Front Cover
 Title Page
 Annie and the elves
 Little bee trunkhosie
 The curious cockerel
 Little Marian and the pigeons
 The raven
 Back Cover

Title: Annie and the elves, and other stories
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00002218/00001
 Material Information
Title: Annie and the elves, and other stories
Alternate Title: Annie and the elves
Physical Description: 48 p. : ill. ; 15 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dana, Charles A ( Charles Anderson ), 1819-1897 ( Translator )
Crosby and Nichols ( Publisher )
Publisher: Crosby & Nichols
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: 1852
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1852   ( lcsh )
Embossed cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1852   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1852
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Embossed cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Statement of Responsibility: translated from the German, by Charles A. Dana.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00002218
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002221689
oclc - 45759671
notis - ALG1916

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Annie and the elves
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
    Little bee trunkhosie
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
    The curious cockerel
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
    Little Marian and the pigeons
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
    The raven
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
    Back Cover
        Page 50
Full Text



( I









EAR little Annie was
very unhappy, for her
mother was sick, and
S the people in the vil-
] S large said she would die.
SAnd the child sat day
and night at her mother's bedside, and
grieved for her mother and wept a good


deal. The poor woman wanted to get
up out of the bed and sit out before the
door in the warm sun, or under the green
trees in the little garden behind the house,
but she could not stir for pain, and had
to lie still in the narrow chamber. Once
when her mother had gone to sleep, Annie
thought she would go out into the woods
to gather a bunch of flowers'to please
her when she woke up. So she went
into the woods and picked the most beau-
tiful wild flowers, and was so much en-
gaged in it that she did not perceive till
it was too late that it was growing dark,
and that she had lost her way. She ran
first in this direction, and then in that,
in great anguish, but constantly got
deeper and deeper into the forest, and


finally she could not tell which way to
turn. At last she came to a little brook
that flowed through _the midst of the
woods, and sat down all weary in the
grass, under a tree on the bank, and be-
gan to lament: Oh, if I had only staid
at home! How mother will be worried
about me, she will die and will never
give me another kiss, and I shall not see
her again!"
While Annie was lamenting in this
way the moon rose, and the white star
flowers and the yellow daisies peeped out
around her, and the tall trees cast long
dark shadows and made strange figures
on every side, and the child began to be
alarmed in the loneliness. She nestled
herself close together, wrapped her hands


in her little apron, and longed for the
day to come so that she might find the
way home. Now beside the brook where
Annie was sitting there stood a great
white water lily, shining and glittering
in the moonlight, and as she was looking
at the flower, a little white figure rose
out of its cup. The figure was not more
than a span high, and had a pale but
wonderfully beautiful face, so beautiful
indeed that Annie thought she had never
sen any thing like it. The figure wore
a long shining bright dress with a silver
girdle, and on her head was a silver
crown. She stood up a little while in
the lily cup and looked around. Then
she stepped from the flower and moved
so softly over the turf that it seemed as


if she hardly touched the ground at all.
She went up to a beautiful blue bell and
took hold of its stem and moved it gen-
tly backwards and forwards so that the
bell began to ring with low sweet tones
through the wood. At once the silent
forest became alive with little figures in
white robes and silver girdles, which
came from under mosses and grasses,
from the clefts of old trees, and from
among the rushes by the brook side. In
their hands they carried little silver wa-
ter pitchers, and ran about here and
there with them, watering the grass and
the flowers. The one with the silver
crown stood quietly leaning against the
stem of the blue bell looking at the labor
of the others, who had scattered them-


selves in all directions through the wood.
Then Annie knew that it was the queen
of the fairies with her subjects. They
sleep by day, for they cannot bear the
sun, but at night when it is warm and
the stars twinkle and the moon shines,
the little people come out of their hiding
places, and water the flowers and grass
with dew, and play and dance and enjoy
their life in the night time. Annie had
been looking at the elves from a distance
for some time, wondering at their silent
industry, when she saw the queen again
take hold of the blue bell and ring it,
and then the little creatures came from
the depths of the wood and gather around
their queen. She led them to a tall mul-
lien, whose yellow blossoms shone far


