Five Minute Stories

“Two good things would come of it,” he said. “I should have a savoury meal, and their remarks would no longer be audible.”

So he fell upon the frogs, and they fled before him. And one jumped into the water, and one jumped on the land, and another jumped into the reeds; for such is their manner. But one of them, being in fear, saw not clearly the way he should go, and jumped even upon the back of the Quacky Duck. Now, this displeased the Quacky Duck, and he said, “If you will remove yourself from my person, we will speak further of this.”

So the frog, being also willing, strove to remove himself, and the result was that they two, being on the edge of the bank, fell into the water. Then the frog departed swiftly, saying, “Solitude is best for meditation.”

But the Quacky Duck, having hit his head against a stone, sank to the bottom of the pond, where he found himself in the frogs’ kitchen. And there he spied a fish, which the frogs had caught for their dinner, intending to share it in a brotherly manner, for it was a savoury fish. When the Quacky Duck saw it, he was glad; and he said, “Fish is better than frog” (for he was an English duck)! And, taking the fish, he swam with speed to the shore.

Now the frogs lamented when they saw him go, for they said, “He has our savoury fish!” And they wept, and reviled the Quacky Duck.

But he said, “Be comforted! for if I had not found the fish, I should assuredly have eaten you. Therefore, say now, which is the better for you?” And he ate the fish, and departed joyful.

NEW YEAR THOUGHTS

When the new year’s come,When the new year’s come,Then I will be a soldier,A-beating on a drum.A-beating on a drum,And a-tooting on a fife:And the new year, the new yearOh, that’s the best in life.When the new year comes,When the new year comes,I sha’n’t have any joggraphy,I sha’n’t have any sums.I sha’n’t have any sums,Nor any rule of three,And the new year, the new yearOh, that’s the time for me.P.S. – When the new year came,When the new year came,I had to go to schoolJust exacketly the same!Exacketly the same!Do you think ’twas kind of mother?And the new year, the new yearIs just like any other!

NONSENSE

Margery Maggot,She lighted a faggot,To cook a repast for her cat.But instead of a bone,She made soup of a stone,And gave the poor animal that.Barney O’Groggan,He bought a toboggan,And went out to coast on the hill.But he soon tumbled off,And came home with a cough,And his grandmother gave him a pill.Triptolemus Tupper,Came home to his supper,And called for a pelican pie.But ’twas covered with fat,And when he saw that,Poor Trippy was ready to die.Peter PolackoWas fond of tobacco,And purchased a pipe for to smoke.But against his desireHis whiskers caught fire,And Peter was made into coke.Prudence Pedantic,She nearly went franticBecause her small nephew said, “’Taint!”But when her big brotherSaid “Hain’t got none, nuther!”She fell on the floor in a faint.

THE SINGULAR CHICKEN

Hal woke up very early on Christmas morning, so early that it was still quite dark.

He crept out of bed and ran to the chimney, got his stocking, which had been hung there the night before, and carried it back to bed with him.

Oh, what a delightful fat, lumpy stocking it was! Why did not the daylight come, so that he might see what was in it?

This was an orange on top; he could tell that without seeing it. And this long, soft thing, which jingled as he pulled it out? Oh, a pair of reins! How nice! But what was this that came next?

Ah! little Hal must wait till daylight for that, for his tiny fingers refused to tell him what it was.

Wait he did, very impatiently, consoling himself with his orange.

But at last a little gray light came stealing in at the window, and two little bare feet went trotting across the floor, and two little hands held up a mysterious object to the light.

It was a chicken! a most beautiful yellow chicken, with bright black eyes and a little sharp beak, and, – oh! what was this? Why! why! the chicken’s head came off, and the chicken’s body was all full of sugar-plums!

“Oh! oh! oh!” cried little Hal. “Mammy! Mammy! come and look at dis chicken! He can spit his head out!”

