 room. Oh, what an amusing scene met her sight! 
 
 There was no night-lamp in there, but still it was 
 quite light; the moon was shining through the win- 
 dow right into the middle of the room! It was al- 
 most as light as day. All the hyacinths and tulips 
 were standing in two long rows along the floor; 
 there were none at all in the window, where only 
 empty pots were to be seen. Down on the floor the 
 flowers were dancing most gracefully round and 
 round, doing the chain quite correctly and holding each 
 other by their long green leaves as they swung round. 
 And over at the piano sat a large yellow lily whom 
 little Ida was sure she had seen last summer, for 
 she remembered so well that the student had said: 
 "How she is like Miss Lina!" but they all laughed 
 at him then. But now Ida really thought that the 
 long yellow flower was like Miss Lina, and had just 
 the same manners when playing, putting her large 
 yellow head first on one side and then on the other, 
 and nodding it to keep time with the music. No 
 one noticed little Ida. She then saw a large blue 
 crocus jump right into the middle of the table, 
 where the toys were standing, and walk straight up 
 to the doll's bed and pull aside the curtains; there 
 lay the sick flowers, but they got up directly and 
 nodded their heads to the others to show that they 
 also wanted to join in the dance. The old incense- 
 burner with the broken under-lip stood up and bowed 
 to the pretty flowers; they did not appear at all ill, 
 they jumped down among the others and looked so 
 pleased ! 
 
 Just then it seemed as if something fell down from 
 130 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 the table. Ida looked that way; it was the Shrove- 
 tide rod, which had jumped down; it thought it also 
 belonged to the flowers. It was really very pretty; 
 at the top sat a little wax doll, which had just the 
 same kind of broad hat on her head as the counsellor 
 wore; the Shrovetide rod and its three red wooden 
 legs jumped right into the midst of the flowers and 
 stamped quite loudly; it was dancing the mazurka, 
 and this the other flowers could not dance because 
 they were too light and could not stamp. 
 
 All at once the wax doll on the rod began to grow 
 bigger and bigger, whirled round above the paper 
 flowers, and called out quite loudly : " What ideas 
 to put into the child's head! It is pure imagina- 
 tion! " And then the wax doll looked exactly like 
 the counsellor with the broad hat, and was just as 
 yellow and cross as he, but the paper flowers struck 
 him across his thin legs; and he shrank and shrank 
 till he became a little wee bit of a wax doll again. He 
 looked so very funny, little Ida could not help laugh- 
 ing. The Shrovetide rod went on dancing and the 
 counsellor had to dance as well ; there was no help for 
 it, he had to dance whether he made himself big and 
 long, or became the little yellow wax doll with the 
 big black hat. Then the other flowers interceded for 
 him, especially those that had been in the doll's 
 bed, and at last the Shrovetide rod stopped dancing. 
 
 At that moment there was a loud knocking in 
 the drawer where Ida's doll, Sophia, lay among the 
 other toys; the incense-burner ran to the edge of the 
 table, laid himself flat down upon his stomach and 
 managed to get the drawer pulled out a little; 
 whereupon Sophia sat up and looked quite sur- 
 prised. 
 
 131 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 "There's a ball here!" she said; "why hasn't 
 anyone told me ? " 
 
 " Will you dance with me ? " asked the incense- 
 burner. 
 
 " You are a nice one to dance with, I'm sure ! " 
 she said, and turned her back upon him. So she 
 sat down on the drawer and thought that one of the 
 flowers would be sure to come and engage her, but 
 no one came; then she coughed, hem! hem! hem! 
 but no one came for all that. The incense-burner 
 danced all by himself, and he didn't do it at all 
 badly! 
 
 As none of the flowers seemed to notice Sophia, 
 she let herself fall with a thump from the drawer 
 right down on the floor, and caused quite a com- 
 motion; all the flowers came running round her 
 asking if she had hurt herself, and they were all so 
 nice to her, especially the flowers that had been lying 
 in her bed. But she had not hurt herself at all, and 
 all Ida's flowers thanked her for her beautiful bed, 
 and said they loved her very much; they led her 
 into the middle of the floor, where the moon was 
 shining, and danced with her, while the other flowers 
 formed a circle round them. Sophia was now very 
 pleased and said they might keep her bed; she did 
 not at all mind lying in the drawer. 
 
 But the flowers said : " We are very much obliged 
 to you, but we cannot live very long! To-morrow 
 we shall be quite dead, but tell little Ida she must 
 bury us in the garden where the canary bird is 
 lying; then we shall grow up again in the summer 
 and be prettier than ever! " 
 
 " No, you must not die ! " said Sophia, and then 
 she kissed the flowers. 
 
 132 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 Just then the door of the next room flew open, 
 and a lot of beautiful flowers came dancing in. Ida 
 could not make out where they came from; they 
 must be all the flowers from the king's palace. 
 First of all came two lovely roses, with their little 
 golden crowns; they were the king and the queen. 
 Then came the most beautiful stocks and carnations, 
 bowing on all sides; they had brought music with 
 them. Large poppies and peonies were blowing pea- 
 shells till they were quite red in the face. The 
 bluebells and the little white snowdrops tinkled as 
 if they had bells on. The music was very funny! 
 Then there came many other flowers, and they all 
 danced; the blue violets and the red heartseases, 
 the daisies and the lilies of the valley. And all the 
 flowers kissed one another; it was such a pretty 
 sight ! 
 
 At last the flowers said good-night to each other, 
 and little Ida stole back to her bed, where she 
 dreamed of all that she had seen. 
 
 When she got up next morning, she went at once 
 to the little table to see if the flowers were still 
 there. She pulled aside the curtains of the little 
 bed, and there they all lay, but they were quite 
 faded, more so than they were the day before. Sophia 
 lay in the drawer, where she had put her; she looked 
 very sleepy. 
 
 " Can you remember what you were to tell me ? " 
 said little Ida, but Sophia looked very stupid, and 
 did not say a single word. 
 
 "You are not at all kind," said Ida; "and yet 
 they all danced with you." So she took a little card- 
 board box, on which were painted beautiful birds; 
 she opened it and put the dead flowers into it. 
 
 133 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 "That will make a pretty coffin for you! " she 
 said, " and when my Norwegian cousins come here, 
 they shall help me to bury you in the garden, so 
 that you can grow up next summer and be prettier 
 than ever! " 
 
 Her Norwegian cousins were two fine boys, whose 
 names were Jonas and Adolph; their father had 
 given them each a new cross-bow, and they had 
 brought these with them to show Ida. She told 
 them about the poor flowers that were dead, and 
 they were allowed to bury them. Both the boys 
 went first with their cross-bows on their shoulders, 
 and little Ida followed behind with the dead flowers 
 in the beautiful box. A little grave was dug in 
 the garden. Ida first kissed the flowers and then 
 laid them in the box in the grave, while Adolph and 
 Jonas shot with their cross-bows over it, for they 
 had neither guns nor cannons. 
 
 OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD 1 
 FROM STOCKTON'S " THE BEE-MAN OF ORN " 
 
 [A MOUNTAIN brook ran through a little village. 
 Over the brook there was a narrow bridge, and from 
 the bridge a footpath led out from the village and 
 up the hill-side, to the cottage of Old Pipes and his 
 mother.] 
 
 For many, many years Old Pipes had been em- 
 ployed by the villagers to pipe the cattle down from 
 the hills. [Every afternoon, an hour before sunset, 
 he would sit on a rock in front of his cottage and 
 play on his pipes. Then all the flocks and herds 
 
 1 FroM " The Bee-Man of Orn." Copyright, 1887, by CHARLES 
 SCRIBNER'S SONS. Used by permission. 
 
 134 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 that were grazing on the mountains would hear 
 him, wherever they might happen to be, and would 
 come down to the village the oows by the easiest 
 paths, the sheep by those not quite so easy, and the 
 goats by the steep and rocky ways that were hardest 
 of all.] 
 
 But now, for a year or more, Old Pipes had not 
 piped the cattle home. It is true that every after- 
 noon he sat upon the rock and played upon his 
 pipes; but the cattle did not hear him. He had 
 grown old, and his breath was feeble. The echoes 
 of his cheerful notes, which used to come from the 
 rocky hill on the other side of the valley, were heard 
 no more; and twenty yards from Old Pipes one 
 could scarcely tell what tune he was playing. He 
 had become somewhat deaf, and did not know that 
 the sound of his pipes was so thin and weak, and 
 that the cattle did not hear him. The cows, the 
 sheep, and the goats came down every afternoon as 
 before; but this was because two boys and a girl 
 were sent up after them. The villagers did not wish 
 the good old man to know that his piping was no 
 longer of any use; so they paid him his little salary 
 every month, and said nothing about the two boys 
 and the girl. 
 
 [Old Pipes's mother was, of course, a great deal 
 older than he was, and was as deaf as a gate posts, 
 latch, hinges, and all and she never knew that the 
 sound of her son's pipe did not spread over all the 
 mountain-side and echo back strong and clear from 
 the opposite hills. She was very fond of Old Pipes, 
 and proud of his piping; and as he was so much 
 younger than she was, she never thought of him as 
 being very old. She cooked for him, and made his 
 135 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 bed, and mended his clothes; and they lived very 
 comfortably on his little salary.] 
 
 One afternoon, at the end of the month, when 
 Old Pipes had finished his piping, he took his stout 
 staff and went down the hill to the village to re- 
 ceive the money for his month's work. The path 
 seemed a great deal steeper and more difficult than 
 it used to be; [and Old Pipes thought that it must 
 have been washed by the rains and greatly damaged. 
 He remembered it as a path that was quite easy to 
 traverse either up or down.] But Old Pipes had 
 been a very active man, and as his mother was so 
 much older than he was, he never thought of him- 
 self as aged and infirm. 
 
 When the Chief Villager had paid him, [and he 
 had talked a little with some of his friends,] Old 
 Pipes started to go home. But when he had [crossed 
 the bridge over the brook, and] gone a short distance 
 up the hil-side, he became very tired, and sat down 
 upon a stone. He had not been sitting there half 
 a minute, when along came two boys and a girl. 
 
 " Children," said Old Pipes, " I 'm very tired to-night, 
 and I don't believe I can climb up this steep path to my 
 home. I think I shall have to ask you to help me." 
 
 " We will do that," said the boys and the girl, 
 quite cheerfully; [and one boy took him by the 
 right hand and the other by the left, while the girl 
 pushed him in the back.] In this way he went up 
 the hill quite easily, and soon reached his cottage 
 door. Old Pipes gave each of the three children a 
 .copper coin, and then they sat down for a few 
 minutes' rest before starting back to the village. 
 
 "I'm sorry that I tired you so much," said Old 
 Pipes. 
 
 136 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 "Oh, that would not have tired us," said one of 
 the boys, "if we had not been so far to-day after 
 the cows, and the sheep, and the goats. They ram- 
 bled high up on the mountain, and we never before 
 had such a time in finding them." 
 
 " Had to go after the cows, the sheep, and the 
 goats ! " exclaimed Old Pipes. " What do you mean 
 by that? " 
 
 The girl, who stood behind the old man, shook 
 her head, put her hand on her mouth, and made all 
 sorts of signs to the boy to stop talking on this 
 subject; but he did not notice her, and promptly 
 answered Old Pipes. 
 
 " Why, you see, good sir," said he, " that as the 
 cattle can't hear your pipes now, somebody has to 
 go after them every evening to drive them down from 
 the mountain, and the Chief Villager has hired us 
 three to do it. [Generally it is not very hard work, 
 but to-night the cattle had wandered far."] 
 
 " How long have you been doing this ? " asked the 
 old man. 
 
 [The girl shook her head and clapped her hand 
 on her mouth as before, but the boy went on.] 
 
 " I think it is about a year now," he said, " since 
 the people first felt sure that the cattle could not 
 hear your pipes ; [and from that time we 've been 
 driving them down. But we are rested now, and 
 will go home.] Good-night, sir." 
 
 The three children then went down the hill, [the 
 girl scolding the boy all the way home.] Old Pipes 
 [stood silent a few moments, and then he] went into 
 his cottage. 
 
 " Mother," he shouted, " did you hear what those 
 children said?" 
 
 137 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 "Children!" exclaimed the old woman; "I did 
 not hear them. I did not know there were any 
 children here." 
 
 Then Old Pipes told his mother shouting very 
 loudly to make her hear [how the two boys and 
 the girl had helped him up the hill, and what he 
 had heard about his piping and the cattle. 
 
 " They can't hear you ? " cried his mother. " Why, 
 what's the matter with the cattle ? " 
 
 "Ah, me!" said Old Pipes; "I don't believe 
 there's anything the matter with the cattle. It 
 must be with me and my pipes that there is some- 
 thing the matter. But one thing is certain; if I 
 do not earn the wages the Chief Villager pays me, 
 I shall not take them. I shall go straight down to the 
 village and give back the money I received to-day."] 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried his mother. " I'm sure you Ve 
 piped as well as you could, and no more can be 
 expected. And what are we to do without the 
 money ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Old Pipes ; " but I'm going 
 down to the village to pay it back." 
 
 [The sun had now set; but the moon was shining 
 very brightly on the hill-side, and Old Pipes could 
 see his way very well. He did not take the same 
 path by which he had gone before, but followed an- 
 other, which led among the trees upon the hill-side, 
 and, though longer, was not so steep.] 
 
 When he had gone about half-way, the old man 
 sat down to rest, leaning his back against a great 
 oak-tree. As he did so, he heard a sound like 
 knocking inside the tree, and then a voice said: 
 
 "Let me out! let me out! " 
 
 Old Pipes instantly forgot that he was tired, and 
 138 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 sprang to his feet. "This must be a Dryad tree! " 
 he exclaimed. " If it is, I '11 let her out." 
 
 Old Pipes had never, to his knowledge, seen a 
 Dryad tree, but he knew there were such trees on 
 the hill- sides and the mountains, and that Dryads 
 lived in them. He knew, too, that in the summer- 
 time, on those days when the moon rose before the 
 sun went down, a Dryad could come out of her tree 
 if any one could find the key which locked her in, 
 and turn it. Old Pipes closely examined the trunk 
 of the tree, which stood in the full moonlight. " If 
 I see that key," he said, " I shall surely turn it." 
 Before long he found a piece of bark standing out 
 from the tree, which looked to him very much like 
 the handle of a key. He took hold of it, and found 
 he could turn it quite around. As he did so, a large 
 part of the side of the tree was pushed open, and a 
 beautiful Dryad stepped quickly out. 
 
 For a moment she stood motionless, gazing on the 
 scene before her [the tranquil valley, the hills, 
 the forest, and the mountain- side, all lying in the 
 soft clear light of the moon.] " Oh, lovely ! lovely ! " 
 she exclaimed. " How long it is since I have seen 
 anything like this! " And then, turning to Old 
 Pipes, she said : " How good of you to let me out ! 
 I am so happy, and so thankful, that I must kiss 
 you, you dear old man! " And she [threw her arms 
 around the neck of Old Pipes, and] kissed him on 
 both cheeks. 
 
 " You don't know," she then went on to say, " how 
 doleful it is to be shut up so long in a tree. I 
 don't mind it in the winter, for then I am glad to 
 be sheltered, but in summer it is a rueful thing not 
 to be able to see all the beauties of the world. And 
 
 139 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 it's ever so long since I've been let out. People so 
 seldom come this way; and when they do come at 
 the right time, they either don't hear me, or they 
 are frightened and run away. But you, you dear 
 old man, you were not frightened, and you looked 
 and looked for the key, and you let me out; [and 
 now I shall not have to go back till winter has come, 
 and the air grows cold. Oh, it is glorious!] What 
 can I do for you, to show you how grateful I am ? " 
 
 " I am very glad," said Old Pipes, " that I let 
 you out, since I see that it makes you so happy; 
 [but I must admit that I tried to find the key be- 
 cause I had a great desire to see a Dryad.] But, 
 if you wish to do something for me, you can, if you 
 happen to be going down toward the village." 
 
 ["To the village!" exclaimed the Dryad. "I 
 will go anywhere for you, my kind old benefactor." 
 
