WORTH WHILE STORIES FOR EVERY DAY

ARRANGED, COMPILED, AND EDITED BY

LAWTON B. EVANS, A.M.

WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF THE TEACHERS OF THE PRIMARY GRADES OF THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS OF AUGUSTA, GA.

1923 MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY SPRINGFIELD, MASS.

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Copyright, 1917, By MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY, Springfield, Mass.

Bradley Quality Books

Printed in the United States of America

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A WORD TO STORY TELLERS

In order to make story-telling most effective, the story-teller should bear in mind certain conditions that are imposed by those who listen.

1. Know the story. Know it well enough to tell it in your own language, and in the language of the children who hear it. Know it well enough to amplify, vary, improve, make all kinds of excursions and side incidents, and yet return easily to the main body of the story.

2. Tell the story. Do not read it. The speaker is free and unbound by book or words; the reader is held by the formal page before him. The stories in this book are condensed, too condensed for reading and need the addition of words to make them of the right consistency. Those words should be the narrator’s own; the story then becomes the narrator’s story and not the author’s, and that is as it should be.

3. Act the story. Do not be afraid of the dramatic side of narration. Imitate all the sounds that belong to the story, such as the winds blowing, the thunder rolling, a bear growling, a dog barking, etc. Change your voice to meet the requirements of youth and age. Throw[iv] yourself heart and soul into the spirit of the narrative and do not be afraid to take all the parts, and to act each one in turn.

4. Impress the story. Remember that the story is the main thing and that the moral point is secondary. Do not make the story a sermon, and do not dwell severely upon its ethical features. If the story is amusing let it be without moral value. If it is historical let it remain so. Generally speaking you can bring out the moral features in a few words at the close. Children do not like too much sermonizing.

5. Use the story. If the story lends itself to dramatization, by all means let the children act the parts; if it is a good language exercise, let them tell it or write it in their own words; if it can be illustrated let them draw pictures on the board or at their seats; if it can be used for handwork in any way, let them make what they can.

6. Enjoy the story. Make it worth while for pupils to be punctual in order to hear the story; recur often to past stories when occasion recalls them to mind; let the imagination play around all the incidents so that the mind will be filled with those images that have been the joy of childhood since the world began.

Augusta. Ga.Lawton B. Evans.

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THE BEAUTIFUL HAND

The most beautiful thing in life is helping others, especially those in need.

It is right to have clean hands and well kept nails. We should remember that cleanliness of body is akin to purity of heart. I shall tell you a story of some hands that were not only clean but very beautiful.

Some young girls were talking by the brook, boasting of their beautiful hands. One of them dipped her hands in the sparkling water and the drops looked like diamonds falling from her palms.

“See what beautiful hands I have! The water runs from them like precious jewels,” said she, and held up her hands for the others to admire. They were very soft and white, for she had never done anything but wash them in clear, cold water.

Another one of them ran to get some strawberries and crushed them in her palms. The juice ran through her fingers like wine from a[2] wine press until her fingers were as pink as the sunrise in the early morning.

“See what beautiful hands I have! The strawberry juice runs over them like wine,” said she, and she held up her hands for the others to admire. They were very pink and soft, for she had never done anything but wash them in strawberry juice every morning.

Another one gathered some violets and crushed the flowers in her hands until they smelled like perfume.

“See what beautiful hands I have! They smell like violets in the deep woods in the spring time,” said she, and she held up her hands for the others to admire. They were very soft and white, for she had never done anything but wash them in violets every morning.

The fourth girl did not show her hands but held them in her lap. An old woman came down the road and stopped before the girls. They all showed her their hands and asked her which were the most beautiful. She shook her head at each one and then asked to see the hands of the last girl who held hers in her lap. The last girl raised her hands timidly for the old woman to see.

“Oh, these hands are clean, indeed,” said the old woman,[3] “but they are hard with toil, helping her mother clean the house and nurse the baby, and mend the clothes. They have carried food to the poor and have nursed the sick babies in the neighborhood.”

