Chapter 10 of The Santa Claus Storybook This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Betty V. The Santa Claus Storybook by Unknown Frisky the Squirrel One day a wounded squirrel lay half dead upon the ground. A hunter passing with his gun, the little creature found. Young Archie Grey of Folly Hall was also in the wood and begged that he might take it home to save it if he could. The hunter shook his head in doubt. Twas too far gone, he said. He feared that ere the morning came the squirrel would be dead. But care and skill will wonders work, and I am glad to tell that very soon through Archie's care it grew quite strong and well. There long the merry little thing was sociable and tame, and being very frolicsome, Frisky became its name. He'd spring and gamble round the room, performing antics droll, or climb and gravely take his seat upon the curtain pole. When, wearied out with all his play, he felt inclined to sleep. He gently steeled to Archie's side, then in his pocket creep. And there curled up so warm and snug, he'd put himself to bed. His nose tucked in between his paws, his tail wound round his head. Summer and autumn passed away, Frisky was six months old, when suddenly a frost set in, the air grew keen and cold. The old folks shivering through their chairs, close to the warm fireside. The young ones hastened to the ponds, rejoiced to skate and slide. And many gathered on the banks, the pleasant sight to see, of skaters gliding o'er the ice so quick and merrily. Now Archie thought that he should like to try and learn to skate, though quite aware that many falls at first would be his fate. He knew a pond near Carlton Wood, about a mile from home, and there he thought he'd go because no other boys would come. His mother warned him to be sure and leave before it was dark, and not to take the public road but go across the park. Protected well against the cold, young Archie walked away, whilst in the pocket of his coat, the little squirrel lay. As soon as Archie tried his skate, he got a desperate fall, a fate awaiting everyone who cannot skate at all. For Frisky getting bumped and thumped, squeaked out with fright and pain, and Archie thought it would not do to serve him thus again. So slipping off his overcoat, in which the squirrel lay, he placed it gently on the ground, supposing he would stay. Frisky, more frightened, far than hurt, lay curled up like a ball, indulging in a fit of sulks because he'd had a fall. Then Archie hastened back to skate, and in his heart was glad. No one was standing by to see the tumbles that he had. But as he wisely persevered, he grew expert at last, and twas with much regret he found his time of leave was passed. To fetch the squirrel and his coat was now the boy's first care. Imagine then his great dismay to find he was not there. He searched about but not a trace of Frisky could he see, except some nutshells he had left beneath a neighboring tree. At home he always used to come in answer to his name, but now though Archie loudly called, no little Frisky came. Yet all this time upon a gate, which led within the wood, scarcely a stone's throw from the pond a little figure stood. Twas Frisky brandishing his tail and looking round with glee, most likely thinking to himself how sweet is liberty. But suddenly, whilst here he sat, he caught his master's eyes, who, shouting joyfully, ran off, hoping to seize his prize. No, no, thought Frisky, free I am, and free I mean to be. So just as Archie reached the gate, he sprang upon a tree. Over the gate, with lightning speed, his eager master flew, no farther could he follow him, the cunning squirrel knew. So climbing to an upper branch, he sat there quite at ease, seeming as if he thought it fun, his master thus to tease. For as poor Archie stood below, in very mournful case, the rogue threw down some with erred leaves upon his upturned face, and then from tree to tree he sprang, thinking it famous fun, to keep his master going to as fast as he could run. The wood was getting very dark, for now twas nearly night, no longer could poor Archie keep the squirrel in his sight. His heart was sad and sorrowful, he felt all hope was o'er. Frisky, too charmed with liberty, would come again no more. Another trouble now arose, he found he'd lost his way, and feared that in the lonely wood he all night long must stay. Filled with alarm the boy began most bitterly to cry.  Two long hours passed, yet there he was, still toiling to and fro, as far as ever from the point to which he ought to go. His teeth were chattering with the cold, his fingers numbed by frost, and dreadful stories filled his mind of people who'd been lost. At length he sunk upon the ground, completely worried out. His limbs felt stiff, his strength was gone, from wandering about. Now very soon the moon arose with soft and silvery light, and full of comfort to the boy was such a cheering sight. He found that close beside him stood a large old hollow tree, and thought that if he crept inside, much warmer he would be. Some of the bark had crumbled off, leaving and opening wide, and putting in his hand he found a heap of leaves inside. These being very soft and dry would serve him for a bed. But Archie would not go to rest before his prayers were set. How thankfully he called to mind that God could hear a prayer, offered from church or house or wood, for God is everywhere. He knelt with boyish confidence, protection to implore, and when he rose no longer felt as lonely as before. Then through the opening eye of name, within the tree he crept, and soon upon his leafy bed he comfortably slept. At home his absence after dark had caused intense alarm, lest some occurrence unforeseen had brought the boy to harm. And anxiously they sallied forth and sought him all around, but long in vain no trace of him could anywhere be found. At length his father in the search the hollow tree espied, he held his lantern in the hole and threw its light inside. A joyful sight it must have been his truant boy to see. Unhurt and safe and slumbering sound within the sheltering tree. Archie my lad, the father cried, you found a cozy place in which to sleep whilst giving me a very anxious chase. Wake up, wake up, and let us haste to calm your mother's fear, and tell me as we walk along what can have brought you here. Archie aroused was quite perplexed to think where he could be. He wondered much to find himself inside a hollow tree. But as his memory recalled all that had lately passed, thankful indeed was he to know that help had come at last. Too scarcely needful here to tell how great his mother's joy, when safe and sound within her arms she found her missing boy. Welcome to Archie's dazzled eyes, the cheerful room and light, and not less welcome we suspect his supper was tonight. But more than ever now he missed his merry little pet. He thought of all his winning ways and antics with regret. They both had lived so happily, companions day by day. He felt as though a friend he loved were taken quite away. All of a sudden Archie starts and gives a joyous shout. No wonder from his coat behold the squirrel has sprung out. Yes there he'd been he never thought of running quite away, though he had teased his master thus it all had been in play. High on a branch he kept a watch on Archie down below, and saw him when the moon appeared within the old tree go. While fun was over now he knew it was time to be in bed, and found it very cold to sit upon a bow instead. At length he thought he'd scramble down within the tree to peep, whereas the reader is aware Archie was fast asleep. At once the cunning fellow saw the best thing he could do would be to creep within the hole and go to sleep there too. He moved so very noiselessly no sound had Archie heard, though frisky slid inside his coat he neither woke nor stirred. So all this time whilst he supposed his little pet had fled, there he was lying warm and snug within his usual bed, and now he made him understand by signs which Archie knew that having fasted like himself he wanted supper too. He stretched his limbs and washed his face as soon as he'd been fed, then he and Archie both tired out were glad to go to bed. To set as frisky older grew he learned to mend his ways, and never after this event played true in all his days. End of chapter 10 Chapter 11 of the Santa Claus Storybook This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Campbell Schelp. The Santa Claus Storybook by Unknown Robinson Crusoe Robinson Crusoe was the youngest son of his parents. His eldest brother had been killed in battle, and the second had gone away and no one ever knew what became of him. Only Robinson remained to comfort the old age of his father and mother. His father was a man of some wealth, able to give his son a good home and to send him to school. It was his wish that his son should become a lawyer, but the boy's head began very early to be filled with thoughts of travel, and nothing would satisfy him but to go to sea. His father gave him wise and earnest counsel against it, and for a time his advice prevailed, but in the end the boy's desire to roam led him to set his father's wishes at naught. One day, being at whole, a seaport town of England, he met a school fellow who was about to sail for London in his father's ship, and was prompted by him to go with him. In an evil hour he yielded, and without asking God's blessing or his father's, he went on board. On the way to London a storm arose, the ship was wrecked, and those upon her barely escaped with their lives. Robinson Crusoe went on foot to London, and there made the acquaintance of the master of a vessel which traded to the coast of Africa. This man took a fancy to him, and offered him a chance to go with him upon one of his voyages, and the offer was gladly accepted by Robinson Crusoe. His first voyage with his new friend was very successful, but on the second the ship was attacked and captured by Moorish pirates, and all on board were taken and sold as slaves. But Robinson Crusoe managed, after a while, to escape in a fishing boat, and being picked up by a vessel sailing for Brazil, he went to that country and settled upon a plantation. He prospered fairly well, but being offered a tempting chance to go upon another voyage to Africa, his love of roving again prevailed, and he set sail once more, just eight years from the time he had first left whole. One day, when they had been out about two weeks, a great storm came up and the ship was tossed about for many days, until they did not know where they were. Suddenly they struck a bank of sand, and the sea broke over the ship in such a way that it could not be hoped that she would hold many moments without breaking into pieces. In this distress a boat was launched. After they had been driven four or five miles, a raging wave struck the boat so furiously that it was upset. Though Robinson Crusoe swam well, the waves were so strong that he was dashed against the rock with such force that it left him senseless, but he recovered before the waves returned, and running forward got to dry land and safety. Then he began to look about to see if any of his comrades had escaped, but he could see no sign of any of them. Night coming on, he climbed into a thick, bushy tree to sleep, not knowing but that there might be ravenous beasts there. When he awoke next morning the sea was calm, and he could see