“We will always keep the bird,” he said, “for it saved you from the baron’s power.”
And they did keep it until it died. Then, in memory of its service, they placed its stone image on the castle gate and carved its likeness on the Stolzenfels shield.
Centuries passed. The robber bands that had been the terror of the Rhine valley became a part of the past, and Castle Stolzenfels fell into decay, for hundreds of years being one of the noblest ruins on the river. Then the German emperor restored it. He rebuilt the crumbling towers and bastions where bats made their nests, furnished it after the fashion of long ago, and today it is a favorite summer home of the imperial family. And still on the outer gate a stone raven stands, and to all who know the Rhine stories it speaks eloquently of that olden time when knights were bold, and of a gratitude offering made by the forester’s son to the daughter of the castle.
JUSSIEU AND THE HELIOTROPE
(Science—Nature Study)
In the year of Our Lord 1735, Joseph de Jussieu, the famous botanist, came into the presence of Louis the Fifteenth and besought him to give his royal sanction to a mission that was considered very wonderful in those days.
“I would go to South America to study the plant life there,” he said, “and mayhap I may discover something that will bring glory to France.”
The king looked with favor upon the venture, and a little later the botanist and his attendants sailed out of the port of Havre, toward the distant land of the Andes.
Many months they were on the way, now tossing on the high seas at the mercy of wind and wave, now threading a perilous path through the selvas. At last they ascended the snow-capped Cordilleras, examining every tree and plant they found.
“We will take back seeds of every rare specimen,” Jussieu said, “and great will be the rejoicing in France.”
One day, as the botanist and his men made their way from a deep ravine up a sunny slope, they smelled something wonderfully fragrant.
“Such a powerful odor must come from a gigantic, gorgeous flower,” the naturalist said. And they searched eagerly, each man anxious to discover the prize. But the only gorgeous flower they found was a clump of flaming peonies, which, although regally beautiful, were devoid of fragrance.
Then one of the men stumbled upon a plant bearing clusters of tiny purple blossoms. The odor was very heavy around it, and he knew he had found the perfume giver.
“Ah!” he exclaimed in disappointment, “it is not half so stately as our fleur-de-lis.”
Jussieu came and examined it with great interest, and although it was a small, unpretentious flower, thought it a precious find. He noticed that the most perfect blossoms were on the sunny side of the plant, and that they seemed to reach the sun. He named it “heliotrope,” from Greek words meaning “to turn toward the sun,” and when he returned to France took with him some of the seeds, which were planted in the royal garden.
The princesses, who were always looking for something novel, became greatly excited about the purple blossoms from the Andes. They called it the flower of love, and no bouquet was deemed fit to offer a court lady that did not contain at least a sprig of it. Being greatly in demand, it was very costly. People speculated in it, and for a time fortunes were won and lost, as during the tulip craze in Holland.
Then, after a while, when all the florists grew quantities of heliotrope, it became so common that it went out of favor as the court flower. But it was just as popular as ever, because it had lost none of its grace and fragrance. It grew in the gardens of the people, and there was no peasant too poor to own a plant.
So the dainty heliotrope that is still the favorite of the gardens is a traveled and storied flower. It grew on the slope of the Andes. It crossed the broad seas and was planted in a royal garden. It gladdened the peasants and townsfolk of Lorraine and Brittany and Provence, and still it scatters its fragrance and reaches out its petals toward the sun.
THE FALL OF LONDON BRIDGE
(History)
Almost everybody, whether he be ten or seventy-five, has played the good old game of London Bridge, but not everybody knows that once upon a time the bridge really did fall down.
It was nine hundred years ago—before William the Conqueror was born, and the United States had not even been thought of. Up in the cold, white northland lived a race of fearless vikings, and down in pleasant England reigned a weak, unable king. His name was Ethelred, and because he was always behind time with his plans and his work, people called him the Unready, and in the day in which he lived it was a very serious thing for a king to be unready.
Ever since the Danes had discovered what a fair land England was, they had wanted to take it. They came with their armies in King Alfred’s time. They returned again during the reign of his sons, and when young Ethelred ascended the throne and word went forth of how unable and unready he was, their boats brought a mighty army and surrounded the island. Danish soldiers camped on the broad English moorlands, Danish songs echoed through the woods of Kent and Surrey and sounded in the streets of London town. The invaders were in full possession of the city. They held the royal castle, and their generals slept in King Ethelred’s beds, while he had to take a bunk wherever he could find one. They were bold, brave, and strong. They had leaders who knew not the meaning of fear and were always ready, and it seemed that this time they would take the kingdom.
