Citation
Aunt Louisa's oft told tales

Material Information

Title:
Aunt Louisa's oft told tales comprising, Robinson Crusoe, Children in the wood, Hare and tortoise, World wide fables
Uniform Title:
Children in the wood (Ballad)
Hare and the tortoise
Added title page title:
World wide fables
Creator:
Valentine, L ( Laura ), d. 1899
Defoe, Daniel, 1661?-1731
McLoughlin Bros., inc ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
New York
Publisher:
McLoughlin Bros.
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
[24] leaves, [24] leaves of plates : col. ill. ; 28 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1875 ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1875
Genre:
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
poetry ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- New York -- New York
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

Funding:
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:
with twenty-four pages of illustrations printed in colors.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026517276 ( ALEPH )
ALF9219 ( NOTIS )
13858400 ( OCLC )

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a





AUNT LOUISA'S

OFT TOLD TALES.

COMPRISING

Robinson Crusoe. Hare and Tortoise.
Children in the Wood. World Wide Fables.

WITH

TWENTY-FOUR PAGES OF ILLUSTRATIONS,

PRINTED I[N COLORS.

McLOUGHLIN BROS. NEW YORK.



ROBINSON CRUSOE,



ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE.



CoME, sige round me, little ones, |For many things he there had found

And hearken unto me, — That he could: bring ashore,
And you shall hear a tale about Upon the raft that he had made,
A lad that went to sea— _| And carry to his store.
About a lad that ran away, Two kittens and a faithful dog,
Oh, many years ago, With powder, guns, and shot,

And left his home and parents dear— Three cheeses and a chest of tools,

Young Robinson Crusoe! | ’Mong other things he got.

Now when this lad grew up a man, And now he bravely went to work,

-- Tt came about one day, Made tables, chairs, and stools,



: That he was cast upon a rock— And shelves around his little home,

An island far away. On which to lay his tools.

And there to shield him from the storm,|He set a cross up on the beach,
And keep him safe and: sound, =| Lest time should go astray,
He built a house, and thatch’d it o’er, | And with his knife he cut a notch,

And fenced it round and round. To mark each passing day. —



Far off upon a sandy bank He caught and tamed a little kid, :
His ship lay all a wreck; That trotted at his heels; _
‘And oft-times when the sea was low Se with his dog and cats at home, anor

He got upon the deck. It shared his daily meals. —







ADVENTURES OF KOBINSON CRUSOE.

Yet sometimes he grew very sad, A. parrot, that some years before
And then he sat him down | He artfully had caught,
Upon the shore, and thought his God ee hop upon his thumb, and shriek
|
|

Looked on him with a frown. The lessons it was taught.

4

And he would gaze upon the sea, jAnd so, to keep it snug, he made
Across the billows wild; j A cage to put it in:
And wring his hands and cry aloud, | And he made a big umbrella, too,

And weep like any child. | And all his clothes of skin. —

He thought upon his father’s words—:I wot he was the strangest sight
His mother’s prayers and tears; That ever you might see; -
How they would grieve for him, theirson,|In Jacket, breeches, cap, and shoes,

Away so many years! » | A hairy man looked he.

Then he would fall upon his knees, | | With big umbrella o’er his head,
And clasp his hands in prayer, His sword hung at his side,
And ask his God, with many tears, His gun and axe upon his back,

His wicked life to spare. | He rambled far and wide.

At times, with gun upon his back, | Now on the island herds of goats
‘He roamed the island round, | Were running wild and free;
Where melons, grapes, and sugar-canes, | But when he tried to catch the things,

All growing wild he found. Away they all would flee.









ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOR
And, so to get them in his power, Atlength he longed when days were fine,
He dug pits in the ground; Upon the waves to float;

And there one morn at break of day, So with his tools he went to work,

A goat and kids he found. | And made a little boat.
The goat he let away again, -__ |He get a mast and sail before,
For it was fierce and strong; - A rudder, too, behind;

The little kids he tied with strings, | |And with his dog and gun on board,

And took with him along. He sped before the wind.
And then from running wild again, |One summer morning as he walked
His little flock to keep, Abroad, with gun in hand,

A piece of ground he fenced around, |He stood aghast as he beheld

Where they might feed and sleep. A footprint in the sand!
His crops of barley and of rice, Though many years had passed away,
Now rich and ripe had grown; Since to that lonely place

For seeds he found upon the wreck, |He came, yet he had never caught

He long ago had sown. A sight of human face.
The corn he pounded into meal, He thought of dreadful savages, |
‘And made it into bread; — All naked, wild, and black;
The rice he baked in little cakes, And paused at every step he took,

At times to eat instead. | To look in terror back.













ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON ORUSOE.

He dreamt about them in the night, |But ere his enemies had time

_ And thought of them by day :

A hand on him to lay,

He scarce would stir, lest they by chance|He turned and bounded like a roe,

- Should come across his way.

At last one day he climbed a hill,
Where oft he used to lie,
And took with him his telescope,

To see what he could spy.

‘And looking off towards the shore,

- A sight he did behold,

That set his very hair on end,
And made his blood run cold.

A band of painted savages,
He saw to his dismay, —
All dancing round a fire, on which

A human body lay.

He saw them kill a helpless man, -
And one was standing by,
All in an agony of fear,

i ‘For he, too, was to die.

Away—away—away.

Across a stream he swam with speed,
Close followed by his foes;
But he was saved by our good friend

The man in hairy clothes!

A young and comely man he was,
So timid and go shy, |

With tawny skin and hair of jet,

And mild and beaming eye.

And oft he paused and looked around,
And knelt as if in fear;
But Crusoe made him signs to come,

And softly he drew near.

Then Crusoe named him Friday there,

And ever called him SO,

-|Because upon that very day

He saved him from the foe.







ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE

And Friday quickly learned to work,
For ready hand had he;
And helped, in time, to build a boat

And launch it in the sea.

‘His master taught him many things,
Of God he told him, too, |

Who made the sun and moon and stars,

And watches all we do.

A touching sight it was to see,
Poor Friday kneel to pray—
To hear him cry to God for help,

In his poor broken way.

Where’er he was, in house or field,
He ever was the same;

Obeyed his master with a smile,
And feared his Maker’s name.

One morning Friday came in haste,
In trembling and in awe,
And told his master three canoes

Upon the. beach he saw. me

! Another look to take,

Then Crusoe bade him bring the guns,
And prime without delay;
And soon they beat the savages,

And drove them all away.

- In one canoe upon the sands,

Half dead and strongly. bound,
All ready for to kill and eat,

| A poor old man they found.
{



When Friday saw his face, he paused,
[ wept,
Then laughed and cried, and sobbed and

As if his heart would break.

\

‘He clasped the old man round the neck,

And kissed him o’er and o'er;



And leapt and danced with very JOY,

a o see that face once more.

He gave him food, he brought him drink,

He cut his bonds in twain;

- |The dear old father that he loved,

i Nor thought to see again. -







ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE.

Poor Friday, though his skin was black,|Once more on board an English ship,

His heart was warm and kind—
My little ones, a lesson this,

For all to bear in mind.

Now eight and twenty weary years,
Had Crusoe been ashore,
Upon his island, night and day,

Nor thought to leave it more.