the ship about a mile from the shore, and when the tide ebbed, he swam out to her. He found that all the provisions were dry, and being very hungry filled his pockets with biscuit, and ate as he went about other things, for he saw that he must lose no time in getting ashore all that he could from the ship. First he threw overboard several spare yards and spars. Then he went down the ship's side and tied them together, and laying a few short pieces of plank upon them, he had a raft strong enough to bear a moderate weight. Next he lowered upon it three seamen's chests and filled them with provisions. After a long search he found the carpenter's chest, which was a great prize to him. He lowered it upon the raft, and then secured a supply of guns and gunpowder. With this cargo he started for the shore, and, with a great deal of trouble, succeeded in landing it safe. His next work was to view the country, and seek a proper place to stow his goods. He knew not yet where he was, whether on a continent or an island, seeing a hill not over a mile away, very steep and high, he climbed to the top of it, and discovered that he was on an island barren and probably uninhabited, except by wild animals. When Robinson Crusoe realized the lonely desperate situation that he was in, his heart sank, and he almost wished that he had perished with the others. But soon perceiving the ingratitude of this state of mind, he fell upon his knees to thank God for saving his life, his alone among so many, and a feeling of confidence arose in his breast that he would still protect him in the midst of the perils by which he was surrounded. Every day for twelve days he made a trip to the vessel, bringing ashore all that he thought would be useful to him. The night of the twelfth day there was a violent wind, and when he awoke in the morning the ship was nowhere to be seen. He then gave his thoughts to providing himself with a safe dwelling place. Although he had hardly ever handled tools before in his life, his needs now forced him to discover their use. He set himself at work to build a hut or cabin out of the timbers he had saved from the wreck. It was a task that took a long time, but at last, by effort and contravence, it was finished, and he had a fairly comfortable house which he called his castle. After it was completed, he applied himself to making other things that would add to his comfort. First he made a chair and a table, with an immense amount of labour, for each board that he used had to be formed from the trunk of a tree, being huge flat on two sides until it was thin enough. To provide himself with clothes, he saved the skins of all the creatures he shot and dried them, and made garments for himself out of them. In addition at the cost of a great deal of time and trouble, he made, also of skins, an umbrella which he needed greatly to keep off both sun and rain. He had found upon the ship two cats and a dog. The cats he carried ashore on the raft, while as for the dog, he swam ashore himself, and was a trusty servant to Robinson Crusoe for many years. Besides the company of these pets, he had that of a parrot which he caught and taught to speak, and its chatter served to wile away many hours that would otherwise have been dreary. He went out every day with his gun to hunt for food. He found that there were goats running wild on the island, and he often succeeded in shooting some of them. But he saw that his powder and shot wood and thyme all be gone, and that to have a steady supply of goats' flesh, he must breed them in flocks. So he set a trap to take some alive, and succeeded in catching several.  Having use one day for a bag that had once held corn and had some dust at the bottom, he shook it out near his castle. It happened that there were a few grains of corn in it, and about a month afterwards he saw, at the same place, some green stalks growing up, which, on examining, he found to be fresh shoots of corn. Then the thought came to him that by saving the grain for seed, he might in time be able to grow crops and supply himself with bread. He tried this and succeeded in the end, although it was four years before he raised enough to be able to spare any to eat. For a long time he had been brooding over the idea of making a canoe out of the trunk of a tree, as the Indians do, and at last he set to work at the task. He cut down a large tree and spent over three months shaping it with an axe into the form of a boat. But his labour was all thrown away, for when the boat was finished he found that it was too large to move to the water. He afterwards made a smaller one, and succeeded in launching it, and set out to make a tour round the island in it. But when he had been out for three days, such a storm arose that he was near being lost. At last he was able to bring his boat to the shore in a little cove, and there he left it, and went across the island on foot to his castle, not caring to go to sea again in such an unsafe vessel. Years and years passed thus away. Although he had, to some extent, become contented with his solitary lot, yet at times a terrible sense of loneliness and desolation would come over him. Many times would he go to the top of a hill where he could look out to sea in hopes of catching sight of a ship. Sometimes he would fancy that, at a vast distance, he spied a sail. He would please himself with hopes of it, but after looking at it steadily till he was almost blind would lose it quite.  But one day he saw a sight which, while it gave him cause for alarm, served to turn his thoughts in a new channel. It was the print of a naked foot upon the sand near the shore. It filled him with a new fear, for it showed that the island must sometimes be visited by savages. One morning, going out quite early, he could see the light of a fire about two miles away. He stole up under the cover of trees and bushes until he was near enough to observe what was going on. He saw that five canoes were drawn up on the shore, while a swarm of naked savages were dancing about a fire. Presently they dragged two poor wretches from the boats. One of them was knocked down at once, and several of the savages set to work to cut him up.  The other captive was left standing for a moment, and seeing a chance to escape started to run. Robinson Crusoe was greatly alarmed when he saw that the runaway was coming directly toward himself, but when he saw that only two pursued and that the runaway gained upon them, he made up his mind to help him. When they were near enough, Robinson Crusoe stepped in between the runaway and his pursuers, and advancing on the foremost of the latter, knocked him down with the stock of his gun. The other raised his bow, and was going to shoot, when Robinson Crusoe fired at him and killed him. Then he made signs to the runaway to come to him, and the poor creature did so in fear and trembling, kneeling at Crusoe's feet as a sign that he was his slave. Crusoe took him home to his castle, and gave him something to eat. He was a handsome, well-shaped fellow, with good features and a pleasant smile. His skin was not black, but tawny, and he had very bright, sparkling eyes. Robinson Crusoe had now a companion, and in a short time he began to teach him to speak English. First he let him know that his name was to be Friday, for that was the day on which his life had been saved. Then he taught him everything that he thought would make him useful, handy, and helpful. He clothed him in a suit made of goat skins, and the poor fellow seemed to be greatly pleased to be dressed like his master. One day Robinson Crusoe took him with him when he went hunting, and was much amused at the way his gun mystified him. He first shot a bird. Friday did not see it fall, and was greatly frightened by the noise of the gun, but when Robinson Crusoe pointed to the bird and made signs for him to pick it up, he was filled with wonder and amazement. It was a long time before he could understand the nature of firearms, or overcome his fear of the gun, which he seemed to think was endowed with life, and which he used to address very beseechingly in his own language, begging it not to kill him. After he had learned enough English to be able to talk freely, he told Robinson Crusoe of a party of shipwrecked Spanish sailors, who had been cast ashore on the mainland, and had been befriended by the savages of his tribe. A great desire to see them seized Crusoe, and he set about making, with Friday's assistance, a boat large enough to carry both over. But one morning before they had got on very far with the task, Friday came running in a state of great fright to tell that three canoes full of savages had landed on the island. Robinson Crusoe armed himself with a sword and hatchet, and taking all the guns they could carry, he and Friday went to a thicket of trees which stood near where the savages were. From there they could see them sitting about fires they had made, eating the flesh of one victim, while another captive, a white man, lay bound nearby. Perceiving that there was no time to lose if they would save the captive, Robinson Crusoe took one gun and Friday another, and both fired into the crowd together. They killed and wounded several, and the rest were thrown into the greatest confusion. They continued firing until they had emptied their guns. Then they rushed forward and, Friday using the hatchet and Crusoe the sword, they killed all the remaining savages except four who succeeded in reaching their canoes. Bidding Friday released the captive, Robinson Crusoe ran to another of the canoes, intending to pursue the savages to see, but in the canoe he was surprised to find another poor creature bound hand and foot. He cut him free and helped him to rise for he could hardly stand. Friday coming up, Robinson Crusoe bid him speak to the man and tell him he was saved. When Friday heard him answer, he first looked at him with astonishment, then embraced and kissed him, and cried, laughed, jumped about, and sung, like one that was mad. It was some time before he could tell what was the matter, but when he came a little to himself, he said that the captive was his father. The two rescued men were then taken to the castle, and after they had been refreshed by food and rest, Robinson Crusoe entered into conversation with the white man and learned that he was one of the Spaniards of whom Friday had told him. It was proposed that he and Friday's father should return to the mainland in the new boat as soon as it was completed and bring the rest of his countrymen to Crusoe's island to live. This was readily agreed to and all set to work to finish the boat. The task consumed a great deal of time, but finally everything was ready and they set sail. One morning, a short time after, Friday brought word to Crusoe that a ship was in sight. This was news so welcome to Crusoe that he fairly danced with joy, but presently the prudent thought occurred to him that it might be well not to let those aboard see him until he could learn something about their business there. So he watched in concealment and in the short time saw a boat leave the ship and make for the shore. Eleven men landed, and Crusoe saw that while most of them disappeared about the island, three kept by themselves and appeared to be much dejected. When the others were out of hearing, Crusoe approached these three and questioned them and