and wide, and the little ones made a ring
around the mullien and began to dance
their nightly dances, and to engage in
all sorts of plays. Some caught each
other, some played hide and seek, and
others played see-saw on the flowers and
spiders' webs.
Only the queen stood apart and took
no share in the games. But how was
Annie astonished when she saw the queen
of the fairies coming up to her. She came
close to her and stood still for a moment
and then said in gentle and friendly
tones: "I have seen you crying, dear
human child; what is the matter ? Per-
haps I can help you." Then Annie told
timidly how her mother was very ill, and
would die, and how she had lost her way


gathering flowers, and could not find the
path to go home again. The queen of
the fairies listened kindly to her and said:
"Both of us have trouble. My life and
that of my people is disturbed in this
wood. Men have cut down the finest of
the trees under which my subjects had
their abodes. The forest grows lighter
every day, and soon we shall not be able
to find any shade in it where we can
sleep. For that reason I have desired to
lead my people from here, over the brook,
into another part of the wood, where it
is still undisturbed, and where there is
thick shade to hide us, but we have spent
several nights looking up and down the
brook without finding any place where
we can cross. Now if you will build us


a bridge so that we can go over it quiet-
ly and safely, I will thank you for it, and
show you the way home." Annie rose
up quickly, ready to follow the queen
who walked on before her, and conducted
her to a place in the brook where the
reeds and rushes were plenty. The child
pulled the longest reed stalks and laid
them close together across the brook, and
covered them with rushes; it was not
long before the bridge was ready. The
queen nodded approval to Annie, and
went to the great bell flower and rang it
for the third time. Then the little people
left their plays and dancing and gathered
around the queen again, and she walked
toward the bridge and the whole array
went after her. Softly, but quickly, the


little creatures marched past Annie over
the bridge, and scattered themselves all
about on the other side and soon not one
of them was to be seen. Only the queen
staid by the brook on the other side, and
beckoned Annie to follow her. Annie
gathered her dress up carefully and
walked through the brook, and followed
the fairy, whose white robe showed but
faintly before her, for the moon was
about to set, and it was growing darker
in the forest. At an open place in the
wood the fairy stopped and said: "Stay
here, and when it is day you will find
something in the grass that will make
your mother well." Before Annie could
think, the little figure had disappeared.
She saw something white shining in seve-


ral places, but when she went up to it,
it was only a white flower. Then Annie
sat down in the grass, and she was so
tired with walking and with all the won-
derful things she had seen, that she went
right to sleep. As she woke up the next
morning, she did not know whether she
had been dreaming or whether what she
thought she had seen was true, but the
words of the fairy: When it is day you
will find something in the grass that will
make your mother well," still sounded
plainly in her ears. So she looked around
her, and the most beautiful strawberries
met her eyes among the grass. At this
Annie did not doubt as to what the fairy
had meant, and so she picked her little
apron full of them, and hastened home


and had no trouble in finding the way
by day. The sufferer at home ate the
finely flavored berries with great plea-
sure and actually got well by means of
them. Annie told her about the elves,
and how they had helped her to find the
berries. Her mother did not believe it
and shook her head incredulously. The
child remained firm in her belief, but as
often as she went into the woods after-
wards to find the elves, she never could
meet with them. They had probably
gone to some other place, and Annie
never saw them again.



VERY fine summer morn-
ing the sun used to shine
clear and warm on a bee
house that stood in the
corner of a great flower"
garden. Then it would become too warM
for the bees in their small bed rooms,
and they would come out and rub their
eyes and brush their wings off neatly
and very quickly, all the time making a
gentle hum, and then they were all
ready to fly away to get honey. Then a
very large bee would come out. This
was the queen, and she used to count
2 (17)


her subjects before they flew out, so that
none should remain behind and play the
idler. She called them all by name;
Little bee Sharpsting Honeytrunk!
Early up! Swiftwings! and so she would
call all their names. At last one morn-
ing the little bee Trunkhosie did not an-
swer when he was called. At this all
the bees were surprised, for Trunkhosie
was always an early riser, and a right
industrious little thing, and knew how
to carry a great deal of honey and wax
on his pretty little feet. Now they
thought for once he must have overslept
himself, and then they began to buzz
louder and louder so as to wake him up.
But Trunkhosie did not appear, and the
queen was very angry and said: "He


