Then “Yi-i-i-i—sh-sh-sh-sh!” The man put on the brakes and they stopped at another station. In another moment they started again. Rackety, clackety, klang, klong! Then “Yi-i-i-i—sh-sh-sh-sh” another station! And so they went flying from lighted station to lighted station through the white-tiled tunnel.

Boris was very happy. He sat quite still watching out of the window and saying with the car; rackety, clackety, klang, klong; rackety, clackety, klang, klong! “This is the way to go if you’re in a hurry,” he thought. He looked up and smiled to think of all the autos and horses and trucks above going oh! so slowly down the street!

At last he thought he would get out. So the next time the man put the brakes on and the train yelled “Yi-i-i-i—sh-sh-sh-sh!” Boris walked through the open doors on to the platform, then through the little gate, up some long steps and found himself on the street again. But right near him what do you think he saw? A park all full of trees and grass! This made Boris happy for he hadn’t seen so many trees and so much grass since he had left the wide country in his old home in Russia. A little breeze was blowing too! He clapped his hands and ran around and laughed and laughed and laughed and sang:

So he ran all round and played in the Park.

Suddenly he thought it was time to go home. He looked for the hole in the sidewalk but he couldn’t find it. And he didn’t know how to ask for the subway for he didn’t know its name and he couldn’t talk English. “I’ll have to walk!” he thought. He knew he must walk south for he had noticed which way the sun was when he went into the hole in the sidewalk. And now he noticed again where it was and so he could tell which way was south.

So Boris went out on the street. He walked to the corner and waited to go across.

He waited another minute.

He stood there a long time watching the stream of autos and horses and trucks go by. And he thought; “I’ll never get home if I have to go as slowly as this.

And for all he was so smart he was a very little boy and he began to cry for his legs were tired and he was a little frightened, too.

Just then what do you suppose he saw? Down the street way up in the air on a kind of trestle, he saw a train of cars tearing by. “That’s just what I want! That train doesn’t have to stop for autos and horses and things!” thought Boris and he ran down the street. When he got to the high trestle, there was a long flight of stairs. Up the steps went Boris. At the top he found another funny little room with a window in it and a man looking out. This time he knew just what to do. He stood on tiptoe and gave the man 5 cents and the man handed him a little red piece of paper. Boris took it, walked through a little gate, stood on tiptoe and dropped the ticket into another funny little box and another man moved the handle up and down and his ticket dropped down. And what do you suppose he saw from the platform? Tracks again! Tracks stretching out in both directions. He didn’t have to wait on the platform long before he heard the train coming. It seemed to say:

“I’m the elevated train, I’m the elevated train, I’m the elevated, elevated, elevated train!” It stopped right in front of Boris and Boris got into the front car again. Here was another man in another little box room moving more levers and making this train stop and go. And Boris could look right out in front and see the stations before he reached them. He could see bridges before they tore under them; he could look down and see the horses and the autos and the trucks. He smiled as he saw how slowly they had to go while he was racing along above them.

So Boris was quite happy and sat very still and watched out of the window. Suddenly he heard the conductor call “Fourteenth Street!” Now that was one of the few English words that Boris knew for he lived on 14th Street. Now he was pleased for he knew he was near home. So he got off the car, ran down the long, long steps and found himself on the street. Down 14th Street he ran until he came to his house.

“Well,” called his mother. “You’ve been gone a long time! What did you see on the streets?”

Boris smiled. “I haven’t been on the streets much mother.”

His mother was surprised. “Where have you been if you haven’t been on the streets?” she asked.

Boris laughed and laughed. “There were so many things on the streets, so many autos and horses and trucks,” he said, “that I couldn’t go fast. So I found a wonderful train under the streets and I went out on that. And I found a wonderful train over the streets and I came home on that!”

“Well, well,” said his mother. “Trains under and trains over! Think of that!” And Boris did think of them much. And when he was in bed that night, he seemed to hear this little song about them:

BORIS WALKS EVERY WAY IN NEW YORK

Part 1

One morning when Boris was eating his breakfast, he suddenly thought of the wide green country around his old home in Russia. I don’t know what made him think of it. He just did! “Mother,” he said, “I want to see some grass.”