Yet they didn’t take it after all, for there were other brave, bold men who came to Ethelred’s aid.
Twenty ships sailed down from the seas of Norway, twenty goodly vessels bearing blue and crimson sails, for the boy king Olaf, who dwelt in the far north country, had heard of the plight of Ethelred the Unready and said to his men, “Let us go and fight for him as we fight for our own land.”
At these words the soldiers cheered and bent to the oars, and thus they went to England.
In from the sea they came and up the broad green Thames toward London town. The people along the river despaired at sight of their standard, for they thought another army was coming to attack them. But the sorrow turned to rejoicing when King Ethelred met them just below the city, and Olaf said, in loud, clear tones, “I have brought my soldiers to fight for thee.”
Then there rang out such a blast of welcome as never English war horns sounded before or since.
Olaf lost no time. The men of the north country fought for the love of fighting, and he was eager to hurl his army against the Danes.
“First we will take the fort they have built to command the Thames,” he exclaimed. “Then we will drive them from the city.”
King Ethelred shook his head.
“It will not be easy to do that,” he said. “Thrice already my army has tried it, but the Danish soldiers are thick on London Bridge. We cannot get near enough to attack the fort, because whenever the ships start up the river arrows and spears and stones come down upon them and they are driven back.”
King Olaf stood thinking and did not answer. Finally he said, “Then we must tear down the bridge.”
Ethelred looked at him as if he thought him crazy. “Tear down the bridge!” he repeated in amazement. “That is impossible. London Bridge is strong, and neither of us has an army of giants.”
Young Olaf looked at him and smiled, thinking how little this man knew of warfare.
“Do as I bid you,” he said, “and you shall see it fall.”
Ethelred had little faith in the viking’s words, but he was in so terrible a plight that he was willing to do anything that might pull him out of it. Who wouldn’t be, with a Danish general sleeping in his bed?
King Olaf gave some orders to his men. Then he said to Ethelred, “Bring your ships alongside mine, and we will get them ready.”
He ordered the men to make broad, flat roofs for every vessel, for he knew they could not tear down London Bridge unless protected from the spears and arrows of the Danes. The enemy had seized so much of King Ethelred’s lumber that he hadn’t half enough to make the roofs, so they tore down houses that the command might be carried out.
Finally everything was ready, and the fleet of England and the fleet of Norway moved side by side up the Thames. The Danish soldiers laughed as they saw the queer-looking vessels coming toward them, thinking what fun it would be to drive back the boats of Ethelred the Unready, as they had done several times before. But the Danes didn’t know as much as they thought they knew, and although their spears and arrows flew fast, the lumbering warships came on.
Then the soldiers on the bridge shot their bows and threw their javelins as they had not done before. They hurled great rocks down upon the vessels, damaging some of them so much that they had to turn back. But they did not harm or frighten Olaf the viking. He called to his men and cheered them on, and nearer, nearer these good ships came, until they were close to the piles of London Bridge.
Then they stopped a moment, still under the rain of stones and spears and arrows, and the Danish soldiers wondered what it meant. They could not see the thick, strong cables that were wound around the heavy supports of the bridge. They could not see the soldiers of Olaf lash the other ends fast to the vessels. But a moment later they understood all they had not seen. The ships turned with a sudden spurt. The Danish soldiers felt a mighty tug and pull. The roofed warships darted down the river, and then was heard the fall of London Bridge.
How joyfully the men of England shouted, for now they could push ahead and attack the fort. They took it too, and drove the enemy out of the city. Danish warriors no longer slept under satin covers in the castle of King Ethelred. Danish songs no longer resounded through the woods of Kent and Surrey and across the broad, sea-lapped moorlands. The soldiers routed the Danes and drove them out of the country, and Olaf the boy viking sailed back to his far, white northland, rejoicing in the thought that he had saved his kingdom to Ethelred, which he could not have done but for the fall of London Bridge.
