Five Minute Stories
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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.
So that was all!
“Who was the enemy?” Why, didn’t I say? Farmer Thurston’s pig, of course!
HALLELUJAH!
The trees were still bare, and the grass brown and sere in the Northern city; but the sky was blue and cloudless, and the air warm and soft. On a bench under one of the leafless trees in the park sat an old man, gray-haired and poorly clad. His eyes were fixed on the ground, and he was thinking of many sorrowful things. Suddenly he heard a little clear voice saying, “Didn’t they give you any flowers?”
He looked up and saw a little wee girl standing before him, with her hands full of flowers. She had a round, rosy face and round blue eyes, and a little round rosebud of a mouth; and she was looking at him very seriously indeed. “Didn’t they give you any flowers?” she repeated.
“No, dear,” said the old man, gently; “nobody gave me any flowers. Where did you get your pretty posies?”
“In church, of course,” said the child. “The minister gives us all flowers. You shall have some of mine,” and she took some sprays of lily of the valley and a red rose and laid them in the old man’s withered hand. “Does that make you glad?” she asked, anxiously. “The minister says everybody must be glad to-day.”
“Why must everybody be glad, my little angel?” asked the old man, sadly.
“Because Christ the Lord is risen,” said the child. “Didn’t you know that? Don’t you know that this is Easter Day?”
The old man smiled, and raised the flowers to his lips and kissed them. “I have been ill, my little angel,” he said, “but you have made me almost well again, and I will be glad! Christ the Lord is risen indeed.”
“Hallelujah!” cried the child, eagerly.
“Hallelujah!” echoed the old man, reverently.
“Hallelujah!” sang the bluebird in the leafless tree.
“Hallelujah!” said the whole wide world.
LULLABY
Lullaby, little lad!Shut thine eyes gay and glad;Make thy mouth a folded rose,Tilt not up thy tiny nose!Little heart must beat, beat,Little head must slumber sweet.Lullaby, little boy,Mother’s love, Mother’s joy!MERRY CHRISTMAS
“I am going to be merry all day long!” announced Wilfrid over his baked potato. “It is Merry Christmas and I’m going to show you how to be merry.”
“How?” queried Ben and Kitty.
“Why, it’s just – just to be merry!” replied Wilfrid, loftily. “No matter what happens, all day long, we must laugh. If you fall down stairs, Ben, as you did yesterday, instead of howling, just laugh! You’ll see – ow! this potato is awfully hot. I’ve burned my finger like fun.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” shouted Ben and Kitty, as loud as they could.
“What are you laughing at, I should like to know?” cried their brother, looking up rather savagely from the finger he was nursing. “I don’t see the joke! Guess if it was your finger – ”
“Merry Christmas!” cried Ben.
“We are laughing ’cause you told us to, Willy!” said Kitty. “Oh, isn’t it funny, brother burned his finger! Why don’t you laugh, too, Willy?”
Wilfrid was silent a moment; then he gave a forced laugh. “Of course!” he said, glancing rather sheepishly in the direction of Papa, who sat quiet behind his newspaper, and appeared to be taking no notice. (“But you never can tell whether he really is or not,” he reflected.) “Of course! I didn’t say I should laugh if you hurt yourselves, children, but it’s all right. You see I laugh, though I really hurt myself very much indeed” (with another glance at Papa)! “Come, now! what shall we play till it’s time to get ready for church? I vote for ‘Old Man I’m on your Castle!’ We can play right on the hearth-rug here, and I’ll be ‘Old Man.’”
“I want to be ‘Old Man!’” protested little Kitty. “You’s always ‘Old Man,’ Willy!”
“’Cause I’m the oldest!” responded her brother, promptly. “Come on, Kitty, and laugh, you know! Don’t look as if I had trodden on your toes just because you want to be ‘Old Man.’ We must laugh all the more when we don’t get the things we want, don’t you see?”
The game went on merrily, and all three were laughing with right good-will, when Wilfred caught his foot in a corner of the rug and fell, striking his head pretty sharply against the table. He was dazed for a moment, but as the children’s laughter rang out, he started to his feet with looks of fury.
