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                            [Illustration]


                                 THE

                           BOOK OF STORIES

                         FOR THE STORY-TELLER



                                  by

                             FANNY E. COE







                     GEORGE G. HARRAP & CO. LTD.

                       LONDON  CALCUTTA  SYDNEY






                     _First published March 1914_

                   _by_ GEORGE G. HARRAP & COMPANY

            _39-41 Parker Street, Kingsway, London, W. C._

       *       *       *       *       *




_Preface_


There is no need here to enter a plea for story-telling. Its value in
the home and in the school is assured. Miss Bryant, in her charming
book, _How to Tell Stories to Children_, says, "Perhaps never, since
the really old days, has story-telling so nearly reached a recognized
level of dignity as a legitimate and general art of entertainment as
now." And, in the guise of entertainment, the story is often the
vehicle conveying to the child the wholesome moral lesson or the bit
of desirable knowledge so necessary to his well-being at the time.
Thus it has come to be recognized that the ability to tell a story
well is an important part of the equipment of the parent or the
teacher of little children.

The parent is often at a loss for fresh material. Sometimes he "makes
up" a story, with but poor satisfaction to himself or his child. The
teacher's difficulty is quite otherwise. She knows of many good
stories, but these same stories are scattered through many books, and
the practical difficulty of finding time in her already overcrowded
days for frequent trips to the library is well-nigh insurmountable.
The quest is indefinitely postponed, with the result that the stories
are either crowded out altogether, or that the teacher repeats the few
tales she has at hand month after month, and year after year, until
all freshness and inspiration are gone from the story time.

The stories in the present collection are drawn from many nations and
from widely differing sources. Folk tales, modern fairy tales, and
myths have a generous showing; and there is added a new field as a
source for stories. This is Real Life, in which children soon begin to
take decided interest. Under this heading appear tales of child life,
of child heroes, of adult heroes, and of animals.

Mr Herbert L. Willett, of the University of Chicago, has said: "It is
not through formal instruction that a child receives his impulses
toward virtue, honour and courtesy. It is rather from such appeal to
the emotions as can be made most effectually through the telling of a
story. The inculcation of a duty leaves him passionless and unmoved.
The narrative of an experience in which that same virtue finds
concrete embodiment fires him with the desire to try the same conduct
for himself. Few children fail to make the immediate connection
between the hero or heroine of the story and themselves."

Because of this great principle of imitation, a large number of the
stories in this little volume have been chosen for their moral value.
They present the virtues of persistence, faithfulness, truthfulness,
honesty, generosity, loyalty to one's word, tender care of animals,
and love of friends and family. Some themes are emphasized more than
once. "Hans the Shepherd Boy," "The Story of Li'l' Hannibal," and
"Dust under the Rug," teach wholesome facts in regard to work. "The
Feast of Lanterns" and "The Pot of Gold" emphasize the truth that

    East or west,
    Hame's best.

Filial devotion shines from the stories of "Anders' New Cap," "How the
Sun, the Moon, and the Wind went out to Dinner," and "The Wolf-Mother
of Saint-Ailbe."

The form of each story is such that the parent or teacher can tell or
read the story, as it appears in the book, with only such slight
modification as his intimate knowledge of the individual child or
class would naturally prompt him to make.

The compiler wishes especially to express her appreciation for many
helpful suggestions as to material received from Mrs Mary W. Cronan,
teller of stories at various branches of the Boston Public Library.

       *       *       *       *       *




_Contents_


FOLK TALES
                                                                      PAGE

THE FOX AND THE WOLF                                                    11

THE FOX AND THE CAT                     _R. Nesbit Bain_               16

THE HOBYAHS                             _Carolyn Sherwin Bailey_       19

HOW THE SUN, THE MOON, AND THE WIND
    WENT OUT TO DINNER                  _Fanny E. Coe_                 23

A LEGEND OF THE NORTH WIND              _Mary Catherine Judd_          26

HOW THE ROBIN'S BREAST BECAME RED       _Flora J. Cooke_               30

HOW THE ROBIN CAME                                                     32

THE STORY OF THE RED-HEADED WOODPECKER                                 35

THE LITTLE RABBITS                      _Joel Chandler Harris_         38

"HEYO, HOUSE"                           _Joel Chandler Harris_         44

TEENCHY DUCK

    _From the French of Frederic Ortoli_

    _Translated by Joel Chandler Harris_                               49

ST CHRISTOPHER                                                         63

WONDERING JACK                          _James Baldwin_                68

THE FEAST OF LANTERNS

    _From W. T. Stead's "Books for the Bairns"_                        81


MODERN FAIRY TALES


PRINCE HARWEDA AND THE MAGIC PRISON     _Elizabeth Harrison_           93

THE HOP-ABOUT MAN                       _Agnes Grozier Herbertson_    107

THE STREET MUSICIANS                    _Lida McMurry_                118

THE STRAW OX                            _R. Nesbit Bain_              124

THE NECKLACE OF TRUTH                   _Jean Mace_                   131

ANDERS' NEW CAP                         _Anna Wohlenberg_             136

DUST UNDER THE RUG                      _Maud Lindsay_                142

A NIGHT WITH SANTA CLAUS                _Annie R. Annan_              149

THE STORY OF LI'L' HANNIBAL             _Carolyn Sherwin Bailey_      157

HOW WRY-FACE PLAYED A TRICK ON
    ONE-EYE, THE POTATO-WIFE            _Agnes Grozier Herbertson_    164