HOW THEY CAME TO HAVE KITE DAY IN CHINA
Retold from a Chinese Folk Tale
(Physical Education)
In the lovely province of Kwang Tung, a sage named Ng Chew lived in the far-off time. He not only was versed in the lore of past and present, but knew future events as well, and used his knowledge and his power to benefit mankind.
One night in a vision he saw that a pestilence was about to sweep over the valley in which he lived, and his first thought was that he must save his people. He went from house to house telling the news and bidding every one flee with him to the mountains, and a few hours after he started on his mission the homes in the lowlands were deserted.
Up on the heights the people were safe in the crisp, clean air. But after many days had passed they wanted to return to their homes. They thought of the growth in the rice fields and of the approaching harvest time. “We have been here long enough,” they declared. “By this time the danger is over and we ought to go back.” But the wise Ng Chew knew it was not safe to return, and urged them to stay. There were a few who would not listen to his words. They started back to the lowlands, and Ng Chew wondered how he could keep the others on the mountain. Then a happy thought crossed his mind. He set everybody to making and flying kites, and soon had them so interested that they were glad to stay.
Days afterward, when he knew the danger was past, he led them back to the valley. Then they realized what a blessed thing he had done in keeping them on the mountain, for all who had refused to stay there with him had died of the pestilence.
The people’s hearts were filled with gratitude toward the man who had saved them.
“We will honor Ng Chew as long as he lives,” they said. “When his birthday comes we will all fly kites.”
This they did. Each year, on the birthday of Ng Chew, they left the rice fields and spent the day flying kites.
The word spread beyond the little valley and from province to province, until all over the land kite flying marked the birthday of the sage of Kwang Tung. The wise man died and centuries passed, but still the Chinese keep Kite Day, honoring him who in the long ago led his people to safety in the mountains.
THE STORY OF A STONE
By David Starr Jordan
(Science)
Once on a time, a great many years ago, so many, many years that one grows very tired in trying to think how long ago it was; in those old days when the great Northwest consisted of a few ragged and treeless hills, full of copper and quartz, bordered by a dreary waste of sand flats, over which the Gulf of Mexico rolled its warm and turbid waters as far north as Escanaba and Eau Claire; in the days when Marquette Harbor opened out towards Baffin’s Bay, and the Northern Ocean washed the crest of Mount Washington and wrote its name upon the Pictured Rocks; when the tide of the Pacific, hemmed in by no snow-capped Sierras, came rushing through the Golden Gate between the Ozarks and the north peninsula of Michigan, and swept over Plymouth Rock and surged up against Bunker Hill; in the days when it would have been fun to study geography, for there were no capitals, nor any products, and all the towns were seaports—in fact, an immensely long time ago there lived somewhere in the northeastern part of the state of Wisconsin, not far from the city of Oconto, a little jellyfish. It was a curious little fellow, about the shape of half an apple, and the size of a pin’s head; and it floated around in the water, and ate little things, and opened and shut its umbrella pretty much as the jellyfishes do now on a sunny day off Nahant Beach when the tide is coming in. It had a great many little feelers that hung down all around like so many little snakes; so it was named Medusa, after a queer woman who lived a long while ago, when all sorts of stories were true. She wore snakes instead of hair, and used to turn people into stone images if they dared to make faces at her. So this little Medusa floated around, and opened and shut her umbrella for a good while,—a month or two, perhaps; we don’t know how long. Then one morning, down among the seaweeds, she laid a whole lot of tiny eggs, transparent as crab-apple jelly, and smaller than the dewdrop on the end of a pine leaf. That was the last thing she did; then she died, and our story henceforth concerns only one of those little eggs.
One day the sun shone down into the water—the same sun that shines over the Oconto sawmills now—and touched these eggs with life; and a little fellow whom we will call Favosites, because that was his name, woke up inside the egg, and came out into the world. He was only a little piece of floating jelly, shaped like a cartridge pointed at both ends, or like a grain of barley, although very much smaller. He had a great number of little paddles on his sides. These kept flapping all the time, so that he was constantly in motion. And at night all these little paddles shone with a rich green light, to show him the way through the water. It would have done you good to see them some night when all the little fellows had their lamps burning at once, and every wave as it rose and fell was all aglow with Nature’s fireworks, which do not burn the fingers and leave no smell of sulphur.