“You hateful little things!” he began, crimson with rage.
But at this moment another laugh was heard. Papa put down his newspaper and began, “Ha! ha! ha! ho! ho! ho! this is Merry Christmas, indeed! Why don’t you laugh, Wilfrid, my boy? Ho! ho! this is remarkably funny. Why don’t you laugh? Why, this is the best joke I have heard to-day. Go to your mother, dear, and ask her to put some arnica on your head, but don’t forget to laugh all the way.”
“That is the worst of Papa,” said Wilfrid to himself, as he went slowly up stairs, rubbing his head, and casting baleful glances at the two little laughing children.
“He always makes you do things – when you say you are going to – even if they don’t turn out a bit the way you thought they would.”
THE LITTLE DOG WITH THE GREEN TAIL.
AN UNTRUE STORY
Once upon a time there came to the town where all the little dogs live a strange little dog, whose tail was of a most beautiful bright green color, – so bright that it shone like an emerald. Now, when all the other little dogs saw this, they were filled with admiration and envy, and they ran to the strange little dog and said, —
“Oh, little dog! what makes your tail so beautifully green? Pray tell us, that we may make ours green too, for we never saw anything so lovely in all our lives.”
But the strange little dog laughed and said, “There are many things greener than my tail. There is the grass down in the meadow; go and ask that what makes it green, and perhaps it will tell you.”
So all the little dogs ran down into the meadow where the grass was growing, and they said, “Oh, grass, grass! what makes you so green? Pray tell us, that we may all get green tails, like the tail of the strange little dog.”
But all the little blades of grass shook their heads, and said, “We can tell you nothing about that. All we know is that we were down under the ground last winter, and that when we came up this spring, we were all green. You might try that, and perhaps it would make you green, too.”
So all the little dogs went to work as fast as they could, and dug holes in the ground; and then they got into them and covered themselves up with earth. But they very soon found they could not breathe; so they were all obliged to come up again. And when they looked at each other, they saw to their sorrow that they were not green at all, but just the same colours that they were before, – some black, some brown, and some spotted. Then they all went again to the little dog, and said, —
“Oh, little dog, little dog! we have been to the grass, and it has not helped us at all. Now, do please tell us what makes your tail so beautifully green, for we never can be happy till ours are like it.”
But the strange little dog only laughed again and answered, “My tail is not the only green thing in the world. There are the leaves on the great oak-tree; they are very green indeed. Go ask them what makes them so, and perhaps they will tell you.”
So all the little dogs ran as fast as they could to the great oak-tree, and called out to the little leaves, “Oh, little leaves! what makes you so beautifully green? Do tell us, that we may all get green tails, like the tail of the strange little dog.”
But the leaves all shook their heads, and said, “We know nothing about that. We came out of our buds last spring, and then we were very pale. But we danced about, and the more we danced the greener we grew. Perhaps if you come up here and dance, you will grow green, too.”
So all the little dogs climbed up the tree as fast as they could, and tried to dance about on the branches. But they were not fastened on like the little leaves, so they fell down and hurt themselves very much; and when they got up and looked at each other, they were not any greener than before. So then they all cried bitterly, and they ran once more to the strange little dog, and said, “Oh, little dog, little dog! we have tried the way that the leaves told us, and we have only hurt ourselves dreadfully, and have not got green at all. And now, if you do not tell us, we shall die of grief, for we never can rest again till our tails are green.”
But the strange little dog only laughed more than ever, and said, “What stupid creatures you are, to think that there is nothing green in the world except my tail. There is the Sea; he is twenty times as green as my tail. Go and ask him, and he will surely tell you all about it, for he is very wise and knows everything.”
So all the little dogs ran as fast as they could down to the shore; and there was the great hungry Sea, prowling up and down, twirling his white moustaches and tossing his white hair, and looking very green and very fierce. The little dogs were very much frightened, but they took courage when they thought of the beautiful green tail, and they said, trembling, —
“Oh, great Sea! the strange little dog told us that you were wise and knew everything, and that you would tell us how to make our tails green like his.”
