The Pig Brother, and Other Fables and Stories

“Oh! how strong my mother’s apron-string is!” said the boy: and he drew himself up by it, and stood firm on his feet, and went on climbing toward the blue peaks of the mountains.

THE SHADOW

An Angel heard a child crying one day, and came to see what ailed it. He found the little one sitting on the ground, with the sun at its back (for the day was young), looking at its own shadow, which lay on the ground before it, and weeping bitterly.

“What ails you, little one?” asked the Angel.

“The world is so dark!” said the child. “See, it is all dusky gray, and there is no beauty in it. Why must I stay in this sad, gray world?”

“Do you not hear the birds singing, and the other children calling at their play?” asked the Angel.

“Yes,” said the child; “I hear them, but I do not know where they are. I cannot see them, I see only the shadow. Moreover, if they saw it, they would not sing and call, but would weep as I do.”

The Angel lifted the child, and set it on its feet, with its face to the early sun.

“Look!” said the Angel.

The child brushed away the tears from its eyes and looked. Before them lay the fields all green and gold, shining with dewdrops, and the other children were running to and fro, laughing and shouting, and crowning one another with blossoms.

“Why, there are the children!” said the little one.

“Yes,” said the Angel; “there they are.”

“And the sun is shining!” cried the child.

“Yes,” said the Angel; “it was shining all the time.”

“And the shadow is gone!”

“Oh, no!” said the Angel; “the shadow is behind you, where it belongs. Run, now, and gather flowers for the littlest one, who sits in the grass there!”

THE SAILOR MAN

Once upon a time two children came to the house of a sailor man, who lived beside the salt sea; and they found the sailor man sitting in his doorway knotting ropes.

“How do you do?” asked the sailor man.

“We are very well, thank you,” said the children, who had learned manners, “and we hope you are the same. We heard that you had a boat, and we thought that perhaps you would take us out in her, and teach us how to sail, for that is what we wish most to know.”

“All in good time,” said the sailor man. “I am busy now, but by and by, when my work is done, I may perhaps take one of you if you are ready to learn. Meantime here are some ropes that need knotting; you might be doing that, since it has to be done.” And he showed them how the knots should be tied, and went away and left them.

When he was gone the first child ran to the window and looked out.

“There is the sea,” he said. “The waves come up on the beach, almost to the door of the house. They run up all white, like prancing horses, and then they go dragging back. Come and look!”

“I cannot,” said the second child. “I am tying a knot.”

“Oh!” cried the first child, “I see the boat. She is dancing like a lady at a ball; I never saw such a beauty. Come and look!”

“I cannot,” said the second child. “I am tying a knot.”

“I shall have a delightful sail in that boat,” said the first child. “I expect that the sailor man will take me, because I am the eldest and I know more about it. There was no need of my watching when he showed you the knots, because I knew how already.”

Just then the sailor man came in.

“Well,” he said, “my work is over. What have you been doing in the meantime?”

“I have been looking at the boat,” said the first child. “What a beauty she is! I shall have the best time in her that ever I had in my life.”

“I have been tying knots,” said the second child.

“Come, then,” said the sailor man, and he held out his hand to the second child. “I will take you out in the boat, and teach you to sail her.”

“But I am the eldest,” cried the first child, “and I know a great deal more than she does.”

“That may be,” said the sailor man; “but a person must learn to tie a knot before he can learn to sail a boat.”

“But I have learned to tie a knot,” cried the child. “I know all about it!”

“How can I tell that?” asked the sailor man.

“GO” AND “COME”

“Little boy,” said the nurse one day, “you would be far better at work. Your garden needs weeding sadly; go now and weed it, like a good child!”

But the little boy did not feel like weeding that day.

“I can’t do it,” he said.

“Oh! yes, you can,” said the nurse.

“Well, I don’t want to,” said the little boy.

“But you must!” said the nurse. “Don’t be naughty, but go at once and do your work as I bid you!”

She went away about her own work, for she was very industrious; but the little boy sat still, and thought himself ill-used.

