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Crisan John D. Forro
The Three Billy-Goats Gruff
The Three Billy Goat's Gruff is a famous Norwegian folktale
that will charm any child. A mean and hungry troll lives under
a bridge. He's hungry for a meal and would love to snatch and
eat any goat attempting to cross his bridge. How can the three
goats get across safely? They must be clever! A wonderful
children's story to read out loud in a classroom or before
bedtime. This story is featured in our Favorite Fairy Tales.

Once upon a time there were three billy goats, who

were to go up to the hillside to make themselves fat,
and the name of all three was "Gruff."

On the way up was a bridge over a cascading stream

they had to cross; and under the bridge lived a great
ugly troll , with eyes as big as saucers, and a nose as
long as a poker.

So first of all came the youngest Billy Goat Gruff to

cross the bridge.

"Trip, trap, trip, trap! " went the bridge.

"Who's that tripping over my bridge?" roared the troll.

"Oh, it is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff , and I'm
going up to the hillside to make myself fat," said the
billy goat, with such a small voice.

"Now, I'm coming to gobble you up," said the troll.

"Oh, no! pray don't take me. I'm too little, that I am,"
said the billy goat. "Wait a bit till the second Billy Goat
Gruff comes. He's much bigger."

"Well, be off with you," said the troll.

A little while after came the second Billy Goat Gruff to

cross the bridge.

Trip, trap, trip, trap, trip, trap, went the bridge.

"Who's that tripping over my bridge?" roared the troll.

"Oh, it's the second Billy Goat Gruff , and I'm going up
to the hillside to make myself fat," said the billy goat,
who hadn't such a small voice.

"Now I'm coming to gobble you up," said the troll.

"Oh, no! Don't take me. Wait a little till the big Billy
Goat Gruff comes. He's much bigger."

"Very well! Be off with you," said the troll.

But just then up came the big Billy Goat Gruff .

Trip, trap, trip, trap, trip, trap! went the bridge, for the
billy goat was so heavy that the bridge creaked and
groaned under him.
"Who's that tramping over my bridge?" roared the troll.

"It's I! The big Billy Goat Gruff ," said the billy goat,
who had an ugly hoarse voice of his own.

"Now I 'm coming to gobble you up," roared the troll.

Well, come along! I've got two spears,

And I'll poke your eyeballs out at your ears;

I've got besides two curling-stones,

And I'll crush you to bits, body and bones.

That was what the big billy goat said. And then he flew
at the troll, and poked his eyes out with his horns, and
crushed him to bits, body and bones, and tossed him
out into the cascade, and after that he went up to the
hillside. There the billy goats got so fat they were
scarcely able to walk home again. And if the fat hasn't
fallen off them, why, they're still fat; and so,

Snip, snap, snout.

This tale's told out.

The Sagacious Monkey and
the Boar
The Sagacious Monkey and the Boar is from Japanese Fairy
Tales compiled by Yei Theodora Ozaki in 1908. "Sagacious" is a
fancy word meaning really smart and clever! This story illustrates
the expression, "No good deed goes unpunished." It is featured in
our collection of Children's Stories. [Illustration by Kansetsu
Hashimoto, Monkey in cherry tree, 1938.]

Long, long ago, there lived in the province of Shinshin in

Japan, a traveling monkey-man, who earned his living by
taking round a monkey and showing off the animal's tricks.

One evening the man came home in a very bad temper and
told his wife to send for the butcher the next morning.

The wife was very bewildered and asked her husband:

"Why do you wish me to send for the butcher?"

"It's no use taking that monkey round any longer, he's too
old and forgets his tricks. I beat him with my stick all I
know how, but he won't dance properly. I must now sell
him to the butcher and make what money out of him I can.
There is nothing else to be done."

The woman felt very sorry for the poor little animal, and
pleaded for her husband to spare the monkey, but her
pleading was all in vain, the man was determined to sell
him to the butcher.

Now the monkey was in the next room and overheard

every word of the conversation. He soon understood that
he was to be killed, and he said to himself:

"Barbarous, indeed, is my master! Here I

have served him faithfully for years, and instead of
allowing me to end my days comfortably and in peace, he
is going to let me be cut up by the butcher, and my poor
body is to be roasted and stewed and eaten? Woe is me!
What am I to do. Ah! a bright thought has struck me! There
is, I know, a wild bear living in the forest near by. I have
often heard tell of his wisdom. Perhaps if I go to him and
tell him the strait I am in he will give me his counsel. I will
go and try."
There was no time to lose. The monkey slipped out of the
house and ran as quickly as he could to the forest to find
the boar. The boar was at home, and the monkey began his
tale of woe at once.