 " Well, then/' said Old Pipes,] " I wish you would 
 take this little bag of money to the Chief Villager 
 and tell him that Old Pipes cannot receive pay for 
 the services which he does not perform. It is now 
 more than a year that I have not been able to make 
 the cattle hear me when I piped to call them home. 
 I did not know this until to-night; but now that I 
 know it, I cannot keep the money, and so I send it 
 back." [And, handing the little bag to the Dryad, 
 he bade her good-night, and turned toward his 
 cottage.] 
 
 " Good-night," said the Dryad. " And I thank you 
 over, and over, and over again, you good, old man! " 
 
 Old Pipes walked toward his home, very glad to 
 be saved the fatigue of going all the way down to 
 the village and back again. [" To be sure," he said 
 to himself, " this path does not seem at all steep, 
 
 140 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 and I can walk along it' very easily; but it would 
 have tired me dreadfully to come up all the way 
 from the village, especially as I could not have ex- 
 pected those children to help me again." When he 
 reached home his mother was surprised to see him 
 returning so soon. 
 
 " What ! " she exclaimed ; " have you already come 
 back? What did the Chief Villager say? Did he 
 take the money ? " 
 
 Old Pipes was just about to tell her that he had 
 sent the money to the village by a Dryad, when he 
 suddenly reflected that his mother would be sure to 
 disapprove such a proceeding, and so he merely said 
 he had sent it by a person whom he had met. 
 
 "And how do you know that the person will ever 
 take it to the Chief Villager ? " cried his mother. 
 " You will lose it, and the villagers will never get it. 
 Oh, Pipes! Pipes! when will you be old enough to 
 have ordinary common sense ? " 
 
 Old Pipes considered that, as he was already seventy 
 years of age, he could scarcely expect to grow any 
 wiser; but he made no remark on this subject, and, 
 saying that he doubted not that the money would go 
 safely to its destination, he sat down to his supper. 
 His mother scolded him roundly, but he did not mind 
 it; and after supper he went out and sat on a rustic 
 chair in front of the cottage to look at the moonlit 
 village, and to wonder whether or not the Chief Vil- 
 lager really received the money. While he was doing 
 these two things, he went fast asleep.] 
 
 When Old Pipes left Dryad, she did not go 
 down to the village with the little bag of money. 
 She held it in her hand, and thought about what she 
 had heard. " This is a good and honest old man/' 
 
 141 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 she said ; " and it is a shame that he should lose thia 
 money. He looked as if he needed it, and I don't 
 believe the people in the village will take it from one 
 who has served them so long. Often, when in my tree, 
 have I heard the sweet notes of his pipes. I am going 
 to take the money back to him." She did not start 
 immediately, because there were so many beautiful 
 things to look at ; but after awhile she went up to the 
 cottage, and, finding Old Pipes asleep in his chair, 
 she slipped the little bag into his coat pocket, and 
 silently sped away. 
 
 The next day Old Pipes told his mother that he 
 would go up the mountain and cut some wood. [He 
 had a right to get wood from the mountain, but for 
 a long time he had been content to pick up the dead 
 branches which lay about his cottage. To-day, how- 
 ever, he felt so strong and vigorous that he thought 
 he would go and cut some fuel that would be better 
 than this.] He worked all the morning, and when he 
 came back he did not feel at all tired, and he had a 
 very good appetite for his dinner. 
 
 Now, Old Pipes knew a good deal about Dryads; 
 but there was one thing which, although he had heard, 
 he had forgotten. This was, that a kiss from a Dryad 
 made a person ten years younger. 
 
 [The people of the village knew this, and they 
 were very careful not to let any child of ten years or 
 younger go into the woods where the Dryads were 
 supposed to be ; for, if they should chance to be kissed 
 by one of these tree-nymphs, they would be set back 
 so far that they would cease to exist. 
 
 A story was told in the village that a very bad 
 boy of eleven once ran away into the woods, and had 
 an adventure of thia kind; and when his mother 
 
 142 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 found him he was a little baby of one year old. Tak- 
 ing advantage of her opportunity, she brought him up 
 more carefully than she had done before, and he grew 
 to be a very good boy indeed.] 
 
 Now Old Pipes had been kissed twice by the Dryad, 
 once on each cheek, and he therefore felt as vigorous 
 and active as when he was a hale man of fifty. [His 
 mother noticed how much work he was doing, and 
 told him that he need not try in that way to make 
 up for the loss of his piping wages; for he would 
 only tire himself out, and get sick. But her son an- 
 swered that he had not felt so well for years, and 
 that he was quite able to work.] 
 
 In the course of the afternoon, Old Pipes, for the 
 first time that day, put his hand in his coat pocket, 
 and there, to his amazement, he found the little bag 
 of money. " Well, well ! " he exclaimed, " I am stupid, 
 indeed! I really thought that I had seen a Dryad; 
 but when I sat down by that big oak tree I must have 
 gone to sleep and dreamed it all; and then I came 
 home, thinking I had given the money to a Dryad, 
 when it was in my pocket all the time. But the 
 Chief Villager shall have the money. [I shall not 
 take it to him to-day, but to-morrow I wish to go to 
 the village to see some of my old friends; and then 
 I shall give up the money."] 
 
 Toward the close of the afternoon, Old Pipes, [as 
 had been his custom for so many years,] took his pipes 
 [from the shelf on which they lay,] and went out to 
 the rock in front of the cottage. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " cried his mother. 
 ["If you will not consent to be paid, why do you 
 pipe?*'] 
 
 " I am going to pipe for my own pleasure," said her 
 
 143 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 son. " I am used to it, and I do not wish to give it 
 up. [It does not matter now whether the cattle hear 
 me or not, and I am sure that my piping will injure 
 no one."] 
 
 When the good man began to play upon his favorite 
 instrument he was astonished at the sound that came 
 from it. The beautiful notes of the pipes sounded 
 clear and strong down into the valley, and spread 
 over the hills, and up the sides of the mountain be- 
 yond, while, after a little interval, an echo came back 
 from the rocky hill on the other side of the valley. 
 
 "Ha! ha! " he cried, "what has happened to my 
 pipes? They must have been stopped up of late, but 
 now they are as clear and good as ever." 
 
 [Again the merry notes went sounding far and wide. 
 The cattle on the mountain heard them, and those that 
 were old enough remembered how these notes had 
 called them from their pastures every evening, and 
 so they started down the mountain-side, the others 
 following.] 
 
 The merry notes were heard in the village below, 
 and the people were much astonished thereby. " Why, 
 who can be blowing the pipes of Old Pipes ? " they 
 said. But, as they were all very busy, no one went 
 up to see. [One thing, however, was plain enough: 
 the cattle were coming down the mountain. And so 
 the two boys and the girl did not have to go after 
 them, and had an hour for play, for which they were 
 very glad.] 
 
 The next morning Old Pipes started down to the 
 village with his money, and on the way he met the 
 Dryad. "Oh, ho! " he cried, "is that you? Why, I 
 thought my letting you out of the tree was nothing 
 but a dream." 
 
 144 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 "A dream! " cried the Dryad; "if you only knew 
 how happy you have made me, you would not think 
 it merely a dream. And has it not benefited you? 
 [Do you not feel happier?] Yesterday I heard you 
 playing beautifully on your pipes." 
 
 " Yes, yes," cried he. " I did not understand it 
 before, but I see it all now. I have really grown 
 younger. [I thank you, I thank you, good Dryad, 
 from the bottom of my heart.] It was the finding of 
 the money in my pocket that made me think it was 
 a dream." 
 
 " Oh, I put it in when you were asleep," she said, 
 laughing, "because I thought you ought to keep it. 
 Good-bye, kind, honest man. May you live long, and 
 be as happy as I am now." 
 
 Old Pipes was greatly delighted when he under- 
 stood that he was really a younger man; but that 
 made no difference about the money, and he kept on 
 his way to the village. As soon as he reached it, [he 
 was eagerly questioned as to who had been playing 
 his pipes the evening before, and when the people 
 heard that it was himself they were very much sur- 
 prised. Thereupon] Old Pipes told what had hap- 
 pened to him, and then there was greater wonder, 
 [with hearty congratulations and hand-shakes; for 
 Old Pipes was liked by everyone. The Chief Villager 
 refused to take his money; and although Old Pipes 
 said that he had not earned it, everyone present in- 
 sisted that, as he would now play on his pipes as be- 
 fore, he should lose nothing because, for a time, he 
 was unable to perform his duty.] 
 
 So Old Pipes was obliged to keep his money, and 
 after an hour or two spent in conversation with his 
 friends he returned to his cottage. 
 
 145 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 There was one person, however, who was not pleased 
 with what had happened to Old Pipes. This was an 
 Echo-dwarf who lived on the hills across the valley. 
 It was his work to echo back the notes of the pipea 
 whenever they could be heard. 
 
 [A great many other Echo-dwarfs lived on these 
 hills. They all worked, but in different ways. Some 
 echoed back the songs of maidens, some the shouts of 
 children, and others the music that was often heard 
 in the village. But there was only one who could 
 send back the strong notes of the pipes of Old Pipes, 
 and this had been his sole duty for many years.] But 
 when [the old man grew feeble, and] the notes of 
 his pipes could not be heard [on the opposite hills,] 
 this Echo- dwarf had nothing to do, and he spent his 
 time in delightful idleness; [and he slept so much 
 and grew so fat that it made his companions laugh to 
 see him walk.] 
 
 On the afternoon on which, after so long an inter- 
 val, the sound of the pipes was heard on the echo hills, 
 this dwarf was fast asleep beMnd a rock. As soon as 
 the first notes reached them, some of his companions 
 ran to wake him up. Rolling to his feet, he echoed 
 back the merry tune of Old Pipes. 
 
 [Naturally, he was very angry at being thus 
 obliged to give up his life of comfort, and he hoped 
 yery much that this pipe-playing would not occur 
 again. The next afternoon, he was awake and listen- 
 ing, and, sure enough, at the usual hour, along came 
 the notes of the pipes, as clear and strong as they 
 ever had been; and he was obliged to work as long 
 as Old Pipes played.] The Echo-dwarf was very 
 angry. He had supposed, of course, that the pipe- 
 playing had ceased forever, [and he felt that he had 
 
 146 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 a right to be indignant at being thus deceived.] He 
 was so much disturbed that he made up his mind to 
 go and try to find out how long this was to last. [He 
 had plenty of time, as the pipes were played but once 
 a day, and he set off early in the morning for the hill 
 on which Old Pipes lived. It was hard work for the 
 fat little fellow, and] when he had crossed the valley 
 and had gone some distance into the woods on the 
 hill-side, he stopped to rest, and in a few minutes the 
 Dryad came tripping along. 
 
 "Ho, ho!" exclaimed the dwarf; "what are you 
 doing here ? and how did you get out of your tree ? " 
 
 "Doing!" cried the Dryad; "I am being happy; 
 that *s what I am doing. And I was let out of my 
 tree .by the good old man who plays the pipes [to 
 call the cattle down from the mountain. And it 
 makes me happier to think that I have been of ser- 
 vice to him.] I gave him two kisses of gratitude, and 
 now he is young enough to play his pipes as well as 
 ever." 
 
 The Echo-dwarf steppe/1 forward, his face pale with 
 passion. " Am I to believe/ 5 he said, " that you are 
 the cause of this great evil that has come upon me? 
 and that you are the wicked creature who has again 
 started this old man upon his career of pipe-playing? 
 What have I ever done to you that you should have 
 condemned me for years and years to echo back the 
 notes of those wretched pipes ? " 
 
 At this the Dryad laughed loudly. 
 
 " What a funny little fellow you are ! " she said. 
 " Anyone would think you had been condemned to 
 toil from morning till night; [while what you really 
 have to do is merely to imitate for half an hour 
 every day the merry notes of Old Pipes's piping.] 
 
 147 
 
' STORY TELLING 
 
 Fie upon you, Echo-dwarf! You are lazy and selfish; 
 and that is what is the matter with you. [Instead of 
 grumbling at being obliged to do a little wholesome 
 work, which is less, I am sure, than that of any other 
 echo-dwarf upon the rocky hill-side, you should re- 
 joice at the good fortune of the old man who has re- 
 gained so much of his strength and vigor.] Go home 
 and learn to be just and generous; and then, per- 
 haps, you may be happy. Good-bye." 
 
 " Insolent creature ! " shouted the dwarf, as he 
 shook his fat little fist at her. " I '11 make you suffer 
 for this. [You shall find out what it is to heap in- 
 jury and insult upon one like me, and to snatch from 
 him the repose that he has earned by long years of 
 toil."] And, shaking his head savagely, he hurried 
 back to the rocky hill-side. 
 
 [Every afternoon the merry notes of the pipes of 
 Old Pipes sounded down into the valley and over 
 the hills and up the mountain-side; and every after- 
 noon when he had echoed them back, the little dwarf 
 grew more and more angry with the Dryad.] Each 
 day, from early morning till it was time for him to 
 go back to his duties upon the rocky hill-side, he- 
 searched the woods for her. [He intended, if he met 
 her, to pretend to be very sorry for what he had 
 said, and] .he thought he might be able to play a 
 trick upon her which would avenge him well. 
 
 One day, while thus wandering among the trees, 
 he met Old Pipes. [The Echo-dwarf did not generally 
 care to see or speak to ordinary people; but now he 
 was so anxious to find the object of his search, that] 
 he stopped and asked Old Pipes if he had seen the 
 Dryad. [The piper had not noticed the little fellow, 
 and he looked down on him with some surprise.] 
 
 148 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 " No," he said ; " I have not seen her, and I have 
 been looking everywhere for her." 
 
 " You ! " cried the dwarf, " what do you wish with 
 her?" 
 
 Old Pipes then [sat down on a stone, so that he 
 should be nearer the ear of his small companion, and 
 he] told what the Dryad had done for him. 
 
 When the Echo-dwarf heard that this was the man 
 whose pipes he was obliged to echo back every day, 
 he would have slain him on the spot, had he been 
 able; [but, as he was not able, he merely ground his 
 teeth and listened to the rest of the story.] 
 
 " I am looking for the Dryad now," Old Pipes con- 
 tinued, " on account of my aged mother. [When I was 
 old myself, I did not notice how very old my mother 
 was; but now it shocks me to see how feeble her 
 years have caused her to become; and] I am looking 
 for the Dryad to ask her to make my mother younger, 
 as she made me." 
 
 The eyes of the Echo-dwarf glistened. [Here was 
 a man who might help him in his plans.] 
 
 " Your idea is a good one," he said to Old Pipes, 
 [" and it does you honor.] But you should know that 
 a Dryad can make no person younger but one who 
 lets her out of her tree. [However, you can manage 
 the affair very easily.] All you need do is to find the 
 Dryad, tell her what you want, and request her to 
 step into her tree and be shut up for a short time. 
 Then you will go and bring your mother to the tree; 
 she will open it, and everything will be as you wish. 
 Is not this a good plan ? " 
 
 "Excellent! " cried .Old Pipes; "and I will go in- 
 stantly and search more diligently for the Dryad." 
 
 [" Take me with you," said the Echo-dwarf. " You 
 
 149 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 can easily carry me on your strong shoulders; and 
 I shall be glad to help you in any way that I can." 
 
 " Now, then," said the little fellow to himself, as 
 Old Pipes carried him rapidly along, " if he per- 
 suades the Dryad to get into a tree, and she is 
 quite foolish enough to do it, and then goes away 
 to bring his mother, I shall take a stone or a club 
 and I will break off the key of that tree, so that no- 
 body can ever turn it again. Then Mistress Dryad 
 will see what she has brought upon herself by her 
 behavior to me."] 
 
 Before long they came to the great oak-tree in 
 which the Dryad had lived, and at a distance they 
 saw that beautiful creature herself coming toward 
 them. 
 
 [" How excellently well everything happens ! " said 
 the dwarf. " Put me down, and I will go. Your 
 business with the Dryad is more important than mine ; 
 and you need not say anything about my having sug- 
 gested your plan to you. I am willing that you 
 should have all the credit of it yourself."] 
 