By and by his mother came into the room and saw him.

“What is the matter, little boy?” she asked; for he looked like a three-days’ rain.

“Nurse told me to weed my garden,” said the little boy.

“Oh,” said his mother, “what fun that will be! I love to weed, and it is such a fine day! Mayn’t I come and help?”

“Why, yes,” said the little boy. “You may.” And they weeded the garden beautifully, and had a glorious time.

CHILD’S PLAY

Once a child was sitting on a great log that lay by the roadside, playing; and another child came along, and stopped to speak to him.

“What are you doing?” asked the second child.

“I am sailing to the Southern Seas,” replied the first, “to get a cargo of monkeys, and elephant tusks, and crystal balls as large as oranges. Come up here, and you may sail with me if you like.”

So the second child climbed upon the log.

“Look!” said the first child. “See how the foam bubbles up before the ship, and trails and floats away behind! Look! the water is so clear that we can see the fishes swimming about, blue and red and green. There goes a parrot-fish; my father told me about them. I should not wonder if we saw a whale in about a minute.”

“What are you talking about?” asked the second child, peevishly. “There is no water here, only grass; and anyhow this is nothing but a log. You cannot get to islands in this way.”

“But we have got to them,” cried the first child. “We are at them now. I see the palm-trees waving, and the white sand glittering. Look! there are the natives gathering to welcome us on the beach. They have feather cloaks, and necklaces, and anklets of copper as red as gold. Oh! and there is an elephant coming straight toward us.”

“I should think you would be ashamed,” said the second child. “That is Widow Slocum.”

“It’s all the same,” said the first child.

Presently the second child got down from the log.

“I am going to play stick-knife,” he said. “I don’t see any sense in this. I think you are pretty dull to play things that aren’t really there.” And he walked slowly away.

The first child looked after him a moment.

“I think you are pretty dull,” he said to himself, “to see nothing but what is under your nose.”

But he was too well-mannered to say this aloud; and having taken in his cargo, he sailed for another port.

LITTLE JOHN BOTTLEJOHN

Little John Bottlejohn lived on the hill,And a blithe little man was he.And he won the heart of a pretty mermaidWho lived in the deep blue sea.And every evening she used to sitAnd sing on the rocks by the sea,“Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,Won’t you come out to me?”Little John Bottlejohn heard her song,And he opened his little door.And he hopped and he skipped, and he skipped and he hopped,Until he came down to the shore.And there on the rocks sat the little mermaid,And still she was singing so free,“Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,Won’t you come out to me?”Little John Bottlejohn made a bow,And the mermaid, she made one too,And she said, “Oh! I never saw any one halfSo perfectly sweet as you!In my lovely home ’neath the ocean foam,How happy we both might be!Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,Won’t you come down with me?”Little John Bottlejohn said, “Oh yes!I’ll willingly go with you.And I never shall quail at the sight of your tail,For perhaps I may grow one too.”So he took her hand, and he left the land,And plunged in the foaming main.And little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,Never was seen again.

A FORTUNE

One day a man was walking along the street, and he was sad at heart. Business was dull; he had set his desire upon a horse that cost a thousand dollars, and he had only eight hundred to buy it with. There were other things, to be sure, that might be bought with eight hundred dollars, but he did not want those; so he was sorrowful, and thought the world a bad place.

As he walked, he saw a child running toward him; it was a strange child, but when he looked at it, its face lightened like sunshine, and broke into smiles. The child held out its closed hand.

“Guess what I have!” it cried gleefully.

“Something fine, I am sure!” said the man.

The child nodded and drew nearer; then opened its hand.

“Look!” it said; and the street rang with its happy laughter. The man looked, and in the child’s hand lay a penny.

“Hurrah!” said the child.

“Hurrah!” said the man.

Then they parted, and the child went and bought a stick of candy, and saw all the world red and white in stripes.

The man went and put his eight hundred dollars in the savings-bank, all but fifty cents, and with the fifty cents he bought a hobby-horse for his own little boy, and the little boy saw all the world brown, with white spots.