"Good Mr. Boar, I have heard of your excellent wisdom. I

am in great trouble, you alone can help me. I have grown
old in the service of my master, and because I cannot
dance properly now he intends to sell me to the butcher.
What do you advise me to do? I know how clever you are!"

The boar was pleased at the flattery and determined to

help the monkey. He thought for a little while and then
said:

"Hasn't your master a baby?"

"Oh, yes," said the monkey, "he has one infant son."

"Doesn't it lie by the door in the morning when your

mistress begins the work of the day? Well, I will come
round early and when I see my opportunity I will seize the
child and run off with it."

"What then?" said the monkey.

"Why the mother will be in a tremendous scare, and before

your master and mistress know what to do, you must run
after me and rescue the child and take it home safely to its
parents, and you will see that when the butcher comes
they won't have the heart to sell you."

The monkey thanked the boar many times and then went
home. He did not sleep much that night, as you may
imagine, for thinking of the morrow. His life depended on
whether the boar's plan succeeded or not. He was the first
up, waiting anxiously for what was to happen. It seemed to
him a very long time before his master's wife began to
move about and open the shutters to let in the light of day.
Then all happened as the boar had planned. The mother
placed her child near the porch as usual while she tidied
up the house and got her breakfast ready.

The child was crooning happily in the morning sunlight,

dabbing on the mats at the play of light and shadow.
Suddenly there was a noise in the porch and a loud cry
from the child. The mother ran out from the kitchen to the
spot, only just in time to see the boar disappearing through
the gate with her child in its clutch. She flung out her
hands with a loud cry of despair and rushed into the inner
room where her husband was still sleeping soundly.

He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, and crossly

demanded what his wife was making all that noise about.
By the time that the man was alive to what had happened,
and they both got outside the gate, the boar had got well
away, but they saw the monkey running after the thief as
hard as his legs would carry him.

Both the man and wife were moved to admiration at the

plucky conduct of the sagacious monkey, and their
gratitude knew no bounds when the faithful monkey
brought the child safely back to their arms.
"There!" said the wife. "This is the animal you want to kill
—if the monkey hadn't been here we should have lost our
child forever."

"You are right, wife, for once," said the man as he carried
the child into the house. "You may send the butcher back
when he comes, and now give us all a good breakfast and
the monkey too."

When the butcher arrived he was sent away with an order

for some boar's meat for the evening dinner, and the
monkey was petted and lived the rest of his days in peace,
nor did his master ever strike him again.

The Fox & the Stork

 The Fox one day thought of a plan to
amuse himself at the expense of the
Stork, at whose odd appearance he was
always laughing.
"You must come and dine with me
today," he said to the Stork, smiling to
himself at the trick he was going to play.
The Stork gladly accepted the invitation
and arrived in good time and with a very
good appetite.
For dinner the Fox served soup. But it
was set out in a very shallow dish, and all
the Stork could do was to wet the very tip
of his bill. Not a drop of soup could he
get. But the Fox lapped it up easily, and,
to increase the disappointment of the
Stork, made a great show of enjoyment.
The hungry Stork was much
displeased at the trick, but he was a calm,
even-tempered fellow and saw no good in
flying into a rage. Instead, not long
afterward, he invited the Fox to dine with
him in turn. The Fox arrived promptly at
the time that had been set, and the Stork
served a fish dinner that had a very
appetizing smell.

But it was served in a tall jar with a

very narrow neck. The Stork could
easily get at the food with his long bill,
but all the Fox could do was to lick the
outside of the jar, and sniff at the
delicious odor. And when the Fox lost
his temper, the Stork said calmly:
Do not play tricks on your neighbors unless
you can stand the same treatment yourself.

The Cock & the Fox

 One bright evening as the sun was sinking on
a glorious world a wise old Cock flew into a tree
to roost. Before he composed himself to rest, he
flapped his wings three times and crowed loudly.
But just as he was about to put his head under
his wing, his beady eyes caught a flash of red
and a glimpse of a long pointed nose, and there
just below him stood Master Fox.
"Have you heard the wonderful news?" cried
the Fox in a very joyful and excited manner.
"What news?" asked the Cock very calmly.
But he had a queer, fluttery feeling inside him,
for, you know, he was very much afraid of the
Fox.
"Your family and mine and all other animals
have agreed to forget their differences and live
in peace and friendship from now on forever.
Just think of it! I simply cannot wait to embrace
you! Do come down, dear friend, and let us
celebrate the joyful event."
"How grand!" said the Cock. "I certainly am
delighted at the news." But he spoke in an
absent way, and stretching up on tiptoes, seemed
to be looking at something afar off.
 "What is it you see?" asked the Fox a little
anxiously.
"Why, it looks to me like a couple of Dogs
coming this way. They must have heard the good
news and—"
But the Fox did not wait to hear more. Off he
started on a run.
"Wait," cried the Cock. "Why do you run?
The Dogs are friends of yours now!"
"Yes," answered the Fox. "But they might not
have heard the news. Besides, I have a very
important errand that I had almost forgotten
about."
The Cock smiled as he buried his head in his
feathers and went to sleep, for he had succeeded
in outwitting a very crafty enemy.
The Three Little Pigs
The story of The Three Little Pigs featured here has been
adapted from different sources and from childhood memory.
The primary sources are English Fairy Tales, retold by Flora
Annie Steel (1922) with illustrations by L. Leslie Brooke from
the 1904 version. This story is featured in our Favorite Fairy
Tales and Children's Stories.