 Old Pipes put the Echo-dwarf upon the ground, but 
 the little rogue did not go away. He hid himself 
 between some low, mossy rocks, [and he was so much 
 like them in color that you would not have noticed 
 him if you had been looking straight at him.] 
 
 When the Dryad came up, Old Pipes lost no time 
 in telling her about his mother, and what he wished 
 her to do. At first, the Dryad answered nothing, but 
 stood looking very sadly at Old Pipes. 
 
 " Do you really wish me to go into my tree again ? " 
 she said. " I should dreadfully dislike to do it, for 
 I don't know what might happen. It is not at all 
 necessary, for I could make your mother younger at 
 
 150 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 any time if she would give me the opportunity. I 
 had already thought of making you still happier in 
 this way, and several times I have waited about your 
 cottage, hoping to meet your aged mother, but she 
 never comes outside, and you know a Dryad cannot 
 enter a house. I cannot imagine what put this idea 
 into your head. Did you think of it yourself ? " 
 
 " No, I cannot say that I did," answered Old Pipes. 
 " A little dwarf whom I met in the woods proposed 
 it to me." 
 
 "Oh!" cried the Dryad; "now I see through it 
 all. It is the scheme of that vile Echo-dwarf your 
 enemy and mine. Where is he? I should like to see 
 him." 
 
 " I think he has gone away," said Old Pipes. 
 
 * No, he has not," said the Dryad, whose quick eyes 
 perceived the Echo-dwarf among the rocks. " There 
 he is. Seize him and drag him out, I beg of you." 
 
 Old Pipes saw the dwarf as soon as he was pointed 
 out to him; and running to the rocks, he caught the 
 little fellow by the arm and pulled him out. 
 
 " Now, then," cried the Dryad, who had opened the 
 door of the great oak, " just stick him in there, and 
 we will shut him up. Then I shall be safe from his 
 mischief for the rest of the time I am free." 
 
 Old Pipes thrust the Echo-dwarf into the tree; the 
 Dryad pushed the door shut; there was a clicking 
 sound of bark and wood, and no one would have no- 
 ticed that the big oak had ever had an opening in it. 
 
 "There," said the Dryad; "now we need not be 
 afraid of him. And I assure you, my good piper, that 
 I shall be very glad to make your mother younger as 
 soon as I can. Will you not ask her to come out and 
 meet me ? " 
 
 151 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 "Of course I will," cried Old Pipes; "and I will 
 do it without delay." 
 
 And then, the Dryad by his side, he hurried to his 
 cottage. But when he mentioned the matter to his 
 mother, the old woman became very angry indeed. 
 She did not believe in Dryads; [and, if they really did 
 exist, she knew they must be witches and sorceresses, 
 and she would have nothing to do with them. If her 
 son had ever allowed himself to be kissed by one of 
 them, he ought to be ashamed of himself. As to its 
 doing him the least bit of good, she did not believe 
 a word of it. He felt better than he used to feel, but 
 that was very common. She had sometimes felt that 
 way herself,] and she forbade him ever to mention a 
 Dryad to her again. 
 
 [That afternoon, Old Pipes, feeling very sad that 
 his plan in regard to his mother had failed, sat down 
 upon the rock and played upon his pipes. The pleas- 
 ant sounds went down the valley and up the hills and 
 mountain, but, to the great surprise of some persons 
 who happened to notice the fact, the notes were not 
 echoed back from the rocky hill-side, but from the 
 woods on the side of the valley on which Old Pipes 
 lived. The next day many of the villagers stopped in 
 their work to listen to the echo of the pipes coming 
 from the woods. The sound was not as clear and 
 strong as it used to be when it was sent back from 
 the rocky hill-side, but it certainly came from among 
 the trees. Such a thing as an echo changing its place 
 in this way had never been heard of before, and no- 
 body was able to explain how it could have happened. 
 Old Pipes, however, knew very well that the sound 
 came from the Echo-dwarf shut up in the great oak- 
 tree. The sides of the tree were thin, and the sound 
 
 152 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 of the pipes could be heard through them, and the 
 dwarf was obliged by the laws of his being to echo 
 back those notes whenever they came to him. But 
 Old Pipes thought he might get the Dryad in trouble 
 if he let anyone know that the Echo-dwarf was shut 
 up in the tree, and so he wisely said nothing about it.] 
 
 One day the two boys and the girl who had helped 
 Old Pipes up the hill were playing in the woods. 
 Stopping near the great oak-tree, they heard a sound 
 of knocking within it, and then a voice plainly said: 
 
 " Let me out ! let me out ! " 
 
 For a moment the children stood still in astonish- 
 ment, and then one of the boys exclaimed: 
 
 " Oh, it is a Dryad, like the one Old Pipes found ! 
 Let's let her out! " 
 
 " What are you thinking of ? " cried the girl. " I am 
 the oldest of all, and I am only thirteen. Do you wish 
 to be turned into crawling babies? Run! run! run! " 
 
 And the two boys and the girl dashed down into the 
 valley as fast as their legs could carry them. [There 
 was no desire in their youthful hearts to be made 
 younger than they were, and for fear that their par- 
 ents might think it well that they should commence 
 their careers anew, they never said a word about 
 finding the Dryad tree.] 
 
 As the summer days went on, Old Pipes' mother 
 grew feebler and feebler. [One day when her son was 
 away, for he now frequently went into the woods to 
 hunt or fish, or down into the valley to work, she 
 arose from her knitting to prepare the simple dinner. 
 But she felt so weak and tired that she was not able 
 to do the work to which she had been so long accus- 
 tomed.] "Alas! alas!" she said, ["the time has 
 come when I am too old to work. My son will have 
 
 153 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 to hire some one to come here and cook his meals, 
 make his bed, and mend his clothes. Alas! alas! I 
 had hoped that as long as I lived I should be able to 
 do these things. But it is not so.] I have grown 
 utterly worthless, and some one else must prepare the 
 dinner for my son. I wonder where he is." And 
 tottering to the door, she went outside to look for 
 him. She did not feel able to stand, and reaching the 
 rustic chair, she sank into it, quite exhausted, and 
 soon fell asleep. 
 
 The Dryad, who had often come to the cottage [to 
 see if she could find an opportunity of carrying out 
 Old Pipes' affectionate design, now happened by; and 
 seeing that the much-desired occasion had come, she] 
 stepped up quietly behind the old woman and gently 
 kissed her on each cheek, and then as quietly dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 In a few minutes the mother of Old Pipes awoke, 
 and looking up at the sun, she exclaimed: "Why, it 
 is almost dinner-time! My son will be here directly, 
 and I am not ready for him." [And rising to her feet, 
 she hurried into the house, made the fire, set the meat 
 and vegetables to cook, laid the cloth, and by the 
 time her son arrived the meal was on the table.] 
 
 " How a little sleep does refresh one," she said to 
 herself, as she was bustling about. [She was a woman 
 of very vigorous constitution, and at seventy had been 
 a great deal stronger and more active than her son 
 was at that age.] The moment Old Pipes saw his 
 mother, he knew that the Dryad had been there; but, 
 while he felt as happy as a king, he was too wise to 
 say anything about her. 
 
 [" It is astonishing how well I feel to-day," said his 
 mother; " and either my hearing has improved or you 
 
 154 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 speak much more plainly than you have done of 
 late."] 
 
 The summer days went on and passed away, the 
 leaves were falling from the trees, and the air was 
 becoming cold. 
 
 " Nature has ceased to be lovely," said the Dryad, 
 " and the night winds chill me. It is time for me to 
 go back into my comfortable quarters in the great 
 oak. But first I must pay another visit to the cot- 
 tage of Old Pipes." 
 
 She found the piper and his mother sitting side by 
 side on the rock in front of the door. [The cattle 
 were not to go to the mountain any more that season, 
 and he was piping them down for the last time. 
 Loud and merrily sounded the pipes of Old Pipes, and 
 down the mountain-side came the cattle the cows by 
 the easiest paths, the sheep by those not quite so easy, 
 and the goats by the most difficult ones among the 
 rocks; while from the great oak-tree were heard the 
 echoes of the cheerful music.] 
 
 " How happy they look, sitting there together/' said 
 the Dryad ; " and I don't believe it will do them a bit 
 of harm to be still younger." And moving quietly 
 up behind them, she first kissed Old Pipes on his 
 cheek and then kissed his mother. 
 
 [Old Pipes, who had stopped playing, knew what it 
 was, but he did not move, and said nothing. His 
 mother, thinking that her son had kissed her, turned 
 to him with a smile and kissed him in return. And 
 then she arose and went into the cottage, a vigorous 
 woman of sixty, followed by her son, erect and happy, 
 and twenty years younger than herself.] 
 
 The Dryad sped away to the woods, shrugging her 
 shoulders as she felt the cool evening wind. 
 
 155 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 When she reached the great oak, she turned the key 
 and opened the door. " Come out," she said to the 
 Echo-dwarf, who sat blinking within. " Winter is 
 coming on, and I want the comfortable shelter of my 
 tree for myself. [The cattle have come down from 
 the mountain for the last time this year, the pipes 
 will no longer sound, and you can go to your rocks 
 and have a holiday until next spring."] 
 
 Upon hearing these words the dwarf skipped quickly 
 out, and the Dryad entered the tree and pulled the 
 door shut after her. " Now, then," she said to her- 
 self, " he can break off the key if he likes. It does 
 not matter to me. Another will grow out next spring. 
 And although the good piper made me no promise, I 
 know that when the warm days arrive next year, he 
 will come and let me out again." 
 
 The Echo-dwarf did not stop to break the key of 
 the tree. He was too happy to be released to think 
 of anything else, and he hastened as fast as he could 
 to his home on the rocky hill-side. 
 
 The Dryad was not mistaken when she trusted in 
 the piper. When the warm days came again he went 
 to the oak tree to let her out. But, to his sorrow 
 and surprise, he found the great tree lying upon the 
 ground. A winter storm had blown it down, and it 
 lay with its trunk shattered and split. And what 
 became of the Dryad no one ever knew. 
 
 NOTE. The portions of the text within the brackets may well 
 be omitted in telling this story in a program on account of the 
 length. 
 
 156 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 THE MONK AND THE BIRD 1 
 
 FROM SCUDDER'S " BOOK OF LEGENDS " 
 
 THERE was an old monk who had led a holy life, doing 
 good all his days. And one reason why he had done 
 good was because he lived much with God. 
 
 Early in the morning, before others had risen, he 
 was on his knees praying to the Father of all, giving 
 thanks for all his mercies, and asking for grace to 
 lead a holy life that day. And late at night, when 
 others slept, he lingered long on his knees, talking 
 with God as with his dearest friend. 
 
 Not only did this monk pray in the chapel, and by 
 the side of his narrow bed, but as he walked about 
 doing good deeds his lips moved, and he scarcely saw 
 anyone else, for he was praying in silence. He was 
 always glad to escape from himself to the thought of 
 God. 
 
 So when he was an old, old man, he was one day in 
 the garden of the monastery. He was too old and 
 feeble now to go away amongst the poor and sick; 
 but the poor and sick, young and old, were glad when 
 they could come to him and receive his blessing. 
 
 It was a lovely morning hour in early summer, and 
 the garden was sweet with odors of roses. The air 
 was soft and still. The old monk had been helped 
 out to a garden-bench, and there left. He was in 
 perfect peace, and when he was alone he sank upon 
 his knees by the bench, and lifted his peaceful soul in 
 prayer and praise. 
 
 As he prayed there came a sweet, pure note to his 
 
 1 Copyright, 1899, HOUGHTON MIFFLIN Co. Used by per- 
 mission. 
 
 157 
 
L/ 
 
 STORY TELLING 
 
 ear. It did not disturb him. He knew it for the 
 voice of one of God's happy creatures, and as he 
 prayed, he listened with a smile to this bird singing 
 in one of the rose trees in the garden. He thought 
 he never had heard anything so liquid as the song of 
 this bird. 
 
 The notes so filled his soul that he rose from his 
 knees to listen to the song. He rested his hands on 
 his stout stick and listened. Then he drew near the 
 rose-tree from which the song came. 
 
 As he drew near, the little bird continued singing 
 and then fled to a grove farther away, and again 
 began calling with its sweet note. The old monk, for- 
 getting everything else, eagerly pressed forward. It 
 was as if he heard some bird of God. 
 
 Oh, rapture! he neared the bird again and heard 
 the pure notes sounding clearer and clearer. Once 
 more the bird filled his soul and he listened, listened. 
 Then away flew the bird, and led him by its song to 
 a farther grove. Still the old man pressed on. 
 
 Thus hour by hour the heavenly bird sang, and 
 hour by hour the old monk listened intent. He would 
 not lose a note. But at last the bird's song grew 
 gentler, until it ceased altogether. The day was 
 nearing its close. 
 
 Then the happy old man set his face westward, and 
 made his way back toward the monastery, carrying 
 the memory of the song which mingled with his 
 prayer, so that he scarce knew whether he was pray- 
 ing or listening to the music. 
 
 It was nightfall when he found himself once again 
 within the garden; but it was not yet dark, and in 
 the evening light he looked about him at the old 
 scene. He was perplexed at the appearance of things. 
 
 158 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 There was the convent, there was the garden, and 
 yet nothing looked quite as when he had left the 
 place. 
 
 As he stood wondering, a brother monk drew near. 
 He wore the familiar dress, yet his face seemed 
 strange. Well as our old monk knew all the brethren, 
 this newcomer he could not remember ever to have 
 seen. But he must needs speak to him, and he asked : 
 
 "What has happened? Why is it that everything 
 looks so changed since morning? What has taken 
 place? But perhaps you have only just come. Is 
 Brother Andrew within ? " 
 
 The monk looked at him as he spoke, and he won- 
 dered as he looked. " Why," said he, " there has been 
 no change here to-day, no, nor for many years. I 
 have myself been here ten years come Michaelmas. 
 There is no Brother Andrew amongst us. But thou? 
 pray, who art thou? and whence earnest thou? This 
 is the dress of the order, though somewhat old, but I 
 have never seen thee before. What is thy name, good 
 brother?" 
 
 The old monk, much wondering, told his name, and 
 said further : " It was only this morning, early this 
 morning, that I left the garden, for I heard the song 
 of a bird, and it was like a song let down from 
 heaven to draw me up." 
 
 Now when the younger monk heard the name, he 
 fell on his knees, and took the robe of the other in his 
 hand, and bowed over it. Then he told him how it 
 was written in the books of the monastery that a 
 holy man of that name had strangely disappeared out 
 of their sight two hundred years ago. 
 
 " And it was written," he said, " that like as the 
 Lord God buried his servant Moses and no man knew 
 
 159 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 where he was buried, so did he hide from our sight 
 this holy brother." 
 
 At that, a smile spread over the face of the old 
 monk, and he lifted up his voice and said, " My hour 
 of death is come. Blessed be the name of the Lord for 
 all his mercies to me," and so he breathed out his 
 spirit. 
 
 Then all the monks in the monastery were called 
 to witness this strange sight; and the young monk 
 who had held converse with the old man turned to 
 his brethren and said: 
 
 " God be merciful to me a sinner ! When this old 
 man drew near to me I was thinking to myself, how 
 can I bear the thought of an eternity of happiness? 
 shall I not weary of endless peace? but lo! our 
 brother heard a bird of God for but a single day as 
 he thought, and it was two hundred years. Surely 
 a thousand years in His sight are but as yesterday, 
 and as a day that is past." 
 
 Sara Cone Bryant's two books, " How to 
 Tell Stories to Children" and "Stories to 
 Tell to Children " ; the Bulletin of the Car- 
 negie Library of Pittsburgh on " Stories to 
 Tell to Children under Twelve Years of 
 Age"; Eva Tappan's "The Children's 
 Hour " and the story teller's magazine, " The 
 Story-hour," all furnish suggestions for the 
 stories to be used in the miscellaneous pro- 
 gram. Such books as the collections of fairy 
 and folk tales of Joseph Jacobs, the Grimm 
 160 
 
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 
 
 brothers. Sir George Dasent, and Hans Chris- 
 tian Andersen ought to be possessions of 
 every story teller. 
 