found that they were English, that one was the captain of the ship, and that the others were the mate and a passenger, that there had been a mutiny on board, and that the men, as a favour instead of killing them, were going to leave them on the island. Crusoe offered to aid them to recover the ship, and going back to the castle, brought guns and gave them to them. Then they waited for the men who were scattered about the island to return, and when they came, shot two who the captain said were the leaders, and the rest, taken by surprise, yielded without further struggle. The captain made them swear that they would obey him faithfully, and then returned with them to the ship. Those on board were equally surprised that the turn affairs had taken, and when one of the worst was killed, were glad to return to their duty. Then the captain came back to the island and told Robinson Crusoe that the ship, and all that he had was at his service, and returned for what he had done for him. Crusoe told him that he asked nothing more than that he should carry Friday and himself to England, and this the captain gladly agreed to do. He provided him with clothing from his own wardrobe, and Robinson Crusoe took aboard with him, in addition to some gold that he had saved from the wreck, only his goatskin coat and cap and his umbrella, which he wished to keep for relics. Everything else on the island he left for the Spaniards when they should return from the mainland, and he wrote out for their benefit a full account of his way of living, and all of his plans and contrivances. He also induced the captain to leave a supply of tools that he knew would be useful to them, and an assortment of seeds of various kinds. Then they set sail and Robinson Crusoe left the island 28 years, 2 months, and 19 days after he had landed upon it. 3 days after setting sail, as they passed near the coast of an island, they saw close to the shore a great fleet of canoes, full of savages armed with bows and arrows. They were going through strange evolutions, and Friday said that they were probably starting on a hostile excursion against some other tribe. When they caught sight of the ship, and saw that those on board were watching them, they came paddling toward it, and soon were swarming about on all sides, uttering curious cries and making uncouth gestures. Those on the ship were very much puzzled to know what their intentions could be, and finally Robinson Crusoe told Friday to go on the upper deck and speak to them in his own language, which he hoped they might be able to understand. Friday did as he was bid, but had spoken only a few words when the savages let fly a great cloud of arrows at him. So poor was their aim that only three of the arrows struck him, but one of the three alas, pierced him through the hearts and he fell dead. When Robinson Crusoe saw this, he became almost frantic with rage and ordered the ship's guns to be loaded with grapeshot and fired into the fleet. The effect was tremendous, more than half of the canoes were destroyed, and the sea for a time was covered with the wretched savages, struggling to swim and uttering the most frightful howls. The fortunate ones and those of the canoes that had not been hit did not wait to help their comrades, but speeded off as fast as they could paddle. One by one the others sank, and in a short time the sea was as clear of them as if they had never been there. Thus a terrible vengeance was taken for Friday's death, but his master felt little consoled for it thereby. The poor fellow was so honest, faithful, and affectionate, but had ways so cheerful and pleasant that Robinson Crusoe had grown to be most sincerely attached to him, and he now mourned him as if he had been a son. He caused his body to be buried in the sea with all the honors possible, and it seemed to him as if the delight of being restored to his old home was hardly compensation for the loss of one who had become so dear a companion. The voyage homeward was continued, and no further mishap occurring, Robinson Crusoe arrived safe in England after his many years of absence. He found that his father and mother were dead, as well as many of his old friends, and for a time he felt almost as lonely as on his island.  He was blessed with children who grew up to be his delight and comfort, and his old age was spent in peace and happiness. Chapter 12 The Five Little Pigs One pig that went to market Once there was a family of five pigs that lived in a nice little house at the foot of a steep hill. They had been well brought up, and were so neat in their ways that they were held up as patterns for all the other pigs in the place. The eldest of these pigs was so much larger than the others that he went by the name of Big Pig. He took the lead in everything, and whenever he spoke the rest had to tow the mark. They were all very proud of him, I can tell you. Big Pig was so much struder than the others that the important business of going to market to sell the vegetables raised by the family was entrusted entirely to him. He used to drive to town in a nice little cart drawn by a donkey, and a neater turnout was not to be seen on the road. One day Big Pig went to market dressed in fine style. He met a great many friends, and while talking with them forgot all about the donkey which trotted off home, dropping all the vegetables along the road. When the four pigs saw the donkey and the empty cart, they felt sure that Big Pig had been killed, and they all got into the cart and drove back to find him. They met him on the way, and he had a label on his back on which were the word's prize pig, and when he told his brothers what had happened they said it was not worthwhile to grieve over the loss of the vegetables. It was not his fault, and they showed by their actions that they were prouder of him than ever. The pig that stayed at home. This little pig would have liked to go to market with his eldest brother now and then, but there never was any chance. There was a great deal of work to be done in the house, and this pig had to do it. He swept the rooms, made the beds, cooked all the meals, and waited on the table as nicely as anybody. He was as neat as wax, and said there was no excuse for anyone's house looking like a pigpen. He was fond of plants, and kept many fine ones in the house and in the garden, and every now and then would send a nice nose gate to a sick friend. One day the home pig sat in the easy chair reading the news when he heard a strange noise at the front door. Someone was trying to get in. Home Pig peeped through the blinds and saw it was a great black bear, but was not afraid for all the doors were locked. When the bear found it could not get in it went away growling, and the pig was glad and said it was never safe to leave a house alone. There were always bear-faced thieves about on the watch for a chance to steal something. Not long after this the pig that stayed at home gave a tea party to which all the friends far and near were invited. There was everything nice to eat and music besides.  Then they looked at their watches and said, Dear me, I did not think it was so late, and the pig that stayed at home baked them all good night at the door, after they had thanked him for the delightful evening they had spent.  He never made any trouble for anyone, but was always ready to help whenever there was a chance. He ran errands, picked up chips, scored the knives, and did whatever he was told. He could fill the tea-cattle without spilling a drop on his toes or on the floor, and was the best kind of a nurse when there was sickness in the house. He tried so hard to please everybody that everybody tried hard to please him, and that is why he had more than his share of roast beef.   He looked in the oven, upstairs, and down-seller, but found nothing. Then he listened. The chimney was on fire. What should he do? The house might burn down. He thought of something which he had been told was the right thing to do in such an emergency as this, so he ran and got some salt and threw it into the chimney, and then climbed out on the roof with a bucket of water, and by that time the fire was out. Big Pig had been on his way home while the chimney was burning, and had been alarmed to see the smoke, and when he came home he heard the story, and you may be sure that this little pig had all the roast beef he wanted for some time to come. The pig that had none.  It was really hard work to get along with him. He would not do as he was told, and that is why he got none of the good things that were going.  When asked to be quiet, he would dance a jig, and make all the noise possible, and he was never so happy as when playing tricks on other people. He did not dare to act in this way when Big Pig was around. He knew better than that. One day the home pig stood on the ladder to fix a vine that grew around the house, when this little pig came along and thought it would be a nice chance to play a good joke. So what did the little rascal do but run under the ladder, giving it as he did so, a knock so hard that it tipped over and fell, and the home pig along with it. The results might have been terrible, for the fall was great enough to have broken the neck of the poor home pig, but fortunately he fell where the ground was soft, and so escaped with being badly stunned and bruised.    The fifth little pig was a regular crybaby, he was always in tears. He cried in the morning because he didn't want to get up, and cried at night because he didn't want to go to bed. There seemed to be no way of pleasing him.  But this little pig soon grew tired of playing around the door yard, and wandered off toward Farmer Growler's to see for himself if what Big Pig said was true. He was quite charmed with the place, and was admiring the beautiful flowers, when a pet monkey jumped on his back and gave him such a fright that he nearly fainted away.  Sick and sore, he cried, Wee Wee, all the way home, and was so glad to get there that he laughed out of one side of his mouth and cried out of the other. Then he received a long lecture from Big Pig, who thought the occasion afforded a first-rate chance to give this little pig some much-needed advice, and to impress on his mind the bad consequences that always followed disregard of the commands of one's elders. The little pig took the sermon in a very penitent spirit, and had very little to say for himself, for he could not deny that all his misfortunes would have been avoided if he had paid attention to Big Pig's warning. The lesson was not lost upon him, and from that time forward he behaved much more sensibly, and gave Big Pig far less trouble than before. Many folks besides little pigs have to acquire wisdom in this way, but the truly wise are those who have sense enough to follow the advice of people of more experience than themselves. Chapter 13 of The Santa Claus Storybook This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Campbell Shelp. The Santa Claus Storybook by Unknown Jack the Giant Killer I dare say you have heard of King Arthur, or as some call him, Prince Arthur, and his wife, Genevra, who reigned in Britain many hundred years ago, being long before the time of the good King Alfred. I am going to tell you a wonderful and remarkable story, not about King Arthur, but about a marvelous person who lived in his time, and who did some very brave actions. His name was Jack. This Jack was the son of a poor farmer who lived in Cornwall, near the land's end. Jack was always a bold, fearless boy. He feared neither heat nor cold, could climb a steep mountain, or plunge into a deep stream. And he delighted to hear his father's stories about the brave knights of the Round Table and of all their valiant deeds. From constantly hearing of such things, Jack got to take a great interest in all that related to combats, victories, and battles. And the more he heard, the more anxious that he feel to find some enemy against whom he could fight, for he never doubted that his kill and courage would give him the victory in every encounter. Now there were several great giants in England and Wales at the time of which I write, and against these giants Jack resolved to try his strength and skill. He could scarcely have chosen more fitting enemies, for the giants were hated and feared by everybody, with good reason. If there was one giant whose absence all Jack's neighbours particularly desired, and whom they were especially sorry to see when he called in upon them, that giant was the one named Cormoran, also called Cormorant, from his great and voracious appetite. This cruel monster lived on St. Michael's Mount, a high hill that rises out of the sea near the coast of Cornwall. He was 18 feet high and 9 feet round.  