THE CLEVER PARSON

My children, come tell me now if you have everHeard of the parson who was so clever.So clever, so clever, so clever was he,That never a cleverer parson could be.The parson loved children; he also loved walking,And off to the woods he was constantly stalking.To hear the sweet birds, and to see the green trees,And to do just exactly whate’er he might please.The children they followed him once to the wood, —(They loved the good parson, because he was good!)They followed him on for many a mileTo list to his voice, and to look at his smile.At length the children cried “Oh, —dear me!We’re tired! as tired as tired can be!’Tis supper time, too, while afar we thus roam;Now please, dear parson, to carry us home!”The children were six, and the parson was one.Now, goodness gracious! what was to be done?He sat himself down in the shade of a tree,And pondered the matter most thoughtfully.At length he exclaimed, “My dear little chicks,I might carry one, but I can’t carry six!Yet courage! Your parson’s good care will provideThat each of you home on his own horse shall ride!”He drew out his jackknife so broad and so bright,And fell to work slashing with main and with might;Till ready there, one, two, three, four, five and six,Lay smooth and well polished, some excellent sticks.“Now mount your good horses, my children!” he cried.“Now mount your good horses and merrily ride!A pace, and a trot, and a gallop, away!And we shall be there ere the close of the day!”The children forgot they were “dreadfully tired!”They seized on the hobbies, with ardour inspired.“Gee, Dobbin! whoa, Dobbin! come up, Dobbin, do!Oh! Parson, dear Parson, won’t you gallop, too?”Away went the children, in frolicsome glee:Away went the parson, as pleased as could be.And when they arrived at the village, they cried,“Oh, dear! and oh, dear! what a very short ride!”

THE PURPLE FISH

Shall I tell you what happened to Elsie one day? She was sitting on the beach in her green cart, which had lost both wheels, so that it was not of much use as a cart, though very nice to sit in. And presently, a purple fish, with a yellow tail, came and looked at her. And he said, —

“Little maiden fair to see,Will you take a trip with me?”

Elsie smiled and answered, —

“Yes, I will, without a doubt,If you will not tip me out.”

Then the purple fish took the string of the cart in his mouth and swam away. The cart bobbed up and down on the waves, and behaved quite like a boat, and Elsie clapped her hands, and laughed and sang. The fish swam on and on, till at length he came to a little island, all covered with purple hyacinths and yellow violets. Here he stopped and bade Elsie get out, saying, —

“Now, if you will marry me,Here we’ll live and happy be.”

But Elsie did not like this at all, though the island was very beautiful. She shook her head resolutely, and replied, —

“If you please, I do not wishFor to marry any fish!”

Then the purple fish was angry, and his yellow tail quivered with vexation. He said, sternly, —

“If you will not be my wife,You shall stay here all your life!”

And off he swam, taking the green cart with him. Poor Elsie was very unhappy, for she could not bear to think of spending her whole life on the island, and yet she did not want to marry a fish, even if her Mamma were willing, which she was quite sure she would not be. But, as she was sitting there, making a wreath of the yellow violets, two sea-gulls came flying by. They stopped when they saw Elsie, and one of them said, —

“Here, upon this purple island,What do I see but a human chisland!”

“There isn’t any such word as ‘chisland!’” said Elsie. “It is ‘child,’ don’t you know?”

“I am not very familiar with English,” replied the sea-gull. “The other word rhymes better; but I am not prejudiced. What are you doing here, child?”

“Nothing!” replied Elsie. “If you please, did you ever marry a fish?”

Both the sea-gulls showed strong signs of disgust at this, and said, —

“We eat fish, but never marry them. Why do you ask?”

“Because the purple fish with the yellow tail said I must stay here all my life unless I would marry him. And he has taken away my green cart, so that I cannot get home.”

“As to that,” said the sea-gulls, “we can easily manage to get you home. Put your arms around our necks and hold on tight!”

So the sea-gulls flew away with Elsie, and brought her safely home. She kissed them and thanked them.

“What can I give you, dear sea-gulls,” she asked, “in return for your saving me from that horrid fish?”

“Could you give us your golden curls?” asked the sea-gulls. “We think they would become us, and they are a thing not often seen in our society.”

No, Elsie could not do that.

“But,” she said, “I can give you each a necklace of glass beads, fastened with a rosette of peach-coloured ribbon. I made them yesterday for my dolls, but you are welcome to them.”

“Just the thing!” said the sea-gulls.

So Elsie put the necklaces round their necks, and they thanked her, and flew away. I have been told that they flew straight to the island, and spent the whole afternoon in making rude remarks to the purple fish with the yellow tail, but one need not believe all one hears.