Then oh, what joy was his to see
One morn a spreading sail
Come dancing o’er the waters blue,

-_ Before the swelling gale.

He watched with Friday from a hill,
Though distant many a mile,
Until he saw a boat put off

- And row towards the isle.

And now at last, his’trials o’er,
With grateful heart he trod

And bowed in thanks to God.

His faithful Friday went with him,
His Friday, true and kind,
Who loved him more than all on earth,

He could not leave behind.

His big umbrella, too, he took,
His hairy cap as well;

And parrot with its noisy tongue,
Of other days to tell.

And then with heavy heart he turned,
To bid his home adieu;

And goon, as onward sped the ship,
It faded from his view..

_|And when old England’s shore he saw,

Oh, he shed many. tears;
For he had been away in all

Full five and thirty years.

THE END.



CHILDREN IN THE Woop.



BABES IN THE WOOD.

Now ponder well, you parents dear,
These words which I now write;
A doleful story you shall hear,
In time brought forth to hght.



A gentleman of good account

In Norfolk dwelt of late,

Whose wealth and riches did surmount
Most men of his estate. |

Sore sick he was, and like to dle,
No help his life could save;

His wife by him as sick did lhe,
And both were near the grave.

No love between these two was lost:
Flach to the other kind,

In love they lived, in love they’ died,
And left two babes behind.

The one a fine and pretty boy,
Not passing three years old;

The other a girl, more young than he,.
And made in Beauty’s mould.







THE BABES IN THE WOOD.

The father left his little son,
As plainly doth appear,

When he to perfect age should come,
Three hundred pounds a-year

And to his little daughter Jane,
Two hundred pounds in gold,
To be paid down on marriage-day,
Which could not be controlled:.

But if the children chanced to die,
Ere they to age should come,

Their uncle should possess their wealth:
For so the will did run.

“Now, brother,” said the dying man,
“Look to my children dear;

_Be good unto my boy and girl,

No friends else have they here:

“To God and you I do commend
My children night and day; 7

But little time we yet shall have
Within this world to stay.

“You must be father and mother both,
And unele all in one; .

God knows what will become of them,
.When we are dead and gone.”

Then next did speak their mother dear—
“OQ brother kind,’ quoth she, oe

“You are the man must bring my babes
To joy or misery: |







THE BABES IN THE WOOD.

“Tf you do keep them carefully,
Then God will you reward;

But if you otherwise should deal,
God will your deeds regard.”

With lips as cold as any stone,
They kiss’d the children small:

“God bless you both, you pretty lambs!”
With that their tears did fall.

These words then their brother spoke,
The parents sad to cheer:

“'The keeping of your little babes,
Sweet sister, do not fear:

“God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor aught else that I have,

If | do wrong your children dear,
When you are in the grave.”

The parents being dead and gone,
The children home he takes,

And brings them both unto his house
Where much of them he makes.

He had not kept these pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a day, —

When, for their wealth, he did devise
To make them both away.

He bargained with two ruffians bold,
Who were of savage mood,

That they should take the children twain,
And slay them in a wood.



i
Y
Z















THE BABES IN THE WOOD.

He told his wife an artful tale;
He would the children send,

To be brought up in fair London,
With one that was his friend.

Away then went the pretty babes,
Rejoicing at that tide,

For gaily both of them did feel,
They should on cock-horse: ride.

They prate and prattle pleasantly,
While riding on the way,

To those their wicked uncle hired,

These lovely babes to slay:

So that the pretty speech they had,
Made the ruffians’ hearts relent;
And they that took the deed to do,

Full sorely did repent.

Yet one of them, more hard of heart
Did vow to do his charge,

Beeause the wreich that hired him
Had paid him very large. |

The other would not agree thereto,
So here they fell at strife;

With one another they did fight,
About the children’s hfe:

And he that was of milder mood
Did slay the other there,

Within an unfrequented wood;
The babes did: quake for fear!







THH BABES IN THE WOOD.

He took the children by the hand,
When tears stood in their eye,

And bade them straightway follow him,
And look they did not ery:

And two long miles he led them thus,
While they for bread complain:

“Stay here,’ quoth he, “Tll bring ye bread,
When [I do come again.”

These pretty babes, with hand in hand,
Went wandering up and down;

But never more they saw the man
Approaching from the town:

Their pretty lips with black-berries
Were all besmeard and dyed,
And when they saw the darksome night,
They sat them down and cried.

Thus wander’d these two pretty dears,
Till death did end their grief; |
In one another’s arms they died,
Poor babes, past all relief:

No burial these innocents
Of any man receives,

But robin red-breast lovingly
Did cover them with leaves.

And now the heavy wrath of God
Upon their uncle fell;

_For fearful fiends did haunt his house,

His conscience felt a hell:







THE BABES IN THE WOOD.

His barns were fired, his goods consumed
His lands were barren made,

His cattle died within the field,
And nothing with him stayed.

,

And in a voyage to Portugal
Two of his sons did die;

And, to conclude, himself was prong
Unto much misery: |

Fie pawn’d and mortgaged all his land,
Eire seven years came about;

And then at length this wicked act
Did by this means come out:

The fellow that did take in hand
These children for to kill,

Was for a robbery judged to die,
As was God’s blessed will:

And did confess the very truth,

The which is here express’d;
Their uncle died while he for debt
— Did long in prison rest.

All you that be executors,
And overseers eke,

Of children that be fatherless,
And infants mild and meek,

Take you example by this tale,
_ And yield to each his right,
Lest God with such like misery
Your wicked deeds requite.



HARE AND TORTOISE.





(NEW VERSION.)



)N a fine summer afternoon the animals on
' Farmer Jesper’s farm met in a shady lane
for a friendly gossip. There were Captain the
cart-horse, and Crummy the cow; a motherly.
sow who had left her litter fast asleep, and who
was familiarly addressed as Tiggy; Cockalorum |
Wakemup, who dated his letters from “The Barn
Door;” Pintoe, a gander; Bubbleyjock, the tur-
key, and a dozen or more of the female relatives |
of the three gallants last named. Opinions on
farm matters were freely exchanged. Captain —
and Crummy signified that so far as they were
concerned things went on pleasantly enough;
but Tiggy declared that the stuff put into her
trough was shamefully thin, considering the size
of her family; dnd the poultry complained that
the new maid was stingy with the barley Bub-









2 The Hare and the Tortotse.

_ bleyjock vowed that if Bob Jesper did not leave
off pelting him when he came from school he
would make his ugly red calves smart (Bubbley-
jock said “ugly” because his own calves were |
mere drumsticks); and Cockalorum Wakemup,
perched on the top rail of a five-barred gate,
was just thrilling his friends with a “creepy” story
of how a fox prowled about the fowl-house for
several hours on the previous night, when who
should come up but Tibby, a. pert young cox-
comb of a hare, well known in those parts.
“Hullo! you fellows, what’s your diminutive
_ diversion?” said Tibby, as he bounded into the
-middle of the group. (Tibby, like other conceit-
ed people, was noted for using fine words.) |
“Oh,” replied Captain, “we're just having a
quiet chat after dinner, Tib. What's your little
game ?” | .
“Well, look here; I’m ready to run any of

_ you for anything you like to name.” .

“There he is again,” cried several, impati-.