Once upon a time there was an old

mother pig who had three little pigs and not enough
food to feed them. So when they were old enough, she
sent them out into the world to seek their fortunes.

The first little pig was very lazy. He didn't want to work
at all and he built his house out of straw. The second
little pig worked a little bit harder but he was
somewhat lazy too and he built his house out of sticks.
Then, they sang and danced and played together the
rest of the day.

The third little pig worked hard all day and built his
house with bricks. It was a sturdy house complete with
a fine fireplace and chimney. It looked like it could
withstand the strongest winds.

The next day, a wolf happened to pass by the lane

where the three little pigs lived; and he saw the straw
house, and he smelled the pig inside. He thought the
pig would make a mighty fine meal and his mouth
began to water.

So he knocked on the door and said:

Little pig! Little pig!

Let me in! Let me in!

But the little pig saw the wolf's big paws through the
keyhole, so he answered back:

No! No! No!

Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!

Then the wolf showed his teeth and said:

Then I'll huff

and I'll puff

and I'll blow your house down.

So he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house
down! The wolf opened his jaws very wide and bit down
as hard as he could, but the first little pig escaped and
ran away to hide with the second little pig.

The wolf continued down the lane and he passed by the

second house made of sticks; and he saw the house,
and he smelled the pigs inside, and his mouth began to
water as he thought about the fine dinner they would
make.

So he knocked on the door and said:

Little pigs! Little pigs!

Let me in! Let me in!

But the little pigs saw the wolf's pointy ears through
the keyhole, so they answered back:

No! No! No!

Not by the hairs on our chinny chin chin!

So the wolf showed his teeth and said:

Then I'll huff

and I'll puff

and I'll blow your house down!

So he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house
down! The wolf was greedy and he tried to catch both
pigs at once, but he was too greedy and got neither!
His big jaws clamped down on nothing but air and the
two little pigs scrambled away as fast as their little
hooves would carry them.

The wolf chased them down the lane and he almost

caught them. But they made it to the brick house and
slammed the door closed before the wolf could catch
them. The three little pigs they were very frightened,
they knew the wolf wanted to eat them. And that was
very, very true. The wolf hadn't eaten all day and he
had worked up a large appetite chasing the pigs around
and now he could smell all three of them inside and he
knew that the three little pigs would make a lovely
feast.

So the wolf knocked on the door and said:

Little pigs! Little pigs!

Let me in! Let me in!

But the little pigs saw the wolf's narrow eyes through
the keyhole, so they answered back:

No! No! No!

Not by the hairs on our chinny chin chin!

So the wolf showed his teeth and said:
 Then I'll huff

and I'll puff

and I'll blow your house down.

Well! he huffed and he puffed. He puffed and he huffed.
And he huffed, huffed, and he puffed, puffed; but he
could not blow the house down. At last, he was so out
of breath that he couldn't huff and he couldn't puff
anymore. So he stopped to rest and thought a bit.

But this was too much. The wolf danced about with
rage and swore he would come down the chimney and
eat up the little pig for his supper. But while he was
climbing on to the roof the little pig made up a blazing
fire and put on a big pot full of water to boil. Then, just
as the wolf was coming down the chimney, the little
piggy pulled off the lid, and plop! in fell the wolf into
the scalding water.

So the little piggy put on the cover again, boiled the

wolf up, and the three little pigs ate him for supper.
The Selfish Giant
by Oscar Wilde

The Selfish Giant, one of our Favorite Fairy Tales, was first published in
1888 as part of Oscar Wilde's collection of children's stories
entitled The Happy Prince and Other Tales. That collection of children's
stories also includes: The Happy Prince, The Nightingale and the
Rose, The Devoted Friend, and The Remarkable Rocket.
Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the
children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.

It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here

and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars,
and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time
broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in
the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and
sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games
in order to listen to them. "How happy we are here!" they
cried to each other.

One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his
friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven
years. After the seven years were over he had said all that
he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he
determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he
saw the children playing in the garden.

"What are you doing here?" he cried in a very gruff voice,

and the children ran away.