shall get a punishing if he sleeps in day
time: but do you others fly away to work."
Then all the bees flew away humming
gaily, and it was not long before they
met Trunkhosie, coming to them richly
laden with honey and wax. Hurrah I
where do you come from so early ?" they
cried to him, and how industrious you
have been!" Then the industrious little
Trunkhosie told them in great haste that
late on the day before he had flown into
a beautiful flower and it had closed its
cup while he was busy sucking the honey
from it. In this way he had been obliged
to sleep all night in the flower, but as
soon in the morning as the flower was
open again he had made haste to fly
away, and on the road gathered as much


more wax and honey as he was able to
carry, and was now going to take it all
to the queen. When Trunkhosie had
told his story he flew right away for the
beehouse. There the lady queen was
sitting on a beautiful throne of wax as
yellow as gold, thinking of the punish-
ment to be inflicted on the little bee for
his laziness. But when she saw Trunk-
hosie coming in so richly laden, she
made him tell her how it happened and
praised him for his industry both in the
morning and evening. Then the little
bee took off his waxen load with great
content, and again flew far away over the
garden, and fields and meadow to get a
new one.






HERE was once a curious
sockerel that always stood
listening and looking to hear
and see every thing that took
place in the farm yard. When
the hens were cackling privately to each
other he would run up and hearken,
which was often much against their
wishes. Then they would say to Ifit
that he would do well not to trouble him-
self about business that did not concern
him, and that he ought to be keeping
watch that the fox did not get into the
farm yard and crow when a bird of prey


showed himself so that they might hurry
and get the chickens out of the way of
harm. But the curious cockerel paid no
attention to the advice of the hens, and
often was the loser by not doing so.
Once as the farm yard dog was getting
his dinner and the cockerel ran up, the
dog bit his leg, and once, as he went into
the goose pen to count the goose eggs,
an old goose got angry and rushed at him
and tore out the handsomest feathers of
his tail. After this, the geese and the
hens made a great deal of fun of him;
but for all that he did not learn to be-
have any better.
One morning, when the door of the hen
roost was opened and he walked out with
the hens, he heard a loud cock-a-doodle-


doo" very near by. The curious cockerel
flew upon the wall of the farm yard to
see where the crowing came from. He
saw in the neighboring farm yard a cock-
erel scratching about for something to
eat. Being exceedingly curious he flew
over to him and said:
"Your servant true!
Your hens, how do they do t
How many eggs do they lay
And does the hawk carry any away
And those darlings of my heart,
The chickens, are they pretty smart!"'

The other cockerel at first looked at
him with astonishment, but soon grew
angry and replied:
"Mr. Neighbor, that's nothing to you,
What business have you to know how they do?
Come be stirring, clear out of the yard,
Or else I fear you'll fare rather hard."


With this he ran full tilt at the curious
cockerel and tried to hit him, but he
thought it best to fly upon the wall
again. There he walked up and down
again in bad humor, for he was vexed
because his neighbor would have nothing
at all to do with him, and had driven
him off besides. The neighbor paid no
farther attention to him, but went into
a remote part of the farm yard to find
something to eat. When the curious
cockerel saw him go away, he thought,
"Now I'll go down among the hens;
they will certainly be more inclined to
talk." So he flew down, and went up to
the hens and said:
"Your servant, my dear Biddies,
Did you sleep well last night 1"


But it seemed that the hens also would
have nothing to do with him, for they
did not even look at him, but kept
scratching in the sand. Then he spoke
The weather this morning is fine and clear,
Corn seems to be pretty plenty here."
Still the hens made no reply, but left
him where he was, and went to the other
side of the yard. The curious cockerel
was now resolved to have a gossip with
them, and followed after, and asked again.
Have you had your breakfast already here?
Pray do they give you pretty good cheer,
Or have you noticed that corn was dearly"
This importunity and curiosity were
more than one of the hens could bear, and
she broke out and scolded him:


"Who told you to ask about our feeding
Mr. Cockerel, you've had a poor sort of breeding.
Your speeches are not at all to my taste;
Be quick, I advise you, depart from this place,
Or I'll call the dog and he'll send you off bleeding."
When the curious cockerel saw that he
could not make out any thing he kept
still for a while. Then he went up to a
hen standing apart from the others
pluming her wings. He thought she
would be more talkative, and spoke to
"How does it go with the eggs that you lay?
The folks always try to get 'em away;
Pray have you had every one to yield 1
Or have you a few some where concealed 1
Of course you are willing to let me see,
So come to the nest and show them to me."
But this time the curious cockerel had
come to the wrong place, for the hen
rushed at him with impatience, saying:


Whether we hide our eggs or no,
Is a thing you have no need to know,
And if to preserve your own you care,
You'd better be keeping watch where they are,
And not be gadding about to learn
Of things with which you have no concern."
Then an old gray hen with a great cap
of feathers on her head, that had heard
from a distance what the cockerel said,
came up in a passion, and cried:
"Why, you impudent old busy body;
What are our eggs to you, you noddy!
If you are anxious to look at some eggs,
Away to your home, as fast as your legs
Can carry you off, and don't make a bother,
For eggs are the same in one place as another."
While the curious cockerel was stand-
ing there, not knowing exactly whether
to go or stay, the whole flock of hens
raised such an outcry, such a scolding
and clamor at him, that the other cock-


erel came up from the other end of the
farm yard, and when he saw that the
curious meddler was still there, he flew
at him and hit him some hard blows.
The farm yard dog was also attracted by
the noise, and rushed upon the stranger
so that he hardly had time to fly upon
the fence, from which he flew down again
to his own yard. Then his hens came
up to him complaining and scolding, be-
cause he had left them so long. It seems
that while the curious cockerel was look-
ing after strange hens' eggs, the hawk
had come and stolen two chickens, and
the fox had stolen into the hen roost and
carried off two of the handsomest hens
and smashed all the eggs.





passing an hour in the
pigeon house, where
tame pigeons were kept,
expressed to her father
a desire to know all
about their natural history. This led
to a conversation, of which the following
is a faithful report.
FATHER. The pigeon tribe is extensive.
There are between twenty and thirty
varieties of them. They usually hatch
two young ones. It is singular that the
crops of the old ones should produce a
3 (33)

kind of curds, which is especially suited
to their offspring as food; this continues
only till the little ones can take more
substantial food. The wild pigeon is
well known. One of the most celebrated
of the tribe is the carrier pigeon. It is
of a dark blue color, has a circle of naked
white skin round its eyes, and is larger
than the common pigeon.
MARIAN. How can they teach them to
go from one place to another?
F. The plan is very simple: they are
taken a mile or two from their home, at
first, then four or five, and then ten, and
so on, till the pigeons will return from
any distance ?
M. How far will they go in a day?
F. Many extravagant things have been


recorded on this subject which would as-
tonish you. I think they will travel at
the rate of nearly forty miles an hour.
M. But suppose the pigeon should
settle any where, and be shot?
F. It is possible that this may be the
case; but to guard against any danger
on this account, persons who employ
them fasten the same intelligence to the
wings of several messengers; and it is
not probable that they should all fail.
Commercial men have employed them
to convey the prices of stock, and of dif-
ferent articles, by which they have cleared
large sums. Thus they have been sent,
on the arrival of steamers, from Nova
Scotia to Boston and New York, with
considerable success.

M. How strange it is, that they do not
stay some where on their way, and not
keep on their flight so far I
F. Attachment to their young and
their home, no doubt, makes them per-
severe till they reach the place whither
they are sent.
M. It would be curious to learn how
far the birds which are most swift of
wing would fly in an hour.
F. It would; but to ascertain it with
accuracy would be difficult. It has been
affirmed, that a swallow will fly twenty
miles in thirteen minutes; that a swift
will fly sixty, and a wild duck about
ninety miles an hour.
M. This is very surprising!
F. It is. The most wonderful accounts

