THE DESTINY OF DAN VI The baggageman slid open the side door of the car. With a rattle of his chain Dan sprang to his feet. A big red Irish setter was Dan, of his breed sixth, and most superb, his colour wavy-bronze, his head erect and noble, his eyes eloquent with that upward-looking appeal of hunting dog to hunting man. Cold, pine-laden air deluged the heated car and chilled his quivering nose and swelled his heaving chest. Beyond the... more...

I wish that all the little boys and girls who read this story could see Grandmother Puss; but as they cannot, I will tell you something about her. She is a very large, and handsome old cat of grave aspect, and solemn manners. Her face is black, with white marks around the eyes, and across the nose, which make her look as if she wore spectacles; and she has a grandson called Peter, who lives with her. When Peter was but six weeks old, he was... more...

 f Course you know the story of "The Grasshopper and the Ant"—how one autumn, when the winds were growing raw and cold and the nights frosty, the poor Grasshopper, who hadn't done anything but fiddle and dance all through the pleasant summer and had nothing laid by for the hard winter, went to the thrifty Ant and asked for a bite to eat and a chance to warm his toes in the chimney corner. And how the tight-fisted Ant refused and said... more...

When the time-gun boomed from Edinburgh Castle, Bobby gave a startled yelp. He was only a little country dog—the very youngest and smallest and shaggiest of Skye terriers—bred on a heathery slope of the Pentland hills, where the loudest sound was the bark of a collie or the tinkle of a sheep-bell. That morning he had come to the weekly market with Auld Jock, a farm laborer, and the Grassmarket of the Scottish capital lay in the narrow... more...

CHAPTER I HAPPY JACK DROPS A NUT     Save a little every day,    And for the future put away. Happy Jack. Happy Jack Squirrel sat on the tip of one of the highest branches of a big hickory tree. Happy Jack was up very early that morning. In fact, jolly, round, red Mr. Sun was still in his bed behind the Purple Hills when Happy Jack hopped briskly out of bed. He washed himself thoroughly and was ready... more...

IN SQUIRREL TOWN   COME, little sleepy-eyes, it’s time to get up,” said Mrs. Squirrel, one morning. But little Bushy-Tail was having such a nice dream about a wonderful tree where all kinds of nuts grew side by side on the same branch that he did not answer. Only his eyelids quivered ever so little, so his mother knew he was pretending. “Come, come!” she repeated. “Little Hazel Squirrel is up and playing... more...

The Derelict Link Ferris was a fighter. Not by nature, nor by choice, but to keep alive. His battleground covered an area of forty acres—broken, scrubby, uncertain side-hill acres, at that. In brief, a worked-out farm among the mountain slopes of the North Jersey hinterland; six miles from the nearest railroad. The farm was Ferris's, by right of sole heritage from his father, a Civil-War veteran, who had taken up the wilderness land in... more...

EXPLANATION OF THE NEW MAP This is a new map of the Deep Woods, showing a good many new things. The three spots on the Edge of the World, away down, show where the Hollow Tree people and Mr. Rabbit sat when they told their star stories. Mr. 'Coon leaned against the tree, so his spot does not show. The little bush is the one that Mr. 'Possum curled his tail around when he wanted to take a nap, to keep from falling over into the Deep Nowhere.... more...

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Marian, and she had a doll called Big Mary. Marian loved Big Mary, and meant to be very good to her. But sometimes she was not. Santa Claus had brought Big Mary one snowy Christmas night, and he had brought also a great many pretty clothes for her to wear. There were three dresses, a warm red one for winter, and a white one, very thin, for summer, and still another, of beautiful blue silk with lace... more...

A STORY TOLD WHEN IT WAS SNOWING OUTSIDE, AND THE LITTLE LADY WAS WONDERING HOW IT WAS IN THE FAR DEEP WOODS ONCE upon a time, said the Story Teller, the Robin, and Turtle, and Squirrel, and Jack Rabbit had all gone home for the winter, and nobody was left in the Hollow Tree except the 'Coon and 'Possum and the Old Black Crow. Of course the others used to come back and visit them pretty often, and Mr. Dog, too, now that he had got to be good... more...