He used to come out of the cave in which he dwelt on the very top of the mountain, and walked through the sea when the tide was low, right into Cornwall, and the people who lived there used to take care that he did not find them at home when he called. However, he did not have his walk for nothing, for he carried off their cattle a dozen at a time, slinging them on a pole across his shoulder, as a man might sling a dozen rabbits. When he got tired of eating beef, he would vary his diet by coming and stealing three or four dozen sheep and hogs, that he might have a dish of pork and mutton, and these animals he would string round his waist and carry off, the sheep bleeding in the pig squealing, to the great annoyance of the owners who watched him at a distance and did not dare to interfere.  So the people were very shy of coming within reach of either end of the giant's club. But there was one youngster who declared he would serve out Master Cormoran in one way or another, and this youngster was our French Jack. This is the way he made good his promise. One winter's evening, when it was already growing dark, he swam from the Cornish coast to St. Michael's Mount, pushing before him a kind of raft on which were a pickaxe, a shovel, and a dark lantern. It was quite dark by the time he got to the Mount, but in the giant's cave there was a light, and Jack could see Cormoran, who had just finished his supper, picking his teeth with a fence rail. All night long Jack worked busily and silently by the light of his dark lantern, digging a deep pit before the giant's dwelling. By the time the morning dawned, he had made a great hole, many feet deep and very broad. He covered this pit hole with sticks and straw, and strewed earth and sand lightly over the top, so that it looked just like solid ground. Then he stepped back a few paces, took a trumpet that hung at the gate, and blew a loud blast as a challenge to the giant to come out and fight him. Cormoran woke up from his sleep with a start. He was in a great rage, sure, when he saw what a little fellow was standing outside defying him. You saucy villain! he roared out. Wait a moment, and I'll broil you for my breakfast.  But the pit was in his way. The giant came tramping over it with his great heavy feet and crack, and he went right up to his neck and stood there roaring with rage, with only his great head above the surface of the ground. Aha, Master Cormoran, cried Jack. What say you now? Well, nothing serve you for your breakfast this cold morning but broiling poor me. The giant was more enraged than ever, and he made such a mighty effort to get out of the pit that the stones and rubbish came rolling down into the hole. Jack saw there was no time to be lost.  Jack returned in triumph to Cornwall, and when the people heard of their enemy's death, they were very joyful, and the justices and great squires of Cornwall declared that from henceforth the valiant youth should be called Jack the Giant Killer, and as a further reward they presented him with a handsome sword and a belt on which stood in letters of gold the words. This is the valiant Cornish man who slew the giant Cormoran. This was all very well, but one piece of work often brings on another. Jack soon found that his title of Giant Killer brought some danger along with it, as well as a good deal of praise and honour, and a very few weeks after Cormoran's death he found he would have to sustain new combats. Above all there was a great ugly giant who lived among the mountains of Wales. This giant had been a friend of Cormoran's, and had often been invited by that personage to dine with him off an ox or half a dozen sheep. When he heard of Cormoran's death he was very angry and vowed vengeance against Jack. Now it happened that Jack took a journey into Wales, and one day as he was travelling through a wood he sat down beside a fountain to rest. The day was hot, and Jack, overcome by fatigue, quickly fell asleep beside the fountain. As he lay there, who should come by but old Blunderbore? This was the giant's name. The giant saw by the inscription on Jack's belt and who and what he was. Ah ha! he chuckled. Have I caught you, my valiant Cornish man? Now you shall pay for your tricks. And he hoisted Jack up on his shoulder and began to stride towards his castle as fast as he could. The jolting walk of the giant soon woke Jack out of his sleep, and he was very much alarmed when he found himself in Blunderbore's clutches. Blunderbore seemed to enjoy Jack's fright very much, and told him with a hideous grin that his favourite food was a man's heart eaten with salt and pepper, and showed pretty plainly that he intended heartily to enjoy Jack's heart within a very short time.  He had one or two giant friends who used to come to supper with him, and as soon as he arrived at his castle, he locked Jack securely in a room, while he went off to invite one of these to spend the day with him, that he might brag of having captured the famous hero who slew their lamented friend Cormoran. Jack paced to unfro in the room in which he was confined for some time in great perplexity, and at last ran to the window to see if he could leap out. It was too high for him to think of such a thing, and, oh horror, there were the two giants coming along Arm and Arm. Jack cast a glance around the room in a far off corner of which he aspired to stout cords. To seize them, make a running noose in the end of each and twist them firmly together was the work of a moment, and just as the giants were entering the gate of the castle, he cleverly dropped a noose over the head of each. The other end was passed over a beam of the ceiling, and Jack pulled and hauled with all his might. In short, he pulled with such a will that the giants were very soon black in the face. When Jack found that the giants were half strangled by the cords, he got out of the window and, sliding down the rope, drew his sword and killed them both. Jack lost no time in getting the giant's key and setting all the captives free, and he gave them the castle and all it contained is a reward for their sufferings, and bidding them a polite goodbye pursued his journey. He walked unsturdily till the night came, by which time he had reached a large and handsome house which looked very inviting to a weary traveller, who had walked many miles after killing two giants. He knocked at the door to ask admittance for the night, and was rather startled when the door was answered by a large giant. This monster was indeed a formidable fellow. He was as tall as Cormoran, and a foot or two broader round the waist, and had two heads. He was very civil, however. He made our hero a bow, and invited him into the house, gave him a good supper, and sent him to bed. But Jack did not entirely trust his host. He thought he had seen him shaking his fist at him slightly once or twice during supper time, so instead of going to sleep he listened. Presently he heard the giant marching about in the room, singing a duet for two voices all by himself, the treble with one mouth and the bass with the other. This was the song he sang.  Indeed, thought Jack, when he heard this amiable did he. Are these the tricks you shall play upon travellers, Mr. Giant? But I hope I shall prove a match for you yet. So he began groping about to the room to find something to lay in the bed instead of himself, against the time when the giant should ring the club. He found a great log of wood in the fireplace, and this he put into the bed and covered it well up, while he himself lit concealed in a corner of the room. In the middle of the night he heard the two-headed giant come creeping softly into the room. He sidled up to the bed and, whack, whack, whack! Down came his cruel club upon the log of wood, just where Jack's head would have been but for his clever trick. The giant, thinking he had killed his guests, retired. We may fancy how surprised he was when Jack came next morning to thank him for his night's lodging. The giant rubbed his eyes and fold his hair to make sure that he was awake, but Jack stood on, looking as cool as a cucumber. Why? How did you sleep? stammered the giant at last. Was there nothing to disturb you in the night? Oh, I slept exceedingly well, replied Jack. I believe a rat came and flapped me with his tail three or four times, but he soon went away again. The giant was so surprised that he sat down on a bench and scratched his head for three minutes, trying to make it out. Then he rose slowly and went away to prepare breakfast. Jack now thought he would play the giant another trick, and he managed it in this way. He got a great leather bag and fastened it to his body, just under a loose kind of blouse he wore, for he thought he would make the giant believe he had an immense appetite. Presently the giant came in with two great bowls of hasty pudding, and began feeding each of his mouths by turns. Jack took the other bowl and pretended to eat the pudding it contained, but instead of swallowing it, he kept stowing it in the great leather bag.  