MR. SOMEBODY

My little one came to me weeping, weeping,Over her cheeks the bright tears creeping:“Oh, Mammy! ’tis raining and pouring away;We cannot go to the picnic to-day!”I took the darling up in my lap,And tried to make light of the great mishap.“Be patient, child, with the rain, for oh,It makes Mr. Somebody’s garden grow!”Chorus.– Garden grow, garden grow!It makes Mr. Somebody’s garden grow!My little one came to me sighing, sighing,Almost ready again for crying.“Oh, Mammy! the sun is so blazing hot,The flowers I planted are dead on the spot!”I took the darling up on my knee,And kissed, and spoke to her cheerily.“Be glad, my child, of the sun to-day!It helps Mr. Somebody make his hay.”Cho.– Make his hay! make his hay!It helps Mr. Somebody make his hay.My little one came to me panting, panting,Hair a-flutter, and bonnet a-wanting.“Oh, Mammy! the wind came roaring at me,And blew my bonnet right up in a tree!”I took the darling up on my arm,And soon the poor bonnet was out of harm.“Be glad, my child, of the wind, for you know,It makes Mr. Somebody’s windmill go!”Cho.– Windmill go! windmill go!It makes Mr. Somebody’s windmill go.There’s many a thing that seems “just too bad!”To this little lass or that little lad;But, dears, that which hardest to you may be,May fill Mr. Somebody’s heart with glee.Cho.– Heart with glee! heart with glee!May fill Mr. Somebody’s heart with glee.

A CHRISTMAS RIDE

The sleigh had just driven from the door, with a great jingling and shouting, and the little boy was left at home, with his foot up on the sofa, for he had a sprained ankle. “I wish I could have gone!” said the little boy.

“You shall go!” said Sister Sunshine. “We will go together, you and I!”

She brought a great book, with bright pictures in it, and sat down by the little boy’s side.

“First, we must choose our carriage!” she said. There was a whole page of carriage pictures, all very splendid, and after some thought they chose a gilded shell, with the front turning over into a swan’s neck. An Empress of Russia had driven in this, the book said, and so they thought it was good enough for them. The horses were coal-black, and there were six of them, four more than Papa and the other children had. Sister Sunshine tucked the little boy well up, and it appeared that the robes were all of ermine and sable, whereas, he had been thinking that they were only a striped afghan. One does not always know things till one is told.

“Here we go!” cried Sister Sunshine. “How the horses dash along! It takes my breath away! We are going to St. Petersburg to see the ice palace on the Neva. The Empress has sent her own private sleigh to take the little boy, and I can go, too, because I belong to him.”

She turned the page, and there, sure enough, was the ice palace. The sun shone splendidly on it, and it looked as if the fairies had built it.

“There is the Empress waiting for us!” said Sister Sunshine. “I suppose it would be polite to go in, wouldn’t it?” The little boy thought it would, decidedly, so they took the Empress’s hand and went in, through one grand room after another. The Empress gave them each a lovely little porcelain stove to carry under their arm, for the ice halls were cold.

“I am used to it,” she said, “and do not mind it.” She showed them all her jewels, which shone and sparkled like living flames; and then she brought them long sticks of candy, striped red and white, and cream walnuts, and barley sugar lions, just the things the little boy liked best; and they both said, how funny it was that she should know all about it, when the people at home so often forgot and gave him horehound, which he could not abide, and then said it was good for his cold.

After that they drove a long way over the ice, and the little boy thought he would like to go to Egypt and see if they knew their lessons about Moses there, because he sometimes forgot his. And there was Egypt, just a few pages off, with lots of pyramids, and the Sphinx, and all the right Egypty things. They got on camels and went to find some children, and there, to be sure, were plenty of them, all looking just exactly like the pictures in the Bible; but not a single one of them knew anything about Moses, which made the little boy feel more puffed up than he had any reason to be.

They left the carriage and got into a Nile boat, because they wanted to go over the Cataracts, and Sister Sunshine thought the horses might not like it; but before they got to the very first one the little boy was sound asleep, and he never woke up till the others came home from their sleigh ride. He was quite sure that they could not possibly have had so good a time as he had; and, anyhow, nobody had given them so much as a single bite of candy; they said that themselves.

A FUNNY FELLOW

A great many queer things happen in this world, and this morning I saw one of them. We have a little aquarium, – just a long glass box, with some stones arranged in it to form a pretty little rock-work, and plenty of bladder-wort for the fish to feed on.