 NOTE. The suggestion for the manner in which a text is cut for 
 telling as shown in " Old Pipes and the Dryad " should be fol- 
 lowed in all of the longer stories ^iveii in these programs. 
 
 161 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 
 
 Biography a source for stories to tell ; the dramatic element 
 necessary for a good story to tell; suggestions for biog- 
 raphies to tell. 
 
 ONE of the problems which confront 
 the novice in story telling is the ques- 
 tion where to obtain the best material, and 
 he is apt to overlook the most obvious source 
 of supply, because he is not quite certain 
 what are the requirements of that material. 
 
 The child who has lost something of his 
 interest in fairy tales and other imaginative 
 literature craves the realistic story, or the 
 recital of actual fact, a legitimate desire 
 which should suggest a field little used by 
 story tellers, but full of great possibilities. 
 
 We are so familiar with the old saying 
 " Truth is stranger than fiction " that it has 
 ceased to have much meaning for us, but as 
 applied to the dramatic quality of the bio- 
 graphical story it is really significant. The 
 162 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 
 
 child is already looking for a hero, the atti- 
 tude of hero worship continuing through the 
 years of his evolution into youth; and cir- 
 cumstances and association will be largely 
 responsible for the heroes who succeed each 
 other in his affections. 
 
 History, as some one has said, is but a 
 series of biographies, and if we are careful 
 to choose the lives of such characters in his- 
 tory as may be said to represent the hero 
 idea, we shall be serving two purposes at once 
 . teaching history while we gratify the love 
 of the hero. 
 
 Some feel inclined to shun biographical 
 stories because they feel that there is no art 
 possible in the presentation of mere facts. A 
 little reflection, however, will show that facts 
 are not lifeless bones, but may be clothed in 
 as beautiful form and throb with as vigor- 
 ous pulses of life as any purely imaginative 
 creation. 
 
 Mr. Winchester says in his " Principles 
 of Literary Criticism " : " But a moment's 
 reflection will show us that the imagination is 
 no less necessary in the more sober and pe- 
 destrian varieties of literature. In history, 
 163 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 for example. The historian needs imagina- 
 tion, first, to secure the truth of his work. 
 He must see his men and women if he would 
 judge them rightly. It is his task not merely 
 to arrange and chronicle facts, but rather, 
 from scattered memoranda, from fragmen- 
 tary and often conflicting records, to re- 
 create the men and women of the past as 
 they were, real living persons whose motives 
 shall be clear to us. He must do more than 
 that. He must set these persons in their 
 proper environment of circumstance, and he 
 must further recreate for us that complex, 
 indefinable something we call the spirit of 
 the age, its characteristic feelings, prefer- 
 ences, modes of judgment." 
 
 " And if the historian needs imagination to 
 insure the truth of his work, he needs it 
 still more to give that work interest and last- 
 ing literary value . . . the great historians 
 whose work has recognized and permanent 
 value have always known how to present 
 their story vividly before our imagination 
 and thus give to it the movement and charm 
 of real life." 
 
 If the story teller is to present history 
 164 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 
 
 or biography it will easily be seen, from the 
 standard which Mr. Winchester sets, how 
 vital a part imagination has to play in order 
 to preserve truthfulness of statement and at 
 the same time to give literary value to the 
 story. 
 
 The beginner in the art of story telling 
 will find that the historical or biographical 
 story is much less difficult to handle than 
 purely imaginative material, because the foun- 
 dation of fact is a firm one on which to stand, 
 and will give a definite skeleton about which 
 to work. The most difficult stories to tell are 
 those which depend for their charm upon the 
 atmosphere rather than the plot, the subtle- 
 ties of words and phrases and the impres- 
 sions created by them, rather than a defi- 
 nite line of action carried forward by the 
 characters. 
 
 If the very deeds of a man are picturesque, 
 a recital of them is in itself convincing, and 
 so in a sense, these biographical stories tell 
 themselves if the subjects are well chosen. 
 
 There is perhaps no place where the per- 
 sonal equation will count for so much as in 
 the telling of these stories. A genuine liking 
 165 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 for the character to be portrayed is an al- 
 most necessary factor because there may be 
 little of literary merit connected with the 
 source material which will inspire the narra- 
 tor with enthusiasm for his story. The 
 writer of history or biography may find it 
 incumbent upon him to treat of some subject 
 entirely distasteful to him personally, yet he 
 may handle it with so masterly and impartial 
 a style as almost to deceive the reader as to 
 his own attitude. 
 
 But the very presence of the story teller 
 before his audience makes it impossible to 
 conceal what he feels, and necessitates a 
 treatment of the material with something of 
 the approach of the hero-worshipper. One 
 can hardly imagine a skald or a troubadour 
 deliberately rehearsing the deeds of one 
 whom he secretly despised, unless they 
 formed the shadow which made the sunlight 
 of heroic accomplishment shine brighter. 
 
 For this reason it is impossible to make 
 arbitrary lists of characters whose histories 
 it is desirable to repeat. The story teller 
 must use his own discretion to a large ex- 
 tent in his selection, being careful, however, 
 166 
 
 : 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 
 
 not to let personal caprice prejudice his 
 judgment concerning the lives which have such 
 universal interest and dramatic power that 
 association and study would show them to 
 have exceptional value for story telling. 
 
 We all recognize the value to society of 
 men and women who go faithfully about their 
 daily tasks, never achieving fame or glory by 
 especially notable deeds. But in spite of the 
 fact that they are perhaps the most desirable 
 constituents of society, the very uneventful- 
 ness of their lives robs them of the dramatic 
 quality necessary for a good story. 
 
 Again, we find the record of a life which 
 runs on the even tenor of its way for years, 
 when suddenly a turn of the wheel of Fortune 
 changes it from a prosaic existence to one full 
 of adventure and unusual happenings. These 
 dramatic episodes may well become the sub- 
 ject of a story, but since they are the really 
 significant thing, the other events of the biog- 
 raphy should be used only as a background. 
 Grace Darling and Father Damien furnish 
 examples of such stirring incidents in other- 
 wise uneventful careers. Explorers like La 
 Salle and George Rogers Clark, rulers like 
 167 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Alfred the Great and William the Conqueror, 
 seem studies made to order for a series of 
 stories of the most thrilling character. Na- 
 poleon and Garibaldi, as masters of accom- 
 plishment, are men, phases of whose lives 
 yield splendid story material for children. 
 
 St. Francis of Assisi and Robert the Bruce 
 represent the type of devotion to an ideal, 
 religious and patriotic, which in itself is in- 
 spiring. The fact that historians are declar- 
 ing that William Tell is a myth, and that the 
 stories about Robert the Bruce we have loved 
 are not true, really does not make any differ- 
 ence about the value of telling these stories to 
 children. 
 
 It will be better, however, to tell the chil- 
 dren at the close of a William Tell cycle 
 that historians are questioning the truth of 
 these stories, but whether such a man really 
 lived or not does not matter, because he repre- 
 sents the patriotic spirit of the Swiss so per- 
 fectly that there are many men who might 
 have borne his name. 
 
 Joan of Arc is perhaps as good an illus- 
 tration as we have of biographical material 
 for a cycle of stories. No character in his- 
 168 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 
 
 tory is more fascinating, uniting as it does 
 the elements of military heroism, devotion to 
 a cause, and that cause patriotic, strength 
 and simplicity of character. Great care 
 should be used in telling the opening chapters 
 of the story, because of the supernatural 
 element of " the voices." These do not need 
 to be explained, neither should they be done 
 away with, for the attitude of children even 
 as old as those who will be interested in 
 Joan's story will in most cases be that of 
 simple acceptance. Boutet de Monvel records 
 this part of the story with a simplicity which 
 is worthy of imitation. 
 
 "One summer day, when she was thirteen years 
 old, she heard a voice at midday in her father's 
 garden. A great light shone upon her, and the arch- 
 angel St. Michael appeared to her. He told her to 
 be a good girl and go to church. Then, telling her 
 of the great mercy which was in store for the King- 
 dom of France, he announced to her that she should 
 go to the help of the Dauphin and bring him to be 
 crowned at Rheims. ' I am only a poor girl,' she 
 said. ' God will help thee/ answered the archangel. 
 And the child, overcome, was left weeping. 
 
 " From this day, Joan's piety became still more ar- 
 dent. The child loved to go apart from her play- 
 mates to meditate, and heavenly voices spoke to her, 
 telling her of her mission. 
 
 169 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 "These, she said, were the voices of her Saints. 
 Often the voices were accompanied by visions. St. 
 Catherine and St. Margaret appeared to her. * I have 
 seen them with my bodily eyes/ she said later to her 
 judges, ' and when they left me I used to cry. I 
 wanted them to take me with them/ 
 
 " The girl grew, her mind elevated by her visions, 
 and her inmost heart keeping the secret of her heav- 
 enly intercourse." 
 
 The original records are so utilized that 
 the author has given the strongest rendering 
 of the story possible. Wherever funds per- 
 mit, this beautiful book should be the posses- 
 sion of children not only because of 'the 
 beauty and strength of the text, but because 
 the story is repeated so marvellously in the 
 illustrations of this artist. 
 
 Before telling this story, the narrator will 
 be greatly helped if he can read some sym- 
 pathetic biography not intended for children 
 and then take the text for his stories from a 
 more simple and condensed form. 
 
 H. Morse Stephens speaks of Francis C. 
 Lowell's " Joan of Arc " as " distinctively 
 the best thing in the English language on the 
 life and career of the Maid of Orleans." 
 
 Material to be used as a text for the tell- 
 170 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 
 
 ing of the story, and which can afterward be 
 given to the children for reading, will be 
 found in any of the following books. 
 
 THE RED TBUE STORY BOOK. LANG 
 
 THE STORY OF JOAN OF ARC (CHILDREN'S HEROES 
 SERIES ) . LANG 
 
 STORIES OF OLD FRANCE. PITMAN 
 
 BRAVE DEEDS. TROWBRIDGE 
 
 THE MAID OF ORLEANS (LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG 
 PEOPLE SERIES). UPTON 
 
 A cycle of five stories will cover the history 
 of Joan's life and the most important inci- 
 dents covered in the following outline: 
 
 First story: A few words in the intro- 
 duction to explain the political situation, the 
 struggle between the two kings for the 
 possession of France. Girlhood of Joan, 
 call of " the voices," and the visit to the 
 Dauphin. 
 
 Second story: Attack and delivery of 
 Orleans. 
 
 Third story: Defeat of the English and 
 crowning of the Dauphin. 
 
 Fourth story: Treachery of Paris and 
 capture of Joan. 
 
 Fifth story : Joan's trial and death. 
 171 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 A SUGGESTIVE LIST OF BOOKS FOR 
 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 
 
 ALFRED THE GREAT 
 
 Fifty Famous Stories. BALDWIN 
 
 In the Days of Alfred the Great. TAPPAN > 
 
 Stories from English History. WARREN 
 
 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 
 
 Pioneers of the Mississippi Valley. McMuBBT 
 Four American Pioneers. PERRY and BEEBE 
 
 FATHER DAMIEN 
 
 Alice's Visit to the Hawaiian Islands. KBAUS 
 The Red True Story Book of Heroes. LANQ 
 
 GRACE DARLING 
 
 Fifty Famous Stories. BALDWIN 
 The Blue True Story Book. LANQ . 
 The True Story Book. LANG 
 
 FRANCIS OF ASSISI 
 
 Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts. BROWN 
 In God's Garden. STEDMAN 
 
 GARIBALDI 
 
 Lives of Poor Boy s who Became Famous. BOLTON 
 
 GENERAL GORDON 
 
 The Story of General Gordon (Children's Heroes 
 Series ) . LANG, JKANIB 
 
 LA SALLE 
 
 The Discovery of the Old Northwest. BALDWIN 
 The Pioneers of the Mississippi Valley. McMuRRY 
 Parkman's Works. (Read as much as possible.) 
 
 NAPOLEON 
 
 Famous Leaders among Men. BOLTON 
 The Boys' Book of Famous Rulers. FARMER 
 The Boy Life of Napoleon. FOA 
 
 172 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 
 
 Napoleon the Little Corsican. HATHAWAY 
 
 The Story of Napoleon ( Children's Heroes Series) . 
 
 MARSHALL 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE 
 
 Fifty Famous Stories. BALDWIN 
 
 Boys' Book of Famous Rulers. FARMER 
 
 The Story of the English. GUERBER 
 
 The Story of Robert the Bruce (Children's Heroes 
 
 Series). LANG, JEANIE 
 WILLIAM TELL 
 
 Fifty Famous Stories, BALDWIN 
 
 Ten Great Events in History. JOHONNOT 
 
 Stories of William Tell (Told to the Children 
 
 Series ) . MARSHALL 
 The Book of Legends. SCUDDER 
 William Tell (Life Stories for Young People 
 
 Series ) . UPTON 
 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 
 Historic Boys. BROOKS 
 In the Days of William the Conqueror. TAPPAN 
 
 173 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 NATIONAL EPIC TALES 
 What is an epic? Why they are good stories to tell. 
 
 HILDREN all children, one im- 
 agines, since the line of cleavage is 
 not developed until later love fiction be- 
 cause it gives form to their unformulated long- 
 ing for adventure, and makes articulate their 
 unvoiced dreams of romantic achievement." 
 
 Perhaps it is because the folk and fairy 
 tales, and the great epic literature of the 
 world, were first recited to groups of eager 
 listeners and were not produced with the 
 idea of a printed form, that they furnish 
 the most successful sources of material for 
 the story teller. Excellent sources of fairy 
 tales have been cited in books already re- 
 ferred to, and such selections should not 
 only be used for the younger child, but should 
 stand as types of any new material which the 
 story teller himself may find. It is not the 
 purpose of the present volume, however, to 
 
NATIONAL EPIC TALES 
 
 concern itself primarily with the problem of 
 the younger child, whom we have considered 
 possibly overmuch, to the neglect of his older 
 brother, who suffers even more than he from 
 ignorant and thoughtless suggestion of every; 
 kind. 
 
 When the boy and girl have outgrown their 
 fairy tales, have cast aside the stories of 
 Indians and primitive men, when Robinson 
 Crusoe is no longer so large a hero as he 
 was, and the realistic stories of everyday 
 life pall on them, then the cry for adventure 
 becomes persistent and is not to be denied. 
 Hero they must have, and if one of heroic 
 proportions is not supplied, they will be- 
 come the prey of an imitation which for the 
 time satisfies their desires. 
 
 The heroic ideal has changed with the 
 progress of civilization; never has the world 
 demanded as much of a man who is to be a 
 hero as at the present time. 
 
 In the same way the ideals of children 
 develop, and the hero of their early admira- 
 tion is the man of action, of deeds, of physi- 
 cal courage; later they learn that there is 
 a higher type of hero, the man who endures, 
 175 
 
STORY TELLINGf 
 
 who suffers and lives for a principle ' the 
 hero of moral courage. 
 
 We cannot force the child's growth any 
 more than we can change the natural devel- 
 opment of nations. If, when the child first 
 craves adventure, he is met with a hero of the 
 type which he can understand, we may trust 
 to time for the development of his standards. 
 This does not mean that he is to be given less 
 than a real hero at any time, but that, so 
 long, for instance, as physical courage is the 
 only courage he can appreciate, he shall be 
 met with worthy examples of men who dared 
 and accomplished material achievement. 
 
 The cleverness of many modern writers in 
 seizing the opportunity which the love of 
 adventure offers for supplying an inexhaus- 
 tible stream from the press is certainly 
 worthy of comment. They are wise in thus 
 catering to desire which is not a passing 
 fad, but there is no wisdom which can justify 
 the acceptance of mere printed stuff, simply 
 because it will satisfy the demand of the 
 child for something to read. 
 
 It is not merely a question of reading, it 
 is also a question of character, for the man 
 176 
 
NATIONAL EPIC TALES 
 
 who becomes a hero for the child becomes 
 at the same time a model for his imitation. 
 