He was wondering to behold such a little chap as Jack eats such a breakfast. Now, said Jack when breakfast was over, I can show you a trick. I can cut off my head, arms or legs, and put them on again just as I juice, and do a number of strange and wonderful things besides. Look here, I will show you an instance. So, saying, he took up a knife and ripped up the leather bag, and all the hasty pudding came tumbling out on the floor to the great surprise of the giant. Odds splutter her nails, cried the giant. Her can do that herself. So determined not to be outdone by such a little chap as Jack, he seized his knife, plunged it into the place where his hasty pudding was, and dropped down dead on the floor. After this great achievement Jack had a better title than ever to the name of the giant killer. He continued his journey, and a few days afterwards we find him travelling in very grand company indeed. The only son of King Arthur had travelled into Wales on an errand somewhat similar to Jack's. He wanted to deliver a beautiful lady from the hands of a wicked magician who was keeping her in captivity. One day the prince fell in with a sturdy traveller, and found by the belt the stranger wore, who he was, for Jack's fame had by this time travelled as far even as King Arthur's court. The prince therefore gladly joined company with Jack, who offered his services, which were of course accepted. A mile or two further on they came to a large castle, inhabited by a wonderful giant indeed. A greater personage than even the gentleman who spluttered his nails, for this giant had three heads, and could fight five hundred men, at least said he could. The prince felt rather awkward about asking such a personage to entertain him, but Jack undertook to manage all that. He went on alone and knocked loudly at the castle gate. Who's there? roared the giant. Only your poor cousin Jack, answered the intruder. Giant, like most great men, had a good many poor relations, and Jack knew this very well. What news cousin Jack? asked the giants. Bad news, bad news, dear uncle, replied Jack. Pooh, bah, nonsense, cried the giant. What can be bad news for a person like me, who has three heads, and can fight five hundred men?   All the giants three faces turned pale at once, and he said in a trembling voice. This is bad news indeed, cousin Jack, but I'll hide in the cellar and you shall lock me in, and keep the key till the prince has gone. Jack laughed in his sleeve as he turned the key of the cellar upon the giant, and then he fetched the prince and they feasted and enjoyed themselves, whilst the poor master of the house sat in the cellar shivering and shaking with fear. Next morning Jack helped the prince to a good quantity of the giant's treasure, and sent him forward on his journey. He then let out his uncle, who looked about him in rather a bewildered way, and seemed to think that the two thousand men had not done much damage to his castle after all, and that the prince's retinue had very small appetites. Jack was asked what reward he would have, and answered, Good uncle, all I want is the old coat and cap, and the rusty sword and the worn slippers which are at your bed's head. You shall have them, said the giant. They will be very useful to you.  Take them and welcome my valiant cousin Jack.  The prince married her the next day. The happy pair then proceeded to King Arthur's court, and so pleased was the monarch with what they had done that Jack was made one of the knights of the round table. But Jack could not be idle. He wanted to be employed on active service, and begged the king to send him forth against all the remaining Welsh giants. He soon had an opportunity to display his prowess, for on the third day of his journey, as he was passing through a thick wood, he heard the most dullful groans and shrieks. Presently he saw a great giant dragging along a handsome knight and a beautiful lady by the hair of their heads in a very brutal manner. Jack at once put on his invisible coat, and taking his sword of sharpness, struck the giant right through the leg, so that the great monster came tumbling down with a crash.  The knight and his lady thanked their deliverer, you may be sure, but Jack would not accept an earnest invitation they gave him to go to their castle and live with them, for he wanted to see the giant's den. They told him the giant had a brother fiercer than himself, who dwelt there, but Jack was not to be deterred. Sure enough, at the mouth of the cavern sat the giant on a block of timber with the club by his side. Here is the other, cried Jack, and he hit the giant a blow with his sword. The giant could see no one, but began to lay about him with his club. Jack, however, slipped behind him, jumped on the log of timber, cut off the giant's head, and sent it to King Arthur with that of the giant's brother, and the two heads just made a good wagon load. Now at length Jack felt entitled to go and see the knight and his lady, and I can tell you there were rare doings at the castle on his arrival. The knight and all his guests drank to the health of the giant killer, and he gave Jack a handsome ring with a picture on it of the giant dragging along the once unhappy couple. They were in the height of their mirth when a messenger arrived to tell them that Thundle, a fierce giant, and a near relation of the two giants, was coming, burning with rage, to avenge his kinsmen's death. All was hurry and fright, but Jack bade them be quiet. He would soon settle Master Thundle, he said. Then he sent some men to cut off the drawbridge, just leaving a slight piece on each side. The giant soon came running up, swinging his club, and though he could not see Jack, for a hero knowing the importance of keeping out of sight on such occasions, had taken the precaution to put on his coat of darkness, yet his propensity for human flesh had rendered his sense of smelling so acute that he knew someone was at hand and thus declared his intentions.  Be he alive or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread. First catch me, said Jack, and he flung off his coat of darkness, and put on his shoes of swiftness, and began to run the giant rushing after him in a great rage. Jack led him round the moat, and then suddenly ran across the drawbridge, but the giant who followed him very closely, no sooner came to the middle where the bridge had been cut, then it snapped with his weight at once, and down he went, splash, into the moat, which was full of water and of great depth. The giant struggled fiercely to release himself from the unexpected and uncomfortable position in which he was placed, but Jack, who had looked forward to this moment with the greatest anxiety, was quite prepared to counteract all his efforts. A strong rope with the running noose at the end had been kept in readiness, and was cleverly thrown over the giant's head by Master Jack, who had found such a weapon very useful on a former occasion, and had since taken great pains to make himself perfect in its use. By this means he was drawn to the castle side of the moat, where half drowned and half strangled, he lay at the mercy of the giant-killer, who completed his task by cutting off the giant's head to the evident pleasure of all the inhabitants of the castle and of the surrounding country. As Jack was naturally desirous that the king should be made aware of the good service he was doing the state, the giant's head was sent to King Arthur. After spending a short time very pleasantly with the knight and his lady, Jack again set out in search of adventures, and it was not long before he met with the good one. At the foot of a high mountain he lodged, one night, with a good old hermit. This hermit was very glad to see Jack when he heard that his visitor was the far-famed giant-killer. He said, I am rejoiced to see you, for you can do good service here. Know that at the top of this mountain stands an enchanted castle, the dwelling of the giant Gelegantus. This wicked monster, by the aid of a magician, as bad as himself, is now detaining a number of knights and ladies in captivity, and to do so, the more surely, the magician has changed them into beasts. Amongst the rest there is a Duke's daughter who was carried off as she was walking in her father's garden, and borne away to this castle in a chariot drawn by two fiery dragons. They have changed her into a deer. With your coat of darkness you might manage to pass by the fiery griffins which keep guard at the gate, without being seen, and your sword of sharpness would do the rest. Jack waited to hear no more. He promised to do his very best, and the next morning early he set off, dressed in his invisible coat, to climb the mountain. And it was well he had put his garment on, for long before he got to the castle he could see the old magician, who was of a very suspicious nature, looking out of the second floor window. He had an owl on his shoulder, which looked very much like himself, and he had a long wand in his hand, and stood poking his red nose out of the window in a most inquisitive manner. At the castle gates sat the two griffins, likewise on the lookout, but thanks to his coat Jack passed between them unharmed. At the gate hung a large trumpet, and below it was written, as a notice to travellers, whoever can this trumpet blow shall cause the giants overthrow. You may fancy what a blast Jack blew, but you can heartily fancy the crash, with which the gates flew open, and the bewildered look of the giant and magician, as they stood biting their nails with vexation and fear. The captives were liberated, and the giant and the magician killed in the most satisfactory way, and Jack set out for King Arthur's court with the fair Duke's daughter, whom he soon made his wife, and I am told they lived long and happily.  CHAPTER XIV OF THE SANTA CLAWS STORYBOOK This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Greg Giordano. THE SANTA CLAWS STORYBOOK by Unknown THE ROBIN'S CHRISTMAS EVE It was Christmas time, a dreary night, the snow fell thick and fast, and or the country swept the wind, a keen and wintry blast. The little ones were all in bed, crouching beneath the clothes, half trembling at the angry wind which wildly fell and rose. Old Jem the Sexton rubbed his leg, for he had got the gout. He said he thought it wondrous hard that he must sally out. Not far from Jem's another house, of different size and form, rose high its head defying well the fierce and pelting storm. It was the Squire's stately home, a rare upright Squire he, as brave and true a gentleman as any one could see. The Squire sat in his library, so cheerful, bright and warm, when suddenly he roused himself to look out at the storm. Lifting the shutter's ponderous bar, he threw them open wide, and very dark and cold and dreary, he thought it looked outside.  