"My own garden is my own garden," said the Giant; "any

one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in
it but myself." So he built a high wall all round it, and put
up a notice-board.

TRESPASSERS
WILL BE
PROSECUTED

He was a very selfish Giant.

The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to
play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of
hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander
round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk
about the beautiful garden inside. "How happy we were
there," they said to each other.

Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were
little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the
Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to
sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to
blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the
grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for
the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and
went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were
the Snow and the Frost. "Spring has forgotten this garden,"
they cried, "so we will live here all the year round." The
Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and
the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the
North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was
wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden,
and blew the chimney-pots down. "This is a delightful
spot," he said, "we must ask the Hail on a visit." So the
Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof
of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he
ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He
was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.

"I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,"

said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked
out at his cold white garden; "I hope there will be a change
in the weather."

But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn
gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant's garden
she gave none. "He is too selfish," she said. So it was
always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and
the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.

One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he

heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears
that he thought it must be the King's musicians passing
by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his
window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing
in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most
beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped
dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring,
and a delicious perfume came to him through the open
casement. "I believe the Spring has come at last," said the
Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.

What did he see?

He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the

wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the
branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there
was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the
children back again that they had covered themselves with
blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the
children's heads. The birds were flying about and
twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up
through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely
scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the
farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little
boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the
branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it,
crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with
frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and
roaring above it. "Climb up! little boy," said the Tree, and it
bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was
too tiny.

And the Giant's heart melted as he looked out. "How

selfish I have been!" he said; "now I know why the Spring
would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the
top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and
my garden shall be the children's playground for ever and
ever." He was really very sorry for what he had done.

So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite

softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children
saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away,
and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy did
not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not
see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him
and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the
tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the
birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out
his two arms and flung them round the Giant's neck, and
kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the
Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and
with them came the Spring. "It is your garden now, little
children," said the Giant, and he took a great axe and
knocked down the wall. And when the people were going
to market at twelve o'clock they found the Giant playing
with the children in the most beautiful garden they had
ever seen.

All day long they played, and in the evening they came to
the Giant to bid him good-bye.

"But where is your little companion?" he said: "the boy I

put into the tree." The Giant loved him the best because he
had kissed him.

"We don't know," answered the children; "he has gone

away."

"You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,"

said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know
where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the
Giant felt very sad.

Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came

and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the
Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind
to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend,
and often spoke of him. "How I would like to see him!" he
used to say.

Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble.
He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge
armchair, and watched the children at their games, and
admired his garden. "I have many beautiful flowers," he
said; "but the children are the most beautiful flowers of
all."
One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was
dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that
it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were
resting.

Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and

looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest
corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely
white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver
fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the
little boy he had loved.

Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the
garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to
the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red
with anger, and he said, "Who hath dared to wound thee?"
For on the palms of the child's hands were the prints of
two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little
feet.

"Who hath dared to wound thee?" cried the Giant; "tell me,
that I may take my big sword and slay him."

"Nay!" answered the child; "but these are the wounds of

Love."

"Who art thou?" said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on
him, and he knelt before the little child.

And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, "You let
me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with
me to my garden, which is Paradise."
And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the
Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white
blossoms.

How the Moon Became Beautiful

by Anonymous

How the Moon Became Beautiful is a wonderful folk tale explaining why
it is so happy and bright, published in Chinese Fables and Folk
Stories (1908), translated by Mary Hayes Davis and Chow-Leung.
 Tsukioka Yoshitoshi, The Ghost, 1886

The Moon is very beautiful with his round, bright face

which shines with soft and gentle light on all the world of
man. But once there was a time when he was not so
beautiful as he is now. Six thousand years ago the face of
the Moon became changed in a single night. Before that
time his face had been so dark and gloomy that no one
liked to look at him, and for this reason he was always
very sad.

One day he complained to the flowers and to the stars—for

they were the only things that would ever look in his face.

He said, "I do not like to be the Moon. I wish I were a star

or a flower. If I were a star, even the smallest one, some
great general would care for me; but alas! I am only the
Moon and no one likes me. If I could only be a flower and
grow in a garden where the beautiful earth women come,
they would place me in their hair and praise my fragrance
and beauty. Or, if I could even grow in the wilderness
where no one could see, the birds would surely come and
sing sweet songs for me. But I am only the Moon and no
one honors me."

The stars answered and said, "We can not help you. We
were born here and we can not leave our places. We never
had any one to help us. We do our duty, we work all the
day and twinkle in the dark night to make the skies more
beautiful.—But that is all we can do," they added, as they
smiled coldly at the sorrowful Moon.