 There exists no greater source of hero 
 stories, valuable both as literature and as 
 portrayals of noble character, than that fur- 
 nished by the national epic literature. The 
 term " classics " is to many synonymous 
 with that which is stupid and uninteresting; 
 but instead of being, as they seem to think, 
 a dead and lifeless relic of a bygone day, 
 it is in reality the body of literature which 
 has retained a place for itself during all the 
 passage of years, because there is in it some- 
 thing of such a quality that it cannot die. 
 Leon Gautier, the authoritative critic and 
 translator of the " Chanson de Roland," 
 says : " If lyrical poetry is essentially per- 
 sonal, epic poetry is essentially national. It 
 can grow only out of a people which is al- 
 ready a nation, with a national conscious- 
 ness, and which combines four qualities not 
 rare to find in simple times: it must be re- 
 ligiously inclined, warlike, unsophisticated, 
 and fond of song. I may add that the na- 
 tion should not, at the moment it produces 
 the epic, be in a calm and prosperous con- 
 177 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 'dition; peace never yet gave birth to an 
 epic. It needs a struggle, its birthplace is 
 a battle-field, amidst the dying who have 
 given their lives to some great cause. So 
 much for soil. Then the epic needs matter 
 some positive central fact, which it will 
 enlarge upon in telling it. The fact almost 
 always is historical, and mostly sad, a de- 
 feat, a death. . . . Lastly, it must have a 
 hero, and the hero must completely embody 
 his time and nationality. His personality 
 must tower above the epic fact, so that this 
 fact be nothing without him and derive all its 
 importance from him." 
 
 Notwithstanding the fact that the epic 
 had its birth in the life of a single nation, 
 it contains those typically human character- 
 istics which make it one of the great univer- 
 sal books which in a sense know neither time 
 nor nationality. 
 
 The national epics are not desirable to 
 give to children simply because they are 
 classics and should form part of the child's 
 education, but because they are adapted to 
 his enjoyment and contain models for imi- 
 tation worthy of his metal. 
 178 
 
NATIONAL EPIC TALES 
 
 There are some who maintain that all 
 the national epics should be told to children, 
 but it would seem that no literature is suit- 
 able for a child unless it portrays ideas and 
 experiences which lie within the field of his 
 knowledge or the grasp of his understand- 
 ing. For example, the great classic of 
 Dante has been retold for children. The 
 significance of this marvellous poem, surely, 
 can touch only the mature experience and 
 should be reserved for the relatively later 
 years of life. 
 
 On the other hand, the most characteristic 
 qualities of the Odyssey are identical with 
 the interests of a child from eleven to four- 
 teen. Its composition makes it one of the 
 most perfect of the stories of adventure, for 
 there is a central figure which gives it unity 
 and binds the separate stories together, 
 while the motive of getting home, gives to 
 the adventures the character of incidents, 
 not of central themes. The interests of the 
 story are adapted to the child, the cleverness 
 and resourcefulness of the hero as well as 
 his determined purpose appeal to him. 
 
 The question of the age for which the 
 179 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 hero stories are adapted gives rise to a wide 
 diversity of opinion. Many people believe 
 that if the text, or a portion of it, is suffi- 
 ciently simplified the same story can be given 
 suitably to any age in a modified version. 
 
 It must be admitted that it is possible to 
 interest a little child in the merest fragment 
 of Robinson Crusoe, but in order to bring 
 the tale within his comprehension, it must 
 of necessity be robbed of all that gives it 
 charm and vitality. Would it not be better 
 to supply this child from the vast store- 
 house of folk-lore and fairy tales which can 
 be used in most cases in their original form, 
 and reserve Robinson Crusoe for a time when 
 he may step upon the stage in the guise and 
 stature of a true hero? The occasional child 
 will be found who enjoys this piecemeal 
 acquaintance, and will rejoice to add to his 
 knowledge of Ulysses as he meets him from 
 kindergarten to high school, but for most of 
 them the dwarf of the early version is the one 
 which contents them, and the high-water 
 mark of interest is entirely missed because 
 they were not allowed to wait until the appeal 
 was made by the masterpiece itself. 
 180 
 
NATIONAL EPIC TALES 
 
 The retort may be made, that consistency 
 will demand that people should not read the 
 masterpieces till they can do so in the orig- 
 inal, but this position is certainly not ten- 
 able unless foreign languages are among the 
 early acquisitions of childhood. 
 
 The tales which will be selected for chil- 
 dren from these national hero stories are rich 
 in adventure, full of action, romance, and 
 deeds of bravery; but the adventure, the 
 action, and even the romance are of the na- 
 ture to appeal to a boy rather than a man, 
 to the years of bodily rather than of mental 
 activity, to the days of simplicity not com- 
 plexity, to the openness of boyhood instead 
 of the introspective analysis of manhood, 
 and for this reason they will find a spon- 
 taneous response almost entirely lacking in 
 mature years. 
 
 The spirit of the stories is the spirit of 
 youth; their very origin in the days when 
 all the world was young and when a single 
 hero was credited with every possible and 
 impossible virtue as is the way of youth, 
 fits them preeminently to be not the stories 
 of adult life, but the stories of the days 
 181 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 when the world is growing up. It is cer- 
 tainly important to see that the translating 
 or retelling keeps the atmosphere and spirit 
 of the original ; but if we have such a version 
 it may well be used when it can sway and 
 hold the imagination of the child. 
 
 It is certainly a most desirable and happy 
 thing for a child to grow up in a home 
 where the famous names of history and lit- 
 erature are spoken often and with familiar- 
 ity, where without knowing it he makes 
 acquaintances among the world's great char- 
 acters long before he can appreciate the 
 story of their deeds. Unconsciously he be- 
 comes interested, and at length inquires the 
 significance of what he at first took for 
 granted, hearing the stories of these men 
 and events when his mind is ripe for them. 
 But such a condition is entirely different in 
 its results from the presentation of a story 
 simplified out of all likeness to the original 
 for the definite purpose of giving it to a 
 child in a form he can grasp. 
 
 If a study of these national epics is made 
 they will be found to be pictures painted on 
 big canvases, with huge brushes, often rep- 
 182 
 
, NATIONAL EPIC TALES 
 
 resenting very elemental emotions and vir- 
 tues, but pictures which breathe out courage 
 and strength, justice, if not always the finer 
 quality of mercy, quick decision and re- 
 sourcefulness, sometimes even unselfishness 
 and devotion to principle. Such qualities 
 are worthy of imitation, and, modified by the 
 spirit of altruism which will come later, will 
 make sterling men and noble women of the 
 hero-worshippers of to-day. 
 
 183 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 Robin Hood; Roland; The Cid; Frithjof; The Odyssey; 
 King Arthur; Rustem; Beowulf; Sigurd. 
 
 IN order to do the most effective work with 
 the hero stories contained in these na- 
 tional epics it is better, under ordinary cir- 
 cumstances, to separate boys and girls, and 
 to remember that most of these appeal in 
 a different way to a younger and older group 
 of either boys or girls. The first group, 
 fifth, sixth, and seventh grades, is interested 
 in adventure, battle, and conquest for the 
 things themselves, and loves the knights and 
 heroes of the adventures only as they rep- 
 resent accomplishment. They do not see the 
 deeper meaning of chivalry nor care for its 
 romance, these are the added concern of the 
 second group. For this reason, the epics 
 where women do not figure, or only inciden- 
 tally, will be most popular with the first 
 184 
 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 group, particularly if composed of boys, 
 and the stories of deeper spiritual signifi- 
 cance and more romantic plots should be 
 reserved for the succeeding grades. 
 
 It will be evident that, following this idea, 
 the stories of King Arthur, as well as others, 
 may be told for either group, but the selec- 
 tion of the stories will be somewhat different, 
 as the emphasis is laid on the heroic or the 
 spiritual significance of the epics. 
 
 In telling the Odyssey or the stories of 
 Sigurd, Frithjof, or Siegfried, it will add 
 much to the children's enjoyment, as well as 
 to their fuller understanding of these clas- 
 sics, if they have already had a series of 
 stories taken from Greek mythology in the 
 one case and Norse in the others, which will 
 have made them familiar with the names and 
 characteristics of the gods to whom refer- 
 ence is so frequently made. 
 
 The stories which will be recommended in 
 this chapter will include certain classic hero 
 tales which under the narrow use of the word 
 epic would be excluded, but which can be 
 included under a broad definition. The sto- 
 ries of Robin Hood, for example, do not com- 
 185 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 pose an epic ; but the ballads about this hero 
 came from the hearts of the people, and are 
 so closely related that they may be consid- 
 ered as a literary whole. 
 
 The study is in no sense exhaustive, and 
 even a change of opinion with regard to the 
 suitability of certain classics for children 
 may occur after the printing of these pages. 
 For the present, the great Hindu poems 
 of "The Ramayana" and "The Maha- 
 Bharata," " The Kalevala " of Finland, " The 
 Divine Comedy " from Italy, " The JEneid " 
 and the "Iliad," "Paradise Lost" and 
 " Jerusalem Delivered," though ranking as 
 truly great epics, have not been considered, 
 because they have treated of subjects which 
 were beyond the understanding or interest of 
 children, or because the material itself is 
 lacking in unity, simplicity, or other quali- 
 fications necessary in a story for telling. 
 There are, in some cases, many versions 
 which might have been suggested as " tell- 
 ing " texts with equal reason, but it has 
 seemed wise, considering the purpose of this 
 volume, to give one, or at most two, books 
 from which the story teller may be able to 
 186 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 get his material so that he may not find him- 
 self poor because of too great wealth. 
 
 No effort has been made to send the story 
 teller back to the original sources of the 
 stories, or to translations, because experi- 
 ence has led to the conviction that the re- 
 telling of the story, which is most nearly like 
 the form to be used in the oral presentation, 
 will be the thing most helpful to the unpro- 
 fessional story teller. To prepare the story 
 from a translation requires the time, the im- 
 agination, and the skill in handling material 
 which are the possession and equipment of 
 the professional. 
 
 Whenever the narrator of a story is able 
 to add background to his material and get 
 the spirit of the age and nation which the 
 tale represents by reading translations and 
 related books, it is much to be desired, but it 
 is recognized that for many people who must 
 tell stories in schools and homes and libraries, 
 the time required for this reading is impos- 
 sible to command. 
 
 Some of the stories which will be outlined 
 here for use in cycles have been fully worked 
 out and are available in print in separate 
 187 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 pamphlets through the courtesy of the 
 Carnegie Library of Pittsburg. 
 
 ROBIN HOOD 
 
 Of the many heroes which appeal to chil- 
 dren, there is probably none who can so easily 
 carry off the palm for popularity as Robin 
 Hood. He is no less a favorite with girls than 
 with boys, and the old ballad makers, whoever 
 they were, met the demand of the day for a 
 story, a good story, and one which did not take 
 too long in the telling, when they sung these 
 ballads for the young as well as the old. 
 
 Some prudish criticism occasionally clam- 
 ors for a hearing and maintains that we are 
 upholding lawlessness and robbery when we 
 make a hero of an outlaw, but certainly a 
 little study of the period and the character 
 ought to destroy such a theory. 
 
 The adventure is pure adventure; the 
 spirit of justice, which is one of the founda- 
 tion stones of our civilization, is a striking 
 characteristic of these stories. The high 
 ideals of womanhood, the spirit of helpful- 
 ness to poor and needy, the resourcefulness, 
 the humor, the willingness to give and take 
 188 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 in the same open-handed way, the manliness 
 in combat, all these qualities fit the stories for 
 telling, for they are the virtues and stand- 
 ards of life which these boys and girls can 
 understand and approve. 
 
 The ever engrossing activity pictured in 
 these stories, the atmosphere of woods and 
 out-of-doors which children love, the exhibi- 
 tion of physical strength, the atmosphere of 
 a fair fight are subjects which represent the 
 normal interests of children. 
 
 If we can add to the telling of the Robin 
 Hood stories the reading of some of the bal- 
 lads after the children know and love this 
 hero, it will add much to the value of the 
 story hour. 
 
 There is no prose rendering of the bal- 
 lads which seems to convey their spirit, both 
 by reason of the quaintness of the language 
 and the masterly handling of the material of 
 the story, as perfectly as Howard Pyle's 
 " Merry Adventures of Robin Hood." It is 
 a pleasure to recommend this text as the best 
 form for the story teller's use, and to sug- 
 gest that he cannot do better than to become 
 so familiar with the words of the author that 
 189 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 many of them will become his own. If this 
 edition is too expensive for the small library, 
 a smaller one containing a portion of the 
 stories has been issued under the title " Some 
 Merry Adventures of Robin Hood." 
 
 The stories here suggested are taken from 
 the large edition: 
 
 STORIES FROM THE BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 
 
 How Robin Hood Became an Outlaw and how Little 
 John Joined his Band 
 
 PYLE. Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, pp. 1-10 
 Robin Hood's Adventure with the Tinker 
 
 Same, pp. 13-22 
 The Sheriff's Shooting Match 
 
 Same, pp. 25-33. (Shorten first two pages.) 
 Robin Hood Saves Will Stutley's Life 
 
 Same, pp. 34-44 
 The Sheriff's Visit to Robin Hood 
 
 Same, pp. 47-56 
 Three Adventures of Robin Hood 
 
 Same, pp. 79-112. (Condense.) 
 Robin Hood and Allan a Dale 
 
 Same, pp. 115-27 
 Robin Hood and his Men Shoot before Queen Eleanor 
 
 Same, pp. 219-34 
 Robin Hood and Guy of Gisbourne 
 
 Same, pp. 255-69 
 Death of Robin Hood 
 
 Same, pp. 289-96 
 
 190 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 ROLAND 
 
 The " Chanson de Roland " is an epic set- 
 ting forth a single period in a great hero's 
 life, instead of making a complete picture, 
 and for that reason may be somewhat dis- 
 appointing to some children who are devoted 
 to an orderly development of their heroes' 
 careers. The constant action and the mar- 
 tial subject of the poem make it one which 
 will appeal to the battle-loving age. The 
 balance of the story will need changing for 
 the purpose of story telling, as too great 
 stress is laid on the events after the hero's 
 death to make the story effective and in good 
 proportion. 
 
 It will not be necessary to try to make a 
 connection between the characters of the 
 story and their historical counterparts, but 
 the first story may include a few sentences by 
 way of characterization of Charlemagne, such 
 as Baldwin gives in his " Story of Roland." 
 
 For a text to be used as a basis for telling 
 this story, I would recommend either Mar- 
 shall's " Stories of Roland," in the " Told 
 to the Children Series," or the story as given 
 191 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 by Ragozin in the volume on " Frith j of and 
 Roland." The divisions for the chapters in 
 the first are more artistic and can be relied 
 on more confidently for the places to break 
 the stories in telling, and its phraseology is 
 more careful and better suited to an oral 
 presentation. 
 
 The story divides itself easily into five, or 
 at most six, parts, as follows: 
 
 STORIES FROM THE CHANSON DE ROLAND 
 
 The Councils of the Kings 
 
 MARSHALL. Stories of Roland, pp. 1-19 
 RAGOZIN. Frith j of and Roland, pp. 147-64 
 
 Ganelon's Treason 
 
 MARSHALL. Stories of Roland, pp. 20-37 
 RAGOZIN. Frithjof and Roland, pp. 165-86 
 
 The Battle and the Sounding of the Horn 
 MARSHALL. Stories of Roland, pp. 38-61 
 RAGOZIN. Frithjof and Roland, pp. 187-215 
 
 The Death of Roland 
 
 MARSHALL. Stories of Roland, pp. 62-80 
 RAGOZIN. Frithjof and Roland, pp. 216-35 
 
 Roland Avenged 
 
 MARSHALL. Stories of Roland, pp. 81-105 
 RAGOZIN. Frithjof and Roland, pp. 187-215 
 
 Ganelon's Punishment 
 
 MARSHALL. Stories of Roland, pp. 106-16 
 RAGOZIN. Frithjof and Roland 
 
 192 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 Baldwin, in his " Story of Roland," 
 which is excellently rendered, has not at- 
 tempted to confine himself to the " Chanson 
 de Roland," but has gathered from various 
 sources and nations the poems and tales 
 which have Roland as their hero, and united 
 them in one continuous story. It is not the 
 epic, of course, but the sources of his ma- 
 terial are classic, and the hero story which he 
 has woven from the idealizations of many na- 
 tions is a splendid one to tell, and in many- 
 ways more interesting because of the variety. 
 The introduction of his two famous compan- 
 ions, Oliver and Ogier the Dane, will give 
 great pleasure and satisfaction to children, 
 for their spirit is worthy of the great Ro- 
 land. A cycle of stories from this collection 
 of Baldwin's can be arranged, and while it 
 does not cover all the material of the book 
 there is enough to rouse the curiosity of the 
 child, and stimulate him to read the book for 
 himself. 
 
