Five Minute Stories
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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.’”
ONE AFTERNOON
Papa and Mamma went out to row,And left us alone at home, you know, —Roderick, James and me.“My dears,” they said, “now play with your toysLike dear little, good little, sweet little boys,And we will come home to tea.”We played with our toys the longest while!We built up the blocks for nearly a mile, —Roderick, James and I.But when they came tumbling down, alas!They fell right against the looking-glass, —Oh! how the pieces did fly!Then we played the stairs were an Alpine peak,And down we slid with shout and with shriek, —Roderick, I and James.But Jim caught his jacket upon a tack,And I burst the buttons all off my back,And Roderick called us names.Then we found a pillow that had a rip,And all the feathers we out did slip, —Roderick, James and I.And we made a snowstorm, a glorious one,All over the room. Oh! wasn’t it fun,As the feathery flakes did fly!But just as the storm was raging around,Papa and Mamma came in, and foundRoderick, James and me.Oh! terrible, terrible things they said!And they put us all three right straight to bed,With the empty pillow-case under our head,And none of us had any tea!THE STOVE
Betty has a real stove, just as real as the one in the kitchen, if it is not quite so big. It has pots and kettles and a frying-pan, and a soup-pot, and the oven bakes beautifully, and it is just lovely! I went to spend the afternoon with her yesterday, and we cooked all the time, except when we were eating. First, we made soup in the soup-pot, with some pieces of cold goose, and we took some to Auntie (she is Betty’s mother), and she said it was de-licious, and took two cups of it. (They were doll’s cups; Betty says I ought to put that in, but I don’t see any need.) Then we made scrambled egg and porridge, and baked some custard in the oven, and it was just exactly like a big custard in the big cups at home. The cake was queer, so I won’t stop to tell about that, though Rover ate most of it, and the rest we crumbled up for the pigeons, so it wasn’t wasted; but the best of all was the griddle-cakes. Oh, they were splendid! The griddle is just the right size for one, so they were as round as pennies, and about the same size; and we had maple syrup on them, and Maggie the cook said she was so jealous (she called it “jellies”) that she should go straight back to Ireland; but I don’t believe she will. I don’t feel very well to-day, and Betty wasn’t at school, either. But I don’t think it had anything to do with the griddle-cakes, and I am going to play with Betty again to-morrow, – if Mamma will let me.
JOHN’S SISTER
What! no elder sister?I wouldn’t be you!Who buttons your jacket?Who ties up your shoe?Who gives you a boostWhen you climb a tree?Who bathes your bumps,As kind as can be?Who guided your oarThe first time you paddled?Who blows your bird’s eggs,E’en when they’re addled?Who sets your moths,Your butterflies, too?Who mops up the floorWhen you spill the glue?Who makes you taffy?(I tell you it’s fine!)Who baits your hook,Untangles your line?Who takes out your splinters,All in a minute?Who tells you stories,And sings like a linnet?No sister! I pity you,Truly I do.And oh! for a whole farmI wouldn’t be you.NEW YEAR SONG
“New Year, true year,What now are you bringing?May-day skies and butterflies,And merry birds a-singing?Frolic, play, all the day,Not an hour of school?”But the merry echo,The laughing New Year echo,Only answered, “School!”“New Year, true year,What now are you bringing?Summer roses springing gay,Summer vines a-swinging?Jest and sport, the merriest sort,Never a thought of work?”But the merry echo,The laughing New Year echo,Only answered, “Work!”“New year, true year,What now are you bringing?Autumn fruits all fire-ripe,Autumn horns a-ringing?Keen delight o’ moonlight nights,When dull folks are abed?”But the merry echo,The laughing New-Year echo,Only answered, “Bed!”WHAT WAS HER NAME?
“Wake up!” said an old gentleman, dressed in brown and white, as he gently shook the shoulder of a young lady in green, who was lying sound asleep under the trees. “Wake up, ma’am! it is your watch now, and time for me to take myself off.”
The young lady stirred a very little, and opened one of her eyes the least little bit. “Who are you?” she said, drowsily. “What is your name?”
“My name is Winter,” replied the old man. “What is yours?”
“I have not the faintest idea,” said the lady, closing her eyes again.
“Humph!” growled the old man, “a pretty person you are to take my place! Well, good-day, Madam Sleepyhead, and good luck to you!”
And off he stumped over the dead leaves, which crackled and rustled beneath his feet.
As soon as he was gone, the young lady in green opened her eyes in good earnest and looked about her.
“Madam Sleepyhead, indeed!” she re-echoed, indignantly. “I am sure that is not my name, anyhow. The question is, What is it?”
She looked about her again, but nothing was to be seen save the bare branches of the trees, and the dead, brown leaves and dry moss underfoot.