~ ently. “Run, run, run; nothing but ‘run’ when-

ever you see him.” “As though,” added Crummy,







3 | The Flare oe ‘We Tortotse.

“it was something very grand to spend one's life
in eating, sleeping, and running.

“What do you know about it, you cross old
thing? (This to Crummy, who was old enough.
to be his grandmother.) Well, if you are not—
game, | am;” and laughing heartily at his own
little joke, he was turning away, when a sleepy —

voice was heard from out the grass:
| “Stop a bit, Tib; if nobody else will race
you, I will, for two miles.”

“Who's that?” the company cried in a breath; © |

and they answered themselves as they exclaimed
in great amazement, “Why, it’s little Tortums!”
And sure enough it was Tortums. Now Tor-
tums, I must tell you, was a tortoise, whose quiet,
modest behavior had made him a general favor-
ite, and who, hearing the clatter of voices, had
crawled down from the farm- house eo |
to learn what was going on.

- Need I say that his friends, who were quite
taken aback by this extraordinary piece of self

_ assertion on the part of Tortums, entreated him _

not to expose himself to certain defeat? Tibby











Lhe Hare and the Tortotse. A

laughed until his sides ached; and so, for the
matter of that, did Cockalorum Wakemup, who
was a bit of a friend of his: but Tortums was
_ not to: be--put. off, |

“If nobody else will race him, I will, that’s
all;” and he winked at Tiggy, as much as to say,
“T know my man.”

So they agreed that, just for the fun of the
thing, Tortums should race Tibby. The challen-
ger at first stood upon his dignity, and declared
the whole thing to be too absurd to be thought
of for a moment, but the company threatened to
cut him if he backed out; so off they ran to the
. turnpike road, in high glee at the prospect of
sport. ee. .

When Tortums had come up, Captain drew a.
line across the road with his hoof, and required —

Tibby and Tortums to toe it.

“Are you ready?” cried Captain.
“All right,” replied the competitors.
“Very well, then:

‘Bell, horses; bell, horses ; what time: of day ?
One o’clock, two o’clock, three and away !’”







Lhe Flare and the Tortotse. 5

Off galloped Tibby, and was instantly lost to
sight round a bend in the road, whilst little Tor-
tums started at a brisk crawl under a volley of
- good-natured banter from his friends, who re-
garded the race as the best joke of the season.

When Tibby had reached the first milestone
he slackened his pace, and said to himself
“Pheugh! it’s melting hot this afternoon. It will
be an hour at least before that little idiot reaches
here, so I'll lie down in the grass and have a rest.”

He lay down---he dozed---he fell fast asleep!
| Meanwhile, Tortums stuck to his work brave-
ly, accompanied by his friends, and within an hour
had nearly reached the first milestone, when Cap-
tain, who, being fatigued with walking so slowly,

“<< had stepped out to the front to stretch his legs,

- came running back with the momentous news
- that he had spied Tib fast asleep at the side of
_ the road. The truth flashed across the minds of
those present that after all little Tortums might
_win, and they agreed to pass the unconscious

_ -braggart on tiptoe and in perfect silence. The

ae plan answered admirably, though Tiggy’s awk-







The Hare and the Tortotse. 6

wardness in doing her best to carry out the tip-
toe plan nearly led to a burst of laughter.

~ On, and on, and on plodded little Sobersides,
His friends were in momentary expectation of
seeing Tibby flash past them; but he came not,
and just as twilight was setting in, Tortums

reached the goal. | | ,
_ “Three cheers for Tortums,” cried the excite-
able Cockalorum, “and take the time from me.”

“Hip, hip, hurrah!” shouted the company,
and at that moment Tibby was seen coming up
the road at a mad gallop. But it was too late.
He had lost the race!

“And now, dears, for the moral,’ [I said, as I
first told the story at my own fireside.

“Oh, never mind the moral, papa; we know
all about that,” interjected Frank, my eldest; and
it being the first duty of papas in this enlight-
ened age to do as they are bid, I left the story ©
to point its own moral. Fortunately it lies upon
the surface.



WORLD-WIDE FABLES.





THE LION AND THE MOUSE.



SLEEPING Lion lay beneath an
— oak ;
Over his back and head some small
Mice played ;
Tickled by them, at last the monarch
’woke,—
The Mice ran off, at his fierce roar
afraid.
But one poor little Mousey, ag she ran,
He caught in his great paw: half dead
she lay;
Then, as he did not kill her, she began
For her poor life the mighty beast to
pray.
Spare me, King Lion! I am weak and
small ;
But if you kindly let me run away,
I may be able, should a chance befall,
To serve you also on some future day.”

The Lion grimly smiled. “ You help!”
said he, .

“() foolish Mouse! But I will set you
free.”

The months rolled on; the hunters’ toils
were set;
In the wild forest, ‘neath the greenwood

tree;



The mighty Lion struggles in their net;

Ah! who will now the sylvan monarch
free?
He hears a Mouse’s voice: “O noble friend,
- I come to do my little best for thee.

_ I fain my tiny help to you would lend,

And pay you for my life with—liberty.”
She gnawed the thick ropes with her
small sharp teeth
For hours and hours—throughout the
livelong day ;
While, smiling half disdainfully, beneath
The hateful toils the captive Lion lay.
And thread by thread the rope is severed
quite,
The net is loose, the pris’ner out again!
And Mousey’s little heart beat with de-
light
As off they pounded o’er the grassy
plain.

“ Ah!” said the Lion (by experience taught)
When, safe, they paused beneath a we
to rest,

“The least can help the greatest.

is wrought
By humble friends, who ofttimes prove.
the best.”

Much







a s

(

THE TOWN AND COUNTRY MOUSE.



\NCE on a time (so runs the fable)
A Country Mouse right hospitable
Received a Town Mouse at his board,
Just aga farmer might a lord.
A frugal Mouse upon the whole,
Yet loved: his friend and had a soul.

He brought him bacon (nothing lean),

Pudding that might have pleased a dean,

_Cheese such as men in Suffolk make,

But wished it Stilton for his sake;

Yet, to his guest though no way sparing,

He ate himself the rind and paring.

Our courtier scarce could touch a bit,

But showed his breeding and his wit:

He did his best to seem to eat,

And cried, “I vow, youre mighty neat:

But, la! my friend, this savage scene!

I pray you come and live with men.

Consider, mice, like men, must die,

Both small and great—both you and I

Then spend your life in joy and sport.

This doctrine, friend, I learned at Court.”
The veriest herniit in the nation

Mav yield, Heaven knows! to strong

temptation.
Away they went through thick- and thin,

To a tall house in Lincoln’s Inn.



Now, let it in a word be said,
The moon was up, the men abed,
The napkins white, the carpet red ;
The guests withdrawn, had left the treat, -
And down the Mice sat. téte-d-téte.

Our courtier walks from dish to dish,

Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish.

“That jelly’s rich, this Malmsey’s -heal-
ing,

Pray dip your whiskers and: your tail in.”

Was ever such a happy swain?

He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again.
“Vm quite ashamed! ’tis mighty rude

To eat so much, but all’s so good!

