Very Short Stories and Verses For Children Part 2

The moon is s.h.i.+ning o'er the field, A little breeze is blowing, The radish leaves are crisp and green, The lettuces are growing.

The owl is in the ivy-bush, With both his eyes a-winking; The rabbit shakes his little tail, And sits him down a-thinking--

"Oh! where are all the dormice gone?

And are the frogs a-wooing?

Will no one come to play with me?

What are they all a-doing?"

Poor little rabbit, all alone, Don't let the master meet you; He'll shoot you with his little gun, And merrily he'll eat you!

THE SANDY CAT.

The sandy cat sat by the kitchen fire. Yesterday it had had no supper; this morning everyone had forgotten it. All night it had caught no mice; all day as yet it had tasted no milk. A little grey mouse, a saucerful of milk, a few fish or chicken bones, would have satisfied it; but no grey mouse, with its soft stringy tail behind it, ran across the floor; no milk was near, no chicken bones, no fish, no anything.

The serving-maid had been was.h.i.+ng clothes, and was hanging them out to dry. The children had loitered on their way to school, and were wondering what the master would say to them. The father had gone to the fair to help a neighbour to choose a horse. The mother sat making a patchwork quilt. No one thought of the sandy cat; it sat by the fire alone and hungry.

At last the clothes were all a-drying, the children had been scolded, and sat learning a lesson for the morrow. The father came from the fair, and the patchwork quilt was put away. The serving-maid put on a white ap.r.o.n with a frill, and a clean cap, then taking the sandy cat in her arms, said, "p.u.s.s.y, shall we go into the garden?" So they went and walked up and down, up and down the pathway, till at last they stopped before a rose tree; the serving-maid held up the cat to smell the roses, but with one long bound it leaped from her arms and away--away--away.

Whither?

Ah, dear children, I cannot tell, for I was not there to see; but if ever you are a sandy cat you will know that it is a terrible thing to be asked to smell roses when you are longing for a saucerful of milk and a grey mouse with a soft stringy tail.

ON THE WAY TO THE SUN.

He had journeyed a long way, and was very tired. It seemed like a dream when he stood up after a sleep in the field, and looked over the wall, and saw the garden, and the flowers, and the children playing all about. He looked at the long road behind him, at the dark wood and the barren hills; it was the world to which he belonged. He looked at the garden before him, at the big house, and the terrace, and the steps that led down to the smooth lawn--it was the world which belonged to the children.

"Poor boy," said the elder child, "I will get you something to eat."

"But where did he come from?" the gardener asked.

"We do not know," the child answered; "but he is very hungry, and mother says we may give him some food."

"I will take him some milk," said the little one; in one hand she carried a mug and with the other she pulled along her little broken cart.

"But what is he called?" asked the gardener.

"We do not know," the little one answered; "but he is very thirsty, and mother says we may give him some milk."

"Where is he going?" asked the gardener.

"We do not know," the children said; "but he is very tired."

When the boy had rested well, he got up saying, "I must not stay any longer," and turned to go on his way.

"What have you to do?" the children asked.

"I am one of the crew, and must help to make the world go round," he answered.

"Why do we not help too?"

"You are the pa.s.sengers."

"How far have you to go?" they asked.

"Oh, a long way!" he answered. "On and on until I can touch the sun."

"Will you really touch it?" they said, awestruck.

"I dare say I shall tire long before I get there," he answered sadly.

"Perhaps without knowing it, though, I shall reach it in my sleep," he added. But they hardly heard the last words, for he was already far off.

"Why did you talk to him?" the gardener said. "He is just a working boy."

"And we do nothing! It was very good of him to notice us," they said, humbly.

"Good!" said the gardener in despair. "Why, between you and him there is a great difference."

"There was only a wall," they answered. "Who set it up?" they asked curiously.

"Why, the builders, of course. Men set it up."

"And who will pull it down?"

"It will not want any pulling down," the man answered grimly. "Time will do that."

As the children went back to their play, they looked up at the light towards which the boy was journeying.

"Perhaps we too shall reach it some day," they said.

IN THE MOONLIGHT.

He picked a b.u.t.tercup, and held it up to her chin. "Do you like b.u.t.ter?" he asked.

"b.u.t.ter!" she exclaimed. "They are not made into b.u.t.ter. They are made into crowns for the Queen; she has a new one every morning."

"I'll make you a crown," he said. "You shall wear it to-night."