So the little Favosites kept scudding along in the water, dodging from one side to the other to avoid the ugly creatures that tried to eat him. There were crabs and clams of a fashion neither you nor I shall ever see alive. There were huge animals with great eyes, savage jaws like the beak of a snapping turtle and surrounded by long feelers. They sat in the end of a long, round shell, shaped like a length of stove pipe, and glowered like an owl in a hollow log; and there were smaller ones that looked like lobsters in a dinner horn. But none of these caught the little fellow, else I should not have had this story to tell.
At last, having paddled about long enough, Favosites thought of settling in life. So he looked around till he found a flat bit of shell that just suited him. Then he sat down upon it and grew fast, like old Holger Danske in the Danish myth, or Frederick Barbarossa in the German one. He did not go to sleep, however, but proceeded to make himself a home. He had no head, but between his shoulders he made an opening which would serve him for mouth and stomach. Then he put a whole row of feelers out, and commenced catching little worms and floating eggs and bits of jelly and bits of lime,—everything he could get,—and cramming them into his mouth. He had a great many curious ways, but the funniest of them all was what he did with the bits of lime. He kept taking them in, and tried to wall himself up inside with them, as a person would “stone a well,” or as though a man should swallow pebbles and stow them away in his feet and all around under the skin, till he had filled himself all full with them, as the man filled Jim Smiley’s frog.
Little Favosites became lonesome all alone in the bottom of that old ocean among so many outlandish neighbors. So one night, when he was fast asleep and dreaming as only a coral animal can dream, there sprouted out from his side, somewhere near where his sixth rib might have been if he had had any ribs, another little Favosites; and this one very soon began to eat worms and to wall himself up as if for dear life. Then from these two another and another little bud came out, and other little Favosites were formed. They all kept growing up higher and cramming themselves fuller and fuller of stone, till at last there were so many and they were so crowded together that there was not room for them to grow round, and so they had to become six-sided like the cells of a honeycomb. Once in a while some one in the company would feel jealous because the others got more of the worms, or would feel uneasy at sitting still so long and swallowing lime. Such a one would secede from the little union without even saying “good-by,” and would put on the airs of the grandmother Medusa, and would sail around in the water, opening and shutting its umbrella, at last laying more eggs, which for all we know may have hatched out into more Favosites.
So the old Favosites died, or ran away, or were walled up by the younger ones, and new ones filled their places, and the colony thrived for a long while, until it had accumulated a large stock of lime.
But one day there came a freshet in the Menominee River, or in some other river, and piles of dirt and sand and mud were brought down, and all the little Favosites’ mouths were filled with it. This they did not like, and so they died; but we know that the rock house they were building was not spoiled, for we have it here. But it was tumbled about a good deal in the dirt, and the rolling pebbles knocked the corners off, and the mud worked into the cracks, and its beautiful color was destroyed. There it lay in the mud for ages, till the earth gave a great, long heave that raised Wisconsin out of the ocean, and the mud around our little Favosites packed and dried into hard rock and closed it in. So it became part of the dry land, and lay embedded in the rocks for centuries and centuries, while the old-fashioned ferns grew above it, and whispered to it strange stories of what was going on above ground in the land where things were living.
Then the time of the first fishes came, and the other animals looked in wonder at them, as the Indians looked on Columbus. Some of them were like the little gar-pike of our river here, only much larger,—big as a stove pipe, and with a crust as hard as a turtle’s. Then there were sharks, of strange forms, and some of them had teeth like bowie knives, with tempers to match. And the time of the old fishes came and went, and many more times came and went, but still Favosites lay in the ground at Oconto.
Then came the long, hot, wet summer, when the mists hung over the earth so thick that you might have had to cut your way through them with a knife; and great ferns and rushes, big as an oak and tall as a steeple, grew in the swamps of Indiana and Illinois. Their green plumes were so long and so densely interwoven that the Man in the Moon might have fancied that the earth was feathering out. Then all about, huge reptiles, with jaws like the gates of doom and teeth like cross-cut saws, and little reptiles with wings like bats, crawled, and swam, and flew.
But the ferns died, and the reptiles died, and the rush trees fell in the swamps, and the Illinois and the Sangamon and the Wabash and all the other rivers covered them up. They stewed away under layers of clay and sand, till at last they turned into coal and wept bitter tears of petroleum. But all this while Favosites lay in the rocks in Wisconsin.