I have a thousand thanks to give.
My lord alone knows how to live.”
No sooner said than from the hall
Rush chaplain, butler, dogs, and all.
“A rat! a rat! clap to the door!” |
The cat comes bounding on the floor.
Oh for the heart of Homer’s mice!
Or gods to save them in a trice!
“An’t please your “honor,” quoth the ©
| peasant,
“This same dessert is not 80 pleasant::
Give me again my hollow tree,
A crust of bread—and liberty!”

ANON.







THE MAGIC CASKET.

a

MAN who lived in days of old,
- And once had store of lands and
gold,

Found himself poorer day by day,
And saw his riches melt away,
Nor knew the cause. With gloomy face,
To a wise man he told his case,
And asked advice. The wise man smiled,
_ And answered in an accent mild,
“Take this locked casket, worthy friend ;
Obey me, and your griefs will end.
Carry the box at early dawn

Into your kitchen; o’er your lawn,

Over your grounds; and through your .

stable,
For one whole year. Then you'll be able
To turn the key and find the charm

Which must redress your present harm.”

With thanks the suppliant went away, .

Resolved most strictly to obey.

Next morn he rose at early -dawn,
And took his. box across the lawn —
And through the grounds. Alas! alas !

No careful gardener mowed the grass,



The weeds were choking up the flow’rs,

And briars and nettles filled the bow’rs.
Into the kitchen he carries it:

The meat is burning on the spit,

And while the blazing chimney roars

The lazy cook unconscious snores ;

The wine is running from the cask,—

Neglected ev'ry needful task!

At empty mangers stand his steeds,

No groom supplies their daily needs.
The poor man with indignant haste

Proceeds to check this wicked waste

And base neglect, and day by day

The household owns a master’s sway.

His thrift and care are not in vain:

By the year’s end he’s rich again.

With happy smile he then unlocks

The wise man’s wondrous magic box. ©

Inside it lies a scroll. He reads: |

“From Sloth and Waste sad Want pro-

ceeds.

You've learnt the lesson, not too late—

‘The Master's eye keeps all things

straight.’ ”



Reeser

ae









oe
FATHER’S LEGACY.



Y sons, you think I leave you poor,
But somewhere on this piece of
ground,
(Which I bequeath you) well concealed,
A buried treasure may be found.
Seek it with industry and care.”
Thus to his sons the old man said, |
Gave them his blessing and farewell,
And calmly joined the happy dead.

The sons obeyed: early and late
They dug the hard and barren soil,
Which soon became a fertile spot,
And well repaid their anxious toil;
For as each portion was explored,
By digging long and digging deep,
They sowed it with the golden seed,.
And harvests soon were fit to reap.

But when -the last bare spot was dug,
And nothing found, the eldest son
Spoke thus; “I understand our sire ;.
Brothers, behold the treasure won!
We've found it in the well-tilled earth,

That bears this golden waving grain, ©

And in the lesson we have learnt.

That honest toil brings certain gain.”



THE
FOX anpb THE STORK.



MERRY Fox one day invited
A neighb’ring Stork with him to
dine ;
The long-billed bird was much delighted,
And came, in Paris fashions fine.
But when the two sat down to table,
A shallow dish of soup was set,
From whence the poor Stork was not
able
The very tiniest drop to get;
And while he vainly tried a taste to sup,
Lo! mocking Reynard licked the nice

soup up!

Soon Mrs. $.. invites friend Reynard .
To come and share a, little treat.
He goes. A vase, long-necked and slen-
. der, |
Is set, from which the two must eat.
Poor Reynard cannot reach a morsel,
And vainly tries his nose to poke
Within the shallow op’ning,—finding
No great wit in the present joke!

“T see,” he thought, “jests at our friends’
expense ae

Are rather proofs of folly than of sense.”



oe
FATHER’S LEGACY.



Y sons, you think I leave you poor,
But somewhere on this piece of
ground,
(Which I bequeath you) well concealed,
A buried treasure may be found.
Seek it with industry and care.”
Thus to his sons the old man said, |
Gave them his blessing and farewell,
And calmly joined the happy dead.

The sons obeyed: early and late
They dug the hard and barren soil,
Which soon became a fertile spot,
And well repaid their anxious toil;
For as each portion was explored,
By digging long and digging deep,
They sowed it with the golden seed,.
And harvests soon were fit to reap.

But when -the last bare spot was dug,
And nothing found, the eldest son
Spoke thus; “I understand our sire ;.
Brothers, behold the treasure won!
We've found it in the well-tilled earth,

That bears this golden waving grain, ©

And in the lesson we have learnt.

That honest toil brings certain gain.”



THE
FOX anpb THE STORK.



MERRY Fox one day invited
A neighb’ring Stork with him to
dine ;
The long-billed bird was much delighted,
And came, in Paris fashions fine.
But when the two sat down to table,
A shallow dish of soup was set,
From whence the poor Stork was not
able
The very tiniest drop to get;
And while he vainly tried a taste to sup,
Lo! mocking Reynard licked the nice

soup up!

Soon Mrs. $.. invites friend Reynard .
To come and share a, little treat.
He goes. A vase, long-necked and slen-
. der, |
Is set, from which the two must eat.
Poor Reynard cannot reach a morsel,
And vainly tries his nose to poke
Within the shallow op’ning,—finding
No great wit in the present joke!

“T see,” he thought, “jests at our friends’
expense ae

Are rather proofs of folly than of sense.”







THE LARK AND HER YOUNG ONES

Ma ee

Y children,” said a Mother-Lark,
“The harvest-time is drawing near.
_ While I am gone to seek your food,
_ Take heed to all you chance to hear;
For ere the farmer cuts his wheat,
We all must seek another home.
Still, I would linger to the last:
Tis sad from this sweet spot to roam.”

That morning from their cosy nest

_ The wee birds heard the farmer say,
“Johnnie, my son, the wheat is ripe.
"Twould do to cut this very day.

Friends and acquaintance all let know
That we require a helping hand

To reap the wealth of golden ears
Waving in sunshine o'er the land.

When home the Mother-Lark returned,

The nestlings. told her what they'd -

heard :
“ Dear mother, we must go,” they chirped.
“ Nay, there’s no hurry,” said the bird,
“We well may stay a day or two;
Wait till you hear a little more.”
Next day the farmer came again,
And talked to Johnnie as before. |

“Our friends have not arrived,” he said;
“Johnnie, to our relations send,

And beg your uncles and their sons
Help in our harvest-field to lend.”



“The farmer's for his cousins sent!”
The birds exclaim; “O mother dear,

Pray save us from the cruel scythe!
We must not longer linger here!”

“No hurry,” said the wise old Lark ;
“We have as yet no cause to fear;
But watch and listen carefully,
_ And let me know what next you hear.”
All the next day the nestlings saw
The farmer standing by the gate:
Till the red sun set in the west |
They saw him vainly watch and wait.

Then cried he, in a lusty voice, —
“We'll wait no longer now, my son;
We'll cut the wheat with our own hands
To-morrow morn, and get it done.”

The nestlings told the mother-bird,
When on the nest she sank at eve,
What they had heard. “Ah, now,” she

said,
“The time has come our home to leave.

“Friends and acquaintances, I know,
Are apt to fail in time of need ;

Relations often will delay ;

But selfdone tasks are done indecd.

I've learned by watching birds and men,
Wherever I have built a nest,

That they who wait upon themselve..
Are served the first and served the best.”









THE OLD MAN AND HIl5 Ads.