 STORIES OF ROLAND 
 
 Roland's Boyhood 
 
 BALDWIN. Story of Roland, pp. 1-33 
 
 193 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Ogier the Dane 
 
 Same, pp. 47-70 
 Ogier and Roland Knighted 
 
 Same, pp. 70-80 
 How Ogier Won Horse and Sword 
 
 Same, pp. 81-96 
 Roland's Arms 
 
 Same, pp. 97-113 
 A Roland for an Oliver 
 
 Same, pp. 114-32 
 Princess of Cathay 
 
 Same, pp. 175-217 
 How Ogier Refused a Kingdom 
 
 Same, pp. 240-44 
 How Roland Slew the Sea Monster 
 
 Same, pp. 245-54 
 A Contest for Durandal 
 
 Same, pp. 317-28 
 How Roland Became his Own Shadow 
 
 Same, pp. 328-43; pp. 357-60 
 The Treachery of Ganelon and Roland's Death 
 Same, pp. 383-400 
 
 Very little is made of the episode which is 
 the subject of the " Song of Roland " in this 
 arrangement of stories, and many of the in- 
 cidents are so connected with the romantic 
 side of chivalry that if this cycle of stories 
 is used it should be with seventh and eighth 
 grades rather than with the younger children. 
 
 194 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 THE CID 
 
 The great Spanish hero is a military hero, 
 and the subject not only of two epics but of 
 ballads besides. He appears as a very human 
 hero with many human weaknesses, doubt- 
 less the result of the fact that much of his 
 history was recorded in epic form not long 
 after his death, for he was a historical per- 
 sonage as well as a literary hero. 
 
 But in spite of his scheming, his desire to 
 secure much of this world's goods for him- 
 self, his wanton desertion of all but those of 
 his own faith, he is the product of that time, 
 a hero of the battle-field and of the day when 
 " might makes right," and it was well to find 
 a champion for the right, strong and daring 
 enough to make it might. 
 
 Charles Sprague Smith says: 
 
 " The Cid, a man not of princely birth, through the 
 exercise of virtues which his time esteemed courage 
 and shrewdness had won for himself from the Moors 
 an independent principality. Legend will have begun 
 to color and transform his exploits already during his 
 lifetime. Some fifty years later he had become the 
 favorite hero of popular songs. It is probable that 
 
 195 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 these songs (cantares) were at first brief tales in rude 
 metrical form; and that the epic poems, dating about 
 1200, used them as sources. 
 
 " The ' Poem of My Cid ' is probably the earliest 
 monument of Spanish literature. It is also in our 
 opinion the noblest expression, so far as characters 
 are concerned, ... of the entire mediaeval folk epic 
 of Europe. However, in its simplicity, its characters 
 are drawn with clearness, firmness, and concision, pre- 
 senting a variety true to nature. The spirit which 
 breathes in it is of a noble, well-rounded humanity, a 
 fearless, gentle courage, a manly, modest self-reliance; 
 an unswerving loyalty, simple trust toward country, 
 king, kinsmen, and friends; a child-faith in God, 
 ' slightly tinged with superstition.' While based on 
 history, for the Cid lived from about 1045 to 1099, 
 this epic is yet largely legendary. ' The poem opens 
 with the departure of the hero from Bivar and de- 
 scribes his Moorish campaigns, culminating with his 
 conquest of Valencia.' " 
 
 A second epic, called " The Chronicle of 
 the Cid," of a later date, gives the main 
 story of his life, but much of it is legendary 
 and traditional. 
 
 Southey has translated " The Poem of My 
 Cid," " The Chronicle of the Cid," and the 
 popular Ballads or Romances, and united 
 them to form one story. It is this text which 
 Mr. Calvin Dill Wilson has used as the basis 
 of his book, "The Story of the Cid," the 
 196 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 most complete version of the epic which has 
 been prepared for children's use. 
 
 It was my good fortune, when a child, to 
 hear Mr. Smith tell the story of the Cid, the 
 thrill and daring of whose spirit so fasci- 
 nated me that it would seen an experience 
 worth giving to every child. 
 
 The text of Wilson's " Story of the Cid " 
 is given as the one to be used for telling the 
 story because it is practically the only one 
 available; but it will require a good deal of 
 skill on the part of the story teller to handle 
 the material in a manner necessary for an 
 artistic rendering of the epic, because of the 
 multiplicity of incidents and the constant 
 changes of central theme. 
 
 As the epic is essentially military in char- 
 acter, it is wise to minimize the feminine ele- 
 ment whenever it appears, and keep the cycle 
 one of battle-field adventures. 
 
 STORIES OF THE CID 
 
 How Rodrigo Avenged his Father and Saw a Leper 
 WILSON. Story of the Cid, pp. 1-35 
 
 (Make a short introduction giving explanation 
 of political conditions in Spain and the claimants 
 to the throne.) 
 
 197 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 How Rodrigo was Knighted and Received the Name 
 
 of "The Cid" 
 Same, pp. 35-42 
 
 Death of the King and Division of the Kingdom 
 Same, pp. 43-71 
 
 (Shorten the division of the Kingdom as much 
 as possible and make more of the siege of Zamora 
 and its results.) 
 Banishment of the Cid 
 
 Same, pp. 72-87 
 The Cid's Successes in the Land of the Moors 
 
 Same, pp. 88-99 
 
 The Cid Returns to the Aid of the King 
 Same, pp. 113-29 
 
 (Condense Chapter IX into two or three sen- 
 tences, giving the conditions of his return.) 
 Siege and Capture of Valencia 
 
 Same, pp. 131-66 
 How the Cid Lived and Ruled in Valencia 
 
 Same, pp. 166-92 
 How the Cid Gave his Daughters in Marriage 
 
 Same, pp. 208-18 
 
 The Cowardice of his Sons-in-law and their Punish- 
 ment 
 
 Same, pp. 218-72. (Condense.) 
 The Combat 
 
 Same, pp. 278-86 
 
 Death of the Cid and Honors Paid him 
 Same, pp. 297-313 
 
 108 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 FRITHJOF 
 
 (Pronounced Free4i-ojf) 
 
 Like the Robin Hood ballads, we cannot 
 technically class the Frith j of Saga with epic 
 literature; yet, like those ballads, the saga 
 sprung from the heart of the people, and 
 represents the Norse life before the introduc- 
 tion of Christianity as truly as any epic. It 
 has many of the characteristics of the epic 
 in its national drawing, its central hero, its 
 elements of unrest and craving for adventure ; 
 and its race spirit is so strong that, when 
 the Swedish national poet, Esaias Tegner, 
 clothed it in poetic form, it made a place for 
 itself at once almost as an epic of that coun- 
 try. Longfellow has given us a translation 
 of his work, Magnusson and Morris a trans- 
 lation of the saga, and both will do much to 
 make the story teller feel in sympathy with 
 the Icelandic atmosphere. 
 
 The saga must be told with great care to 
 preserve the marks of its origin, the feelings 
 and customs of the land of its birth, and at 
 the same time to emphasize the stirring ad- 
 venture rather than the romance, for this is 
 199 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 one of the hero stories where there is a 
 heroine as well as a hero. 
 
 The development of the hero's character, 
 his devotion to his word, his loyalty to his 
 friends, and his willingness to atone for the 
 wrong of his youth, make him a worthy sub- 
 ject for a great hero tale. 
 
 Ragozin's "Frithjof " may be used as a 
 text book for preparing the narrative, and 
 an arrangement of eight stories will cover the 
 ground of the saga. 
 
 STORIES OF FRITHJOF 
 
 Frithjof s Youth and Meeting with Ingeborg 
 RAGOZIN, Frithjof, pp. 3-32 
 
 (Condense Chapter I; in Chapter II, quote ad- 
 vice of the King, " Graciousness becomes a king 
 as flower- wreaths a shield; and a spring's mild 
 breath opens the earth, which wintry frost but 
 hardens. Choose one to trust, and look not for 
 another; for what is known to three will soon 
 be known to all." Also, advice of Thorsten, 
 " Frithjof, turn thee from evil, bend thy will to 
 what is good and noble, and do right. Thus wilt 
 thou not have lived in vain." Bring out only 
 striking characteristics of the heirlooms, p. 17, 
 foot of pp. 18-19; omit pp. 20-22. Condense 
 pp. 27-29 into two or three sentences and begin 
 last paragraph p. 29, making a statement simply 
 that he asked for her hand.) 
 
 200 
 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 King Ring 
 
 Same, pp. 33-42 
 The Departure 
 Same, pp. 43-62 
 
 (Touch very delicately on the scene in Balder's 
 grove; make strong point of his loyalty to his 
 word: " I would not buy Valhalla's joys by a lie, 
 certainly not those of earth.") 
 The Open Seas 
 
 Same, pp. 63-79 
 Frithjof's Return 
 
 Same, pp. 79-91 
 
 Frithjof the Viking at King Ring's Court 
 Same, pp. 92-110 
 
 (Children will enjoy the Viking's Code, pp. 
 95-6.) 
 Frith j of 's Test 
 
 Same, pp. 108-21 
 The Atonement 
 Same, pp. 122-39 
 
 THE ODYSSEY 
 
 The presentation of the Odyssey, as has 
 already been suggested, will gain very much 
 if it follows a course in Greek mythological 
 stories. There may be some who will feel 
 that it should also be preceded by the stories 
 from the Iliad, but this does not seem neces- 
 sary, at least in any detailed fashion. The 
 Iliad requires the grasp of the mature mind 
 201 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 to give it the unity which makes the story 
 convincing, and its theme, warlike though it 
 is, yet has a cause so outside the experience 
 of children that they are confused by its 
 intricacies, and their sympathies are divided 
 between victor and vanquished. The devel- 
 opment of the plot is too retarded, and the 
 action too slow to arouse their enthusiasm 
 for the epic as a whole. It would seem wiser 
 to use it as a source for incidental stories, or 
 not to consider it at all before the high 
 school, except as a background for the story 
 of Ulysses. James Baldwin has given a 
 splendid introduction to the Odyssey in his 
 " Story of the Golden Age," and it might be 
 a very desirable thing under some conditions 
 to tell a group of stories selected from that 
 volume, before beginning the Odyssey. 
 
 It is not difficult to see why this great 
 story of adventure is so popular with the 
 children who know it, for while the motive 
 of Ulysses' return home gives continuity to 
 the cycle, the adventures are very adaptable 
 for short stories, and their grotesque and 
 humorous character is exactly suited to the 
 child's point of view. Ulysses, too, has qual- 
 202 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 ities which mark him as the child's hero; 
 his great strength itself is convincing, and, 
 coupled with that, his activity, his readiness 
 and ability to undertake and conquer any 
 difficulty, his inventiveness and resourceful- 
 ness, his daring and dexterity in battle or 
 personal combat, his love of home, endear 
 him to children's hearts. 
 
 This is one of the places where we have 
 such an excellent translation of the original 
 in Professor George Herbert Palmer's " The 
 Odyssey of Homer," that it seems almost 
 unnecessary to suggest any adaptation for 
 our purpose. There are several authors who 
 have done very excellent work in preparing 
 versions of the Odyssey for children's read- 
 ing, but the new edition of Mr. Church's 
 work, " The Odyssey for Boys and Girls," 
 is on the whole the most satisfactory for the 
 story teller. 
 
 STORIES FROM THE ODYSSEY 
 
 Adventures of Ulysses with the Cyclops 
 
 CHURCH. Odyssey for Boys and Girls, pp. 15-30 
 
 (This gives in a few words of explanation the 
 situation to the close of the Trojan War.) 
 PALMER. Odyssey of Homer, pp. 130-46 
 
 203 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 The Adventure at the Home of the Winds and the 
 Palace of Circe 
 
 CHURCH, pp. 33-45 
 
 PALMER, pp. 147-64 
 The Sirens and the Monsters Scylla and Charybdis 
 
 CHURCH, pp. 49-62 
 
 PALMER, pp. 185-98 
 What Happened in Ithaca and the Search for Ulysses 
 
 CHURCH, pp. 67-128. (Condense.) 
 
 PALMER, pp. 1-71. (Condense.) 
 An Island Prison and a Shipwreck 
 
 CHURCH, pp. 63, 131-41 
 
 PALMER, pp. 72-87 
 Ulysses Finds a Princess Washing Clothes 
 
 CHURCH, pp. 145-56 
 
 PALMER, pp. 88-98 
 Ulysses at the Court of Alcinous 
 
 CHURCH, pp. 159-76 
 
 PALMER, pp. 99-128 
 Ulysses' Welcome at Ithaca 
 
 CHURCH, pp. 179-211 
 
 PALMER, pp. 199-262. (Condense.) 
 Ulysses at Home 
 
 CHURCH, pp. 215-52. (Condense.) 
 
 PALMER, pp. 262-327. (Condense.) 
 Trial by Bow 
 
 CHURCH, pp. 255-77 
 
 PALMER, pp. 328-57 
 The End of a Hero's Adventures 
 
 CHURCH, pp. 281-308 
 
 PALMER, pp. 358-87 
 
 204 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 The story of King Arthur has been told 
 so many times and in so many languages that 
 it can scarcely be said to belong to any 
 nation exclusively, nor to represent the epic 
 in its technical sense, yet no group of hero 
 stories would be complete without it. Mal- 
 ory's " Morte D' Arthur " is far too long to 
 be covered in a single cycle of stories, and 
 it is an illustration of material which can be 
 told to bring out the side of adventure and 
 battle, or the romance and ethical signifi- 
 cance of chivalry, as Tennyson has done in 
 " The Idyls of the King." 
 
 The King Arthur story is difficult to han- 
 dle because, while it bears the name of a sin- 
 gle hero, it really embraces cycles of stories 
 within a cycle, each with a hero who is for 
 the time an absorbing interest. For this rea- 
 son it would be well, perhaps, for the story 
 teller, after a few stories concerning the es- 
 tablishment of the Round Table, to choose 
 the stories which concern some one hero, and 
 tell a group about Launcelot, Percival, Mer- 
 lin (who is a very fascinating character to 
 205 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 most children), Tristram, or Galahad and 
 the Grail story. 
 
 There are a few stories which present 
 single adventures of different knights, and 
 these, with the incidents connected with Ar- 
 thur's boyhood and the beginning of the 
 Round Table, will serve to give a general idea 
 of the character of the Morte D'Arthur as 
 a whole. 
 
 For such a purpose Macleod's " King 
 Arthur and his Noble Knights " offers either 
 a very good text for the story teller, or a 
 book which is easily read by the children 
 themselves. 
 
 Radf ord's " King Arthur and his Knights " 
 has an introductory chapter which is valuable 
 because it gives a good picture of the condi- 
 tions of chivalry, which ought to be familiar 
 to the child before he can really enjoy the 
 stories, and is a simple version of the story as 
 well. 
 
 If the story teller can obtain Sidney Lan- 
 ier's " Boy's King Arthur," or Howard 
 Pyle's three volumes, " King Arthur and 
 his Knights," "The Champions of the 
 Round Table," and " The Story of Launce- 
 206 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 lot and his Companions," they will be a 
 great help and inspiration, besides giving him 
 very successfully the atmosphere of the 
 original. 
 