His mother smiled. “Want to go to the Park, Boris?” she asked.

“No, more grass than that even. I want to see it everywhere,” and Boris waved his arms around. “I think I’ll go and find lots and lots of it!”

“I’d like to see lots and lots of grass too, Boris,” smiled his mother. But her eyes were full of tears too! “But I don’t know where you can go in New York and see grass everywhere!”

“Then I’ll go out of New York!” cried Boris. “If I walk far enough I’ll surely find grass, won’t I?”

“You can try,” answered his mother. Boris was now much bigger than when he came to New York and could talk quite a little English too. So his mother let him walk over the city alone. Boris clapped his hands! For though he was much bigger, he was still a little boy, you know!

“Which way had I better go?” thought Boris when he was out on the street. “I think I’ll go west first.” So he walked west. Though the streets were crowded he had learned to go faster than when he took his first walk and discovered the subway and elevated. West, west, west he went. Street after street,—houses set close together all the way. Then at last he saw something that made him run. The city came to an end! And there was a big river, oh! such an enormous river! The edge of the river was all docks,—docks as far as he could look. Across on the other side he could see another city with big chimneys and lots and lots of smoke. There were lots of boats in the river too. “Some day I’ll come and watch them,” thought Boris excitedly, “but now I want to find my grass.” So he turned around. “I’ll have to go east, I guess,” he thought.

So east he went. East he went until he came to his house. But he did not stop. He went right by it. “How many houses there are” he thought. “How many people there must be!” And still he walked east. And still the houses were set close together street after street. After a while he saw something that made him run again. The city came to an end! And there was another big river! This edge too was all docks,—docks as far as he could look. Across on the other side he could see another city with big chimneys and lots of smoke. “Well,” thought Boris, “isn’t it the funniest thing that when I walk west I come to a river and when I walk east I come to a river too!”

Now this puzzled him so that he thought he must ask somebody about it. Close to him was a big dock and at the dock was a flat barge. A lot of men were unloading coal from her. He walked up to one. “Please,” he said, “what river is this?”

The man stopped his work for a minute. “It’s the East River of course. Where do you come from, boy?”

“From Russia,” said Boris, “so you see I didn’t know. And please, is the other river the West River then?”

“What other river, boy? What are you talking about?”

This made Boris feel very uncomfortable, but he knew there was another river in the west for hadn’t he just walked there? So he said bravely, “If you keep walking west you do come to another river. I know you do! For I’ve done it. And it’s a bigger river than this, too!”

The man laughed out loud. “Right you are, boy!” he said. “You’re a great walker, you are. Did you walk all the way from Russia?” Now Boris thought the man couldn’t know very much to ask him such a question. But, then, he didn’t know much either. He was asking questions too! So he answered, “Oh! no! I came on an enormous boat. But please you haven’t told me the name of the other river?”

The man laughed louder than ever. “It’s a funny thing, boy, that we call it the North River. But you are right: it is west! It’s really the Hudson River, boy, that’s what it is. And a mighty big river it is too. Want to know anything more?” And the man turned back to his work.

“Well,” thought Boris. “I can’t get to my grass today if I strike rivers everywhere I go.” And he turned and walked home slowly, because he was sorry. And he was very, very tired too. For you see he had walked all the way across the city twice and that is a pretty long walk even for a boy the size of Boris.

Part 2

The next morning at breakfast, Boris suddenly thought again of the wide green country around his old home in Russia. I don’t know why he thought of it again. He just did! And then he thought of the Hudson River he had found by walking west and of the East River he had found by walking east. “I might try walking north this time,” he thought. And so he said to his mother, “I think I’ll go on another hunt for grass,—grass that’s everywhere!” and again he waved his arms.

“All right,” answered his mother. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to walk a long way to find grass everywhere!”

Out on the street he began to walk north. Then he remembered what a long long ride north in the subway he had had the other day. “I’d better take something if I want to get to the country wide,” he thought.