We have a good many fish, – three stickle-backs, and a lot of dace, the pretty silver dace, and some minnows and a crayfish; but the pride of the aquarium is the newt. Did you ever see a newt? He is a little creature, like a lizard, about two inches long; in color, light brown, with black spots. He is quite tame, and not in the least afraid of us. Well, yesterday morning I was watching the fish, and seeing that the greedy ones did not get more than their share of breakfast, when Master Newt came up out of the water and seated himself on the top of the rock-work, which projects an inch or two above the surface. He sat quite still for a few minutes, and I made no motion, thinking he had come to take a look at the upper world, and would prefer to be left to himself. Presently he began to move his little paws about (they are just like tiny hands, with long, thin fingers), and to rub himself, and wriggle about in a very queer way. I had watched him for some minutes before I realized what he was doing, but suddenly it flashed upon me that he was going to change his skin. I knew that newts often changed their skin, but I never expected to see one do it. Presently it was loose enough, and my little friend began to draw it off, slowly, beginning with the paws. The skin came off in perfect shape, and in a moment there was a pair of fairy gloves floating in the water, the prettiest things that ever were seen. Next, Master Newt began to unbutton his waistcoat, so to speak, and then to take off coat, waistcoat, breeches and all. He did look very fine in his new coat, which shone with lovely colours, and was as soft and smooth as gossamer. I thought I should like to have a new dress every day if I could manage it with no more trouble than this. But what was he going to do with his old clothes? There were no closets in the aquarium, no clothes-bags, no obliging old-clothes-fish who would take it off his hands and give him a trifle for it. What would he do with the old suit?

I was soon to see. Master Newt sat still for a few minutes after his great feat, seeming to enjoy the change, waving his delicate crest with evident satisfaction; then he took up the old suit of skin, which lay on the rock beside him. And then, – who can guess what he did next? Mind, I saw this with my own two eyes, the very ones that are looking down on this paper as I write. Why, he rolled it up carefully, made a ball of it, and then ate it up!

WOFFSKY-POFFSKY

Woffsky-Poffsky, Woffsky-Poffsky,Once he was a Cossack hetman:But he fell into the Dnieper,And became a Cossack wet-man.

APRIL AND THE CHILDREN

Bring your basket, Molly Miller,Tie your kerchief, Susan Gray!Come, while still the dewdrops twinkle,O’er the hill with us away.Every field is sunning, sunningBroad its breast in morning’s blue;Every brook is running, running,Shall not we be running, too?April calls from hill and valley,Clad in fairy gold and green;Bring your posies, Kate and Sally!Gather round our maiden Queen!Hark! the woods are ringing, ringing,Thrushes trill and wood-doves coo;All the birds are singing, singing,Shall not we be singing, too?Columbine, the airy lady,Nods a greeting, light and free;Where the leaves are cool and shady,Violets spring for you and me;Clover-top his red is showing,Daisies peep in white and gold,Tulips in the garden glowing,Flaunt their scarlet brave and bold.Look! the orchard’s all in flower,And the white and rosy bloomTurns it to a royal bower,Fairy April’s tiring-room.Peach and apple, plum and cherry,All the air with fragrance woo;Since the world is making merry,Shall not we be merry, too?Leave your book now, Peter Ponder;Leave your lambkin, Betty Brown!Jack and Willy, Maud and Milly,Tie the cap and kilt the gown!When the sunbeams gay and glancingThrow their golden smiles to you,When the leaves are dancing, dancing,Shall not we be dancing, too?Ring-around-a-rosy-posy!Hands across and back again!Drop your courtesy, Jess and Josie;Swing your partner, Mary Jane!Trip and skip, and down the middle,Till the Echo cries, “Halloo!Since ’tis April plays the fiddle,I will come and dance with you!”

THE SNOWBALL

It was a perfect snowball day! There had been a heavy snowstorm, and then the sky had cleared and the weather turned soft and warm. What could be more delightful?

Rita was too little to go to school, but she was not too little to make snowballs.

So Mammy put on the little girl’s coat and hood, and leggings and overshoes and mittens, and turned her out of doors in the sunshine.

Oh, how bright it was! How the world sparkled and twinkled and laughed! Rita laughed, too, and at first could only jump up and down for pure joy, and sing, —

“Ho! ho! ho!Pretty white snow!”

A song of her own composition, of which she was justly proud.

But presently she said to herself, “snowballs!” and from that moment she had no time for singing or jumping.

First she made some dumplings, and set them in a row on the piazza to bake in the sun; then she saw three little birds in a tree, and threw the dumplings at them, in case they might be hungry.