——__—_<._——

ie old man and his son one day
a To the next town were on their way.
The boy was seated on the ass,
When some rude men who chanced to pass
Cried, “What a shame that lad should ride,
And his old father walk beside!”
The old man fain would please the town;
He bids his son at once get down,
And mounts himself; but by-and-bye
He hears an old Jew, passing by,
Say, “Really, it is much too bad
To tire, by walking, such a lad,
While » strong man rides lazy on.”
No sooner is the speaker gone
Than the old man, to please once more.
Bids his son mount and ride before.
But soon some other voices cry,
“Took at these riders coming by!
Two men upon a poor tired ass!—
Such cruelty !—Alas! alas!
Shurély it better fits you two
To bear the ass than it bear you!”
The old man bids his son descend,
Lest they should these new folks offend,
And lifting up the struggling ass,
Tries with it o'er a bridge to pass.
The donkey—not used to such ways—
Struggles and kicks, and loudly brays.
The people to the river run,
Laughing aloud, to see the fun;
But soon the donkey over goes,
And falling where the river flows,
Is borne away by the swift stream,
And never more will it be seen.
Thus all the foolish old man gains-
Is to be loser for his pains,
And (trying to please every one)
Finds he has failed when all is done.





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AUNT LOUISA'S

OFT TOLD TALES.

COMPRISING

Robinson Crusoe. Hare and Tortoise.
Children in the Wood. World Wide Fables.

WITH

TWENTY-FOUR PAGES OF ILLUSTRATIONS,

PRINTED I[N COLORS.

McLOUGHLIN BROS. NEW YORK.
ROBINSON CRUSOE,
ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE.



CoME, sige round me, little ones, |For many things he there had found

And hearken unto me, — That he could: bring ashore,
And you shall hear a tale about Upon the raft that he had made,
A lad that went to sea— _| And carry to his store.
About a lad that ran away, Two kittens and a faithful dog,
Oh, many years ago, With powder, guns, and shot,

And left his home and parents dear— Three cheeses and a chest of tools,

Young Robinson Crusoe! | ’Mong other things he got.

Now when this lad grew up a man, And now he bravely went to work,

-- Tt came about one day, Made tables, chairs, and stools,



: That he was cast upon a rock— And shelves around his little home,

An island far away. On which to lay his tools.

And there to shield him from the storm,|He set a cross up on the beach,
And keep him safe and: sound, =| Lest time should go astray,
He built a house, and thatch’d it o’er, | And with his knife he cut a notch,

And fenced it round and round. To mark each passing day. —



Far off upon a sandy bank He caught and tamed a little kid, :
His ship lay all a wreck; That trotted at his heels; _
‘And oft-times when the sea was low Se with his dog and cats at home, anor

He got upon the deck. It shared his daily meals. —

ADVENTURES OF KOBINSON CRUSOE.

Yet sometimes he grew very sad, A. parrot, that some years before
And then he sat him down | He artfully had caught,
Upon the shore, and thought his God ee hop upon his thumb, and shriek
|
|

Looked on him with a frown. The lessons it was taught.

4

And he would gaze upon the sea, jAnd so, to keep it snug, he made
Across the billows wild; j A cage to put it in:
And wring his hands and cry aloud, | And he made a big umbrella, too,

And weep like any child. | And all his clothes of skin. —

He thought upon his father’s words—:I wot he was the strangest sight
His mother’s prayers and tears; That ever you might see; -
How they would grieve for him, theirson,|In Jacket, breeches, cap, and shoes,

Away so many years! » | A hairy man looked he.

Then he would fall upon his knees, | | With big umbrella o’er his head,
And clasp his hands in prayer, His sword hung at his side,
And ask his God, with many tears, His gun and axe upon his back,

His wicked life to spare. | He rambled far and wide.

At times, with gun upon his back, | Now on the island herds of goats
‘He roamed the island round, | Were running wild and free;
Where melons, grapes, and sugar-canes, | But when he tried to catch the things,

All growing wild he found. Away they all would flee.



ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOR
And, so to get them in his power, Atlength he longed when days were fine,
He dug pits in the ground; Upon the waves to float;

And there one morn at break of day, So with his tools he went to work,

A goat and kids he found. | And made a little boat.
The goat he let away again, -__ |He get a mast and sail before,
For it was fierce and strong; - A rudder, too, behind;

The little kids he tied with strings, | |And with his dog and gun on board,

And took with him along. He sped before the wind.
And then from running wild again, |One summer morning as he walked
His little flock to keep, Abroad, with gun in hand,

A piece of ground he fenced around, |He stood aghast as he beheld

Where they might feed and sleep. A footprint in the sand!
His crops of barley and of rice, Though many years had passed away,
Now rich and ripe had grown; Since to that lonely place

For seeds he found upon the wreck, |He came, yet he had never caught

He long ago had sown. A sight of human face.
The corn he pounded into meal, He thought of dreadful savages, |
‘And made it into bread; — All naked, wild, and black;
The rice he baked in little cakes, And paused at every step he took,

At times to eat instead. | To look in terror back.




ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON ORUSOE.

He dreamt about them in the night, |But ere his enemies had time

_ And thought of them by day :

A hand on him to lay,

He scarce would stir, lest they by chance|He turned and bounded like a roe,

- Should come across his way.

At last one day he climbed a hill,
Where oft he used to lie,
And took with him his telescope,

To see what he could spy.

‘And looking off towards the shore,

- A sight he did behold,

That set his very hair on end,
And made his blood run cold.

A band of painted savages,
He saw to his dismay, —
All dancing round a fire, on which

A human body lay.

He saw them kill a helpless man, -
And one was standing by,
All in an agony of fear,

i ‘For he, too, was to die.

Away—away—away.

Across a stream he swam with speed,
Close followed by his foes;
But he was saved by our good friend

The man in hairy clothes!

A young and comely man he was,
So timid and go shy, |

With tawny skin and hair of jet,

And mild and beaming eye.

And oft he paused and looked around,
And knelt as if in fear;
But Crusoe made him signs to come,

And softly he drew near.

Then Crusoe named him Friday there,

And ever called him SO,

-|Because upon that very day

He saved him from the foe.

ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE

And Friday quickly learned to work,
For ready hand had he;
And helped, in time, to build a boat

And launch it in the sea.

‘His master taught him many things,
Of God he told him, too, |

Who made the sun and moon and stars,

And watches all we do.

A touching sight it was to see,
Poor Friday kneel to pray—
To hear him cry to God for help,

In his poor broken way.

Where’er he was, in house or field,
He ever was the same;

Obeyed his master with a smile,
And feared his Maker’s name.

One morning Friday came in haste,
In trembling and in awe,
And told his master three canoes

Upon the. beach he saw. me

! Another look to take,

Then Crusoe bade him bring the guns,
And prime without delay;
And soon they beat the savages,

And drove them all away.

- In one canoe upon the sands,

Half dead and strongly. bound,
All ready for to kill and eat,

| A poor old man they found.
{



When Friday saw his face, he paused,
[ wept,
Then laughed and cried, and sobbed and

As if his heart would break.

\

‘He clasped the old man round the neck,

And kissed him o’er and o'er;



And leapt and danced with very JOY,

a o see that face once more.