So Boris went down to the subway and took the train. He rode for ever and ever so long. He kept wondering if there were still houses above him or if it was all grass,—lots and lots of grass. “I guess I’ll go up and see,” he thought. So up he went at the next station. But there were still houses everywhere. They weren’t so high nor quite so close together; but still there was no grass. So he kept on walking north. Then he saw something that made him run. He could hardly believe his eyes. There was another river! “Oh! dear! oh! dear!” thought Boris. “I’ll never in the world find the country wide if I strike a river whatever way I go. I think I’ll take the subway and go way, way south. Surely I can get through that way. West a river, east a river, north a river. Yes, I’ll go south!”

So again Boris went down to the subway and took a train going south. He stayed on it so long that he thought he must surely be way out in the country wide under grass, grass, everywhere. “I guess I’ll go up and see,” he thought.

So up he went at the next station. But when he came up he found himself on a street. There were high buildings all around him. He began to walk south. The farther he walked, the higher the buildings he found. At last he came to a place where the buildings reached up, up, up,—up to the clouds, he thought. He threw back his head to look at them,—so high above him that it made him almost dizzy to look at their tops. He wasn’t sure they weren’t going to fall either! Then he looked down again. And what did he see at the end of the street? Trees, yes, green trees! “Perhaps I am coming to the wide green country,” he thought. And he hurried on.

But when he got to the trees he saw that the city came to an end again. And what a wonderful end it was too! All around him was water,—water so full of boats that it made Boris gasp. When he looked to the west he could see a great river with another city on the other side. “That’s the Hudson,” thought Boris for he remembered what the coal man had told him. When he looked to the east he could see another great river. “That’s the East River,” he thought for he remembered that name too.

But what river was that out in front of him? Then suddenly Boris remembered. That was New York Harbor! This was where he had landed when he had come in the giant steamer from Russia! Out there was Ellis Island where he had stayed with his father and his mother and his sisters and his brothers until they had been looked at! He thought he could see Ellis Island from where he stood. But there were so many islands he couldn’t be sure. But he could see the Statue of Liberty, that enormous woman holding a torch in her hand. He was sure of that. And he could see the boats everywhere all over the harbor. Boris stood there some time just staring and listening and staring.

Part 3

Suddenly Boris remembered what he had come for. He was looking for the wide green country, for a place where grass grew everywhere. “This is the funniest thing in the world,” he thought scratching his head. “Wherever I walk in New York I come to water. So many people and water on every side of them! How do they ever get out?” As soon as he thought of this, he began to look around. Across the East River he could see a giant bridge leaping from New York over to another city and on the bridge were trains and cars shooting back and forth and autos and horses and people. “So that is the way they get out!” he thought.

Then he looked to the west, to the Hudson River. “No bridges there!” he said. “It’s too wide.” Then he suddenly remembered the ferry boat that had brought him from Ellis Island. “Ferry boats, of course,” he thought. And sure enough there were ferry boats and ferry boats going back and forth from New York to the other side and to the little islands out in the harbor too!

Now Boris walked along thinking hard about all this water all around New York. Just then he noticed a lot of people coming up out of a hole in the sidewalk. “The Subway,” he thought, for you remember he had been on the subway. But the name over the steps didn’t spell “subway.” He looked at it for a long time. At last he could read it. “Hudson Tubes” it said. Hudson Tubes? What could that mean? Boris wanted to know. So he walked right up to a woman coming out of the hole.

“What are the Hudson Tubes and where do they take you?” he asked.

The woman laughed. “They take you to New Jersey, of course,” she said.

“Is that over there?” Boris asked, pointing across the Hudson. “And do they really go under the Hudson River?”

“Yes, to be sure they do. Where do you want to go?” she answered and then Boris remembered what he had been hunting for. “I want to go to a wide green country where there is grass everywhere. But every way I walk in New York I come to water. I know because I’ve walked east and I’ve walked west and I’ve walked north and I’ve walked south,” he said, feeling a little like crying for he was very tired and he was only a little boy too. The woman smiled and she looked nice when she smiled. “You see, boy,” she said, “New York is an island, so of course, you come to water every way you walk. And it’s so full of people that there isn’t any wide green country left,—except the Parks of course.”