Then the old woman fumbled in her pocket and brought out a ring set with diamonds, with rubies redder than strawberries, and turquoise bluer than violets.

“Here, wear this ring, my child; you deserve the prize for the most beautiful hands, for they have been the most helpful.”

And the old woman vanished, leaving the four girls still sitting by the brook.

THE DISCONTENTED MEMBERS

All the parts must work together for the good of the whole. In union there is strength and safety.

Once upon a time all the parts of the body began to complain of how little the stomach did, and of what each one did to support that lazy member.

“Just look at that stupid old stomach,” said the mouth. “It won’t say a word; never sings a song. Won’t even say ‘thank you,’ for what I let go by me on the way down to fill it up. I am getting tired of opening and shutting and swallowing and never a word of thanks.”

“You are perfectly right,” said the hands.[4] “Here we are working hard all day, digging and pulling and pushing and doing our best to make a little money. Our palms are hard and knotty, and sometimes our fingers are sore and cold. Then to make it worse, when we come home we have to lift food to go into that good-for-nothing stomach, and never a word do we get for it.”

The head nodded violently: “Yes, indeed!” it said. “I have to lie awake at night thinking of ways to make food. I sometimes am positively worn out worrying about where I am going to find provisions enough to satisfy that stomach. I should think it would make some suggestions of its own, but not a sound do I ever hear.”

Then the legs began to beat on the floor in order to be heard.

“You have no idea how bad we feel,” said they. “We have to go about all day carrying that old stomach from one place to another. We have to stand up and sit down, and the loads that are put on us are absolutely frightful. Sometimes we are so tired out that we positively tremble with weakness. And as for getting any consideration—not a bit of it!”

All the other members joined it. The eyes said they kept a sharp look out; the ears said they listened for every sound, and even the ribs said they stood guard to catch any blow that might fall on the stomach.

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The members all agreed not to help the stomach any more. The head would not think; the hand would not work; the mouth would not swallow, and so no more food went into the stomach.

But see what happened! The legs grew too weak to walk; the hands were too feeble to move; the head was dizzy from lack of strength, and all the body shrunk until it looked like a shadow.

Then the stomach spoke up at last and said:

“You foolish members! Do you not know that in feeding me you are feeding yourselves? You put food into me but I send it back to you in blood and strength so that you can all work. Unless you feed me I cannot help you.”

The head nodded wisely and said: “The stomach is right. Come, let us all go to work again, so that the good old stomach may give us back our strength.”

THE BLIND MAN AND THE ELEPHANT

(Adapted from a poem by John G. Saxe)

We should not be sure of our opinions until we have seen all sides of the question.

There were six men of Hindoostan who were blind, but each man thought he could see as well with his hands as any one else could with his eyes. Whenever they touched anything they[6] thought they knew all about it, though they had felt only a small part.

Now, these six blind men had never seen an elephant. They did not know what an elephant was like because nobody could describe an elephant so that they could know what it was like. Besides that, these blind men never believed what anybody told them.

One day an elephant came to their town and they decided to pay him a visit. The first blind man approached the elephant and stumbled against his big broad side. He felt along the rough hide up and down and as far as he could reach.

“Why, bless me! the elephant is just like a wall or the side of my house. I had no idea an elephant was like that!” said the first blind man.

Then the second blind man approached the elephant and caught hold of his hard tusks with the sharp points. He felt along the smooth tusk as far as he could reach.

“Why, bless me! the elephant is very like a spear. I had no idea an elephant looked like that!” said the second blind man.

Then the third blind man approached the elephant and caught hold of his trunk. The old elephant moved his trunk from side to side, and squirmed, while the third blind man felt of it as far as he could.

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“I see the elephant is very like a snake. I had no idea an elephant was like that!” said the third blind man.

The fourth blind man now came up and took hold of the elephant’s leg. He felt how big and solid it was and he felt along the leg as far as he could reach.

“It is very clear to me that an elephant is very like a tree. I had no idea an elephant was like that!” said the fourth blind man.

The fifth blind man came and put his hand on the elephant’s ear. He felt along the big ear as far as he could.