 The interest which the picture of Sir Gal- 
 ahad by Watts and the series of paintings 
 in the Boston Public Library of the Grail 
 story have roused in many children as well 
 as older people, creates a desire to know the 
 continuous story of Sir Galahad and his 
 quest for the Holy Grail; and such a series 
 of stories may be taken from the book of 
 Mary Blackwell Sterling, called " The Story 
 of Sir Galahad." 
 
 Perhaps no epic, if epic we call it, offers 
 so great an opportunity to combine the 
 charm of adventure with high ideals as do 
 these King Arthur stories. The standards 
 set of loyalty, obedience, devotion to high 
 causes, purity, strength, and courage which 
 must always protect the weak and needy, 
 manliness and justice, faithfulness to trust 
 and to honor these are virtues which are 
 ideals for every boy and every girl as well 
 as every man and woman. 
 
 Mr. Howard Pyle has expressed the in- 
 207 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 spiratlon which this great work has for us 
 all in his foreword to the " Story of King 
 Arthur." "For when, in pursuing this his- 
 tory, I have come to consider the high nobil- 
 ity of spirit that moved these excellent men 
 to act as they did, I have felt that they have 
 afforded such a perfect example of courage 
 and humility that anyone might do exceed- 
 ingly well to follow after their manner of 
 behavior in such measure as he is able 
 to do." 
 
 "For I believe that King Arthur was the 
 most honorable, gentle knight who ever lived 
 in all the world. And those who were his 
 fellows of the Round Table taking him as 
 their looking-glass of chivalry made, al- 
 together, such a company of noble knights 
 that it is hardly to be supposed that their 
 like will ever be seen again in this world. 
 Wherefore it is that I have such extraordi- 
 nary pleasure in beholding how those famous 
 knights behaved whenever circumstances 
 called upon them to perform their en- 
 deavor." 
 
 208 
 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 How Arthur Became King and how he Won his Sword 
 
 MACLEOD. King Arthur and his Noble Knights, pp. 
 1-13, 21-30 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur and his Knights, pp. 11-25, 
 
 29-34 
 A Great Feast and a Great Battle 
 
 MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 14-21 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur, pp. 35-48 
 The Marriage of Guinevere and King Arthur and the 
 Founding of the Round Table 
 
 MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 31-35 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur, pp. 49-72 
 King Arthur and Sir Accalon 
 
 MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 35-55 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur, pp. 142-52 
 How King Arthur Fought with a Giant 
 
 MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 55-63 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur, pp. 152-59 
 Sir Brune 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur, pp. 171-92 
 Sir Ivaine 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur, pp. 99-119 
 Sir Balin 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur, pp. 120-30 
 Sir Gareth the " Kitchen Boy " 
 
 MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 101-43 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur, pp. 73-98 
 Adventure of Sir Geraint and the Fair Enid 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur, pp. 131-41 
 
 209 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Sir Launcelot and his Friends 
 
 MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 63-89, 96-101 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur, pp. 199-212 
 Sir Tristram 
 
 MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 143-67 
 How Sir Tristram Came to Camelot 
 
 MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 168-78 
 The Quest of the Holy Grail 
 
 MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 292-354. (Divide 
 into at least two stories.) 
 
 RADFORD. King Arthur, pp. 243-59 
 Death of King Arthur 
 
 MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 368-83 
 
 RADFOBD. King Arthur, pp. 260-68 
 
 There are many other selections which are 
 perhaps equally good, but these concern 
 themselves more with the activities of the 
 knights, and so are of special interest as 
 introductory stories for fifth, sixth, and even 
 seventh grades. 
 
 Many of the adventures of Tristram are 
 full of the story of La Belle Iseult, many of 
 those relating to Sir Launcelot have to do 
 with Guinevere, such as " How Launcelot 
 Saved the Queen," or they are very romantic 
 in character, like that of " Launcelot and 
 the Lily-maid of Astolat," and for that rea- 
 son will be found to be vastly more accept- 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 able to the older children. It has been my 
 experience that the younger boys and girls 
 rather resent the introduction of Vivien and 
 Morgan le Fay into the stories, and prefer 
 to skip the tales in which they figure. 
 
 Leon Gautier's " Chivalry," translated by 
 Henry Frith, will be very helpful to the 
 story teller for the purpose of acquainting 
 himself with the costumes, manners, and 
 customs of the days of chivalry. The 
 more familiar one is with armor, battlements, 
 moats, and drawbridges, the easier it is to 
 have a clear mental picture as one tells the 
 story, and the easier it will be to make a 
 vivid and realistic picture in the mind of the 
 listener. 
 
 As we made use of the ballads in the story- 
 hour devoted to Robin Hood, so it would 
 seem a happy thing to associate the poetry 
 of Tennyson with these stories. This is not 
 at all difficult to do, for the swing of the lines 
 makes them seem almost like the beat of 
 horses' hoofs, or the clang of armor. 
 
 What boy or girl is there who will not 
 delight to hear 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 " Strike for the King and die ! And if thou diest, 
 The King is king, and ever wills the highest, 
 Clang battleaxe and clash brand! Let the King 
 reign. 
 
 The King will follow Christ, and we the King, 
 In whom high God hath breathed a secret thing, 
 Fall battleaxe, and flash brand! Let the King 
 reign." 
 
 I shall never forget the face of one lad 
 who had learned what knighthood really 
 meant in the conquest of himself, as he rose 
 one day and told the story of the Round 
 Table and closed by repeating the oath 
 which the knights made. 
 
 " To reverence the King, as if he were 
 Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, 
 To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, 
 To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, 
 To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, 
 To lead sweet lives in purest chastity." 
 
 RlJSTEM 
 
 (Pronounced Roo-stem) 
 
 One of the great advantages to be derived 
 from an acquaintance with literature is the 
 familiarity with places, the customs of the 
 212 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 people, and their manner of expressing 
 themselves which great books are sure to give. 
 For this reason a child unconsciously gains 
 more than the joy of the story from a read- 
 ing of the Arabian Nights, and great care 
 ought to be taken in the selection of the ver- 
 sions pf the classics which are given to chil- 
 dren, to make sure that they preserve the 
 atmosphere of the story as well as a merely 
 accurate recital of the incidents of the plot. 
 
 Some people tell a story, Norse or In- 
 dian, Greek or Persian, with exactly the same 
 style and use of language, and the result is 
 a definite loss to the hearer. 
 
 It is a great pity if a child is limited in 
 his reading to the works of one nation, and 
 is not allowed to become acquainted with a 
 wide variety of literatures, and to feel the 
 difference in the point of view of the Occi- 
 dent and the Orient, the familiar character- 
 istics of grotesqueness and strength in the 
 literature of the North, the subtle humor and 
 beauty of the German legends, the persistent 
 note of tragedy in the stories of Japan, and 
 so to possess himself of his literary inher- 
 itance. 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 It is fortunate that recently there have 
 been published two books giving the great 
 Persian epic Shah-Nameh in versions for 
 children. One of them, " The Story of 
 Rustem," by Elizabeth Renninger, is the 
 outcome of her own use of the stories in a 
 boys' club of the Bushwick Branch of the 
 Brooklyn Public Library; and the other is 
 E. M. Wilmot-Buxton's " Stories of Per- 
 sian Heroes." Both books present the story 
 in an admirable manner, but Miss Rennin- 
 ger's conforms more nearly to the style and 
 language of the Oriental story teller. Long 
 descriptions and epithets keep one constantly 
 in touch with the " feeling " which the orig- 
 inal has ; and the conversation, with its 
 compliment and inevitable flattery and cir- 
 cuitous mode of expression, is a constant re- 
 minder that the listener is in the East, where 
 there is no haste and where a story must 
 never be allowed to suffer by thoughtless 
 condensation. 
 
 The book as it stands will be rather long 
 for the average time which can be given to 
 a single cycle of stories, as there are twenty- 
 two stories in all, but there is enough variety 
 14 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 in the stories so that they would be interest- 
 ing for two courses ; and if they were used 
 in this way the book as it stands is very well 
 suited to the needs of the story teller. 
 
 The stories which are directly connected 
 with Rustem have been used with seventh and 
 eighth grades, and with high school pupils, 
 and I have found they were delighted with 
 them. The detail and description which 
 would be tiresome to younger children has a 
 charm of its own for these older ones, but 
 the stories as given in print will have to be 
 condensed somewhat for telling, in almost 
 every case. 
 
 STORIES OF RUSTEM 
 
 Rustem, the Wonder Child 
 
 RENNINGER. The Story of Rustem, pp. 83-94 
 Rustem, the Young Warrior 
 
 Same, pp. 95-119 
 Seven Labors of Rustem 
 
 Same, pp. 120-60. (Condense.) 
 Rustem the Pehliva 
 
 Same, pp. 161-74. (Omit Rustem's romance.) 
 Sohrab the Youth 
 
 Same, pp. 193-212. (Condense.) 
 Wrath of Rustem 
 
 Same, pp. 212-29 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Combat of Sohrab against Rustem 
 
 Same, pp. 230-57 
 How Rustem Trained Siawush and Avenged him 
 
 Same, pp. 259-78 
 Later Feats of Rustem 
 
 Same, pp. 302-23 
 Story of Isfendiyar 
 
 Same, pp. 324-54 
 Death of Rustem 
 
 Same, pp. 355-61 
 
 BEOWULF 
 ( Pronounced Ba'- d-uwlf ) 
 
 In the preface to the translation of the 
 Volsunga Saga by Magnusson and Morris, 
 these words are found : " May it no longer 
 be said to our shame, that Americans, Ger- 
 mans, and Englishmen hold in higher es- 
 teem the story of Greek, Roman, or Persian 
 conquerors, the deeds of alien people, than 
 the heroism, the mythology, the poetic 
 grandeur of our ancient Gothic forebears, 
 whose language, fables, nursery-tales and 
 minstrelsy are inseparable components of our 
 literature, our laws, and our liberties." 
 
 The great Anglo-Saxon epic Beowulf is 
 one of the possessions which thus peculiarly 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 belong to us, and which we cherish on this 
 account, as well as because it has those 
 wonderful qualities of freshness and action, 
 unspoiled by the taint of complicated civiliza- 
 tions. It gives to us just that sense of free- 
 dom which we breathe in with such joy when 
 we run away from the city on a spring morn- 
 ing and find that the tonic of the air in 
 crowded streets was after all but a poor im- 
 itation of what it is under the trees of real 
 country lanes. The hero who so willingly 
 offers himself to rid a people of its demon 
 enemy, whether symbolic as some claim, is 
 one whose spirit should be cultivated in the 
 Anglo-Saxon of this present day. 
 
 It is so short that it is almost possible to 
 tell it in a single story, but that requires a 
 condensation which robs it of some of its 
 picturesqueness and portrayal of life in 
 those early days. The style of the original 
 is very concise and should receive a little 
 elaboration for a telling version. Marshall's 
 " Stories of Beowulf," or Ragozin's " Sieg- 
 fried and Beowulf," have been selected as 
 the foundation for this series of stories. 
 
 217 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 STORIES FROM BEOWULF 
 
 Beowulf Comes to Daneland 
 
 RAGOZIN. Siegfried and Beowulf, pp. 219-44 
 
 MARSHALL. Stories of Beowulf, pp. 1-33 
 The Combat with Grendel 
 
 RAGOZIN, pp. 244-59 
 
 MARSHALL, pp. 35-46 
 Grendel Avenged 
 
 RAGOZIN, pp. 259-74 
 
 MARSHALL, pp. 46-62 
 Beowulf's Return to his Own Land 
 
 RAGOZIN, pp. 275-93 
 
 MARSHALL, pp. 63-75 
 Beowulf's Victory and Death 
 
 RAGOZIN, pp. 294-322. (Condense pp. 312-22 to a 
 few sentences.) 
 
 MARSHALL, pp. 76-114. (Condense pp. 103-14 to a 
 few sentences.) 
 
 SIGURD 
 
 Last of all our epic tales to be considered 
 are the Volsunga Saga of Iceland, and the 
 Nibelungenlied of Germany. Very little has 
 been done to give these great works to chil- 
 dren, though many writers have concerned 
 themselves with telling the story as Wagner 
 composed it as a background for his music. 
 He drew from the Icelandic and the German 
 18 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 versions of the story, and made one in many 
 ways quite his own ; Chapin in " The Story 
 of the Rhinegold," Frost in the " Wagner 
 Story Book," Barber in the " Wagner Op- 
 era Stories," McSpadden in the " Stories 
 from Wagner," and many others have given 
 this story as Wagner told it; but that is 
 neither the Saga nor the Nibelungenlied. 
 
 It seems wise to know our literature before 
 we know our music story, since the latter 
 really is indebted to the former, and is of a 
 character to appeal to the adolescent rather 
 than the child. Both the Wagner story and 
 the Nibelungenlied are much better suited to 
 the period which is marked by a beginning 
 of the interest in romance, for they are lack- 
 ing in the simpler, sterner qualities of the 
 Norse story. 
 
 The Volsunga Saga was composed prob- 
 ably sometime during the twelfth century 
 " from floating traditions, from songs which, 
 now lost, were then known, at least in 
 fragments, to the saga-man; and finally 
 from songs, which, written down about that 
 time are still existing " in the Elder Edda. 
 
 Sparling says, in the introduction of the 
 219 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 translation of the Volsunga Saga by Eirikr 
 Magnusson and William Morris: 
 
 "Every people find some one means of expression 
 which more than all else suits their mood or powers, 
 and this the Icelanders found in the saga. This was 
 the life of a hero told in prose^ but in set form, after 
 a regular fashion that unconsciously complied with 
 all epical requirements but that of verse a simple 
 plot, events in order of time, set phrases for even the 
 shifting emotions or changeful fortune of a fight or 
 a storm, and careful avoidance of digression, comment, 
 or putting forward by the narrator of aught but the 
 theme he has in hand; he himself is never seen. 
 
 " In very truth the saga is a prose epic, and marked 
 by every quality an epic should possess. Where the 
 saga, as this one of the Volsungs, is founded upon the 
 debris of songs and poems, even the very old tales of 
 mythological heroes, of men quite removed from the 
 personal knowledge of the narrator, yet the story is 
 so inwound with the traditions of his race, is so much 
 a part of his thought-life, that every actor in it has 
 for him a real existence. At the feast or gathering, 
 or by the fireside, as men made nets and women spun, 
 these tales were told over; in their frequent repeti- 
 tion, by men who believed them, though incident or 
 sequence underwent no change, they would become 
 closer knit, more coherent, and each an organic whole. 
 Gradually they would take a regular and accepted 
 form, which would ease the strain upon the reciter's 
 memory and leave his mind free to adorn the story with 
 fair devices, that again gave help in making it easier 
 to remember, and these aided in its presentation." 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 " Of all the stories kept in being by the saga-tellera 
 and left for our delight, there is none that so epito- 
 mises human experience; has within so much of na- 
 ture and of life; so fully expresses the temper and 
 genius of the Northern folk as that of the Volaungs 
 and the Nibelungs, which has in varied shapes entered 
 into the literature of many lands. In the beginning 
 there is no doubt that the story belonged to the com- 
 mon ancestral folk of all the Teutonic or Scando- 
 Gothic peoples in the earliest days of their wander- 
 ings. The oldest shape in which we have it is in the 
 Eddaic poems, some of which date from unnumbered 
 generations before the time to which most of them are 
 ascribed, the time of the Viking kingdoms in the 
 Western-Isles. Of the Eddaic songs only fragments 
 now remain, but ere they perished there arose from 
 them a saga," i. e., the Volsung Saga. " The so-called 
 Anglo-Saxons brought part of the story to England 
 in Beowulf, in which also appear some incidents that 
 are again given in the Icelandic saga of Grettier the 
 Strong. Most widely human is the form taken by 
 the story in the hands of an unknown mediaeval Ger- 
 man poet, who, from the broken ballads then surviv- 
 ing, wrote the Nibelungenlied. 
 