Yes, there he stands, so very close, he taps the windowpane, and when he sees you turn away, he feebly taps again. But all in vain the heavy bar was fastened as before. The Squire's portly form retraced his highly polished floor. Now is there anyone who thinks it cannot be worthwhile to write about a robin's fate, and treats it with a smile? If so, I bid him to his mind, those words of Scripture call, which say that not without God's will can even a sparrow fall. Our robin's history simple was, there is not much to tell, a little happy singing bird, born in a neighboring dell. And through the summer, in the wood, life went on merrily. But winter came, and then he found, more full of care was he. For food grew scarce, so having spied, some holly berries read. Within directory, garden grounds, thither our hero fled. One evening everything was dull, the clouds looked very black. The wind ran howling through the sky, and then came grumbling back. The robin early went to bed, puffed out just like a ball. He slept all night, on one small leg, yet managed not to fall. When morning came he left the tree, but stared in great surprise, upon the strange, unusual scene that lay before his eyes. It seemed as if a great white sheet were flung all over the lawn, the flower beds, the paths, the trees, and all the shrubs were gone. His little feet grew sadly cold, and felt all slippery too. He stumbled when he hopped along, as folks on ice will do. And yet he had not learnt the worst of this new state of things. He'd still to feel the gnawing pangs that cruel hunger brings. No food to-day had touched his beak, and not a chance had he, ever touching it again, as far as he could see. At length, by way of passing time, he tried to take a nap, but started up when on his head he felt a gentle tap. To his butt a snowflake after all, yet in his wretched plight, the smallest thing could frighten him, and make him take his flight. But soon he found he must not hope, for these saw flakes to fly. Down they came, feathering on his head, his back, his tail, his eye. No gardeners appeared that day. The rector's step came by, and Robin fluttered over the snow to try to catch his eye. But being Christmas Eve, perhaps, his sermons filled his mind, for on he walked, and never heard, the little chirp behind. Half-blinded, on and on he roamed, quite through the squire's park, at last he stood before the house, but all was cold and dark. Now suddenly his heart betied, he sees a brilliant glare. Shudders unfurl before his eyes, a sturdy form stands there. He almost frantic grew, poor bird, fluttered and tapped the pain, pressed hard his breast against the glass, and chirped, but all in vain. So on he went, and as it chanced, he passed into a lane. And once again he saw a light, inside a window-pane. Chanced, did we say? Let no such word upon our page appear. Not chance, but watchful providence, has led poor Robin here. It was Jem the sextant's house from which, shown forth that cheering light, for Jem had drawn the curtain back to gaze upon the night. And now, with lantern in his hand, he hobbles down the lane, muttering and grumbling to himself, because his foot's in pain. He gains the church, then for the key, within his pocket-feels. And as he puts it in the door, Robin is at his heels. Jem thought, when entering the church, that he was all alone, nor dreamed a little, stranger bird, had to its refuge flown. The stove had not burnt very low, but still was warm and bright, and round the spot whereon it stood, through forth a cheerful light. Jem lost no time he flung on coals, and raked the ashes out, then hurried off to go to bed, still grumbling at his gout. Now Robin, from a corner hopped, within the fire's light, shivering and cold it was to him a most enchanting sight.  Useless it seems alas for that, within these walls to try. Yet see he makes a sudden dart, his searching eye has found, the greatest treasure he could have, some bread-crumbs on the ground. Perhaps it is thought by those who read, too doubtful to be true, that just when they were wanted some hand should bread-crumbs true. But this is how it came to pass, an ancient dame had said, her legacy unto the poor should all be spent in bread. So every week twelve wheat and loaves, the sexton brought himself, and crumb said doubtless fallen when he placed them on the shelf. Enough there were, for quite a feast, Robin was glad to find. The hungry fellow ate them all, nor left one crumb behind. He soon was quite himself again, and it must be confessed, his first thought, being warmed and fed, was all about his breast, to smooth its scarlet feathers down, our hero did not fail, and when he'd made it smart he then attended to his tail. His toilet done he went to sleep, and never once awoke, till, coming in on Christmas morn, Jem gave the stove a poke. Then in alarm he flew away, along the middle aisle, and perching on the pulpitop, he rested there awhile. But what an unexpected sight is this that meets his eyes, the church is dressed with holly-green, to him so great a prize. For amongst the leaves the berries hung, inviting him to eat, on every side were hundreds more, a rich and endless treat. Now very soon a little troop of children entered in. They came to practice Christmas songs, ere service should begin. The rector followed them himself, to help the young ones on, and teach their voices how to sing, in tune their Christmas song. At first he charged them all to try, to feel the words they sang. Then reading from his open book, he thus the hymn began. Glory to God from all, to whom he is given breath. Glory to God from all, whom he has saved from death. Now when the rector's voice had ceased, the children led by him were just about with earnest voice, the verse of praise to sing, when suddenly from high above another song they hear, and all looked up in hushed amaze, at notes so sweet and clear. T'was Robin sitting on a spray of twisted holly-bright, his lightweight swayed it as he sang his song with all his might. His heart was full of happiness, and this it was that drew, praise to his maker in the way, the only way he knew. It seemed as though he understood the words he just had heard, as if he felt they suited him, though but a little bird. The rector's finger lifted up, kept all the children still, their eyes uplifted to the bird, singing with open bill. They scarcely breathed, lest they should lose, one note of that sweet strain. And Robin scarcely paused before, he took it up again. Now when he ceased, the rector thought, that he would say a word, for Robin's tale had in his breast a strong emotion stirred. Children said he, that little voice a lesson should have taught, it seemed to me the Robin's song is with instruction fraught. He was no doubt in great distress, deep snow was all around. He might have starved but coming here, both food and shelter found.  Another lesson we may learn, from those sweet notes we heard, that God has given voice of praise to that unconscious bird. But unto us his love bestows, a far more glorious gift, for we have reason in our souls as well as voice can lift. The rector paused, for now rang forth, the merry Christmas chime, and warned them all that it was near the usual service time. And we must close the Robin's tale, to be a blessed thing, should it have taught but one young voice, to praise as well as sing. CHAPTER XV OF THE SANTA CLAWS STORYBOOK This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. THE SANTA CLAWS STORYBOOK BY UN KNOWN THE ENCHANTED FON There were once a brother and sister who loved each other very dearly.  One day the boy took his sister by the hand and said, We have not had a happy hour since our mother died. Our stepmother makes us work at the hardest tasks from morning till night, and beats us every day. Our only food is the hard bread crust that are left over. The dog under the table fares better than we do. She throws him many a good bite. Heaven help us, oh, if our mother only knew what we suffer. Come, let us leave here and go out into the wide world. All day they wandered over fields and meadows and stony roads. They were very sad, and once, when it rained, the little sister said, God and our hearts are weeping together. By evening they came to a large forest. Tired out with hunger, sorrow, and the long journey, they crept into a hollow tree and fell asleep. The next morning when they awoke, the sun was high in the heavens, and shone warm and bright into the tree.  If I only knew where there was a brook, I would go and get a drink. Hark! I think I hear water running. They climbed out of the tree, and taking hold of each other's hands, went to find the brook. Now the wicked stepmother was a witch, and had seen the children go away and knew where they were. She had sneaked after them, as is the habit of witches, and had bewitched all the water in the forest. Soon the children found the little brook that sparkled and rippled over the stones.  So she begged of him not to drink the water, or he would become a wild beast and tear her to pieces. Thirsty as he was, the boy did as she wished, and said he would wait until they came to the next spring. Soon they came to another brook, and the maiden heard the water's whisper, Drink not of me, drink not of me, or to a black wolf changed, you'll be. And a second time the sister begged her brother not to drink the water, or he would be changed into a black wolf and devour her. Again the brother did as she wished, but he said, I will wait until we come to the next brook, then I must drink, say what you will, or I shall die of thirst. But when they came to the third brook, the sister heard the cool water's murmuring, Drink not of me, drink not of me, or to a young deer changed, you'll be. And she cried, Dear brother, do not drink here, or you will be turned into a fawn and run away from me. But her brother had already knelt by the stream to drink, and as soon as the first drop passed his lips he became a fawn. The little sister wept bitterly over her poor bewitched brother, and the little fawn also wept and kept close to her side.  And she untied her golden garter and fastened it around his neck, then braiding some rushes into a soft string, she tied it to the collar and led him away into the deep forest. After they had traveled a long, long distance, they came to a little cottage. The maiden looked in, and seeing it was empty thought, we can stay here and live. She gathered leaves and moss, and made a soft bed for the fawn. Every morning she went out into the forest to gather roots and berries and nuts for her own food, and tender grass for the fawn, who would eat out of her hand and play happily around her. When night came and the little sister was tired, she would say her prayers, lay her head on the fawn's back for a pillow, and sleep peacefully until morning. Their life in the woods would have been a very happy one, if the brother could only have had his proper form. The maiden had lived a long time in the forest with the fawn for her only companion, when it happened that the king of the country held a great hunt. The loud blasts of the horn, the baying of the hounds, the lusty cries of the huntsmen, sounded on every side. The young deer heard them, and was eager for the chase. Please let me join the hunt, he said to a sister. I cannot restrain myself any longer. And he begged so piteously that at last she consented. At evening you must come back again, she said, but I shall have my door locked against those wild hunters, and that I may know you when you knock, say, Sister, let me in. If you do not say this, I shall not open the door. She opened the door, and the deer bounded away, glad and joyful to breed the fresh air and be free. The king and his huntsmen saw the beautiful animal, and started in chase of him, but they could not catch him, and when they thought they had him safe, he sprang over the bushes, and disappeared. As soon as it became dark he ran to the little cottage, knocked at the door, and cried, Sister, let me in. The door was quickly opened, he went in, and rested all night on his soft bed. The next morning the chase was continued, and when the deer heard the sound of the horn, and the ho, ho, of the huntsmen, he could no longer rest, and said, let me out, Sister, I must go. His sister opened the door, saying to him, you must return at evening, and don't forget what I told you to say. As soon as the king and his huntsmen caught sight of the young deer with the golden collar, they all gave chase, but he was too quick and nimble for them. All day long they followed him. Towards evening the huntsmen surrounded him, and one of them wounded him a little in the foot, so that he limped and had to run more slowly. One huntsman followed him to the cottage and heard him cry, Sister, let me in. Then he saw the door open, and quickly close again. The huntsman was astonished, and went and told the king all he had seen and heard. Tomorrow, said the king, we will once more give him chase. But the maiden was very much frightened when she saw that the deer was wounded. She washed the blood from his foot, and bound the healing herbs on it, and said, Go and lie down upon your bed now, dear fawn, that you may become strong and well again. But the wound was so slight that the next morning he felt nothing of it. And when he heard the sound of the hunt again outside, he said, I cannot stay here. I must join them. They shall not catch me so easily again. No, no, said his sister, weeping, you must not go.  