“Is this the horse you wanted so to buy, father?” asked the little boy.

“It is the horse I have bought!” said the man.

“Hurrah!” said the little boy.

“Hurrah!” said the man. And he saw that the world was a good place after all.

THE STARS

A little dear child lay in its crib and sobbed, because it was afraid of the dark. And its father, in the room below, heard the sobs, and came up, and said,

“What ails you, my dearie, and why do you cry?”

And the child said, “Oh, father, I am afraid of the dark. Nurse says I am too big to have a taper; but all the corners are full of dreadful blackness, and I think there are Things in them with eyes, that would look at me if I looked at them; and if they looked at me I should die. Oh, father, why is it dark? why is there such a terrible thing as darkness? why cannot it be always day?”

The father took the child in his arms and carried it downstairs and out into the summer night.

“Look up, dearie!” he said, in his strong, kind voice. “Look up, and see God’s little lights!”

The little one looked up, and saw the stars, spangling the blue veil of the sky; bright as candles they burned, and yellow as gold.

“Oh, father,” cried the child; “what are those lovely things?”

“Those are stars,” said the father. “Those are God’s little lights.”

“But why have I never seen them before?”

“Because you are a very little child, and have never been out in the night before.”

“Can I see the stars only at night, father?”

“Only at night, my child!”

“Do they only come then, father?”

“No; they are always there, but we cannot see them when the sun is shining.”

“But, father, the darkness is not terrible here, it is beautiful!”

“Yes, dearie; the darkness is always beautiful, if we will only look up at the stars, instead of into the corners.”

BUTTERCUP GOLD

Oh! the cupperty-buts! and oh! the cupperty-buts! out in the meadow, shining under the trees, and sparkling over the lawn, millions and millions of them, each one a bit of purest gold from Mother Nature’s mint. Jessy stood at the window, looking out at them, and thinking, as she often had thought before, that there were no flowers so beautiful. “Cupperty-buts,” she had been used to call them, when she was a wee baby-girl and could not speak without tumbling over her words and mixing them up in the queerest fashion; and now that she was a very great girl, actually six years old, they were still cupperty-buts to her, and would never be anything else, she said. There was nothing she liked better than to watch the lovely golden things, and nod to them as they nodded to her; but this morning her little face looked anxious and troubled, and she gazed at the flowers with an intent and inquiring look, as if she had expected them to reply to her unspoken thoughts. What these thoughts were I am going to tell you.

Half an hour before, she had called to her mother, who was just going out, and begged her to come and look at the cupperty-buts.

“They are brighter than ever, Mamma! Do just come and look at them! golden, golden, golden! There must be fifteen thousand million dollars’ worth of gold just on the lawn, I should think.”

And her mother, pausing to look out, said, very sadly, —

“Ah, my darling! if I only had this day a little of that gold, what a happy woman I should be!”

And then the good mother went out, and there little Jessy stood, gazing at the flowers, and repeating the words to herself, over and over again, —

“If I only had a little of that gold!”

She knew that her mother was very, very poor, and had to go out to work every day to earn food and clothes for herself and her little daughter; and the child’s tender heart ached to think of the sadness in the dear mother’s look and tone. Suddenly Jessy started, and the sunshine flashed into her face.

“Why!” she exclaimed, “why shouldn’t I get some of the gold from the cupperty-buts? I believe I could get some, perfectly well. When Mamma wants to get the juice out of anything, meat, or fruit, or anything of that sort, she just boils it. And so, if I should boil the cupperty-buts, wouldn’t all the gold come out? Of course it would! Oh, joy! how pleased Mamma will be!”

Jessy’s actions always followed her thoughts with great rapidity. In five minutes she was out on the lawn, with a huge basket beside her, pulling away at the buttercups with might and main. Oh! how small they were, and how long it took even to cover the bottom of the basket. But Jessy worked with a will, and at the end of an hour she had picked enough to make at least a thousand dollars, as she calculated. That would do for one day, she thought; and now for the grand experiment! Before going out she had with much labor filled the great kettle with water, so now the water was boiling, and she had only to put the buttercups in and put the cover on. When this was done, she sat as patiently as she could, trying to pay attention to her knitting, and not to look at the clock oftener than every two minutes.