Then the flowers smiled sweetly and said, "We do not

know how we can help you. We live always in one place—
in a garden near the most beautiful maiden in all the world.
As she is kind to every one in trouble we will tell her about
you. We love her very much and she loves us. Her name is
Tseh-N'io." Still the Moon was sad. So one evening he went
to see the beautiful maiden Tseh-N'io. And when he saw
her he loved her at once. He said, "Your face is very
beautiful. I wish that you would come to me, and that my
face would be as your face. Your motions are gentle and
full of grace. Come with me and we will be as one—and
perfect. I know that even the worst people in all the world
would have only to look at you and they would love you.
Tell me, how did you come to be so beautiful?"

"I have always lived with those who were gentle and
happy, and I believe that is the cause of beauty and
goodness," answered Tseh-N'io.

And so the Moon went every night to see the

maiden. He knocked on her window, and she came. And
when he saw how gentle and beautiful she was, his love
grew stronger, and he wished more and more to be with
her always.

One day Tseh-N'io said to her mother, "I should like to go

to the Moon and live always with him. Will you allow me to
go?"

Her mother thought so little of the question that she made

no reply, and Tseh-N'io told her friends that she was going
to be the Moon's bride.

In a few days she was gone. Her mother searched

everywhere but could not find her. And one of Tseh-N'io's
friends said,—"She has gone with the Moon, for he asked
her many times."

A year and a year passed by and Tseh-N'io, the gentle and

beautiful earth maiden, did not return. Then the people
said, "She has gone forever. She is with the Moon."

The face of the Moon is very beautiful now. It is happy and

bright and gives a soft, gentle light to all the world. And
there are those who say that the Moon is now like Tseh-
N'io, who was once the most beautiful of all earth
maidens.
Mercury And The Woodman
by Aesop

A poor Woodman was cutting down a tree near the edge of a

deep pool in the forest. It was late in the day and the Woodman
was tired. He had been working since sunrise and his strokes
were not so sure as they had been early that morning. Thus it
happened that the axe slipped and flew out of his hands into
the pool.

The Woodman was in despair. The axe was all he possessed

with which to make a living, and he had not money enough to
buy a new one. As he stood wringing his hands and weeping,
the god Mercury suddenly appeared and asked what the
trouble was. The Woodman told what had happened, and
straightway the kind Mercury dived into the pool. When he
came up again he held a wonderful golden axe.

"Is this your axe?" Mercury asked the Woodman.

"No," answered the honest Woodman, "that is not my axe."

Mercury laid the golden axe on the bank and sprang back into
the pool. This time he brought up an axe of silver, but the
Woodman declared again that his axe was just an ordinary one
with a wooden handle.

Mercury dived down for the third time, and when he came up
again he had the very axe that had been lost.

The poor Woodman was very glad that his axe had been found
and could not thank the kind god enough. Mercury was greatly
pleased with the Woodman's honesty.

"I admire your honesty," he said, "and as a reward you may

have all three axes, the gold and the silver as well as your
own."

The happy Woodman returned to his home with his treasures,

and soon the story of his good fortune was known to everybody
in the village. Now there were several Woodmen in the village
who believed that they could easily win the same good fortune.
They hurried out into the woods, one here, one there, and
hiding their axes in the bushes, pretended they had lost them.
Then they wept and wailed and called on Mercury to help
them.

And indeed, Mercury did appear, first to this one, then to that.
To each one he showed an axe of gold, and each one eagerly
claimed it to be the one he had lost. But Mercury did not give
them the golden axe. Oh no! Instead he gave them each a hard
whack over the head with it and sent them home. And when
they returned next day to look for their own axes, they were
nowhere to be found.

Honesty is the best policy.

The Last Dream of Old Oak

by Hans Christian Andersen

The Last Dream of Old Oak is an endearing story for all ages. Though not as
well known as The Little Match Girl, this is another excellent Christmas
Story and one of our Favorite Fairy Tales.

IN the forest, high up on the steep shore, and not far from the
open seacoast, stood a very old oak-tree. It was just three
hundred and sixty-five years old, but that long time was to the
tree as the same number of days might be to us; we wake by
day and sleep by night, and then we have our dreams. It is
different with the tree; it is obliged to keep awake through
three seasons of the year, and does not get any sleep till
winter comes. Winter is its time for rest; its night after the long
day of spring, summer, and autumn. On many a warm summer,
the Ephemera, the flies that exist for only a day, had fluttered
about the old oak, enjoyed life and felt happy and if, for a
moment, one of the tiny creatures rested on one of his large
fresh leaves, the tree would always say, “Poor little creature!
your whole life consists only of a single day. How very short. It
must be quite melancholy.”

“Melancholy! what do you mean?” the little creature would

always reply. “Everything around me is so wonderfully bright
and warm, and beautiful, that it makes me joyous.”

“But only for one day, and then it is all over.”

“Over!” repeated the fly; “what is the meaning of all over? Are
you all over too?”