He gave him food, he brought him drink,

He cut his bonds in twain;

- |The dear old father that he loved,

i Nor thought to see again. -

ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE.

Poor Friday, though his skin was black,|Once more on board an English ship,

His heart was warm and kind—
My little ones, a lesson this,

For all to bear in mind.

Now eight and twenty weary years,
Had Crusoe been ashore,
Upon his island, night and day,

Nor thought to leave it more.

Then oh, what joy was his to see
One morn a spreading sail
Come dancing o’er the waters blue,

-_ Before the swelling gale.

He watched with Friday from a hill,
Though distant many a mile,
Until he saw a boat put off

- And row towards the isle.

And now at last, his’trials o’er,
With grateful heart he trod

And bowed in thanks to God.

His faithful Friday went with him,
His Friday, true and kind,
Who loved him more than all on earth,

He could not leave behind.

His big umbrella, too, he took,
His hairy cap as well;

And parrot with its noisy tongue,
Of other days to tell.

And then with heavy heart he turned,
To bid his home adieu;

And goon, as onward sped the ship,
It faded from his view..

_|And when old England’s shore he saw,

Oh, he shed many. tears;
For he had been away in all

Full five and thirty years.

THE END.
CHILDREN IN THE Woop.
BABES IN THE WOOD.

Now ponder well, you parents dear,
These words which I now write;
A doleful story you shall hear,
In time brought forth to hght.



A gentleman of good account

In Norfolk dwelt of late,

Whose wealth and riches did surmount
Most men of his estate. |

Sore sick he was, and like to dle,
No help his life could save;

His wife by him as sick did lhe,
And both were near the grave.

No love between these two was lost:
Flach to the other kind,

In love they lived, in love they’ died,
And left two babes behind.

The one a fine and pretty boy,
Not passing three years old;

The other a girl, more young than he,.
And made in Beauty’s mould.

THE BABES IN THE WOOD.

The father left his little son,
As plainly doth appear,

When he to perfect age should come,
Three hundred pounds a-year

And to his little daughter Jane,
Two hundred pounds in gold,
To be paid down on marriage-day,
Which could not be controlled:.

But if the children chanced to die,
Ere they to age should come,

Their uncle should possess their wealth:
For so the will did run.

“Now, brother,” said the dying man,
“Look to my children dear;

_Be good unto my boy and girl,

No friends else have they here:

“To God and you I do commend
My children night and day; 7

But little time we yet shall have
Within this world to stay.

“You must be father and mother both,
And unele all in one; .

God knows what will become of them,
.When we are dead and gone.”

Then next did speak their mother dear—
“OQ brother kind,’ quoth she, oe

“You are the man must bring my babes
To joy or misery: |

THE BABES IN THE WOOD.

“Tf you do keep them carefully,
Then God will you reward;

But if you otherwise should deal,
God will your deeds regard.”

With lips as cold as any stone,
They kiss’d the children small:

“God bless you both, you pretty lambs!”
With that their tears did fall.

These words then their brother spoke,
The parents sad to cheer:

“'The keeping of your little babes,
Sweet sister, do not fear:

“God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor aught else that I have,

If | do wrong your children dear,
When you are in the grave.”

The parents being dead and gone,
The children home he takes,

And brings them both unto his house
Where much of them he makes.

He had not kept these pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a day, —

When, for their wealth, he did devise
To make them both away.

He bargained with two ruffians bold,
Who were of savage mood,

That they should take the children twain,
And slay them in a wood.
i
Y
Z









THE BABES IN THE WOOD.

He told his wife an artful tale;
He would the children send,

To be brought up in fair London,
With one that was his friend.

Away then went the pretty babes,
Rejoicing at that tide,

For gaily both of them did feel,
They should on cock-horse: ride.

They prate and prattle pleasantly,
While riding on the way,

To those their wicked uncle hired,

These lovely babes to slay:

So that the pretty speech they had,
Made the ruffians’ hearts relent;
And they that took the deed to do,

Full sorely did repent.

Yet one of them, more hard of heart
Did vow to do his charge,

Beeause the wreich that hired him
Had paid him very large. |

The other would not agree thereto,
So here they fell at strife;

With one another they did fight,
About the children’s hfe:

And he that was of milder mood
Did slay the other there,

Within an unfrequented wood;
The babes did: quake for fear!

THH BABES IN THE WOOD.

He took the children by the hand,
When tears stood in their eye,

And bade them straightway follow him,
And look they did not ery:

And two long miles he led them thus,
While they for bread complain:

“Stay here,’ quoth he, “Tll bring ye bread,
When [I do come again.”

These pretty babes, with hand in hand,
Went wandering up and down;

But never more they saw the man
Approaching from the town:

Their pretty lips with black-berries
Were all besmeard and dyed,
And when they saw the darksome night,
They sat them down and cried.

Thus wander’d these two pretty dears,
Till death did end their grief; |
In one another’s arms they died,
Poor babes, past all relief:

No burial these innocents
Of any man receives,

But robin red-breast lovingly
Did cover them with leaves.

And now the heavy wrath of God
Upon their uncle fell;

_For fearful fiends did haunt his house,

His conscience felt a hell:

THE BABES IN THE WOOD.

His barns were fired, his goods consumed
His lands were barren made,

His cattle died within the field,
And nothing with him stayed.

,

And in a voyage to Portugal
Two of his sons did die;

And, to conclude, himself was prong
Unto much misery: |

Fie pawn’d and mortgaged all his land,
Eire seven years came about;

And then at length this wicked act
Did by this means come out:

The fellow that did take in hand
These children for to kill,

Was for a robbery judged to die,
As was God’s blessed will:

And did confess the very truth,

The which is here express’d;
Their uncle died while he for debt
— Did long in prison rest.

All you that be executors,
And overseers eke,

Of children that be fatherless,
And infants mild and meek,

Take you example by this tale,
_ And yield to each his right,
Lest God with such like misery
Your wicked deeds requite.
HARE AND TORTOISE.


(NEW VERSION.)



)N a fine summer afternoon the animals on
' Farmer Jesper’s farm met in a shady lane
for a friendly gossip. There were Captain the
cart-horse, and Crummy the cow; a motherly.
sow who had left her litter fast asleep, and who
was familiarly addressed as Tiggy; Cockalorum |
Wakemup, who dated his letters from “The Barn
Door;” Pintoe, a gander; Bubbleyjock, the tur-
key, and a dozen or more of the female relatives |
of the three gallants last named. Opinions on
farm matters were freely exchanged. Captain —
and Crummy signified that so far as they were
concerned things went on pleasantly enough;
but Tiggy declared that the stuff put into her
trough was shamefully thin, considering the size
of her family; dnd the poultry complained that
the new maid was stingy with the barley Bub-



2 The Hare and the Tortotse.

_ bleyjock vowed that if Bob Jesper did not leave
off pelting him when he came from school he
would make his ugly red calves smart (Bubbley-
jock said “ugly” because his own calves were |
mere drumsticks); and Cockalorum Wakemup,
perched on the top rail of a five-barred gate,
was just thrilling his friends with a “creepy” story
of how a fox prowled about the fowl-house for
several hours on the previous night, when who
should come up but Tibby, a. pert young cox-
comb of a hare, well known in those parts.
“Hullo! you fellows, what’s your diminutive
_ diversion?” said Tibby, as he bounded into the
-middle of the group. (Tibby, like other conceit-
ed people, was noted for using fine words.) |
“Oh,” replied Captain, “we're just having a
quiet chat after dinner, Tib. What's your little
game ?” | .
“Well, look here; I’m ready to run any of

_ you for anything you like to name.” .