THE POT OF GOLD                         _Horace E. Scudder_           176

THE FROG-TSAREVNA                       _R. Nesbit Bain_              188

OEYVIND AND MARIT                       _Bjoerne Bjoerneson_            197

THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES                                             207


MYTHS


RHOECUS                                 _Fanny E. Coe_                214

KING SOLOMON AND THE ANTS               _Flora J. Cooke_              217

THE STORY OF PEGASUS                    _Fanny E. Coe_                219

THE WOLF-MOTHER OF SAINT AILBE          _Abbie Farwell Brown_         223

WHO WAS THE MIGHTIER?                   _Fanny E. Coe_                231


STORIES FROM REAL LIFE


HANS THE SHEPHERD BOY                   _Ella Lyman Cabot_            234

NATHAN AND THE BEAR                     _M. A. L. Lane_               236

THE MAN ON THE CHIMNEY                  _Fanny E. Coe_                241

POCAHONTAS                              _E. A. and M. F. Blaisdell_   244

THE DAY KIT AND KAT WENT FISHING        _Lucy Fitch Perkins_          247

THE HONEST FARMER                       _Ella Lyman Cabot_            257

DAMON AND PYTHIAS                       _Ella Lyman Cabot_            259

LINCOLN'S UNVARYING KINDNESS            _Fanny E. Coe_                261

HOW MOLLY SPENT HER SIXPENCE            _Eliza Orne White_            265

HANS AND HIS DOG                        _Maud Lindsay_      275

       *       *       *       *       *




_The Fox and the Wolf_

_A Russian Fable_


Once upon a time there was a fox so shrewd that, although he was
neither so fleet of foot, nor so strong of limb, as many of his
kindred, he nevertheless managed to feed as comfortably as any of
them.

One winter's day, feeling rather hungry, he trotted out of his lair to
take a look round. The neighbouring farmers guarded their hen-roosts
so carefully from his depredations that a nice fat hen was out of the
question, and the weather was too cold to tempt the rabbits out of
their snug warren. Therefore Mr Fox set his wits to work and kept his
eyes open for what might come along.

After a while, as he slunk along the bottom of a dry ditch, he
descried in the distance an old man driving a cart. This was Truvor,
the fisherman, who, since two or three days of December sunshine had
melted the ice, had had a good catch of fish in the lake by the
mountain-side.

"Aha!" said the fox to himself, "I should relish a dinner of fine,
fresh trout. Truvor is far too selfish to share them with me, so I
will have them all."

To achieve the purpose in view, he laid himself flat in the road over
which the fisherman must pass and pretended to be dead. The fisherman
beheld him with surprise when he drew near, and jumping from his seat
poked his sleek sides with his whip. The fox did not move a muscle,
and Truvor decided that he had been frozen to death by the cold of the
preceding night.

"I will take him home to my wife," he remarked, as he flung the limp
body into his cart. "His coat will make a very nice rug for our
parlour, and she can use his brush to dust with."

The fox had much ado to refrain from laughing when he heard this and
found himself amongst the fish. They smelt delicious, but he did not
think it wise to eat them then, so he silently dropped them one by one
into the road, and when the cart was empty, sprang out himself.
Knowing nothing of what had been going on, the old man drove on until
he reached his cottage.

"Come and see what I have brought you!" he called to his wife. You can
imagine the good woman's disgust when she found the cart quite empty.
Not only was she without the rug, but they would have no dinner.

Meanwhile, the fox was thoroughly enjoying himself. The fish that he
could not eat he hid away under a heap of grasses that he might make
use of them some other time. While engaged in this occupation a wolf
came up.

"Won't you give me a taste, little brother?" he asked. "I have had no
food for the last two days, and know not where to seek it."

"You have nothing to do but to go to the lake and dip your tail over
the edge of the bank, or through a hole in the ice if the water has
frozen over again, as I expect it has done from the nip in the air. If
you say these words: 'Come, little fish and big fish. Come!' the
finest fish will take hold of the bait, and when you feel them hanging
on you will have only to whisk your tail out of the water."

The wolf was a dull and stupid fellow and, never doubting the fox,
hied him off to the lake. Sure enough the water had once more frozen
over, but, finding a hole, he thrust in his tail and rammed it
through, and sat down to wait till the fish should come. The fox was
delighted to find him still sitting there as he passed by, and looking
at the sky above him murmured: "Sky, sky, keep clear! Water, water,
freeze, freeze!"

"What are you saying?" inquired the wolf, without turning his head.

"Nothing at all," replied the fox. "I was only trying to help you."
Then he went his way, and the wolf sat on all through the night.

When morning came he was cramped with cold, and tried to draw out his
tail. Finding this impossible, since the water had frozen fast around
it, he congratulated himself on having caught so many fish that their
weight prevented him from lifting his tail. He was still pondering how
to transfer them to the surface when some women came to fill their
water jars.