Then the mists cleared away, and the sun shone, and the grass began to grow, and strange animals came from somewhere or nowhere to feed upon it. There were queer little striped horses, with three or four hoofs on each foot, and no bigger than a Newfoundland dog, but as smart as ever you saw. There were great hairy elephants, with teeth like sticks of wood. There were hogs with noses so long that they could sit on their hind legs and root. And there were many still stranger creatures which no man ever saw alive. But still Favosites lay in the ground and waited.
And the long, long summer passed by, and the autumn, and the Indian summer. At last the winter came, and it snowed and snowed, and it was so cold that the snow did not go off till the Fourth of July. Then it snowed and snowed till the snow did not go off at all. And then it became so cold that it snowed all the time, till the snow covered the animals, and then the trees, and then the mountains. Then it would thaw a little, and streams of water would run over the snow. Then it would freeze again, and the snow would pack into solid ice. So it went on snowing and thawing and freezing, till nothing but snowbanks could be seen in Wisconsin, and most of Indiana was fit only for a skating rink. And the animals and plants which could get away, all went south to live, and the others died and were frozen into the snow.
So it went on for a great many years. I dare not tell you how long, for you might not believe me. Then the spring came, the south winds blew, and the snow began to thaw. Then the ice came sliding down from the mountains and hills and from the north toward the south. It went on, tearing up rocks, little and big, from the size of a chip to the size of a house, crushing forests as you would crush an eggshell, and wiping out rivers as you would wipe out a chalk mark. So it came pushing, grinding, thundering along,—not very fast, you understand, but with tremendous force, like a plow drawn by a million oxen, for a thousand feet of ice is very heavy. And the ice plow scraped over Oconto, and little Favosites was torn from the place where he had lain so long; but by good fortune he happened to fall into a crevice of the ice where he was not much crowded, else he would have been ground to powder and I should not have had this story to tell. And the ice melted as it slid along, and it made great torrents of water, which, as they swept onward, covered the land with clay and pebbles. At last the ice came to a great swamp overgrown with tamarack and balsam. It melted here; and all the rocks and stones and dirt it had carried—little Favosites and all—were dumped into one great heap.
It was a very long time after, and man had been created, and America had been discovered, and the War of the Revolution and the Civil War had all been fought to the end, and a great many things had happened, when one day a farmer living near Grand Chute, in Outagamie County, Wisconsin, was plowing up his clover field to sow to winter wheat. He picked up in the furrow a curious little bit of “petrified honeycomb,” a good deal worn and dirty, but still showing plainly the honey cells and the bee bread. Then he put it into his pocket and carried it home, and gave it to his boy Charley to take to the teacher and hear what he would say about it. And this is what he said.
LIST OF STORIES BY MONTHS FOR EACH GRADE
LIST OF STORIES BY MONTHS FOR EACH GRADE
First Grade
September
Bryant, Sara Cone: The Gingerbread Man, The Whale and the Elephant (Stories to Tell to Children).
Coe, Fanny E.: Three Billy Goats Gruff (First Book of Stories for the Story-Teller).
Heber, Elizabeth: Coming and Going (A Child’s Story Garden).
Holbrook, Florence: How Flax Was Given to Men (Book of Nature Myths).
Lindsay, Maud: Dust under the Rug, Giant Energy and Fairy Skill (Mother Stories).
Perrault, Charles: Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tales from Perrault).
Sly, W. R.: Boots and His Brothers (World Stories Retold).
October
Arnold, Sarah L.: Columbus, the Boy of Genoa (Stepping Stones to Literature—Book 3).
Bailey, C. S.: Bobby Squirrel’s Busy Day (Story-Telling Time).
Bryant, Sara Cone: Little Jackal and the Camel (Stories to Tell to Children).
Coe, Fanny E.: The Boy and the Wolf, The Sun and the Wind (First Book of Stories for the Story-Teller).
Dillingham, E. T.: A Hallowe’en Story (“Tell It Again” Stories).
Grierson, E. W.: The Smith and the Fairies (Book of Celtic Stories).
Lang, Andrew: The Witch (Yellow Fairy Book).
Potter, Beatrix: Squirrel Nutkin, Bunny Cottontail (Squirrel Nutkin).
Poulsson, Emilie: The Thrifty Squirrels (In the Child’s World).