Then she made a pudding, and stirred it with a large icicle, which made the best possible pudding stick; then she made some eggs, and pelted Rover with them till that good dog fairly yelled with excitement.

At last she said, “I know what I will do! I’ll make a Great Snowball, like the Great Sausage in my German picture book.”

So the little girl set to work, and rolled and patted and pressed till she had a well-shaped ball to begin with. Then she laid it on the smooth snow table-cloth of the lawn, and began to roll it in good earnest, here and there, over and over and over.

The snow was in perfect condition, soft and moist; every particle clung to the ball, which grew bigger and bigger and BIGGER and BIGGER!

At last Rita’s arms were tired, and she stopped to rest and to look about her. She was at the end of the lawn, where the bank sloped up to the stone wall. How nice it would be if she could roll the Great Snowball up the bank, and push it to the top of the wall!

Then Papa would see it when he came home to dinner, and he would be so ’stonished! he would say, “Who – upon —yerth– put that great, hugeous snowball there?” And Rita would say, “I did, Pappy! just ’cisely all my own pitickiler self.”

And then Papa would say, “Why-ee! what a great, big girl my Rita is! I must take her to town to-morrow-day, and buy her a muff, and a doll with wink eyes, and a squeaky dog, and a prayer-book, and a nalbum, and big boots, and a gold watch and a stick of striped candy! and then – ” But by this time Rita was quite ready to go to work again.

The snowball was very big by this time, quite as big as she was; and the bank, though not high, was very steep. But Rita’s short arms were sturdy, and her courage knew no measure; so at it she went, pushing the great ball up, inch by inch; puffing, panting, her cheeks growing redder and redder, but with no thought of giving up.

Now, by this time the snowball began to have its own ideas. Just at what point of bigness a snowball begins to have a mind of its own I cannot tell you, so you must ask some one wiser than I; but this snowball had reached the point.

At this moment it was saying to itself, “What fun this child is having! but I do not enjoy it at all. It is the pushing that is the fun, apparently. Why should not I push the child? I am bigger than she; it would be very pleasant to roll down the bank, and push her before me. I might try! I think I will! There!”

Down went the snowball! Down went little Rita! roly-poly, rumble-tumble, ruffle-puffle, flop!

When Papa drove into the yard, two minutes later, he saw a great mound of soft snow, with two little black legs sticking out of it.

“Never mind!” said Rita, shortly, when Papa had pulled her out, and she stood shaking the snow from her wet, rosy face, “the old thing didn’t hurt me a bit, and it broke its old self all – to pieces!”

A GREAT FIGHT

The first I heard of it was when Fred came rushing into the house after breakfast.

“The enemy!” he cried. “The enemy is upon us!”

“Where?” cried the rest of us, jumping up.

“In the battle-field, of course!” he said; and he seized his flag and rushed out again.

We followed as quickly as we could. I put on the helmet, and Max took the drum, and we let Toddles have the bugle this time, because he had just tumbled down; and he had the hearth-broom, too, so he was all right. We ran into the field, and found that the enemy had taken up a strong position behind the old cannon. (Ours is a real battle-field, you know, and has been there ever since the war.) We formed in line, and Fred made a flank movement, meaning to take the enemy in the rear; but when he heard Fred coming, he charged on our line, and Toddles ran away, but Max and I retreated in good order, and formed again behind a rock, and began to shell him with green apples. He stopped to eat the apples, and meanwhile Fred completed his flank movement, and falling on the enemy’s rear, whacked it violently with a stick, waving his flag all the time, and shouting, “Yield, caitiff! Yield, craven hound!” (I tell him that nowadays people don’t say those things in war, but he says that Roland and Bayard did, and that what suited them will suit him.)

Well, the enemy turned suddenly on Fred, and drove him back against the cannon: but by that time we had advanced again, and Toddles was blowing the bugle as hard as he could, which seemed to disconcert the foe. Fred took a flying leap from the cannon right over his back, and putting himself at our head, rallied us for a grand charge. We rushed forward, driving the enemy before us. A panic seized him, and he fled in disorder; we pursued him as far as the fence, and he got through a hole and escaped, but not before we each had a good whack at him. It was a glorious victory! Fred made us a speech afterward from the top of the cannon, and we all waved everything we had to wave, and vowed to slay the invader if ever he dared to show his nose on our side of the fence again.