“There he is again,” cried several, impati-.

~ ently. “Run, run, run; nothing but ‘run’ when-

ever you see him.” “As though,” added Crummy,

3 | The Flare oe ‘We Tortotse.

“it was something very grand to spend one's life
in eating, sleeping, and running.

“What do you know about it, you cross old
thing? (This to Crummy, who was old enough.
to be his grandmother.) Well, if you are not—
game, | am;” and laughing heartily at his own
little joke, he was turning away, when a sleepy —

voice was heard from out the grass:
| “Stop a bit, Tib; if nobody else will race
you, I will, for two miles.”

“Who's that?” the company cried in a breath; © |

and they answered themselves as they exclaimed
in great amazement, “Why, it’s little Tortums!”
And sure enough it was Tortums. Now Tor-
tums, I must tell you, was a tortoise, whose quiet,
modest behavior had made him a general favor-
ite, and who, hearing the clatter of voices, had
crawled down from the farm- house eo |
to learn what was going on.

- Need I say that his friends, who were quite
taken aback by this extraordinary piece of self

_ assertion on the part of Tortums, entreated him _

not to expose himself to certain defeat? Tibby


Lhe Hare and the Tortotse. A

laughed until his sides ached; and so, for the
matter of that, did Cockalorum Wakemup, who
was a bit of a friend of his: but Tortums was
_ not to: be--put. off, |

“If nobody else will race him, I will, that’s
all;” and he winked at Tiggy, as much as to say,
“T know my man.”

So they agreed that, just for the fun of the
thing, Tortums should race Tibby. The challen-
ger at first stood upon his dignity, and declared
the whole thing to be too absurd to be thought
of for a moment, but the company threatened to
cut him if he backed out; so off they ran to the
. turnpike road, in high glee at the prospect of
sport. ee. .

When Tortums had come up, Captain drew a.
line across the road with his hoof, and required —

Tibby and Tortums to toe it.

“Are you ready?” cried Captain.
“All right,” replied the competitors.
“Very well, then:

‘Bell, horses; bell, horses ; what time: of day ?
One o’clock, two o’clock, three and away !’”

Lhe Flare and the Tortotse. 5

Off galloped Tibby, and was instantly lost to
sight round a bend in the road, whilst little Tor-
tums started at a brisk crawl under a volley of
- good-natured banter from his friends, who re-
garded the race as the best joke of the season.

When Tibby had reached the first milestone
he slackened his pace, and said to himself
“Pheugh! it’s melting hot this afternoon. It will
be an hour at least before that little idiot reaches
here, so I'll lie down in the grass and have a rest.”

He lay down---he dozed---he fell fast asleep!
| Meanwhile, Tortums stuck to his work brave-
ly, accompanied by his friends, and within an hour
had nearly reached the first milestone, when Cap-
tain, who, being fatigued with walking so slowly,

“<< had stepped out to the front to stretch his legs,

- came running back with the momentous news
- that he had spied Tib fast asleep at the side of
_ the road. The truth flashed across the minds of
those present that after all little Tortums might
_win, and they agreed to pass the unconscious

_ -braggart on tiptoe and in perfect silence. The

ae plan answered admirably, though Tiggy’s awk-

The Hare and the Tortotse. 6

wardness in doing her best to carry out the tip-
toe plan nearly led to a burst of laughter.

~ On, and on, and on plodded little Sobersides,
His friends were in momentary expectation of
seeing Tibby flash past them; but he came not,
and just as twilight was setting in, Tortums

reached the goal. | | ,
_ “Three cheers for Tortums,” cried the excite-
able Cockalorum, “and take the time from me.”

“Hip, hip, hurrah!” shouted the company,
and at that moment Tibby was seen coming up
the road at a mad gallop. But it was too late.
He had lost the race!

“And now, dears, for the moral,’ [I said, as I
first told the story at my own fireside.

“Oh, never mind the moral, papa; we know
all about that,” interjected Frank, my eldest; and
it being the first duty of papas in this enlight-
ened age to do as they are bid, I left the story ©
to point its own moral. Fortunately it lies upon
the surface.
WORLD-WIDE FABLES.


THE LION AND THE MOUSE.



SLEEPING Lion lay beneath an
— oak ;
Over his back and head some small
Mice played ;
Tickled by them, at last the monarch
’woke,—
The Mice ran off, at his fierce roar
afraid.
But one poor little Mousey, ag she ran,
He caught in his great paw: half dead
she lay;
Then, as he did not kill her, she began
For her poor life the mighty beast to
pray.
Spare me, King Lion! I am weak and
small ;
But if you kindly let me run away,
I may be able, should a chance befall,
To serve you also on some future day.”

The Lion grimly smiled. “ You help!”
said he, .

“() foolish Mouse! But I will set you
free.”

The months rolled on; the hunters’ toils
were set;
In the wild forest, ‘neath the greenwood

tree;



The mighty Lion struggles in their net;

Ah! who will now the sylvan monarch
free?
He hears a Mouse’s voice: “O noble friend,
- I come to do my little best for thee.

_ I fain my tiny help to you would lend,

And pay you for my life with—liberty.”
She gnawed the thick ropes with her
small sharp teeth
For hours and hours—throughout the
livelong day ;
While, smiling half disdainfully, beneath
The hateful toils the captive Lion lay.
And thread by thread the rope is severed
quite,
The net is loose, the pris’ner out again!
And Mousey’s little heart beat with de-
light
As off they pounded o’er the grassy
plain.

“ Ah!” said the Lion (by experience taught)
When, safe, they paused beneath a we
to rest,

“The least can help the greatest.

is wrought
By humble friends, who ofttimes prove.
the best.”

Much

a s

(

THE TOWN AND COUNTRY MOUSE.



\NCE on a time (so runs the fable)
A Country Mouse right hospitable
Received a Town Mouse at his board,
Just aga farmer might a lord.
A frugal Mouse upon the whole,
Yet loved: his friend and had a soul.

He brought him bacon (nothing lean),

Pudding that might have pleased a dean,

_Cheese such as men in Suffolk make,

But wished it Stilton for his sake;

Yet, to his guest though no way sparing,

He ate himself the rind and paring.

Our courtier scarce could touch a bit,

But showed his breeding and his wit:

He did his best to seem to eat,

And cried, “I vow, youre mighty neat:

But, la! my friend, this savage scene!

I pray you come and live with men.

Consider, mice, like men, must die,

Both small and great—both you and I

Then spend your life in joy and sport.

This doctrine, friend, I learned at Court.”
The veriest herniit in the nation

Mav yield, Heaven knows! to strong

temptation.
Away they went through thick- and thin,

To a tall house in Lincoln’s Inn.



Now, let it in a word be said,
The moon was up, the men abed,
The napkins white, the carpet red ;
The guests withdrawn, had left the treat, -
And down the Mice sat. téte-d-téte.

Our courtier walks from dish to dish,

Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish.