Rhys, Ernest: The Witch That Was a Hare (English Fairy Book).
November
Bailey, C. S.: The Kid Who Would Not Go (Firelight Stories).
Chadwick, Mara L. Pratt-: Stones of the Pilgrim Babies (Stories of Colonial Children).
Coe, Fanny E.: Jack the Giant Killer, Tom Thumb (First Book of Stories for the Story-Teller).
Dillingham, E. T., and Emerson, A. P.: Gretchen and the Magic Fiddle (“Tell It Again” Stories).
Keyes, Angela M.: Lazy Jack (Stories and Story-Telling).
Olcott, F. J.: The Ears of Wheat (Good Stories for Great Holidays).
Poulsson, Emilie: The Chestnut Boys, The Crane Express (In the Child World).
White, Eliza O.: A Thanksgiving Dinner (When Molly Was Six).
A Thanksgiving at Hollywood, Grandmother’s Thanksgiving Story (Half a Hundred Stories).
December
Bailey, C. S., and Lewis, C. M.: The Legend of the Christmas Tree (For the Children’s Hour).
Bryant, Sara Cone: The Golden Cobwebs (How to Tell Stories to Children).
Coe, Fanny E.: St. Christopher (First Book of Stories for the Story-Teller).
Dillingham, E. T., and Emerson, A. P.: Santa Claus’ Helpers, The Story of the Man in the Moon, The Kitten That Wanted to Be a Christmas Present, A Christmas Legend (“Tell It Again” Stories).
Lindsay, Maud: The Christmas Cake (More Mother Stories).
Olcott, F. J.: The Stranger Child (Good Stories for Great Holidays).
Sly, W. R.: The Christmas Gift, The Wise Men and the Star, The Shepherds and the Angels (World Stories Retold).
January
Æsop: The Bear and the Fowls (Adams: Fables and Rhymes).
Alden, R. M.: The Forest Full of Friends (Why the Chimes Rang).
Bailey, C. S.: The Travels of a Fox (For the Story-Teller).
Lindsay, Maud: Mrs. Tabby Gray (Mother Stories).
Macdonnell, Anne: Peter, the Stone Cutter (Italian Fairy Book).
Poulsson, Emilie: An All the Year Round Story, The Fairies’ New Year’s Gift (In the Child World).
Richards, L. E.: The Pig Brother (The Pig Brother).
Sly, W. R.: The Golden Goose, The Baby Brother in the Basket Boat, The Flood and the Rainbow (World Stories Retold).
Slosson, Mrs. A. T.: The Horse That Believed He’d Get There (Story-Telling Library).
Southey, Robert: The Three Bears.
February
Dillingham, E. T., and Emerson, A. P.: Elaine’s Valentine (“Tell It Again” Stories).
Gross, H.: Lincoln and the Pig (Lincoln’s Own Stories).
Lang, Andrew: East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon (Blue Story Book).
Lindsay, Maud: Story of Gretchen.
Nixon-Roulet, Mary F.: The Sake Waterfall (Japanese Folk Stories).
Sly, W. R.: The Children’s Friend, The Boy Who Lived in Church (World Stories Retold).
White, Eliza O.: A Sunday Valentine (When Molly Was Six).
Wiggin, K. D., and Smith, N. A.: Little George Washington (The Story Hour); Three Little Pigs (Tales of Laughter).
Williston, Teresa P.: The Stolen Charm (Japanese Fairy Tales).
Wiltse, Sara: Jack and the Beanstalk (Hero Folk of Ancient Britain).
March
Alden, R. M.: The Boy Who Discovered Spring (Why the Chimes Rang).
Asbjørnsen, P. C.: Little Fred and His Fiddle (Fairy Tales from the Far North).
Bailey, C. S.: Why the Bear Sleeps All Winter (Firelight Stories).
Bryant, Sara Cone: The Jackal and the Alligator, Little Jack Roll-a-Round (How to Tell Stories to Children).
Grimm, Jacob: The Queen Bee, The Elves and the Shoemaker (German Household Tales).
Hall, I. F., and Lennox, E. D.: Easter Lily (Red Letter Days).
Holbrook, Florence: Why the Sea Is Salt (Book of Nature Myths).
Jacobs, Joseph: The Cat and the Mouse (English Fairy Tales).