“Well, this elephant is very like a fan. I had no idea an elephant looked like that!” said the fifth blind man.

The sixth blind man came up and caught the elephant by the tail. He pulled and twisted as hard as he could.

“I see, the elephant is very like a rope. I had no idea an elephant was like that!” said the sixth blind man.

And they quarreled all one day and late into the night, and they never did know what the elephant was like.

[8]

THE BAD-TEMPERED SQUIRREL

An ill-natured child does not deserve good companionship.

Once there was a family of squirrels that lived in a nice warm hole in a tall tree. This would have been a happy family had it not been for the ill-temper of one of the little squirrels. When they gathered for supper he grabbed the biggest nuts and took more than his share. He pushed the others away and bit and scratched them. At night he took the best place to sleep and crowded the smaller ones to the edge where it was cold.

Mother squirrel tried to correct him, but at last father squirrel said he could stand his quarreling no longer. So one morning he told the little squirrel to follow him. They ran down the tree and over the dry leaves. On and on they went until they came to a place in the wood which the squirrel had never seen. Soon they came to a large oak tree and up the father went, the little squirrel following. Near the top they found a large hole. The father said:

“Go into this hole and stay there until you can be a good little squirrel.”

The little squirrel crept in and heard his father run down the tree and over the leaves. He felt[9] very lonely. He began looking around the hole and found a soft bed of leaves and a pile of nice nuts. He thought:

“It will be fun to have this place all to myself, and do just as I please.” So he tried to play, but it was no fun playing alone. Then he went back into the hole and began to think that his brothers and sisters were better off than he had thought them. It began to grow dark, and there was no one to cuddle up to and keep warm, and no mother to say “good-night,” to him. The night was very long, and the next morning it was raining. He felt very far from home. He sat thinking of all the jolly things his brothers and sisters were doing, and he wanted to go home.

Late that night an old owl looked in the hole.

“You are a nice fat little squirrel,” he said. “I believe I’ll eat you in the morning.” The little squirrel sat up and trembled with fear.

“Oh, Mr. Owl, please don’t eat me. I will be very good,” cried the little squirrel. The old owl blinked and blinked but made no promises. That night was a very unhappy one for the poor little squirrel. He dare not go out for fear of the owl and the owl could not get in the small hole where the squirrel was.

Next morning his father came along and the owl flew away. His father looked in the hole and said:

[10]

“Now, will you be good?” But there was no need for an answer, the poor little squirrel was only too glad to go back home, and he was never bad afterwards.

JACK AND THE BEAN-STALK

Part One

A poor bargain can often be turned to good account, by one who knows how.

A long time ago there lived a poor woman who had an only son named Jack. The time came when they had no bread at all, and Jack’s mother said:

“Take the cow, my son, and sell her, so that we can have bread to eat.”

Jack went off with the cow. On the way he met a butcher who said:

“What are you going to do with your cow?” Jack replied:

“I am going to sell her to buy some bread.” The butcher had a handful of beans in his hat, and said:

“I will give you these beans for your cow.” Jack thought this was a good trade and took the beans for the cow, and ran home as fast as he could.

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His mother burst into tears. She was so angry that she threw the beans out of the window, and made Jack go to bed without any supper.

The next morning when Jack woke up he was amazed to find that the beans had grown up into the clouds during the night, and were as thick and heavy as trees. Jack wished to climb up the bean-stalk at once, and so he began to climb and climb until he was tired out. Up, up he went past the clouds and right into the sky, until he reached the top.

It was a strange land he came to. Jack walked all day until he came to a great house in which lived a giant and his wife. He knocked at the door and asked the giant’s wife to give him something to eat and a place to sleep.

“What!” she said. “You do not know my husband. He is a giant and will eat you up if he sees you. But you can come in, for you are a fine looking fellow,” and she let Jack come in and gave him something to eat, and hid him in the oven.

Soon the giant came in roaring like thunder. He sat down and ate and drank, and scolded his wife until Jack trembled with fear. At last the giant said: “Bring me my hen.”

The wife brought a hen and placed her before the giant.

[12]

“Lay me an egg!” roared the giant, and the hen laid a golden egg.