The great Sea smiled, wickedly, and answered, “Oh, yes, my children, I can tell you! I am green myself, and I make everything green that touches me. So let me take you in my arms a moment, and you will become beautifully green, just like me.”
So the great hungry Sea held out his long, green arms, and beckoned to them with his white hands; and the poor little dogs all shut their eyes and jumped in, and in less than a minute the Sea gobbled them all up, so that not one was left. And there was an end of all the little dogs.
And the strange little dog went back to the place he came from, with his green tail curled up behind him; and he was never seen or heard of again.
NAUGHTY
I took the sugar-tongs, and triedTo curl my doggie’s hair;I heated them until they burned,Which filled him with despair.The sugar-tongs were spoiled,And the hair would not curl,And now I’m sent to bed,An unhappy little girl.HARD TIMES
“No Christmas for us this year!” said Fred, coming out of his father’s study with his hands in his empty pockets, and a blank look on his face.
“No Christmas?” cried Edith. “What do you mean, Fred?”
“Hard times!” said her brother. “Father says he shall have all he can do to get through the winter, and that we mustn’t expect presents, or anything of that kind. Of course it’s all right, only, – it will seem queer, won’t it?”
“Oh, no money Christmas!” said Edith, looking relieved. “Yes, I knew that before. But we can have a merry Christmas, Fred, without money. I mean to have a particularly merry one, and you must help me.”
“I should like to know what you can do without any money!”
“Wait and see! and come out into the woods with me this afternoon, that’s a good boy!”
It was about a month before Christmas when this conversation took place; and all through December there were no busier young people in Woodville than Fred and Edith Brown. They slighted none of their lessons; but Fred spent a good part of his home time in the barn, with a hammer in his hand and a Latin grammar at his elbow; while Edith’s knitting needles flew as she bent over her history lesson. The day before Christmas, Papa and Mamma were summoned to dine and spend the day with Grandmamma. Mamma rather wondered that the children were not invited, and did not want to go without them; but their faces grew so direfully long at this suggestion that she saw through the little plot, though Papa did not, and she cheerfully took her shawl and departed, charging Edith to keep up the fire, and Fred to take care of the house.
When the parents returned in the evening the house was a bower of green. “Here is one thing that costs nothing!” Edith had said, “and it is half of a merry Christmas.” So she and Fred had brought great armfuls of fragrant cedar and hemlock, and tall fir saplings, which were set up in every corner, while wreaths hung in the windows, and long garlands festooned fireplace and picture frames. Papa looked very much pleased. “Why, it is Christmas already!” he said. “And I thought we should not have any celebration at all this year. You were too bright for me, children.”
“It’s all Edith, Papa!” said honest Fred.
“All but about two-thirds, Papa!” said Edith. “I could have done nothing without Fred’s strong arms.”
Next morning the sun was out, and the snow sparkled like diamonds in the golden light. “Here is something else that costs nothing, Edie!” cried Fred, who had entered heart and soul into his sister’s idea. “Sunshine is a pretty good present, isn’t it? And we have the very best article to-day.”
“Hurrah!” cried Edith, “this is glorious. Merry Christmas, boy! Smiles are another thing, Fred. Let’s be sure not to look gloomy for a single minute all day.”
“All right!” said Fred. “I’ll grin like the Cheshire cat from morning till night. Now, here’s mother’s work-table, all ready. It has taken a good polish, hasn’t it?”
“Splendid!” cried Edith. “And here’s father’s portfolio. Do you recognize the cover, Fred?”
“Looks like that pretty dress you had ever so long ago, when you were a little shaver, – I mean shaveress!”
“Just what it is! The pieces were folded away all this time, of no use to anybody. And there was enough to make this pretty work-bag for mother, and another like it for Aunt May. And, – look here, Fred! Merry Christmas, dear old fellow!”