“Trees, do you happen to know what my name is?” she asked.
The trees shook their heads. “No, ma’am,” they said, “we do not know; but perhaps when the Wind comes, he will be able to give you some information.”
The girl shivered a little, and drew her green mantle about her and waited.
By and by the Wind came blustering along. He caught the trees by their branches, and shook them in rough, though friendly greeting.
“Well, boys!” he shouted, “Old Winter is gone, is he? I wish you joy of his departure! But where is the lady who was coming to take his place?”
“She is here,” answered the trees, “sitting on the ground; but she does not know her own name, which seems to trouble her.”
“Ho! ho!” roared the Wind. “Not know her own name? That is news, indeed! And here she has been sleeping, while all the world has been looking for her, and calling her, and wondering where upon earth she was. Come, young lady,” he added, addressing the girl with rough courtesy, “I will show you the way to your dressing-room, which has been ready and waiting for you for a fortnight and more.”
So he led the way through the forest, and the girl followed, rubbing her pretty, sleepy eyes, and dragging her mantle behind her.
Now it was a very singular thing that whatever the green mantle touched, instantly turned green itself. The brown moss put out little tufts of emerald velvet, fresh shoots came pushing up from the dead, dry grass, and even the shrubs and twigs against which the edges of the garment brushed broke out with tiny swelling buds, all ready to open into leaves.
By and by the Wind paused and pushed aside the branches, which made a close screen before him.
“Here is your dressing-room, young madam,” he said, with a low bow; “be pleased to enter it, and you will find all things in readiness. But let me entreat you to make your toilet speedily, for all the world is waiting for you.”
Greatly wondering, the young girl passed through the screen of branches, and found herself in a most marvellous place.
The ground was carpeted with pine-needles, soft and thick and brown. The pine-trees made a dense green wall around, and as the wind passed softly through the boughs, the air was sweet with their spicy fragrance. On the ground were piled great heaps of buds, all ready to blossom; violets, anemones, hepaticas, blood-root, while from under a huge pile of brown leaves peeped the pale pink buds of the Mayflower.
The young girl in the green mantle looked wonderingly at all these things. “How strange!” she said. “They are all asleep, and waiting for some one to waken them. Perhaps if I do it, they will tell me in return what my name is.”
She shook the buds lightly, and lo! every blossom opened its eyes and raised its head, and said, “Welcome, gracious lady! welcome! We have looked for you long, long!”
The young girl, in delight, took the lovely blossoms, rosy and purple, golden and white, and twined them in her fair locks, and hung them in garlands round her white neck; and still they were opening by thousands, till the pine-tree hollow was filled with them.
Presently the girl spied a beautiful carved casket, which had been hidden under a pile of spicy leaves, and from inside of it came a rustling sound, the softest sound that was ever heard.
She lifted the lid, and out flew a cloud of butterflies.
Rainbow-tinted, softly, glitteringly, gayly fluttering, out they flew by thousands and thousands, and hovered about the maiden’s head; and the soft sound of their wings, which mortal ears are too dull to hear, seemed to say, “Welcome! welcome!”
At the same moment a great flock of beautiful birds came, flying, and lighted on the branches all around, and they, too, sang, “Welcome! welcome!”
The maiden clasped her hands and cried, “Why are you all so glad to see me? I feel – I know – that you are all mine, and I am yours; but how is it? Who am I? What is my name?”
And birds and flowers and rainbow-hued butterflies and sombre pine-trees all answered in joyous chorus, “Spring! the beautiful, the long-expected! Hail to the maiden Spring!”
A LESSON SONG
Bow down, green Forest, so fair and good,Bow down, green Forest, and give us wood!The forest gives us tables,The forest gives us chairs,The bureau and the sideboard,The flooring and the stairs;The ships that skim the ocean,The cars in which we ride,The crib in which the baby sleeps,Drawn close to mother’s side.Bow down, green Forest, so fair and good,Bow down, green Forest, and give us wood!Give up, ye Mines, so dark and deep,Give up the treasure that close ye keep!The mines are dugIn the earth so deep,’Tis there that silverAnd gold do sleep.Copper and iron,And diamonds fine,Coal, tin and rubies,All come from the mine,Give up, ye Mines, so dark and deep,Give up the treasure that close ye keep!O Sea, with billows so bright, so blue!Full many a gift we ask of you:Corals, yes, and sponges,Clams and oysters, too,And the radiant pearl-dropThe oyster hides from view.The fish we eat for dinner,The shells upon the shore,The whalebone for our mother’s gown,All these and many more.O Sea, with billows so bright, so blue!Full many a gift we ask of you.Ye broad, green Meadows, so fresh and fair,Oh, ye have many a treasure rare!Flowers the loveliest,Barley and corn,Oats, wheat and clover tops,Berry and thorn;Grass for the flocks and herds,Herbs for the sick;Rice, too, and cotton,The darkies do pick.Ye broad, green Meadows, so fresh and fair,Oh, ye have many a treasure rare!So earth and air, so land and seaGive kindly gifts to you and me.Should we not be merry,Gentle, too, and mild?Then the whole wide earth doth waitOn each little child.Should we not, in quiet,At our mother’s knee,Praise our Heavenly Father,Thank Him lovingly, —Since earth and air, and land and seaGive kindly gifts to you and me?Since earth and air, and sea and land,Come from our Heavenly Father’s hand?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!!!!”