Kipling, Rudyard: The Elephant’s Child, How the Rhinoceros Got His Skin (Just So Stories).
Poulsson, Emilie: A Wise Old Horse (In the Child World).
The Pink Knight (Dumpy Books for Children).
April
Andersen, Hans Christian: The Wild Swans (Wonder Stories).
Bailey, C. S.: The Little Old Woman Who Went to the North Wind (Firelight Stories).
Bryant, Sara Cone: Why the Morning Glory Climbs, Why the Evergreen Trees Keep Their Leaves (How to Tell Stories to Children).
Bryce, C. T.: The Little Slipper Orchid (That’s Why Stories).
Holbrook, Florence: The First Humming Bird (Book of Nature Myths).
Jacobs, Joseph: Mr. Vinegar (English Fairy Tales).
Johnson, Clifton: The Travels of a Fox (Oak Tree Stories).
Lindsay, Maud: The Little Gray Pony (Mother Stories).
Olcott, F. J.: The Loveliest Rose in the World (Good Stories for Great Holidays).
Seton, Ernest Thompson: Raggylug (Bryant: How to Tell Stories to Children).
May
Alden, R. M.: King’s Garden (Why the Chimes Rang).
Asbjørnsen, P. C.: Paper Tom (The Fairy World).
Bailey, C. S., and Lewis, C. M.: Hans and the Wonderful Flower, The Legend of the Dandelion (For the Children’s Hour).
Blakewell, E. S.: The Elder Tree Mother (True Fairy Stories).
Bryce, C. T.: The Mountain Ash (That’s Why Stories).
Judd, M. C.: How the Water Lily Came (Wigwam Stories).
Keyes, Angela M.: The Two Brothers (Stories and Story-Telling).
Lindsay, Maud: The Closing Door (Mother Stories).
Wiggin, K. D., and Smith, N. A.: Pancake (Tales of Laughter).
A Story of the Flag (Our Holidays Retold from St. Nicholas).
June
Bryant, Sara Cone: The Little Pink Rose (How to Tell Stories to Children); Another Little Red Hen, The Blackberry Bush, The Whale and the Elephant, The Jackal and the Camel (Stories to Tell to Children).
Cabot, Ella L.: Hans, the Shepherd Boy (Ethics for Children).
Dillingham, E. T., and Emerson, A. P.: The First Flag of the United States (Tell It Again).
Hall, I. F., and Lennox, E. D.: Flag Day (Red Letter Days).
Sly, W. R.: The Boy with His Lunch (World Stories Retold).
Second Grade
September
Æsop: The Ant and the Grasshopper (Adams: Fables and Rhymes).
Andersen, H. C.: The Flax (Wonder Tales).
Björnson, Björnstjerne: Oeyvind and Marit (Keyes: Stories and Story-Telling).
Bryant, Sara Cone: The Sailor Man (How to Tell Stories to Children).
Grimm, Jacob: The Town Musicians, The Wolf and the Seven Little Goats (German Household Tales).
Holbrook, F. E.: How Flax Was Given to Man (Book of Nature Myths).
O’Grady, Alice: The Old Woman Who Lived in a Vinegar Bottle (The Story-Teller’s Book).
Sly, W. R.: How a Happy Home Was Lost, The First Two Brothers (World Stories Retold).
October
Baldwin, James: Wondering Jack (Second Fairy Reader).
Bryant, Sara Cone: The Cat and the Parrot (Best Stories to Tell to Children).
Bryce, C. T.: The Raven (That’s Why Stories).
Cabot, Ella L.: The Squirrel’s Devotion (Ethics for Children).
Grimm, Jacob: Brier Rose (German Household Tales).
Jacobs, Joseph: Tom Tit Tot (English Fairy Tales).
Kipling, Rudyard: The Cat That Walked by Himself (Just So Stories).
Sly, W. R.: The Ladder That Reached to Heaven, The Slave Boy Who Became a Prince (World Stories Retold).
November
Bailey, C. S., and Lewis, C. M.: The Mince Pie (For the Children’s Hour).
Baldwin, James: Grumbling Peter (Second Fairy Reader).
Bryce, C. T.: The Travelers and the Bear (Fables from Afar).
Lindsay, Maud: The Visit, The Turkey’s Nest (More Mother Stories).
