Once upon a time, Though I can't say exactly when, There lived, away in the country, A Little Small Red Hen.   She wore a nice little apron, And a little sunbonnet too, And she walked picketty pecketty, As little Hens always do.     She had lived the whole of her little life, In the same little house; it stood All by itself, in a lonely spot, Just at the edge of a wood.   It was very snug... more...

A wolf there was, whose scanty fare Had made his person lean and spare; A dog there was, so amply fed, His sides were plump and sleek; 'tis said The wolf once met this prosp'rous cur, And thus began: "Your servant, sir; I'm pleased to see you look so well, Though how it is I cannot tell; I have not broke my fast to-day; Nor have I, I'm concern'd to say, One bone in store or expectation, And that I call a great vexation." "Indeed it... more...

I. Granny Fox Gives Reddy a Scare Reddy Fox lived with Granny Fox. You see, Reddy was one of a large family, so large that Mother Fox had hard work to feed so many hungry little mouths and so she had let Reddy go to live with old Granny Fox. Granny Fox was the wisest, slyest, smartest fox in all the country round, and now that Reddy had grown so big, she thought it about time that he began to learn the things that every fox should know. So every... more...

All sorts of toys were to be found in that toy-shop. It was truly a place to please any child! A little girl, who had come to stay there with her aunt—the owner of the shop—and her little cousin, was always to be found amongst the toys; she was forever picking up and admiring this one, stroking that one, nursing another. All her spare moments were spent in the shop. It so happened one evening that she wandered in after the shutters... more...

CHAPTER I THE FOUL Shannon, the old Blue, had brought down a rattling eleven—two Internationals among them—to give the school the first of its annual "Socker" matches. We have a particular code of football of our own, which the school has played time out of mind; but, ten years ago, the Association game was introduced, despite the murmuring of some of the masters, many of the parents—all old Amorians—and of Moore, the... more...

CHAPTER IAN OLD-FASHIONED LITTLE PAIR. Sun and shower—sun and shower—Now rough, now smooth, is the winding way;Thorn and flower—thorn and flower—Which will you gather? Who can say?Wayward hearts, there's a world for your winning,Sorrow and laughter, love or woe:Who can tell in the day's beginningThe paths that your wandering feet shall go? —Mary Macleod. The village choir were practicing in the... more...

Little Will Shakespeare was going homeward through the dusk from Gammer Gurton's fireside. He had no timorous fears, not he. He would walk proudly and deliberately as becomes a man. Men are not afraid. Yet Gammer had told of strange happenings at her home. A magpie had flown screaming over the roof, the butter would not come in the churn, an' a strange cat had slipped out afore the maid at daybreak—a cat without a tail, Gammer said—... more...

Chapter 1: The Old Chief And The Young. The black smoke eddied and wavered as it rose over my father's burning hall, and then the little sea breeze took it and swept it inland over the heath-clad Caithness hills which I loved. Save for that black cloud, the June sky was bright and blue overhead, and in the sunshine one could not see the red tongues of flame that were licking up the last timbers of the house where I was born. Round the walls,... more...

A Reversible Santa Claus I Mr. William B. Aikins, alias "Softy" Hubbard, alias Billy The Hopper, paused for breath behind a hedge that bordered a quiet lane and peered out into the highway at a roadster whose tail light advertised its presence to his felonious gaze. It was Christmas Eve, and after a day of unseasonable warmth a slow, drizzling rain was whimsically changing to snow. The Hopper was blowing from two hours' hard travel over rough... more...

The End of the Holidays "Ingred! Ingred, old girl! I say, Ingred! Wherever have you taken yourself off to?" shouted a boyish voice, as its owner, jumping an obstructing gooseberry bush, tore around the corner of the house from the kitchen garden on to the strip of rough lawn that faced the windows. "Hullo! Cuckoo! Coo-ee! In-gred!" "I'm here all the time, so you needn't bawl!" came in resigned tones from under the shade of a large fuchsia.... more...