If I do not go, I shall die of longing, he said. When I hear the hunting horn, I feel that I must bound away. With a heavy heart, his sister opened the door, and the young deer went leaping joyfully through the woods. When the king saw him, he said to his huntsman, Do not lose sight of him all day, but see that no one does him any harm. When evening came, the king said to his men, Come now, and show me where the cottage stands. They did so, and the king, going to the door, knocked and cried, Sister, let me in. The door opened, the king entered, and he saw standing before him a maiden more beautiful than any he had ever seen before. But how great was her astonishment on opening the door to see, instead of the deer, a man enter, wearing a golden crown on his head. But the king looked at her kindly, and extending his hand, said, Will you go with me to my castle, and be my dear wife? Oh yes, replied the maiden, I am willing to go, but the deer must go also. I can never leave him. He shall remain with you as long as you live, and shall never want for anything, said the king. At this moment the deer came bounding in. His sister again fastened the string of rushes to his collar, and leading him by her own hand they went out from the lonely cottage in the woods for the last time. The king placed the maiden upon his horse, and rode with her to the castle, where the marriage was celebrated with great splendor, and she became queen, and they lived together happily for a long time, while the deer played in the castle garden, and received every care and attention. In the meantime, the wicked stepmother, on whose account the children had been driven into the world, had no thought but that the little sister had been torn to pieces by wild animals, and that the boy, whom she had turned into a fawn, had been shot by the hunters. When she heard, therefore, of their good fortune, and how happy they were, she was filled with envy, and gave herself no rest until she had thought of a way to destroy their happiness. One day her own daughter, who was as ugly as night, and had only one eye, said to her, oh, if I had only been born a queen. Be quiet now, said the old woman, when the time comes I shall be on hand, and you shall yet be a queen. The time came when a little son was born to the queen, and the king was away to the hunt. The old woman, taking the form of a nurse, entered the room of the queen and said, come, your bath is ready. Let us be quick before it gets cold. Her daughter, who was also there, carried the queen into the bathroom, where they had made a suffocating fire, and leaving her there to die, closed the door upon her and went away. This stunned the old woman tied a cap on her own daughter's head, and had her lie down in the queen's place. She gave her the form and appearance of the queen as nearly as she could, but the lost eye she could not restore, so she had her lie on the side where there was no eye. In the evening, when the king came home and heard that he had a son, he was greatly rejoiced, and went at once to see the queen. But as he drew the curtain, the old woman cried, for your life do not draw that curtain, the queen cannot bear the light. So he went away without knowing that a false queen had taken her place. At midnight, when everyone was asleep, as the child's nurse sat alone by the cradle, she saw the door open and the true queen enter. She took the child in her arms, nursed it, and then laying it in its cradle again, covered it carefully, and went out. She did not forget the deer, but went to the corner where he lay, and gently stroked his back, and then silently disappeared. In the morning the child's nurse asked the guard if he had seen anyone leave the castle, but he said no, he had seen no one. The queen came many nights in this manner, without speaking to anyone. The nurse saw her, but said nothing to anyone about it. After some time had passed, the queen one night began to speak, and said, How fares my child, how fares the deer, twice more shall I come, and then disappear. The nurse made no answer, but when the queen had gone, she went to the king and told him everything. Alas, said the king, what does this mean? Tomorrow night I will watch by the child. The next evening he went into the nursery, and at midnight the queen came in and said, How fares my child, how fares the deer, once more shall I come, and then disappear. She took the child in her arms as usual, and then went out. The king would not trust himself to speak, but he watched the following night, and this time she said, How fares my child, how fares the deer, this time do I come, and then disappear. But the king could hold back no longer, and sprang towards her, saying, You can be no other than my dear wife. Yes, I am your dear wife, she replied, and at that moment she was restored to life, as well and beautiful as ever. Then she told the king how he had been deceived by the wicked witch and her daughter. He had them brought to judgment, and they were condemned to death. The daughter was driven to the forest, where she was torn to pieces by a wild beast. And the old witch was led to the fire and miserably burnt. No sooner was she burnt to ashes than the young deer was restored to his human form, and the brother and sister spent the rest of their days happily together. Please visit LibriVox.org The Santa Claus Storybook by Unknown The story of Robin Hood It was about 700 years ago, in England, when Richard I was king, that Robin Hood lived. At that time a large part of the land was covered with great forest, which deer and other game ran wild. And it was near the borders of one of these, called Sherwood Forest, that Robin Hood was born. From his earliest years he had a great love for all the manly outdoor sports and games of those times, and it became very expert at them. Above all, in the use of the bow and arrow. He grew so skillful in this that there was no archer in all the country round who could compare with him. And he always carried off the prizes at the shooting matches. Besides this he had bright wits in a merry heart, loved to song and adjust, and was liked by nearly everybody who knew him. But something took place which drove him into a way of life that otherwise he might not have chosen for himself. In those days all the game in the forest belonged to the king. It was against the law to shoot it, and the king had men in the forest, called foresters, to catch those who did so and have them punished. One day, as Robin Hood was passing through the forest, he met with a party of these foresters. One of them was a man who had a great name as an archer and was jealous of Robin Hood's growing fame. He began to taunt Robin, and at last dared him to show his skill by shooting a deer which came in light at a great distance. Robin Hood's temper was up, and without thinking, he put an arrow in his bow and let it fly at the deer, which it struck and killed. The forester only became more angry at this feat, which was one that he could not do himself. So he said he would take Robin and have him hung for killing the king's deer. Robin started to fly, but the foresters pursued him so closely that he saw no chance of escaping. So he turned, and again drawing his bow sent an arrow into the heart of the man who had begun the quarrel. He dropped dead, while his comrades stood still, not knowing but that they might be served as badly. So Robin Hood escaped. But as there would now be no mercy shown to him if any of the king's men laid hands upon him, he became an outlaw. That is, he lived in the forest and got his food by shooting the deer and other game. Try, of course, not to come in the way of the foresters. Now there were many other young men who, from one cause and another, had taken to this kind of life. And Robin Hood soon gathered them into a band of which he was made captain, and which became so strong that in the end they were more of a terror to the foresters than the foresters to them. They wore a uniform of Lincoln Green with scarlet caps. And beside his bow and arrows, each man had a short sword, while the captain carried a bugle horn with which to call his men when he needed them. They led a pleasant life in the Greenwood, but it was an entirely unlawful one. For besides shooting the game, they used to rob rich people who passed through the forest. But Robin Hood, though a robber, was in many ways so good that he was thought well of by most people, for he would not take from those who were poor. Instead, he often gave them help. He would let none of his men hurt a robber woman, and when the week were wronged, he took their part. He gave a proof of this one day when he stopped a knight named Sir Richard of the Lay, who was passing with two followers through the forest. Robin saw that the knight wore a very sad face, and he asked why this was so. The knight replied that he had met with losses, and had been forced to mortgage his lands to the Abbot of St. Mary's at York, who, if the money were not paid next day, would seize all he had. Robin Hood was touched by the sadness of the knight, and agreed to lend him the sum needed to redeem his lands. The knight departed in great joy, and this kind deed was told of, far and wide, greatly to Robin Hood's credit. Robin Hood's dearest friend, in the next command to himself, was called Little John. The way in which they came together was this. Robin liked to roam the forest by himself in search of adventures, and one day, as he was passing thus along a forest path, he came to a brook over which a narrow plank was laid for a bridge. At the same time, a tall stranger, carrying a staff in his hands, drew near from the other side. They met in the middle, and as they could not pass each other, it became a question, which should go back? Let me pass, said the stranger, or it will be the worst for thee. Robin laughed at the idea of anyone trying to scare him by threats, and told the stranger to go back, or he would put an arrow through him. Then said the other, thou art a coward, for none other would offer to use a bow and arrows against a man armed only with a quarter staff. Now Robin Hood was anything but a coward, he could not bear to do that which would give anyone a right to call him one, so he stepped aside, and cut for himself a staff of oak. Now, said he, we are equal, we'll fight it out, and whichever first knocks the other into the water shall be the victor. The stranger was seven feet tall, and though Robin Hood was expert in the use of the quarter staff, he found him more than a match. After they had thumped each other for a while, the stranger at last hit Robin a blow which sent him into the brook. He waited to the bank while the stranger stood and laughed at him. Then Robin Hood sounded his horn, and his men came running from all sides. When he told them how he had been served, they wished to give the stranger a taste of the water too, but Robin, who was very much pleased with his strength and skill, stopped them and asked the stranger if he would not be one of their merry men. Most willingly, cried he, and though my name is John Little, I hope you will find that I can do great things. The merriment laughed when they heard the big stranger's name, and one of them said it should be changed from John Little to Little John, which was done, and he was ever after called that way.  