“No; I shall very likely live for thousands of your days, and my
day is whole seasons long; indeed it is so long that you could
never reckon it out.”

“No? then I don’t understand you. You may have thousands of

my days, but I have thousands of moments in which I can be
merry and happy. Does all the beauty of the world cease when
you die?”

“No,” replied the tree; “it will certainly last much longer,—
infinitely longer than I can even think of.” “Well, then,” said the
little fly, “we have the same time to live; only we reckon
differently.” And the little creature danced and floated in the
air, rejoicing in her delicate wings of gauze and velvet,
rejoicing in the balmy breezes, laden with the fragrance of
clover-fields and wild roses, elder-blossoms and honeysuckle,
from the garden hedges, wild thyme, primroses, and mint, and
the scent of all these was so strong that the perfume almost
intoxicated the little fly. The long and beautiful day had been
so full of joy and sweet delights, that when the sun sank low it
felt tired of all its happiness and enjoyment. Its wings could
sustain it no longer, and gently and slowly it glided down upon
the soft waving blades of grass, nodded its little head as well
as it could nod, and slept peacefully and sweetly. The fly was
dead.

“Poor little Ephemera!” said the oak; “what a terribly short

life!” And so, on every summer day the dance was repeated,
the same questions asked, and the same answers given. The
same thing was continued through many generations of
Ephemera; all of them felt equally merry and equally happy.

The oak remained awake through the morning of spring, the

noon of summer, and the evening of autumn; its time of rest,
its night drew nigh—winter was coming. Already the storms
were singing, “Good-night, good-night.” Here fell a leaf and
there fell a leaf. “We will rock you and lull you. Go to sleep, go
to sleep. We will sing you to sleep, and shake you to sleep, and
it will do your old twigs good; they will even crackle with
pleasure. Sleep sweetly, sleep sweetly, it is your three-
hundred-and-sixty-fifth night. Correctly speaking, you are but a
youngster in the world. Sleep sweetly, the clouds will drop
snow upon you, which will be quite a cover-lid, warm and
sheltering to your feet. Sweet sleep to you, and pleasant
dreams.” And there stood the oak, stripped of all its leaves,
left to rest during the whole of a long winter, and to dream
many dreams of events that had happened in its life, as in the
dreams of men. The great tree had once been small; indeed, in
its cradle it had been an acorn. According to human
computation, it was now in the fourth century of its existence.
It was the largest and best tree in the forest. Its summit
towered above all the other trees, and could be seen far out at
sea, so that it served as a landmark to the sailors. It had no
idea how many eyes looked eagerly for it. In its topmost
branches the wood-pigeon built her nest, and the cuckoo
carried out his usual vocal performances, and his well-known
notes echoed amid the boughs; and in autumn, when the
leaves looked like beaten copper plates, the birds of passage
would come and rest upon the branches before taking their
flight across the sea. But now it was winter, the tree stood
leafless, so that every one could see how crooked and bent
were the branches that sprang forth from the trunk. Crows and
rooks came by turns and sat on them, and talked of the hard
times which were beginning, and how difficult it was in winter
to obtain food.