O’Grady, Alice: A Good Thanksgiving (The Story-Teller’s Book).
Scudder, H. E.: Diamonds and Toads (Fables and Folk Stories).
Wiggin, K. D., and Smith, N. A.: The First Thanksgiving (The Story Hour).
Grandmother’s Thanksgiving, A Thanksgiving at Hollywood (Half a Hundred Stories).
December
Bryant, Sara Cone: Fulfilled, The Story of Jairus’ Daughter (How to Tell Stories to Children).
Bryce, C. T.: The Old Woman and the Crowbar (Fables from Afar).
Cabot, Ella L.: St. Francis of Assisi and the Wolf (Ethics for Children).
Holbrook, Florence: Why the Fox Has a White Tip on His Tail (Book of Nature Myths).
O’Grady, Alice: Christmas Eve, Christmas Morning, The Christmas Story, The Christmas Tree (The Story-Teller’s Book).
Olcott, F. J.: Little Wolf’s Wooden Shoes (Good Stories for Great Holidays).
Wiggin, K. D., and Smith, N. A.: The First Christmas (The Story Hour).
January
Asbjørnsen, P. C.: Little Fred and His Fiddle (Fairy Tales from the Far North).
Bryant, Sara Cone: The Little Match Girl (Best Stories to Tell to Children).
Bryce, C. T.: Why the Cat Washes after Eating, Why Turtles Stay near Water (That’s Why Stories).
Cabot, Ella L.: The Magic Mask (Ethics for Children).
Pierson, C. D.: The Lamb with the Longest Tail (Among the Farmyard People).
Scudder, H. E.: One Eye, Two Eyes, Three Eyes (Fables and Folk Stories).
Sly, W. R.: The Elephant and the Tailor, The Story without an End, The Flood and the Rainbow (World Stories Retold).
February
Baldwin, James: Saving the Birds (Lincoln), Going to Sea (Washington) (Fifty Famous People).
Kipling, Rudyard: How the Camel Got His Hump (Just So Stories).
Olcott, F. J.: The Cherry Tree, The Apple Orchard (Good Stories for Great Holidays).
Pierson, C. D.: The Story That Swallow Didn’t Tell (Among the Farmyard People).
Stoddard, John L.: The Story of St. Valentine (Lectures—South Tyrol).
Wiggin, K. D., and Smith, N. A.: Little George Washington, Big George Washington (The Story Hour).
March
Bryant, Sara Cone: Little Tavwots (How to Tell Stories to Children).
Cooke, Flora J.: An Indian Story of the Mole (Nature Myths).
Holbrook, Florence: Why the Evergreen Trees Never Lose Their Leaves (A Book of Nature Myths).
O’Grady, Alice: Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse, The Sheep and the Pig That Built a House, The Straw Ox (The Story-Teller’s Book).
Olcott, F. J.: The Little Tree That Longed for Leaves (Good Stories for Great Holidays).
Sly, W. R.: Why Boys Take off Their Hats in Church (World Stories Retold).
April
Æsop: The Fox and the Crow, The Jay and the Peacock (Adams: Fables and Rhymes).
Bailey, C. S., and Lewis, C. M.: The Red-Headed Woodpecker (For the Children’s Hour).
Cooke, Flora J.: How the Robin’s Breast Became Red (Nature Myths).
Lindsay, Maud: Out of the Nest (More Mother Stories).
Pierson, C. D.: The Wonderful, Shiny Egg (Among the Farmyard People).
Scudder, Horace E.: The Jackdaw and the Doves (Fables and Folk Stories).
Sly, W. R.: The Woman Who Shared Her Last Loaf (World Stories Retold).
May
Andersen, H. C.: The Snowdrop, The Little Butterfly Brothers, The Water Drop (Olcott: Good Stories for Great Holidays).
Bryant, Sara Cone: How Brother Rabbit Fooled the Whale (Best Stories to Tell to Children).
Coe, Fanny E.: The Story of the Anemone (First Book of Stories for the Story-Teller).
Hart, A. S., and Stevens, E.: A Boy Who Won the Cross (Romance of the Civil War).
Holbrook, Florence: The Story of the First Butterflies (Book of Nature Myths).
Sly, W. R.: The Prince Who Hated Spiders and Flies (World Stories Retold).