The friar, without a word, tucked up his gown and carried him over. But as Robin started off, he cried, Stop my fine fellow and carry me back, or it will cause thee sorrow. Robin took the friar on his back and carried him over and set him down, saying, Now take me over once more, fat friar, as thou art twice my weight, it is right I should have two rides to thy one. The friar again took him on his back, but in the middle of the stream he threw him in the water, saying, Now, my pretty youth, let us see if thou canst swim. Then he went laughing on his way. But Robin was angry, and ran after him and attacked him with his staff. The friar defended himself, and they fought for a long time without either getting the best of it. Finally when both were tired out, Robin had told the friar who he was and asked him if he would not like to join his band and be their chaplain. The friar was a jolly fellow and was quite willing to take Robin's offer, so he became one of the merry men and said the prayers for the band. When it was necessary, he could fight as well as the best of them, and he got to be almost as famous as Robinhood himself, being known as Friar Tuck. Robin, before he became an outlaw, had been in love with a young maiden named Marion, but he had not seen her since. Her love for him did not die out, however, and finally her longing to see him became so great that she put on boys' clothes and went to seek him in the forest. She met him at last, but he did not know her in her strange dress, and she would not at first tell him who she was, but drew her sword and dared him to fight. He of course soon overcame her, so she took off her cap and let her beautiful hair fall over her shoulders, and then Robinhood knew her. He still loved her as much as ever, and they were soon married by Friar Tuck, the merry men celebrating their wedding with great festivity. It was the way of the outlaws when they caught travelers who seemed likely to have much gold or silver about them to take them to Dine with Robinhood. After they had been feasted, he would see how much they had and would make them pay for their entertainment according to their means. One day they brought before him a rich abbot, the same who had been so harsh with Sir Richard of the lay. Robinhood resolved that besides taking his gold, he would put him to shame, so after they had stripped him of all his money, they tied him upon a mule's back with his face to the tail, and in that ridiculous posture sent him out of the forest amidst hooting and laughter. One day, as he was on his way to the town of Nottingham, Robinhood fell in with a traveling tinker and asked him for the news. Shirley said he, wondering about as thou dost, thou must hear a great deal. I said the tinker, I do, and the latest I've heard is the best. What may that be? asked Robin. It is, replied the other, that at last there is to be an effort made to catch that thief, Robinhood. He has done mischief enough in this forest. I have a warrant myself, from the sheriff of Nottingham, to catch him, and it would be worth a hundred pounds to me if I could find him. Robin laughed to himself at this, but went on talking to the tinker until they came to Nottingham. Here he invited the tinker to go with him to an inn, where he treated him so liberally to ale that he became drunk and finally fell asleep. When he awoke, Robinhood had gone, and the sheriff's warrant was missing too. The tinker called the landlord and told him of his loss. Why, said the landlord, laughing, thou hast been cheated. That was Robinhood himself. The tinker at once started to hunt for Robin again, and was lucky enough to meet him in the forest the next day. He attacked him immediately with a thick club that he carried, while Robin defended himself as best as he could with his oaken staff, which was the only weapon he had with him. They fought long on nearly even terms, until at last Robin's staff broke beneath the stout blows of the tinker, who then called upon him to yield, or he would crack his skull. Robin blew his horn for help, and little John and another came to his aid. They seized the tinker, and were going to hang him to a tree, but he was such a fine stout fellow that Robinhood thought he would like to add him to his band. So he proposed that he should join, saying that he would give him the hundred pounds reward which he had lost. This was too good an offer to be refused, so the tinker agreed. And Robin said that as he was a man of metal by trade, he hoped he would prove a man of metal by nature. But it happened at last that King Richard had occasioned a journey into that part of the country where Sherwood Forest lay, and there he heard so much of the doings of Robinhood and of the way in which he evaded capture that he made up his mind that something must be done to put an end to such defiance of authority. But he was advised that it would be useless to try to come at Robinhood with the force of soldiers, as he knew the forest so well, and how to hide in it, that he had no trouble in escaping from pursuit when the greatest strength of his foes made him choose not to fight. So the king concluded to go into the forest alone, wearing plain black armor, and without anything to show that he was king, hoping this way to meet Robinhood and learn for himself what kind of man he might be. He had not ridden many miles before he was called upon to halt by Robinhood himself, who took him for some obscure night. The king had been a crusader and wore the Red Cross which was borne by those who had gone to the Holy Land to fight. And as Robinhood had a great respect for all such, he addressed the supposed knight in a friendly way and invited him to come and dine with him. The king consented, and Robinhood led him to where the merry men held their feasts, and they all sat down to a banquet of the best the forest afforded. The guest proved a jolly companion and did his full share in the way of joke and song. Being curious to know if Robinhood and his men were as wonderful shots as report made them out to be, the king, after the meal, turned the talk on to the subject of archery, and Robinhood was soon led into giving an exhibition of the skill of himself and his band. Two rods were set up at a distance which the king from his knowledge of archery thought to be too distant by at least fifty paces. But Robinhood said that his men must shoot at no nearer mark, and that by their rules he who missed should receive a stout blow as a penalty. When the shooting began, the king could not help expressing his admiration at its accuracy and the infliction of the penalty in the few cases in which shots were missed made him laugh heartily. Finally he spoke to Robinhood and said, Robinhood, I have much credit with the king. How would it be if I could get him to forgive thy misdoings? Was thou be one of his men and serve him faithfully? This was what Robin wished more than all else in the world. I would be glad, said he, to give up the life I lead. I did not like it from the first. Some men praise my deeds, but for my own part I hate my way of living. King Richard is a brave prince, and if he would but forgive me, he would find me as true and as full of love for him as any man in his service. I am King Richard, said the night, as he stood up with a majestic air, and when he had said this, Robinhood and all his men fell down on their knees before him. Stand up, my brave men, said the king. You have been thieves, which you should not have been. But you are able to serve me if you will. I will forgive what you have done up to this time. But take care that your acts from henceforth are such that I shall feel no grief for the way I now treat you. Then Robin and his men arose and gave three cheers for the king. When the king returned to London, Robin and many of his men went with him, while those who remained were made foresters. Robin rose so high in the king's favor that he became rich and was made Earl of Huntington then. He continued to be as kind-hearted as ever, and never refused to help the poor and unfortunate when he was in the power to do so. He lived in court many years, but when he grew to be an old man, a great longing took possession of him to return to the forest and resume the merry life he had led there in his younger days. So he got the king's permission to leave the court, and with his dear friend, little John, who shared his longing, he sought his old haunts in Sherwood. He found a few of his old comrades still living there, and spent some time very happily with them. But one day, as he was walking with little John, he said, We have shot mainly dear together, little John. But today I feel as though I could shoot no more. Why sayest thou to your master, said little John? I know not what hails me, said Robin Hood, but my fingers seem too feeble to draw the bow. Help me to Kirkley's priory, little John. Perhaps my cousin, the priorus, may relieve me by letting a little blood. So they set out for the priory, but with all the assistance little John could give him, a walk so fatigued for Robin Hood that when they reached there he was very ill. He knocked feebly at the door and went in, while little John remained without. His cousin received him with apparent friendship. Now sit thee down, cousin Robin, she said, and I will get thee food and drink. Nay, said Robin, I will neither eat nor drink till thou hast let me blood. Come into my private room, then, said the lady, leading the way. Robin Hood had no suspicion of treachery and placed himself in his cousin's hands without fear. That his cousin was treacherous, however, there is no doubt, though the reason for her treachery is not certainly known. But by some it is said she bore enmity against Robin on account of his treatment of the Abbot of St. Mary's and other churchmen. Whatever her motive, she bled him so profusely that the blood would not stay. And when he attempted to rise and open the door of the room in which he had been left alone, he found that the door was locked. Now said he, what shall I do? He bethought him of his horn and blew three feeble blasts.  I never heard him blow such blasts as these before. He soon broke open the locks and was quickly by his master's side. He saw in a moment all that had occurred.  Nay, said Robin, that may not be. I never injured woman in my life and diet should be the same. Then what can I do for thee, dear master? said little John. Bring me my bow and arrows and open yonder window. I will shoot one more shot, and where the arrow falls, there bury me with my bow by my side.  He fell back exhausted and soon breathed his last. Then the heartbroken little John and his sorrowing comrades bore him to the spot marked by the arrow. And there his grave was dug and he was laid to rest as he had directed. End of chapter 16