“They must boil for an hour,” she said; “and by that time all the gold will have come out.”

Well, the hour did pass, somehow or other, though it was a very long one; and at eleven o’clock, Jessy, with a mighty effort, lifted the kettle from the stove and carried it to the open door, that the fresh air might cool the boiling water. At first, when she lifted the cover, such a cloud of steam came out that she could see nothing; but in a moment the wind blew the steam aside, and then she saw, – oh, poor little Jessy! – she saw a mass of weeds floating about in a quantity of dirty, greenish water, and that was all. Not the smallest trace of gold, even in the buttercups themselves, was to be seen. Poor little Jessy! she tried hard not to cry, but it was a bitter disappointment; the tears came rolling down her cheeks faster and faster, till at length she sat down by the kettle, and, burying her face in her apron, sobbed as if her heart would break.

Presently, through her sobs, she heard a kind voice saying, “What is the matter, little one? Why do you cry so bitterly?” She looked up and saw an old gentleman with white hair and a bright, cheery face, standing by her. At first, Jessy could say nothing but “Oh! the cupperty-buts! oh! the cupperty-buts!” but, of course, the old gentleman didn’t know what she meant by that, so, as he urged her to tell him about her trouble, she dried her eyes, and told him the melancholy little story: how her mother was very poor, and said she wished she had some gold; and how she herself had tried to get the gold out of the buttercups by boiling them. “I was so sure I could get it out,” she said, “and I thought Mamma would be so pleased! And now – ”

Here she was very near breaking down again; but the gentleman patted her head and said, cheerfully, “Wait a bit, little woman! Don’t give up the ship yet. You know that gold is heavy, very heavy indeed, and if there were any it would be at the very bottom of the kettle, all covered with the weeds, so that you could not see it. I should not be at all surprised if you found some, after all. Run into the house and bring me a spoon with a long handle, and we will fish in the kettle, and see what we can find.”

Jessy’s face brightened, and she ran into the house. If any one had been standing near just at that moment, I think it is possible that he might have seen the old gentleman’s hand go into his pocket and out again very quickly, and might have heard a little splash in the kettle; but nobody was near, so, of course, I cannot say anything about it. At any rate, when Jessy came out with the spoon, he was standing with both hands in his pockets, looking in the opposite direction. He took the great iron spoon and fished about in the kettle for some time. At last there was a little clinking noise, and the old gentleman lifted the spoon. Oh, wonder and delight! In it lay three great, broad, shining pieces of gold! Jessy could hardly believe her eyes. She stared and stared; and when the old gentleman put the gold into her hand, she still stood as if in a happy dream, gazing at it. Suddenly she started, and remembered that she had not thanked her kindly helper. She looked up, and began, “Thank you, sir;” but the old gentleman was gone.

Well, the next question was, How could Jessy possibly wait till twelve o’clock for her mother to come home? Knitting was out of the question. She could do nothing but dance and look out of window, and look out of window and dance, holding the precious coins tight in her hand. At last, a well-known footstep was heard outside the door, and Mrs. Gray came in, looking very tired and worn. She smiled, however, when she saw Jessy, and said, —

“Well, my darling, I am glad to see you looking so bright. How has the morning gone with my little housekeeper?”

“Oh, mother!” cried Jessy, hopping about on one foot, “it has gone very well! oh, very, very, very well! Oh, my mother dear, what do you think I have got in my hand? What do you think? oh, what do you think?” and she went dancing round and round, till poor Mrs. Gray was quite dizzy with watching her. At last she stopped, and holding out her hand, opened it and showed her mother what was in it. Mrs. Gray was really frightened.

“Jessy, my child!” she cried, “where did you get all that money?”

“Out of the cupperty-buts, Mamma!” said Jessy, “out of the cupperty-buts! and it’s all for you, every bit of it! Dear Mamma, now you will be happy, will you not?”