Fred looked at the blue and gray toboggan cap with astonishment and delight. “Oh, Sis, that is a stunner! But, I say! you have broken the rule. This wool must have cost you something, and a good deal.”
“Not a penny!” rejoined his sister, triumphantly. “Do you remember that huge old comforter that Aunt Eliza sent me three years ago? I never could wear it out, though it was just as dear and kind of her to make it for me. That gave me the wool for the cap, and for several other things beside.”
“Well, it is a beauty!” said Fred. “Here’s all the present I have for you, and I wish it was a better one.” He produced a birchbark basket, filled with chestnuts and hickories, and was rewarded by a good old-fashioned hug.
“As if you could have found anything I should have liked better!” cried Edith. “Such beauties, too! Why, you must have picked out every single nut, Fred Brown!”
“Something like it!” admitted Fred.
“How about those partridges for dinner?”
“They are all ready to put in the oven!” Edith said. “Mother knows nothing about them yet, but is sighing a little because she has no chicken for us. And you know Mrs. Spicer gave me a jar of mince-meat for the cranberries I brought her. I am a little proud of my pie, Fred!”
“Hurrah for you!” said Fred.
Somehow or other the Browns had never had a merrier Christmas than this one of the hard winter. Edith said it was all the sunshine and the green boughs; Fred said it was all Edith; but Mr. and Mrs. Brown, as they sat by the cheerful hearth, and watched the chestnuts roasting, and listened to the merry young voices, gave reverent thanks for their treasure of love, and felt that they were rich in spite of the hard times.
ON THE STEEPLE
Weathercock, up on the steeple,Flap your wings and crow!Weathercock, plenty of peopleSay that you can’t, you know.But I know better! I hear you,And Johnny Boy hears you, too,When you think that there’s no one near you,Cry “Cock-a-doo-doodle-do!”NAUGHTY BILLY
Billy put the puppy-dogIn the water-pail;Billy tied the toasting-forkTo the kitten’s tail.Puppy bit his naughty legs,Kitty scratched his nose.Somebody is screaming now,Who, do you suppose?A LAD
There was a lad,Whose name was Chad.He had a brotherWhose name was Bother.He had a sisterWhose name was Twister.He had an uncleWhose name was Buncle.He had an aunt, —Tell her name I sha’n’t!SAINT VALENTINE’S HOUSE
Do you know, children, how and where all the valentines are made that you see in the shops nowadays?
Well, suppose I tell you all about it.
When you go to fairy-land, turn to the left after you enter the gate, and the first house you come to will be Saint Valentine’s.
This is what I did when I went there, and you shall hear what I saw.
On entering the house, I found myself in a large hall hung with gold and silver paper, and glittering with an incomparable brightness. Here were hundreds of little cupids with tiny wings, who were running and flying about, as busy as bees.
One was carrying a roll of gold paper as big as himself; another was painting beautiful flowers on white paper; others were making paper lace. But all seemed to be helping and waiting on a person who sat by a huge table at the farther end of the hall, and this person I soon found to be Saint Valentine himself.
He was a young man, and very handsome. He was dressed in sky-blue velvet, embroidered with gold, and had great fat pearls for buttons. He seemed as busy as the rest, and merely nodded and smiled when he saw me, and called out, —
“Number Three Shears,Approach, my dears!”I heard a queer, sharp voice at my elbow, saying, “Now, then, by your leave!” and turning, saw at my elbow an enormous pair of shears, walking about on two legs, and looking as proud as you please.
“Dear Number Threes,A million sevens, if you please!”said Saint Valentine.
Snip-snap! snip-snap! went the shears, and there lay a million little sheets of white paper.
Then the Saint cried, —
“Bring me some hearts,And flaming darts!”and a dozen cupids came up, dragging a great basket full of hearts, and carrying bundles of darts under their arms. Quick as lightning, Saint Valentine took a couple of hearts out of the basket, clapped them on a sheet of paper, stuck a dart into them, flung a wreath of flowers round them, then, thump! a great stamp came down on the paper, and out of it came a lovely valentine.