It was just about holy Christmas time that the tree dreamed a
dream. The tree had, doubtless, a kind of feeling that the
festive time had arrived, and in his dream fancied he heard the
bells ringing from all the churches round, and yet it seemed to
him to be a beautiful summer’s day, mild and warm. His mighty
summits was crowned with spreading fresh green foliage; the
sunbeams played among the leaves and branches, and the air
was full of fragrance from herb and blossom; painted
butterflies chased each other; the summer flies danced around
him, as if the world had been created merely for them to dance
and be merry in. All that had happened to the tree during every
year of his life seemed to pass before him, as in a festive
procession. He saw the knights of olden times and noble ladies
ride by through the wood on their gallant steeds, with plumes
waving in their hats, and falcons on their wrists. The hunting
horn sounded, and the dogs barked. He saw hostile warriors, in
colored dresses and glittering armor, with spear and halberd,
pitching their tents, and anon striking them. The watchfires
again blazed, and men sang and slept under the hospitable
shelter of the tree. He saw lovers meet in quiet happiness near
him in the moonshine, and carve the initials of their names in
the grayish-green bark on his trunk. Once, but long years had
intervened since then, guitars and Eolian harps had been hung
on his boughs by merry travellers; now they seemed to hang
there again, and he could hear their marvellous tones. The
wood-pigeons cooed as if to explain the feelings of the tree,
and the cuckoo called out to tell him how many summer days
he had yet to live. Then it seemed as if new life was thrilling
through every fibre of root and stem and leaf, rising even to the
highest branches. The tree felt itself stretching and spreading
out, while through the root beneath the earth ran the warm
vigor of life. As he grew higher and still higher, with increased
strength, his topmost boughs became broader and fuller; and
in proportion to his growth, so was his self-satisfaction
increased, and with it arose a joyous longing to grow higher
and higher, to reach even to the warm, bright sun itself.
Already had his topmost branches pierced the clouds, which
floated beneath them like troops of birds of passage, or large
white swans; every leaf seemed gifted with sight, as if it
possessed eyes to see. The stars became visible in broad
daylight, large and sparkling, like clear and gentle eyes. They
recalled to the memory the well-known look in the eyes of a
child, or in the eyes of lovers who had once met beneath the
branches of the old oak. These were wonderful and happy
moments for the old tree, full of peace and joy; and yet, amidst
all this happiness, the tree felt a yearning, longing desire that
all the other trees, bushes, herbs, and flowers beneath him,
might be able also to rise higher, as he had done, and to see all
this splendor, and experience the same happiness. The grand,
majestic oak could not be quite happy in the midst of his
enjoyment, while all the rest, both great and small, were not
with him. And this feeling of yearning trembled through every
branch, through every leaf, as warmly and fervently as if they
had been the fibres of a human heart. The summit of the tree
waved to and fro, and bent downwards as if in his silent
longing he sought for something. Then there came to him the
fragrance of thyme, followed by the more powerful scent of
honeysuckle and violets; and he fancied he heard the note of
the cuckoo. At length his longing was satisfied. Up through the
clouds came the green summits of the forest trees, and
beneath him, the oak saw them rising, and growing higher and
higher. Bush and herb shot upward, and some even tore
themselves up by the roots to rise more quickly. The birch-tree
was the quickest of all. Like a lightning flash the slender stem
shot upwards in a zigzag line, the branches spreading around it
like green gauze and banners. Every native of the wood, even
to the brown and feathery rushes, grew with the rest, while the
birds ascended with the melody of song. On a blade of grass,
that fluttered in the air like a long, green ribbon, sat a
grasshopper, cleaning his wings with his legs. May beetles
hummed, the bees murmured, the birds sang, each in his own
way; the air was filled with the sounds of song and gladness.
“But where is the little blue flower that grows by the water?”
asked the oak, “and the purple bell-flower, and the daisy?” You
see the oak wanted to have them all with him.

“Here we are, we are here,” sounded in voice and song.

“But the beautiful thyme of last summer, where is that? and

the lilies-of-the-valley, which last year covered the earth with
their bloom? and the wild apple-tree with its lovely blossoms,
and all the glory of the wood, which has flourished year after
year? even what may have but now sprouted forth could be
with us here.”

“We are here, we are here,” sounded voices higher in the air,
as if they had flown there beforehand.

“Why this is beautiful, too beautiful to be believed,” said the

oak in a joyful tone. “I have them all here, both great and
small; not one has been forgotten. Can such happiness be
imagined?” It seemed almost impossible.

“In heaven with the Eternal God, it can be imagined, and it is

possible,” sounded the reply through the air.

And the old tree, as it still grew upwards and onwards, felt that
his roots were loosening themselves from the earth.

“It is right so, it is best,” said the tree, “no fetters hold me
now. I can fly up to the very highest point in light and glory.
And all I love are with me, both small and great. All—all are
here.”

Such was the dream of the old oak: and while he dreamed, a
mighty storm came rushing over land and sea, at the holy
Christmas time. The sea rolled in great billows towards the
shore. There was a cracking and crushing heard in the tree.
The root was torn from the ground just at the moment when in
his dream he fancied it was being loosened from the earth. He
fell—his three hundred and sixty-five years were passed as the
single day of the Ephemera. On the morning of Christmas-day,
when the sun rose, the storm had ceased. From all the
churches sounded the festive bells, and from every hearth,
even of the smallest hut, rose the smoke into the blue sky, like
the smoke from the festive thank-offerings on the Druids’
altars. The sea gradually became calm, and on board a great
ship that had withstood the tempest during the night, all the
flags were displayed, as a token of joy and festivity. “The tree
is down! The old oak,—our landmark on the coast!” exclaimed
the sailors. “It must have fallen in the storm of last night. Who
can replace it? Alas! no one.” This was a funeral oration over
the old tree; short, but well-meant. There it lay stretched on
the snow-covered shore, and over it sounded the notes of a
song from the ship—a song of Christmas joy, and of the
redemption of the soul of man, and of eternal life through
Christ’s atoning blood.

“Sing aloud on the happy morn,

All is fulfilled, for Christ is born;
With songs of joy let us loudly sing,
‘Hallelujahs to Christ our King.’”