“Lay me another!” and the hen laid another. Then the giant went to sleep. Afterward Jack crept out and stole the hen and ran until he came to the bean-stalk. He climbed down and down until he came to his home and showed the hen to his mother.

“Lay me an egg!” said Jack, and the hen laid a golden egg for Jack and his mother. The hen did what she was told every day, and they sold the eggs for a bag of money, and ever after had plenty to eat.

JACK AND THE BEAN-STALK

Part Two

Jack and his mother had plenty of money, but still he could not help thinking about the giant, and wondering what he was doing, and if there was any way to slay him. Every day he looked at the bean-stalk and longed to climb again. At last he stained his face a dark brown, put on some old clothes, and climbed the bean-stalk up to the sky as he had done before.

He went straight to the giant’s door and knocked as he had done the first time. The giant’s wife came and he asked for something to eat and a place to sleep.

[13]

“Go away!” she said. “Once I let a boy in here and he stole my husband’s hen!” But Jack looked so hungry that she let him in and fed him and hid him in the closet.

The giant came along soon and made so much noise the house shook. He sat down and sniffed the air. “I smell fresh meat,” he said, and Jack trembled for his life.

“Oh, the crows left some fresh meat in the house,” his wife said, and then she fed the giant until he was quite full and in a good humor. Then he pulled out his money bags and began to count his money. Jack’s eyes glistened when he saw so much gold and silver, but he kept very still in the closet. By and by the giant came to some gold eggs the hen had laid. He was so cross when he thought about the hen that he was terrible and scolded his wife so hard that she ran out of the house.

The giant got up and stamped about the room until he all but knocked holes in the floor. Finally he came to his magic harp in the corner. He took the harp and set it on the table.

“Now, play me a tune,” said he, and the harp began to play the most beautiful music. It played and it played, one tune after another, until the giant lay down on his couch and fell asleep.

Jack crept out of the closet and seized the harp and ran off with it as fast as he could. But the harp was an enchanted harp and it cried out:

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“Master! Master! Come quick! Come quick!” Then the giant awoke and saw Jack running down the road with the harp.

Away went Jack, the giant right after him. The harp kept on calling, and Jack kept on running until he came to the bean-stalk. Down he began to climb, and down the giant came after him!

But Jack was very nimble, and reached the ground before the giant was half way.

“Run, mother! bring the axe!” he cried. His mother came running with the axe, and Jack began cutting down the bean-stalk, and crash! it fell to the ground bringing the giant with it. He fell and he fell until he hit the ground so hard he went on through and has never been seen or heard of since.

THE LEGEND OF THE SPIDER WEB

Too much pride in one’s self brings a change in one’s nature.

In olden times people had to do all their own spinning and weaving. They did not have good factories and mills as we now have, but each family made its own cloth and its own clothes. Sometimes the women of the family learned how[15] to make the most beautiful cloth. Wonderful patterns of fruits, flowers, birds and even pictures were woven in the cloth.

In ancient times people had so much regard for the work of spinning and embroidering that they had a goddess of needlework named Minerva. She could do finer work than any mortal, of course, because she was a goddess.

Now there was a young woman named Arachne, who did such dainty work in spinning and weaving that people came from miles around to see her work. Whenever they came she would show them her work, and they would exclaim, “How wonderful! How beautiful!”

Arachne was herself becoming very proud of her skill, and began to boast of what she could do. She said, “I can do better work than any woman in the world. Minerva, herself, cannot do better than I!” Thus she put herself above the gods, which was very foolish in her as we shall see.

Minerva heard about Arachne’s boast and was very much displeased. She decided that Arachne’s boast should be punished. So one day Minerva, disguised as an old woman, went to Arachne’s house and began to talk to her about her work. With great pride Arachne showed the old woman some of the patterns she had made. The old woman said finally:

[16]

“I hear you boast that you can do finer work than Minerva herself.” Whereupon the foolish young woman spread out her embroidery and weaving, and said: “Minerva can do no better.”

Then the old woman said: “I will challenge you to a contest myself.”