That was quick work! in five minutes, I should think, five hundred valentines were turned out. I stood looking on in delight.
Suddenly the Saint called out, —
“A big one let us now begin,And let us put the lady in!”At first I did not know what he meant: but he took an enormous sheet, and after showering hearts and roses and cupids upon it, turned to me, and said, sweetly, —
“Now if you will venture in it,I’ll stamp you out in half a minute.”This was too much, and making him a low bow, I awoke!
THE GENTLEMAN
There once was an elderly gentleman,Whose manners were soft and mild:He doffed his hat to each woman he met,He kissed his hand to each child.He smiled and he bowed to meek and proud,And thus to himself said he:“A gentleman I, as none can deny,So gentle I still must be!”A-walking he went in a lane one day, —A lane that was long and narrow;And there in the path a rustic lay,Beside his plough and harrow.A ruffian and a gruffian he,A horrid rustic for to see:And all in the way he sprawling lay,And never a foot budged he.“I pray you, worthy friend, to rise!”The gentleman mildly said;But the ruffian glared with his ugly eyes,And shook his ugly head.“The ditch is wide on either side,And dry enough,” quoth he;“There’s room to pass, old Timothy-grass,Without disturbing me.”The gentleman smiled a charming smile,And bowed a gracious bow;And looking around with his glass the while,He spied a grazing cow.“As sure as I live, a lesson I’ll give,”Thought he, “to my rustic friend.I’ll warrant me yet he’ll not forgetThis day to his life’s long end.”The rustic lay in the path and snored;The cow ate grass and lowed;The gentleman took her and gently shook her,And led her along the road.Then he took a string, and an iron ring,And the end of the cow’s loose tether,And harrow and plough and ruffian and cow,He fastened them all together.“And now, my friend,” he sweetly said,“Since you have not the strength to rise,The means for a ride I am glad to provide,And I trust that the same you’ll prize!”He pulled a switch from the wayside ditch,Gave Moolly a sounding blow,And off with a wallop she set at a gallop,As fast as her legs could go.The rustic, the plough and the harrow went, too,A-bumping along the stones;The rustic did yell, oh! and Moolly did bellow,You’d think they were breaking their bones.But the gentleman smiled, and pensive and mild,On his peaceful way went he:“A gentleman I, as none can deny,So gentle I still must be!”A LEAP YEAR BOY
“To-morrow is my birthday!” said Robby to Bobby.
“What is your birfday?” said Bobby to Robby.
“Why, to-morrow, Silly!” said Robby.
Now Robby was nearly six years old, and a person of great importance.
“I don’t mean that!” said little Bobby, who was not yet four. “I mean, what is our birfday? Is it good to eat?”
“Why! why-ee! Bobby Bell! Don’t you have birthdays?” cried Robby, opening his eyes.
“No!” said Bobby, opening his mouth. “I neber saw one.”
“You don’t see them!” said Robby, in a patronizing tone, “you have them! It is the day you were born, and you have a party and presents, and a birthday cake with frosting, and your name on it in pink letters, and candy and oranges, and a gold dollar with Grandmamma’s love to her dear little boy. Do you really mean that you never had one, Bobby Bell?”
Little Bobby looked very grave. “Perhaps I wasn’t born!” he said. “I’s going to ask Mamma.” So he trotted in to his mother.
“Mamma,” he said, “was I born?”
Mamma looked at him a moment in mute surprise. “Were you born, dear?” she repeated. “Yes, certainly you were born. Why do you ask me that, little boy?”
Bobby’s lip began to quiver, and his blue eyes filled with tears. “Den why, – why don’t I have birfdays?” he asked.
Mamma looked very sorry. “Dear! dear!” she said. “Now who has been telling my leap year boy about birthdays? Come and sit in Mamma’s lap and tell me all about it, and then I will tell you all about it.”
So Bobby climbed up into Mamma’s lap and hid his face in her dress, and sobbed out his little story about frosted cake and pink letters, and gold dollars with Grandmamma’s love to her dear little boy. “And I neber – I neber had any!” he said, piteously.