“That jelly’s rich, this Malmsey’s -heal-
ing,

Pray dip your whiskers and: your tail in.”

Was ever such a happy swain?

He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again.
“Vm quite ashamed! ’tis mighty rude

To eat so much, but all’s so good!

I have a thousand thanks to give.
My lord alone knows how to live.”
No sooner said than from the hall
Rush chaplain, butler, dogs, and all.
“A rat! a rat! clap to the door!” |
The cat comes bounding on the floor.
Oh for the heart of Homer’s mice!
Or gods to save them in a trice!
“An’t please your “honor,” quoth the ©
| peasant,
“This same dessert is not 80 pleasant::
Give me again my hollow tree,
A crust of bread—and liberty!”

ANON.

THE MAGIC CASKET.

a

MAN who lived in days of old,
- And once had store of lands and
gold,

Found himself poorer day by day,
And saw his riches melt away,
Nor knew the cause. With gloomy face,
To a wise man he told his case,
And asked advice. The wise man smiled,
_ And answered in an accent mild,
“Take this locked casket, worthy friend ;
Obey me, and your griefs will end.
Carry the box at early dawn

Into your kitchen; o’er your lawn,

Over your grounds; and through your .

stable,
For one whole year. Then you'll be able
To turn the key and find the charm

Which must redress your present harm.”

With thanks the suppliant went away, .

Resolved most strictly to obey.

Next morn he rose at early -dawn,
And took his. box across the lawn —
And through the grounds. Alas! alas !

No careful gardener mowed the grass,



The weeds were choking up the flow’rs,

And briars and nettles filled the bow’rs.
Into the kitchen he carries it:

The meat is burning on the spit,

And while the blazing chimney roars

The lazy cook unconscious snores ;

The wine is running from the cask,—

Neglected ev'ry needful task!

At empty mangers stand his steeds,

No groom supplies their daily needs.
The poor man with indignant haste

Proceeds to check this wicked waste

And base neglect, and day by day

The household owns a master’s sway.

His thrift and care are not in vain:

By the year’s end he’s rich again.

With happy smile he then unlocks

The wise man’s wondrous magic box. ©

Inside it lies a scroll. He reads: |

“From Sloth and Waste sad Want pro-

ceeds.

You've learnt the lesson, not too late—

‘The Master's eye keeps all things

straight.’ ”
Reeser

ae



oe
FATHER’S LEGACY.



Y sons, you think I leave you poor,
But somewhere on this piece of
ground,
(Which I bequeath you) well concealed,
A buried treasure may be found.
Seek it with industry and care.”
Thus to his sons the old man said, |
Gave them his blessing and farewell,
And calmly joined the happy dead.

The sons obeyed: early and late
They dug the hard and barren soil,
Which soon became a fertile spot,
And well repaid their anxious toil;
For as each portion was explored,
By digging long and digging deep,
They sowed it with the golden seed,.
And harvests soon were fit to reap.

But when -the last bare spot was dug,
And nothing found, the eldest son
Spoke thus; “I understand our sire ;.
Brothers, behold the treasure won!
We've found it in the well-tilled earth,

That bears this golden waving grain, ©

And in the lesson we have learnt.

That honest toil brings certain gain.”



THE
FOX anpb THE STORK.



MERRY Fox one day invited
A neighb’ring Stork with him to
dine ;
The long-billed bird was much delighted,
And came, in Paris fashions fine.
But when the two sat down to table,
A shallow dish of soup was set,
From whence the poor Stork was not
able
The very tiniest drop to get;
And while he vainly tried a taste to sup,
Lo! mocking Reynard licked the nice

soup up!

Soon Mrs. $.. invites friend Reynard .
To come and share a, little treat.
He goes. A vase, long-necked and slen-
. der, |
Is set, from which the two must eat.
Poor Reynard cannot reach a morsel,
And vainly tries his nose to poke
Within the shallow op’ning,—finding
No great wit in the present joke!

“T see,” he thought, “jests at our friends’
expense ae

Are rather proofs of folly than of sense.”

THE LARK AND HER YOUNG ONES

Ma ee

Y children,” said a Mother-Lark,
“The harvest-time is drawing near.
_ While I am gone to seek your food,
_ Take heed to all you chance to hear;
For ere the farmer cuts his wheat,
We all must seek another home.
Still, I would linger to the last:
Tis sad from this sweet spot to roam.”

That morning from their cosy nest

_ The wee birds heard the farmer say,
“Johnnie, my son, the wheat is ripe.
"Twould do to cut this very day.

Friends and acquaintance all let know
That we require a helping hand

To reap the wealth of golden ears
Waving in sunshine o'er the land.

When home the Mother-Lark returned,

The nestlings. told her what they'd -

heard :
“ Dear mother, we must go,” they chirped.
“ Nay, there’s no hurry,” said the bird,
“We well may stay a day or two;
Wait till you hear a little more.”
Next day the farmer came again,
And talked to Johnnie as before. |

“Our friends have not arrived,” he said;
“Johnnie, to our relations send,

And beg your uncles and their sons
Help in our harvest-field to lend.”



“The farmer's for his cousins sent!”
The birds exclaim; “O mother dear,

Pray save us from the cruel scythe!
We must not longer linger here!”

“No hurry,” said the wise old Lark ;
“We have as yet no cause to fear;
But watch and listen carefully,
_ And let me know what next you hear.”
All the next day the nestlings saw
The farmer standing by the gate:
Till the red sun set in the west |
They saw him vainly watch and wait.

Then cried he, in a lusty voice, —
“We'll wait no longer now, my son;
We'll cut the wheat with our own hands
To-morrow morn, and get it done.”

The nestlings told the mother-bird,
When on the nest she sank at eve,
What they had heard. “Ah, now,” she

said,
“The time has come our home to leave.

“Friends and acquaintances, I know,
Are apt to fail in time of need ;

Relations often will delay ;

But selfdone tasks are done indecd.

I've learned by watching birds and men,
Wherever I have built a nest,

That they who wait upon themselve..
Are served the first and served the best.”



THE OLD MAN AND HIl5 Ads.

——__—_<._——

ie old man and his son one day
a To the next town were on their way.
The boy was seated on the ass,
When some rude men who chanced to pass
Cried, “What a shame that lad should ride,
And his old father walk beside!”
The old man fain would please the town;
He bids his son at once get down,
And mounts himself; but by-and-bye
He hears an old Jew, passing by,
Say, “Really, it is much too bad
To tire, by walking, such a lad,
While » strong man rides lazy on.”
No sooner is the speaker gone
Than the old man, to please once more.
Bids his son mount and ride before.
But soon some other voices cry,
“Took at these riders coming by!
Two men upon a poor tired ass!—
Such cruelty !—Alas! alas!
Shurély it better fits you two
To bear the ass than it bear you!”
The old man bids his son descend,
Lest they should these new folks offend,
And lifting up the struggling ass,
Tries with it o'er a bridge to pass.
The donkey—not used to such ways—
Struggles and kicks, and loudly brays.
The people to the river run,
Laughing aloud, to see the fun;
But soon the donkey over goes,
And falling where the river flows,
Is borne away by the swift stream,
And never more will it be seen.
Thus all the foolish old man gains-
Is to be loser for his pains,
And (trying to please every one)
Finds he has failed when all is done.


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