“Jessy,” said Mrs. Gray, “have you lost your senses, or are you playing some trick on me? Tell me all about this at once, dear child, and don’t talk nonsense.”

“But it isn’t nonsense, Mamma!” cried Jessy, “and it did come out of the cupperty-buts!”

And then she told her mother the whole story. The tears came into Mrs. Gray’s eyes, but they were tears of joy and gratitude.

“Jessy dear,” she said, “when we say our prayers at night, let us never forget to pray for that good gentleman. May Heaven bless him and reward him! for if it had not been for him, Jessy dear, I fear you would never have found the ‘Buttercup Gold.’”

THE PATIENT CAT

When the spotted cat first found the nest, there was nothing in it, for it was only just finished. So she said, “I will wait!” for she was a patient cat, and the summer was before her. She waited a week, and then she climbed up again to the top of the tree, and peeped into the nest. There lay two lovely blue eggs, smooth and shining.

The spotted cat said, “Eggs may be good, but young birds are better. I will wait.” So she waited; and while she was waiting, she caught mice and rats, and washed herself and slept, and did all that a spotted cat should do to pass the time away.

When another week had passed, she climbed the tree again and peeped into the nest. This time there were five eggs. But the spotted cat said again, “Eggs may be good, but young birds are better. I will wait a little longer!”

So she waited a little longer and then went up again to look. Ah! there were five tiny birds, with big eyes and long necks, and yellow beaks wide open. Then the spotted cat sat down on the branch, and licked her nose and purred, for she was very happy. “It is worth while to be patient!” she said.

But when she looked again at the young birds, to see which one she should take first, she saw that they were very thin, – oh, very, very thin they were! The spotted cat had never seen anything so thin in her life.

“Now,” she said to herself, “if I were to wait only a few days longer, they would grow fat. Thin birds may be good, but fat birds are much better. I will wait!”

So she waited; and she watched the father-bird bringing worms all day long to the nest, and said, “Aha! they must be fattening fast! they will soon be as fat as I wish them to be. Aha! what a good thing it is to be patient.”

At last, one day she thought, “Surely, now they must be fat enough! I will not wait another day. Aha! how good they will be!”

So she climbed up the tree, licking her chops all the way and thinking of the fat young birds. And when she reached the top and looked into the nest, it was empty!!

Then the spotted cat sat down on the branch and spoke thus, “Well, of all the horrid, mean, ungrateful creatures I ever saw, those birds are the horridest, and the meanest, and the most ungrateful! Mi-a-u-ow!!!!”

ALICE’S SUPPER

Far down in the meadow the wheat grows green,And the reapers are whetting their sickles so keen;And this is the song that I hear them sing,While cheery and loud their voices ring:“’Tis the finest wheat that ever did grow!And it is for Alice’s supper, ho! ho!”Far down in the valley the old mill stands,And the miller is rubbing his dusty white hands;And these are the words of the miller’s lay,As he watches the millstones a-grinding away:“’Tis the finest flour that money can buy,And it is for Alice’s supper, hi! hi!”Downstairs in the kitchen the fire doth glow,And Maggie is kneading the soft white dough,And this is the song that she’s singing to-day,While merry and busy she’s working away:“’Tis the finest dough, by near or by far,And it is for Alice’s supper, ha! ha!”And now to the nursery comes Nannie at last,And what in her hand is she bringing so fast?’Tis a plate full of something all yellow and white,And she sings as she comes with her smile so bright:“’Tis the best bread-and-butter I ever did see!And it is for Alice’s supper, he! he!”

THE QUACKY DUCK

The Quacky Duck stood on the bank of the stream. And the frogs came and sat on stones and insulted him. Now the words which the frogs used were these, —

“Ya! ha! he hasn’t any hind-legs!Ya! ha! he hasn’t any fore-legs!Oh! what horrid luckTo be a Quacky Duck!”

These were not pleasant words. And when the Quacky Duck heard them, he considered within himself whether it would not be best for him to eat the frogs.

“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.