Thus sounded the old Christmas carol, and every one on board
the ship felt his thoughts elevated, through the song and the
prayer, even as the old tree had felt lifted up in its last, its
beautiful dream on that Christmas morn.
The Little Old Woman Who
Lived in a Shoe
by Joseph Martin Kronheim

The Little Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe is one of

our Favorite Fairy Tales, published in My First Picture
Book, Printed in colours by Kronheim (1875). You might
also enjoy reading Mother Goose's nursery rhyme, There
was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, and L. Frank
Baum's short story, The Woman Who Lived in a Shoe.

Once on a time there was a Little Old Woman

who lived in a Shoe. This shoe stood near a great
forest, and was so large that it served as a house
for the Old Lady and all her children, of which
she had so many that she did not know what to
do with them.

But the Little Old Woman was very fond of her

children, and they only thought of the best way
to please her. Strong-arm, the eldest, cut down
trees for firewood. Peter made baskets of wicker-
work. Mark was chief gardener. Lizzie milked the
cow, and Jenny taught the younger children to
read.

Now this Little Old Woman had not always lived

in a Shoe. She and her family had once dwelt in a
nice house covered with ivy, and her husband
was a wood-cutter, like Strong-arm. But there
lived in a huge castle beyond the forest, a fierce
giant, who one day came and laid their house in
ruins with his club; after which he carried off the
poor wood-cutter to his castle beyond the forest.
When the Little Old Woman came home, her
house was in ruins and her husband was no
where to be seen.

Night came on, and as the father did not return,

the Old Lady and her family went to search for
him. When they came to that part of the wood
where the Giant had met their father, they saw
an immense shoe. They spent a long time
weeping and calling out for their father, but met
with no reply. Then the Old Lady thought that
they had better take shelter in the shoe until
they could build a new house. So Peter and
Strong-arm put a roof to it, and cut a door, and
turned it into a dwelling. Here they all lived
happily for many years, but the Little Old Lady
never forgot her husband and his sad fate.
Strong-arm, who saw how wretched his mother
often was about it, proposed to the next eleven
brothers that they should go with him and set
their father free from the Giant. Their mother
knew the Giant's strength, and would not hear of
the attempt, as she feared they would be killed.
But Strong-arm was not afraid. He bought a
dozen sharp swords, and Peter made as many
strong shields and helmets, as well as cross-
bows and iron-headed arrows. They were now
quite ready; Strong-arm gave the order to march,
and they started for the forest. The next day they
came in sight of the Giant's Castle. Strong-arm,
leaving his brothers in a wood close by, strode
boldly up to the entrance, and seized the
knocker. The door was opened by a funny little
boy with a large head, who kept grinning and
laughing.

Strong-arm then walked boldly across the court-

yard, and presently met a page, who took off his
hat and asked him what he wanted. Strong-arm
said he had come to liberate his father, who was
kept a prisoner by the Giant; on this the little
man said he was sorry for him, because the part
of the castle in which his father was kept was
guarded by a large dragon. Strong-arm, nothing
daunted, soon found the monster, who was fast
asleep, so he made short work of him by sending
his sword right through his heart; at which he
jumped up, uttering a loud scream, and made as
if he would spring forward and seize Strong-arm;
but the good sword had done its work, and the
monster fell heavily on the ground, dead.

Now the Giant, who had been drinking much

wine, was fast asleep in a remote part of the
castle. Strong-arm had no sooner finished the
Dragon, than up started the funny little boy who
had opened the door. He led Strong-arm round to
another part of the court-yard, where he saw his
poor father, who at once sprung to his feet, and
embraced him. Then Strong-arm called up his
brothers, and when they had embraced their
father, they soon broke his chain and set him
free.

We must now return to the Little Old Woman.

After her sons had started she gave way to the
most bitter grief. While she was in this state, an
old witch came up to her, and said she would
help her, as she hated the Giant, and wished to
kill him. The Old Witch then took the little Old
Lady on her broom, and they sailed off through
the air, straight to the Giant's castle.

Now this old Witch had great power, and at once

afflicted the Giant with corns and tender feet.
When he awoke from his sleep he was in such
pain that he could bear it no longer, so he
thought he would go in search of his missing
shoe, which, like the other one he had in his
castle, was easy and large for his foot. When he
came to the spot where the Old Lady and her
children lived, he saw his old shoe, and with a
laugh that shook the trees, he thrust his foot into
it, breaking through the roof that Strong-arm and
Peter had put to it. The children, in great alarm,
rushed about inside the shoe, and frightened and
trembling, scrambled through the door and the
slits which the Giant had formerly made for his
corns. By this time the witch and the Little Old
Lady, as also Strong-arm, his eleven brother and
his father, were come up to the spot. Strong-arm
and his brothers shot their arrows at him till at
last he fell wounded, when Strong-arm went up
to him and cut off his head. Then the father and
the Little Old Woman and all their children built a
new house, and lived happily ever afterwards.