“Yes, I know the Parks,” said Boris, “but that isn’t quite what I mean!”

The woman smiled again. “There is a wide green country when you get out of the island,” she said. “You’ll find it some day I’m sure,” and then the woman hurried away. Boris was very, very tired. So he took the subway home. When he came in his mother called out, “Did you find the wide green country, Boris?”

“No,” said Boris, “I couldn’t, you see. Because what do you think New York is?”

“What do I think New York is, Boris? Why, it’s the biggest city in the world!”

“That’s not what I mean. What do you think it is? What is it built on I mean?”

“What is it built on? On good sound rock I suppose!”

Boris laughed and laughed. “No, no,” he said. “I mean it’s an island. Every way you walk, if you walk long enough, you come to water. Now isn’t that the funniest thing?” And Boris’s mother thought it was funny too.

“So many people and all to live on an island!” she kept saying to herself. “I should think it would make them a lot of work!”

And Boris who remembered the bridges and the ferry boats and the “tubes” thought so too!

SPEED

This story is a definite attempt to make the child aware of a new relationship in his familiar environment.

The verse is for the older children. The story has lent itself well to dramatization.

SPEED

Once there was a big beautiful white ox. His back was broad, his horns were long and his eyes were large and gentle. He went slowly sauntering down the road one sunshiny summer day. As he walked along he swung from side to side carefully putting down his small feet. And this is what he thought:

“I am pleased with myself—so large, so broad, so strong am I. Is there anyone else who can pull so heavy a load? Is there anyone else who can plow so straight a furrow? What would the world do without me?”

Just then he heard something tearing along the road behind him. “Clopperty, clopperty, clopperty, clopperty.” In a moment up dashed a big, black horse.

“Greetings,” lowed the ox, slowly turning his large gentle eyes on the excited horse. “Why such haste, my brother?” The horse tossed his mane. “I’m in a hurry,” he snorted, “because I’m made to go fast. Why, I can go ten miles while you crawl one! The world has no more use for a great white snail like you. But if you want speed, I’m just what you need. Watch how fast I go!” and clopperty, clopperty he was off down the road. As the ox watched the horse disappear he thought of what he had heard.

“He called me a great white snail! He said he could go ten miles while I crawled one! Surely this swift horse is more wonderful than I!”

Now as the horse went frisking along this is what he thought. “I am pleased with myself. I am sleek, I am swift—swifter than the ox. What would the world do without me?”

Just then he heard a strange humming overhead. He glanced up. The sound came from a wire taut and vibrating. Then he heard fast turning wheels coming “Kathump, kathump.” And what do you think that poor frightened horse saw coming along the road? A self-moving car with a trolley overhead touching the singing wire! His eyes stuck out of his head and his mane stood on end he was so scared. What made it go, he wondered.

“Hello, clodhopper,” shrieked the electric car. “I didn’t know there were any of you four-footed curiosities left. Surely the world has no more use for you. Where you go in half a day, I go in an hour; where you carry one man, I carry ten. If you want speed I’m just what you need. Just watch me!” He was gone leaving only the humming wire overhead. The poor horse thought of what he had heard.

“He called me a clodhopper! He said he could go in an hour where I take half a day! Surely this swift car is more wonderful than I!”

Now the trolley went swinging on his way thinking, “I am pleased with myself. My power is the same as the lightning that rips the sky. I am swift,—swifter than the ox—swifter than the horse. What would the world do without me?”

Just then he heard a terrifying noise. It sounded like a mightly monster coughing his life away. “Chug, a chug a chug a chug, chug.” Then to his horror he saw coming across the green field a gigantic iron creature with black smoke and fiery sparks streaming from a nose on top of his head.

