The Pearl Story Book Part 1

The Pearl Story Book.

by Various.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The editors' thanks are due to the following authors and publishers for the use of valuable material in this book:

To T. C. and E. C. Jack of Edinburgh for permission to use "Holly" and the legend of the "Yew" from "Shown to the Children Series"; to Frederick A. Stokes Company for "The Voice of the Pine Trees," from "Myths and Legends of j.a.pan"; to the Wessels Company for "The First Winter" by W. W. Canfield; to Julia Dodge for permission to use two poems by Mary Mapes Dodge; to the Christian Herald for a poem by Margaret E. Sangster, Jr.; to Lothrop, Lee and Shepherd for "The Pine and the Flax" by Albrekt Segerstedt; to the Outlook Company for a story by Mine Moris.h.i.+ma; to the Independent for the poem "Who Loves the Trees Best?"; to Laura E. Richards for her story "Christmas Gifts"; to George Putnam and Sons for "Silver Bells" by Hamish Hendry, and "The Happy Prince" by Oscar Wilde; to the Churchman for a story by John P. Peters; to Dodd, Mead and Company for the story "Holly"

from the "Story Hour"; and "Prince Winter" from "The Four Seasons" by Carl Ewald; to George Jacobs for "A Legend of St. Nicholas" from "In G.o.d's Garden" by Amy Steedman; to A. Flanagan Company for "The New Year's Bell" from "Christ-Child Tales" by Andrea Hofer Proudfoot; to Jay T. Stocking and the Pilgrims Press for "The s...o...b..ll That Didn't Melt" from "The Golden Goblet"; to the New York State Museum for permission to use two stories contained in Bulletin 125, by Mrs. H. M.

Converse; to Small, Maynard and Company for "A Song of the Snow," from "Complete Works of Madison Cawein."

The selections from James Russell Lowell, Edna Dean Proctor, Celia Thaxter, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edith M. Thomas, Margaret Deland, John Townsend Trowbridge, and Frank Dempster Sherman are used by permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin Company, authorized publishers of their works.

INTRODUCTION

"Once upon a time," in the winter season suggests happy, young faces grouped about a blazing fire. A heavy snowstorm promises plenty of sport for tomorrow, but at present the cosiness indoors is very attractive, especially now that the evening story hour is at hand. And while the story-teller is slowly choosing his subjects he hears the children's impatient whispers of "The Snow Man," "Prince Winter," "The Legend of Holly," "The Animals' Christmas Tree."

Silence! The story-teller turns his eyes from the glowing fire to the faces of his eager audience. He is ready to begin.

Each season of the year opens a treasury of suggestion for stories. In the beauty and wonder of nature are excellent themes for tales which quicken children's interest in the promise of joyous springtime, in the rich pageantry of ripening summer, in the blessings of generous autumn, and in the merry cheer of grim old winter.

The Pearl Story Book is the fourth volume in a series of nature books each of which emphasizes the interest and beauty characteristic of a particular season. The central theme of this volume is winter, "snow-wrapped and holly-decked."

WINTER STORIES AND LEGENDS

WINTER

Down swept the chill wind from the mountain peak, From the snow five thousand summers old; On open wold and hill-top bleak It had gathered all the cold, And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek.

It carried a s.h.i.+ver everywhere From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare; The little brook heard it and built a roof 'Neath which he could house him winter-proof; All night by the white stars' frosty gleams He groined his arches and matched his beams; Slender and clear were his crystal spars As the lashes of light that trim the stars: He sculptured every summer delight In his halls and chambers out of sight.

James Russell Lowell.

THE ICE KING

(Indian Legend)

Once upon a time there was an Indian village built on the bank of a wide river. During the spring, summer, and autumn the people were very happy. There was plenty of fuel and game in the deep woods; the river afforded excellent fish. But the Indians dreaded the months when the Ice King reigned.

One winter the weather was terribly cold and the people suffered severely. The Ice King called forth the keen wind from the northern sky, and piled the snowdrifts so high in the forests that it was most difficult to supply the wigwams with game. He covered the river with ice so thick that the Indians feared it would never melt.

"When will the Ice King leave us?" they asked each other. "We shall all perish if he continues his cruel reign."

At last signs of spring encouraged the stricken people. The great snowdrifts in the forests disappeared and the ice on the river broke into large pieces. All of these floated downstream except one huge cake which lodged on the bank very near the village. And when the Indians saw that the spring suns.h.i.+ne did not melt this great ma.s.s of ice they were puzzled and anxious.

"It is the roof of the Ice King's lodge," they said. "We shall never enjoy warm weather while he dwells near us. Have we no brave who is willing to do battle with this winter tyrant?"

At last, a courageous young hunter armed himself with a huge club and went forth to see if he could shatter the glittering frozen ma.s.s and rid the village of the giant who dwelt beneath it. With all his strength he struck the ice roof blow upon blow, crying out, "Begone, O cruel Ice King! Your time is past! Begone!"

Finally, there was a deafening noise like the cras.h.i.+ng of forest trees when the lightning strikes, and the huge ice cake split into several pieces.

"Begone!" cried the young brave, as he struggled with each great lump of ice until he pushed it from the bank and tumbled it into the river below.

And when the mighty task was finished the white figure of the Ice King stood before the Indian brave.

"You have ruined my lodge," said the giant.

"The winter season is past," answered the brave. "Begone!"

"After several moons I shall return to stay," threatened the Ice King.

Then he stalked away toward the North.

The people were very happy when they knew that the young brave had conquered the giant; but their joy was somewhat dampened when they heard about the threatened return of the Ice King.

"I shall prepare for his return and do battle with him again,"

declared the Indian conqueror.

This promise comforted the people somewhat, but still they thought of the coming winter with dread.

During the autumn the hunter built near the river a strong wigwam and stored therein abundant fuel and dried game. He filled many bags made of skin, with oil, which he procured from the animals he killed. Also, he was well supplied with fur rugs, blankets, and warm clothes.

At last the winter season came. The cold north wind blew unceasingly, the snow piled high around the wigwams; ice several feet thick covered the river.

"The Ice King has come," said the Indians. "If he keeps his threat to stay among us we shall surely perish."

One bitter cold day the young Indian who had prepared well for the severe weather sat in his wigwam near a blazing fire. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind tore aside the bear skin which protected the doorway and into the lodge stalked the Ice King. His freezing breath filled the place and dampened the fire. He took a seat opposite the Indian brave who said, "Welcome, Ice King."

"I've come to stay," answered the giant.

The Indian s.h.i.+vered with cold at the sudden change of temperature in his wigwam, but he rose and brought more logs to the fire. Also, he opened one of his bags of oil and poured the contents on the great pieces of wood. The flames soon caught the oil-soaked logs and a roaring fire crackled and blazed in the wigwam. More and more fuel the young brave piled on his fire until finally the frosty cold air was changed to summer heat.

The Ice King s.h.i.+fted his seat away from the glowing fire. Farther and farther away he pushed until he sat with his back against the wall of the wigwam. As he moved he seemed to grow smaller and weaker. The icy feathers of his headgear drooped about his forehead and great drops of sweat covered his face. But still the Indian brave piled fuel on the blazing fire.