"A wolf! a wolf!" they exclaimed excitedly. "Oh, come and kill it!"

Their cries soon brought their husbands to their sides, and all united
in belabouring the wolf. With a great effort, however, he managed to
free his tail, and ran off howling into the woods.

The fox, meantime, had profited by the absence of the householders to
make a good meal, visiting the various larders, and feasting at will
on the daintiest morsels he could find. Having eaten rather more than
was good for him, he felt disinclined for much exercise, and
determined to go in search of the wolf that he might induce him to
carry him home.

His sense of hearing being unusually keen, even for a fox, he was soon
guided to the wolf's retreat by his mournful howls.

"Look at my tail," cried the wretched animal, as the fox poked his
nose through the bushes. "See what trouble you brought upon me with
your advice! I am in such pain that I can scarcely keep still."

"Look at my head," returned the fox, who had carefully dipped it into
a flour bin after greasing it with butter that it might have the
appearance of having been skinned. The wolf was kind-hearted, though
stupid, and his sympathy was at once aroused.

"Jump on my back, little brother," he said, "and I will carry you
home."

This was exactly what the fox had been scheming for, and the words
were hardly out ere he had taken a comfortable seat. As he rode home
in this way he hummed to himself a sly little song to the effect that
he who was hurt carried him who had no hurt. Arrived at the end of his
journey, he scampered off without a word of thanks, and, as he made a
hearty supper on the remaining fish, he chuckled at the remembrance of
the trick he had played the stupid wolf.




The Fox and the Cat[1]

R. NESBIT BAIN


In a certain forest there once lived a fox, and near to the fox lived
a man who had a cat that had been a good mouser in its youth, but was
now old and half blind.

[Footnote 1: From _Cossack Fairy Tales_ (London: George G. Harrap and
Company).]

The man didn't want Puss any longer, but not liking to kill it he took
it out into the forest and lost it there. Then the fox came up and
said: "Why, Mr Shaggy Matthew, how d'ye do? What brings you here?"

"Alas!" said Pussy, "my master loved me as long as I could bite, but
now that I can bite no longer and have left off catching mice--and I
used to catch them finely once--he doesn't like to kill me, but he has
left me in the wood, where I must perish miserably."

"No, dear Pussy!" said the fox; "you leave it to me, and I'll help you
to get your daily bread."

"You are very good, dear little sister foxey!" said the cat, and the
fox built him a little shed with a garden round it to walk in.

Now one day the hare came to steal the man's cabbage.
"_Kreem-kreem-kreem!_" he squeaked. But the cat popped his head out of
the window, and when he saw the hare he put up his back and stuck up
his tail and said: "_Ft-t-t-t-t-Frrrrrrr!_"

The hare was frightened and ran away, and told the bear, the wolf and
the wild boar all about it.

"Never mind," said the bear. "I tell you what, we'll all four give a
banquet, and invite the fox and the cat, and do for the pair of them.
Now, look here! I'll steal the man's mead; and you, Mr Wolf, steal his
fat-pot; and you, Mr Wildboar, root up his fruit-trees; and you, Mr
Bunny, go and invite the fox and the cat to dinner."

So they made everything ready as the bear had said, and the hare ran
off to invite the guests. He came beneath the window and said: "We
invite your little ladyship Foxey-Woxey, together with Mr Shaggy
Matthew, to dinner," and back he ran again.

"But you should have told them to bring their spoons with them," said
the bear.

"Oh, what a head I've got!--if I didn't quite forget!" cried the hare,
and back he went again, ran beneath the window and cried: "Mind you
bring your spoons!"

"Very well," said the fox.

So the cat and the fox went to the banquet, and when the cat saw the
bacon he put up his back and stuck out his tail, and cried: "_Mee-oo,
mee-oo!_" with all his might. But they thought he said: "_Ma-lo,
ma-lo!_"[2]

[Footnote 2: "What a little! What a little!"]

"What!" said the bear, who was hiding behind the beeches with the
other beasts, "here have we four been getting together all we could,
and this pig-faced cat calls it too little! What a monstrous cat he
must be to have such an appetite!"

So they were all four very frightened, and the bear ran up a tree, and
the others hid where they could.

But when the cat saw the boar's bristles sticking out from behind the
bushes he thought it was a mouse, and put up his back again and cried:
"_Ft! ft! ft! Frrrrrrr!_" Then they were more frightened than ever.
And the boar went into a bush still farther off, and the wolf went
behind an oak, and the bear got down from the tree, and climbed up
into a bigger one, and the hare ran right away.

But the cat remained in the midst of all the good things and ate away
at the bacon, and the little fox gobbled up the honey, and they ate
and ate till they couldn't eat any more, and then they both went home
licking their paws.




_The Hobyahs_

CAROLYN SHERWIN BAILEY


Once upon a time there lived a little old man and a little old woman
in a house all made of hemp stalks. And they had a little dog named
Turpie who always barked when anyone came near the house.

One night when the little old man and the little old woman were fast
asleep