“Well, slowpoke,” screamed the engine as he came near the car. “Out o’ breath? No wonder. You’re not made to go fast like me, for I move by the great power of steam. Look at my monstrous boilers; see my hot fire. Where you go in half a day, I go in an hour; where you carry one man I carry twenty. If you want speed I’m just what you need! Goodbye. Take your time, slow coach.” And chug, chug, he was off leaving only a trail of dirty smoke behind him. The poor trolley car thought of what he had heard.

“He called me a slowpoke! He said he could go in an hour where I take a half day! Surely this ugly engine is greater than I!”

Now the engine raced down to the freight depot which was near the great shipping docks. As he waited to be loaded he thought:

“I am pleased with myself. I am swift—swifter than the ox, swifter than the horse, swifter than the electric car. What would the world do without me? I serve everyone, I go everywhere——”

Just here he was interrupted by the deep booming voice of a freight steamer lying alongside the wharf. “Tooooot” is what the voice said, “you ridiculous landlubber! You go everywhere? What about the water? Can you go to France and back again? It’s only I who can haul the world’s goods across the ocean! And even where you can go, you never get trusted if they can possibly trust me, now do you? Did you ever think why men use river steamers instead of you? Did you ever think why men cut the great Panama Canal so that sea could flow into sea? Well, it’s simply because they’re smart and prefer me to you when they can get me. You eat too much coal with your speed,—that’s what the trouble is with you—you ridiculous landlubber!”

This long speech made the old steamer quite hoarse so he cleared his throat with a long “Toooot” and sank into silence.

“Of course, what he says is true,” thought the engine. “At the same time it is equally true that on land I do serve everyone, I go everywhere——”

Just here he was interrupted again by a most unexpected noise. It sounded half like a steel giggle, half like a brass hiccough. It made the engine uneasy. He was sure someone was laughing at him. Majestically he turned his headlight till it lighted up a funny little automobile who was laughing and laughing and shaking frantically like this and going “zzzzz.”

“You silly little road beetle,” shouted the great engine, “what on earth’s the matter with you?”

The automobile gave one violent shake, turned off his spark and said in an orderly voice, “It struck my funny bone to hear you say you went everywhere on land, that’s all. Don’t you realize you’re an old fuss budget with your steam and your boiler and your fire and what not? You’re tied to your rails and if everything about your old tracks isn’t kept just so you tumble over into a ditch or do some fool thing. Now I’m the one that can endure real hardships. Sparks and gasoline! you just sit right there, you baby, you railclinger, and watch me take that hill! Honk, honk!” And he was off up the hill.

The engine slowly turned back his headlight till the light shone full on his shiny rails. He thought of what he had heard. “He called me a railclinger—yes, that I am. How can that preposterous little beetle run without tracks? I’m afraid he’s more wonderful than I.”

Now the automobile went jouncing and bouncing up the rough road puffing merrily and thinking, “I’m mightily pleased with myself. Look at the way I climb this hill. There’s nothing really so wonderful as I——”

Just then he heard a sound that made his engine boil with fright. Dzdzdzdzdzr—it seemed to come right out of the sky. He got all his courage together and turned his searchlights up. The sight instantly killed his engine. Above him soared a giant aeroplane. It floated, it wheeled, it rose, it dropped. It looked serene, strong and swift. Down, down came the great thing. Through the terrific droning the automobile could just make out these words:

“Dzdzdzdz. You think you’re wonderful, you poor little creeping worm tied to the earth! I pity all you slow, slow things that I look down on as I fly through the sky. Ox made way for horse, horse made way for engine, car and auto but all,—all make way for me. For if you want speed, I’m just what you need. Dzdzdzdzdz.”

And the great aeroplane wheeled and rose like a giant bird. The automobile watched him, too humbled to speak. Up, up, up, went the aeroplane—up, up, up ’til it was out of sight.

SPEED

FIVE LITTLE BABIES

This story was originally written because the children thought a negro was dirty. The songs are authentic. They have been enjoyed by children as young as four years old.

FIVE LITTLE BABIES

This is going to be a story about some little babies,—five different little babies who were born in five different parts of this big round world and didn’t look alike or think alike at all.