MATHEMATICS
I studied my arithmetic,And then I went to bed,And on my little pillow whiteLaid down my little head.I hoped for dreams of dear delight,Of sugar-candy bliss;But oh! my sleep, the livelong night,Was filled with things like this.Add forty jars of damson jamTo fifty loaves of cake,Subtract a cow, and tell me howMuch butter it will make.Then add the butter to the jam,And give it to a boy,How long will ’t take ere grievous acheShall dash his childish joy?If twenty men stole thirty sheepAnd sold them to the Pope,What would they get if he should letThem have the price in soap?And if he slew each guileless beast,And in pontific gleeSold leg and loin for Roman coin,What would his earnings be?Next, if a Tiger climbed a treeTo get a cocoanut,And if by hap the feline chapShould find the shop was shut;And if ten crabs with clawing dabsShould pinch his Bengal toes,What would remain when he should gainThe ground, do you suppose?Divide a stick of licoriceBy twenty infant jaws,How long must each lose power of speechIn masticating pause?And if these things are asked of you,While you’re a-chewing of it,What sum of birch, rod, pole or perchWill be your smarting profit?I woke upon my little bedIn anguish and in pain.I’d sooner lose my brand-new shoesThan dream those dreams again.Oh! girls and boys, who crave the joysOf slumber calm and deep,Away then kick your ’rithmeticBefore you go to sleep!BY THE FADING LIGHT
There was only one chapter more to finish the book. Bell did want very much indeed to finish it, and to make sure that the princess got out of the enchanted wood all right, and that the golden prince met her, riding on a jet-black charger and leading a snow-white palfrey with a silver saddle for her, as the fairy had promised he would.
She did want to finish it, and it seemed very hard that she should be interrupted every minute.
First it was dear Mamma calling for a glass of water from her sofa in the next room, and of course Bell sprang with alacrity to answer that call.
But then baby came, with a scratched finger to be tied up, and then Willy boy wanted some more tail for his kite, and he could not find any paper, and his string had got all tangled up.
Then came little Carrie, and she had no buttons small enough for her dolly’s frock, and did sister think she had any in her work-basket?
So sister looked, and Carrie looked, too, and between them they upset the basket, and the spools rolled over the floor and under the chairs, as if they were playing a game; and the gray kitten caught her best spool of gold-colored floss, and had a delightful time with it, and got it all mixed up with her claws so that she couldn’t help herself, and Bell had to cut off yards and yards of the silk.
At last it was settled, and the little girl supplied with buttons, and Bell sank back again on the window-seat, so glad that she hadn’t been impatient, and had seen how funny the kitten looked, so that she could laugh instead of scold about the silk.
“And when the golden prince saw the Princess Merveille, he took her hand and kissed it, for it was like the purest ivory and delicately shaped. And he said – ”
Tinkle! tinkle! went the door-bell, and Bell, with a long sigh, laid down the book and went to the door, for Mary was out. It was old Mr. Grimshaw.
“Good-day, miss!” he said, with old-fashioned courtesy, “I have come to borrow the third volume of ‘Paley’s Evidences.’ I met your worthy father, and he was good enough to say that you would find the book for me. I am of the opinion that he mentioned the right-hand corner of the third shelf in some bookcase; I do not rightly remember in which room.”
Bell showed the old gentleman into the study and brought him a chair, and looked in the right-hand corners of all the shelves; then she looked in the left-hand corners; then she looked in the middle; then she looked on Papa’s desk, and in it and under it.
Then she looked on the mantel-piece, and in the cupboard, and in the chairs, for there was no knowing where dear Papa would put a book down when his thinking-cap was on. All the time Mr. Grimshaw was delivering a lecture on Paley, and telling her on what points he disagreed with him, and why; and Bell felt as if a teetotum were going round and round inside her head.
At last, in lifting Papa’s dressing-gown, which hung on the back of a chair, she felt something square and heavy in one of the pockets; and —there was the third volume of “Paley’s Evidences.”