of pigeons on record, are those of Wilson,
the American ornithologist. He tells us,
that in the western beech forests, he has
seen congregated millions. They occupy,
as a resting place, a large extent of fo-
rest. When they have frequented one
of those places for some time, all the ten-
der grass and underwood is destroyed;
the surface strewed with large limbs of
trees, broken down by the weight of the
birds; and the trees themselves, for
thousands of acres, are killed as com-
pletely as if destroyed with an axe.
Not far from Shelbyville, in Kentucky,
this admirable naturalist informs us,
one of these pigeonries extended through
the woods forty miles in length and seve-
ral in breadth. As soon as the young

were grown, and before they had left
their nests, numerous parties came to
this spot, "a-pigeoning," as they call it.
They came with wagons, axes, beds,
cooking utensils, and encamped for seve-
days. The noise of the pigeons in the
woods was so great as to terrify the
horses, and it was difficult for one per-
son to hear another without bawling.
The ground was strewed over with eggs
and young pigeons, and on which herds
of hogs were fattening. Hawks, buzzards,
and eagles were sailing about in great
numbers, devouring the young ones as
they chose, while from twenty feet up-
wards, to the tops of the trees, the view
through the woods presented a perpetual
tumult of crowding and fluttering multi-


tudes of pigeons, their wings roaring like
thunder, mingled with the frequent crash
of falling timber; for the axemen were
at work, cutting down those trees that
seemed to be most crowded with nests;
they continued to fell them in such a
manner, that they might bring down
several others; by which means the fall-
ing of one large tree sometimes produced
two hundred young ones of a good size.
On some single trees there were upwards
of one hundred nests.
M. There are always two young ones
in a pigeon's nest, sir.
F. Not in the nests of these pigeons,
Marian; a circumstance that is remark-
able, and for which we cannot account.
It was dangerous, says Wilson, to walk

under these flying and fluttering millions,
from the frequent falling of large branches
broken down by the weight of the mul-
titude above, and which, in their descent,
often destroyed numbers of the birds
themselves, while the clothes of those
who traversed the woods, were covered
with filth. From his daily observation
of their flight, their number was evident-
ly incalculable. For many hours the
living torrent has poured over his head,
as thickas the birds could crowd together,
and as far as the eye could see. The
breadth of the body extended several
M. This is most astonishing! Why,
what a prodigious quantity of food they
must devour in a day!

E ~ LC

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40 0 11
WV0, a


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F. Truly, they must. Wilson forms a
very rough estimate on this subject. "If
we suppose," he says, "a column I saw
to have been one mile in breadth,-and
I believe it to have been much more,-
and that it moved at the rate of one mile
in a minute for four hours,-the time it
continued passing, would make its
whole length two hundred and forty
miles. Again, supposing that each square
yard of this moving body contained three
pigeons, the square yard in the whole
space multiplied by three, would give
two thousand, two hundred and thirty
millions, two hundred and seventy-two
thousand pigeons An inconceivable
multitude, and yet, probably, far below
the actual amount. Computing, that

each of them consumes half a pint of
food, daily, the whole quantity at this
rate, would equal seventeen millions,
four hundred and twenty-four thousand
bushels per day!
M. What a merciful Providence it is,
that they frequent those parts of the
world which are not cultivated by man!
Why, they would create a famine in a
thickly settled country like England.
F. You are right, Marian. This Ame-
rican bird is called the Passenger Pigeon.



N the centre of a grove,
near Selborne, there stood
an aged oak, which, though
shapely and tall on the
whole, bulged out into a
large excrescence about
the middle of the stem. On this a pair of
ravens had fixed their residence for such
a series of years, that the oak was dis-
tinguished by the name of the Raven
tree. Many were the attempts of the
neighboring youth to get at this eyry;
and each was ambitious of surmounting
the arduous task. But when they ar-
rived at the swelling, it jutted out so in


their way, and was so far beyond their
grasp, that the most daring lad was awed,
and acknowledged the undertaking to be
too hazardous. So the raven built on,
nest upon nest, in perfect security, till
the fatal day arrived in which the wood
was to be levelled. It was in the month
of February, when these birds usually
sit. The saw was applied to the root,
the wedges were inserted into the open-
ing, the wood echoed-with the heavy
blows of the mallet, the tree nodded to
its fall; but still the dam continued to
sit. At last, when it gave way, the bird
was flung from her nest; and, though
her parental affection deserved a better
fate, was whipped down by the twigs
which brought her dead to the ground.

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