One little baby was all yellow. He just came that way. His eyes were black and slanted up in his little face. His hair was black and straight. He wore gay little silk coats and gay little silk trousers with flowers and figures sewed all over them. When he looked up he saw his father’s face was yellow and so was his mother’s. And his father’s hair was black and so was his mother’s. And when he was a little older he saw they both wore gay silk coats and gay silk trousers with flowers and figures sewed all over them. But the baby didn’t think any of this was queer,—not even when he grew up. For every one he knew had yellow skin and wore silk coats and trousers. So of course he thought all the world was that way.

But long before he was old enough to notice any of these things he knew his mother loved her little yellow baby with slanting black eyes. And he loved to have her take him in her arms and sing to him, saying:

For all this happened in China and he was a little Chinese Baby.

Another little baby was all brown. He just came that way. His eyes were black and his hair was black. He wore pretty colored silk shawls and little silk dresses. And when he looked up he saw his father’s face was brown and that he wore a big turban on his head. And he saw that around his mother’s brown face was long soft hair. He saw that she wore pretty colored silk shawls and long silk trousers and bare feet. But the baby didn’t think any of this was queer,—even when he grew up. He thought every one had brown skin and that everybody dressed like himself and his father and his mother.

But long before he was old enough to notice any of these things, he knew his mother loved her little brown baby with black eyes. And he loved to have her take him in her arms and sing to him, saying:

For all this happened in India and he was a little Indian baby.

Now another little baby was all black. He just came that way. His eyes were black and his hair was black and curled in tight kinky curls all over his little head. And this little baby didn’t wear anything at all except a loin cloth. When he looked up he saw the black faces and kinky black hair of his father and his mother. And when he was a little older he saw that they didn’t wear any clothes either except a loin cloth and a feather skirt and some shells. Neither did this baby think any of this was queer,—not even when he grew older. He thought all the world looked and dressed like that.

But long before he was old enough to notice any of these things, he knew his mother loved her little black baby with kinky black hair. And he loved to have her take him in her arms and sing to him, saying,

For all this happened in Africa and he was a little negro baby.

Still another little baby,—he was the fourth,—was all red. He just came that way. His eyes were black and his hair was straight and black. He was bound up tight and slipped into a basket and carried around on his mother’s back. He didn’t think this was queer, even when he grew up. He thought all little babies were carried that way. And he thought all fathers and mothers had red skin and black hair and wore leather coats and trousers trimmed with feathers. For his did.

But long before he was old enough to notice any of these things he knew his mother loved her little red baby that she carried on her back, and he loved to have her take him out of his basket bed and rock him in her arms and sing to him, saying:

For all this happened in America long, long ago, and he was a little Indian baby.

The last little baby, and he makes five, was all white. He just came so too. His eyes were blue and his hair was gold and he looked like a little baby you know. And he wore dear little white dresses and little knitted shoes. When he looked up he saw his father’s white skin and his mother’s blue eyes. When the baby was big enough he saw what kind of clothes his father and his mother wore,—but the story doesn’t tell what they were like. And when the baby was big enough he saw they all lived in a big dirty noisy city, but the story doesn’t tell what kind of a house they lived in. And the story doesn’t tell whether he thought any of these things queer when he was little or when he grew up; probably because you know all these things yourselves. But the story does tell that long before he was old enough to notice any of these things he knew his mother loved her little white baby with blue eyes and golden hair. And it tells that he loved to have her rock him in her arms and sing to him this song:

For all this is happening in your own country every day and he is a little American baby. Perhaps you know his father,—perhaps you know the baby,—perhaps, oh, perhaps, you have heard his mother sing!

ONCE THE BARN WAS FULL OF HAY

This story made a special appeal to the school children because the school building was originally a stable in MacDougal Alley. They had even witnessed this evolution from stable to garage. The children have seemed to enjoy the rhythmic language without any sense of strangeness.

ONCE THE BARN WAS FULL OF HAY

THE WIND

This story is composed entirely of observations on the wind dictated by a six-year-old and a seven-year-old class. Every phrase (except the one word “toss”) is theirs. The ordering only is mine.

THE WIND