 "The whole of the earlier part of the story ha3 
 disappeared, and though Siegfried (Sigurd) has slain 
 a dragon, there is nothing to connect it with the fate 
 that follows the treasure ; Andvari, the Volsungs, Faf - 
 ner, and Regin are all forgotten; the mythological 
 features have become faint, and the general air of 
 the whole is that of mediaeval romance. The curse of 
 Andvari, which in the saga is grimly real, working 
 itself out with slow, sure steps that no form of god 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 or man can turn aside, in the mediaeval poem is but 
 mere scenic effect . . . that has no obvious relation 
 to the working out of the plot, or fulfilment of their 
 destiny by the different characters. Brynhild loses a 
 great deal and is a poor creature when compared with 
 herself in the saga; Grimheld and the fateful drink 
 have gone . . . but Sigurd (Siegfried), the central 
 figure, although he has lost by the omission of so 
 much of his life, is, as before, the embodiment of all 
 the virtues that were so dear to Northern hearts. 
 Brave, strong, generous, dignified, and utterly truth- 
 ful, he moves amid a tangle of tragic events, over- 
 mastered by a mighty fate and in life or death is still 
 a hero without stain or flaw." 
 
 Certain it is that, though this story is 
 marked by motives and passions of the time 
 before Christianity had softened men's 
 hearts, it presents to us a people valorous, 
 liberty-loving, intellectual and civil, whose 
 speech and laws and customs have influenced 
 our own to a remarkable degree. 
 
 If it seems desirable to give the story as 
 the German people told it, a good text will 
 be found in Ragozin's " Siegfried and Beo- 
 wulf," but my own feeling is that the Norse 
 version recommends itself much more to the 
 story teller's art. 
 
 The translation of the saga already re- 
 ferred to is considered authoritative ; while a 
 222 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 feeling has been expressed by some that when 
 Morris rendered the saga into verse in his 
 " Sigurd the Volsung," he lost much of the old 
 Norse feeling and characteristics. Others of 
 equally good discrimination claim that his own 
 love for the original was his safeguard, and 
 that he has reproduced the spirit and the fire 
 of those rude old days in a marvellous manner. 
 Sarah Bradish has in her turn retold this 
 epic from the verse of Morris's " Sigurd the 
 Volsung," in a small volume called " Old 
 Norse Stories." The first half of the book 
 is devoted to the Norse mythological stories, 
 and she has made many quotations from the 
 verse which may well be used in the stories 
 as they are told. 
 
 STORIES FROM THE VOLSUNGA SAGA 
 
 Sigmund Wins the Sword 
 
 BRADISH. Old Norse Stories, p. 122, and last para- 
 graph, p. 129 
 Visit to the Goths 
 Same, pp. 129-36 
 Sigmund and Sinfiotli 
 
 Same, p. 138, last paragraph to 141 (The Mere- 
 wolves) ; omit to last paragraph 143; continue to 
 2d paragraph 147; omit from 147 to 154 (Death 
 of Sigmund) ; continue 154 to 158 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 Death of Sigmund and Birth of Sigurd 
 
 Same, pp. 158-67 
 Regin's Story 
 
 Same, pp. 168-77 
 Forging of the Sword 
 
 Same, pp. 178-88 
 Brynhild 
 
 Same, pp. 189-92 
 Gudrun's Dreams 
 
 Same, pp. 193-202 
 Sigurd and the Nibelungs 
 
 Same, pp. 203-14 
 Wooing of Brynhild 
 
 Same, pp. 210-22 
 Death of Sigurd 
 
 Same, pp. 223-34 
 
 The books which have been given as those 
 suited for use by the story teller have been 
 recommended also with the thought that they 
 will supply the demand of the children for 
 something to read, which should follow a 
 story-hour. 
 
 The sequence in which these epics are to 
 be presented has not been considered in the 
 order in which they are here listed. What 
 will be the fitting introduction to the classic 
 hero tales will depend somewhat on the en- 
 vironment where the stories are given, and 
 also on the age of the children who listen, as 
 224 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 well as the personal inclination of the story 
 teller. It may be wise to use only one cycle, 
 or it may be desirable to give several, pro- 
 vided a sufficient time elapses between, so that 
 the stories do not become confused. 
 
 It is possible to group the epics according 
 to subject, the martial epic, the epic of ad- 
 venture, the epic of romance, and so on ; but 
 the importance of such grouping is in the 
 fact that the children who are leaving their 
 Indians and primitive life behind will be in- 
 terested in the heroes who are warriors first 
 and foremost ; who will be interested later in 
 single adventure, and only at the last of the 
 period will be inclined to consider the epic 
 when the element of romance is evident to 
 any degree. 
 
 After what has been said it will hardly be 
 necessary to remind the story teller that the 
 child of the rural community and small 
 town is in many respects quite a different 
 problem from the child of the great city, 
 especially if the latter was but recently a 
 foreigner ; and nationality will play a part in 
 the instinctive appeal of certain stories with 
 children whose inheritance they rightly are. 
 225 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 LIST OF BOOKS SUGGESTED FOR THE STORY 
 TELLER 
 
 ANDERSEN. Fairy Tales and Stories. 111. by Tegner. 
 Century, $5.00 
 
 ANDERSEN. Fairy Tales. Tr. by Mrs. Lucas. Dutton, 
 $2.50 
 
 ANDERSEN. Wonder Stories. Houghton, $1.00 
 ^ BALDWIN. Fifty Famous Stories. American Book Co., 
 
 $0.35 
 
 j> BALDWIN. Discovery of the Old Northwest. Ameri- 
 can Book Co., $0.60 
 
 ^? BALDWIN. Story of Roland. Scribner, $1,50 
 7 BALDWIN. Story of the Golden Age. Scribner, $1.50 
 
 BOLTON. Famous Leaders among Men. Crowell, 
 
 $1.50 
 
 ^ BOLTON. Lives of Poor Boys who Became Famous. 
 Crowell, $1.50 
 
 BOUTET DE MONVEL. Joan of Arc. Century, $3.00 
 
 BRADISH. Old Norse Stories. American Book Co., 
 $0.45 
 
 BROOKS. Historic Boys. Putnam, $1.50 
 
 BROWN. Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts. Hough- 
 ton, $1.25 
 
 BRYANT. How to Tell Stories to Children. Houghton, 
 $1.00 
 
 BRYANT. Stories to Tell to Children. Houghton, 
 $1.00 
 
 CARNEGIE LIBRARY OF PITTSBURGH. Annotated Cata- 
 logue of Books Used in Home Libraries and Read- 
 ing Clubs. $0.25 postpaid 
 
 226 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 CARNEGIE LIBRARY OF PITTSBURGH. List of Good 
 Stories to Tell to Children under Twelve Years 
 of Age. $0.05 postpaid 
 CHURCH. Odyssey for Boys and Girls. Macmillan, 
 
 $1.50 
 
 COOKE. Nature Myths. Flanagan, $0.35 
 DASENT. Popular Tales from the Norse. Putnam, 
 
 $2.50 
 FARMER. Boys' Book of Famous Rulers. Crowell, 
 
 $1.50 
 
 FOA. Boy Life of Napoleon. Lothrop, $1.25 
 GRIMM. Fairy Tales. Tr. by Mrs. Lucas. 111. by 
 
 Arthur Rackham. Lippincott, $1.50 
 GRIMM. Household Stories. Tr. by Crane. Macmil- 
 lan, $1.50 
 GUERBER. Story of the English. American Book Co., 
 
 $0.65 
 HASSLER. Graded List of Stories for Reading Aloud. 
 
 Public Library Commission of Indiana 
 HATHAWAY. Napoleon the Little Corsican. Rand, 
 
 $0.35 
 
 JACOBS. Celtic Fairy Tales. Putnam, $1.25 
 JACOBS. More Celtic Fairy Tales. Putnam, $1.25 
 JACOBS. English Fairy Tales. Putnam, $1.25 
 JACOBS. More English Fairy Tales. Putnam, $1.25 
 JACOBS. Indian Fairy Tales. Putnam, $1.25 
 JOHONNOT. Ten Great Events in History. American 
 
 Book Co., $0.50 
 
 KIPLING. Jungle Books. 2 v. Century, ea. $1.50 
 KROUT. Alice's Visit to the Hawaiian Islands. Amer- 
 ican Book Co., $0.45 
 
 LANG, ANDREW. Blue True Story Book. Longmans, 
 $0.50 
 
STORY TELLING 
 
 LANG, ANDREW. Crimson Fairy Book. Longmans, 
 
 $1.60 
 
 LANG, ANDREW. True Story Book. Longmans, $2.00 
 .>" LANG, JEANIE. Story of General Gordon. Dutton, 
 
 $0.50 
 s^* LANG, JEANIE. Story of Robert the Bruce. Dutton, 
 
 $0.50 
 
 LANG, L. B. Red Book of Heroes. Longmans, $1.60 
 LANIER. Ed. Boy's King Arthur. Scribner, $2.00 
 LORD. The Touch of Nature. American Unitarian As- 
 sociation, $1.00 
 MACLEOD. Book of King Arthur and His Noble 
 
 Knights. Stokes, $1.50 
 MACLEOD. Book of King Arthur, etc. Burt, $1.00 
 
 (Inexpensive edition) 
 
 McMuRRY. Pioneers of the Mississippi Valley. Pub- 
 lic School Publishing Co., $0.50 
 MARSHALL. Stories of Beowulf. Dutton, $0.50 
 MARSHALL. Stories of Roland. Dutton, $0.50 
 MARSHALL. Story of Napoleon. Dutton, $0.50 
 MARSHALL. Story of William Tell. Dutton, $0.50 
 OZAKI. Japanese Fairy Book. Dutton, $2.00 
 PALMER. Tr. Odyssey of Homer. Houghton, $1.50 
 PERRY and BEEBE. Four American Pioneers. Werner, 
 
 $0.50 
 PYLE. Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. Scribner, 
 
 $3.00 
 
 PYLE. Some Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. Scrib- 
 ner, $0.50 (Condensed) 
 
 PYLE. Story of King Arthur and his Knights. Scrib- 
 ner, $2.50 
 
 PYLE. Story of the Champions of the Round Table. 
 Scribner, $2.50 
 
 228 
 
 
HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 
 
 PYLE. Story of Launcelot and his Companions. Scrib- 
 
 ner, $2.50 
 RADFORD. King Arthur and his Knights. Rand, 
 
 $0.75. School ed., $0.50 
 
 RAGOZIN. Frith j and Roland. Putnam, $1.50 
 RAGOZIN. Siegfried and Beowulf. Putnam, $1.50 
 RENNINGEB. Story of Rustem. Scribner, $1.50 
 RICHARDS. Five Minute Stories. Estes, $1.25 
 ROULET-NIXON. Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy 
 
 Tales. American Book Co., $0.40 
 SCUDDEB. Book of Legends. Houghton, $0.50 
 SCUDDEB. Children's Book. Houghton, $2.50 
 STEDMAN. In God's Garden. Jacobs, $2.00 
 STEELING. Story of Sir Galahad. Button, $1.50 
 STOCKTON. Fanciful Tales. Scribner, 0.60 
 The Story Hour : a magazine. 406 Fifth St., N. W., 
 
 Washington, D. C., $1.00 per year 
 TAPPAN. In the Days of Alfred the Great. Lee, $1.00 
 TAPPAN. In the Days of William the Conqueror. 
 
 Lee, $1.00 
 TAPPAN. Ed. Children's Hour. 10 vols. Houghton, 
 
 $17.50 
 
 UPTON. Ed. William Tell. McClurg, $0.50 
 WAREEN. Stories from English History. Heath, $0.65 
 WILLISTON. Japanese Fairy Tales. Rand, $0.75 
 WILMOT-BUXTON. Stories of Persian Heroes. Crowell, 
 
 $1.50 
 WILSON. Story of the Cid for Young People. Lee, 
 
 $1.25 
 
A MOTHER'S LIST OF 
 BOOKS FOR CHILDREN 
 
 BY GERTRUDE WELD ARNOLD 
 
 fTHHIS very useful little volume gives a list of 
 JL the best books for children, classified, first, 
 as to age, from two to fourteen years, and, second, 
 as to subject-matter picture books, poetry, 
 mythology, folk lore, fairy tales, religion and 
 ethics, travel, description, science and out-of-door 
 books, history, biography, etc. Besides the 
 authors, publishers and prices are given, and 
 under each title is a brief descriptive paragraph. 
 The list has been examined and approved by 
 Miss Hewins of the Hartford Public Library, 
 Miss Hunt of the Brooklyn Public Library, and 
 Miss Jordan of the Boston Public Library, and 
 there is a delightful introduction by Thomas 
 Wentworth Higginson. 
 
 Three Comments Representative of the 
 Large Number Received 
 
 "This little book will be a most valuable aid to the mother who wants 
 to buy the best books for her children, but is not quite sure what they are. 
 ... An excellent book for a Mothers' Club or for the individual library." 
 American Motherhood. 
 
 " ' A Mother's List of Books for Children cannot but be most helpful, 
 and I know of no other as good. Its author has done a great service to 
 womankind." ELLA L. BLAIR, President of New York State Federa- 
 tion of Women's Clubs. 
 
 " I have gone very carefully over ' A Mother's List of Books for Chil- 
 dren, 1 and I have for it only words of praise. As a mother who has lived 
 to appreciate the value of such a book, and as a woman to whom requests for 
 guidance are continually coming, I most heartily endorse Mrs. Arnold's 
 book. " MART I. WOOD, Manager of General Federation of Women's Clubs. 
 
 Bound in Buckram. 16mo. $1.00 net 
 A. C. McCLURG & Co., Publishers, CHICAGO 
 
FINGERPOSTS TO 
 CHILDREN'S READING 
 
 BY WALTER TAYLOR FIELD 
 
 TO THOSE who have the interests of the child at heart, 
 there is, in these days of many books and omnivorous 
 reading, no more difficult problem than that of selecting those 
 things best qualified to further the moral and aesthetic develop- 
 ment. To this problem Mr. Field has devoted himself with 
 a success that should earn for him the gratitude of all parents 
 and teachers. With rare sympathy the author of " Finger- 
 posts to Children's Reading " discusses juvenile literature in 
 reference to its aspects in the home, the school, the public 
 library, and the Sunday school, giving carefully-graded sugges- 
 tive lists for each, together with a bibliography of reva- 
 lent works for teachers and parents. 
 
 A FINE TRIBUTE has been paid to Mr. Field's success- 
 ful dealing with the question of juvenile literature by 
 Dr. Hamilton W. Mabie. In a letter addressed to the author 
 he says : 
 
 "I have just read and examined with some care your 
 little book " Fingerposts to Children's Reading," and I shall 
 not be satisfied until I have sent you a word of hearty appre- 
 ciation and of personal thanks. You have prepared a book 
 which I have been hoping would appear for a long time past, 
 and you have done it with sound judgment and intelligence, 
 both as regards material and the needs of children. I 
 especially like your treatment of the Sunday school library, 
 which is rational and human, and therefore fundamentally 
 religious." 
 
 Indorsements 
 
 "An extremely useful book for parents, teachers and librarians." 
 Chicago Record- Her aid. 
 
 " Here is a wise little book that will help you. . . There are just ten 
 chapters of advice, all marked by wide reading and common sense." 
 Portland Oregonian. 
 
 " This little book will prove a beneficial factor in forming the future 
 character of the child." Louisville Courier Journal. 
 
 Handy 16 mo. (4| x 6|) $1.00 net 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & Co., Publishers, CHICAGO 
 
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS 
 
 WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN 
 THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY 
 WILL INCREASE TO 5O CENTS ON THE FOURTH 
 DAY AND TO $1.OO ON THE SEVENTH DAY 
 OVERDUE. 
 
 NOV 25 1932 
 NOV 22 1934 
 
 DEC 4 1934 
 
 ISNov'SOCS 
 Mar30'5lLu 
 
 ,\UJ 
 311an'52WB 
 
 AUG9 1955 LU 
 
 REC'D LD 
 
 JUL8 1962 
 
 LOAN 
 
 JAN 3 1974 
 231996 
 
 I 23% 
 dbSf-s&Jk. 
 
 
0057013713