Nature Myths and Stories for Little Children Part 4

"Mourn me not, great chief," it sang. "I was once your son.

"I am happy now and free.

"I am the friend of man and shall always live near him and be his companion.

"I shall bring the tidings of spring.

"When the maple buds shoot and the wild flowers come, every child in the land shall know my voice.

"I shall teach how much better it is to sing than to slay.

"Chief, listen, chief, Be more gentle; be more loving.

Chief, teach it, chief, Be not fierce, oh, be not cruel; Love each other!

Love each other!"

THE RED-HEADED WOODp.e.c.k.e.r.

There was an old woman who lived on a hill. You never heard of any one smaller or neater than she was. She always wore a black dress and a large white ap.r.o.n with big bows behind.

On her head was the queerest little red bonnet that you ever saw.

It is a sad thing to tell, but this woman had grown very selfish as the years went by.

People said this was because she lived alone and thought of n.o.body but herself.

One morning as she was baking cakes, a tired, hungry man came to her door.

"My good woman," said he, "will you give me one of your cakes? I am very hungry. I have no money to pay for it, but whatever you first wish for you shall have."

The old woman looked at her cakes and thought that they were too large to give away. She broke off a small bit of dough and put it into the oven to bake.

When it was done she thought this one was too nice and brown for a beggar.

She baked a smaller one and then a smaller one, but each one was as nice and brown as the first.

At last she took a piece of dough only as big as the head of a pin; yet even this, when it was baked, looked as fine and large as the others.

So the old woman put all the cakes on the shelf and offered the stranger a dry crust of bread.

The poor man only looked at her and before she could wink her eye he was gone.

She had done wrong and of course she was unhappy.

"Oh, I wish I were a bird!" said she, "I would fly to him with the largest cake on the shelf."

As she spoke she felt herself growing smaller and smaller until the wind whisked her up the chimney.

She was no longer an old woman but a bird as she had wished to be. She still wore her black dress and red bonnet. She still seemed to have the large white ap.r.o.n with the big bows behind.

Because from that day she pecked her food from the hard wood of a tree, people named this bird the red-headed wood-p.e.c.k.e.r.

THE STORY OF THE PUDDING STONE.

Once upon a time a family of giants lived upon the high mountains in the West.

One day the mother giant was called away from home.

She arose early in the morning and made ready the bread and b.u.t.ter for the little giants to eat while she was gone.

When she had finished her work it was not yet time to start upon her journey.

She said to herself, "My children are the best children in the world and they shall have a treat. I have many plums left from the Christmas feast. I will make them a plum pudding for a surprise.

The good woman brought together the plums which it had taken her many days to prepare with the help of all her children. Indeed she had emptied several mountain lakes to get water enough to wash them all.

She now mixed these wonderful plums into a pudding and put it into an oven to bake.

The mixing took so long that she had to hurry, and she quite forgot to say anything about the pudding to the little giants.

She had intended to tell them about it just before she left them.

It was afternoon when the giant children found the pudding.

It was badly burned upon the top by that time.

They had already eaten the bread and b.u.t.ter and were not hungry.

One little giant said to the others, "Let us make b.a.l.l.s of the pudding and see who can throw the farthest."

You know that giants are very strong, and away went the pudding up into the air.

The little giants made little b.a.l.l.s and the older giants threw pieces as big as a house.

Many pieces went over the mountains and fell down into the valley beyond.

Indeed this wonderful pudding was scattered for miles over the whole land, for the giants did not stop throwing as long as there was any pudding left in the pan.

When the sun had shone upon it many days and dried and hardened it, people called it pudding stone.

You may find it to-day thrown all over the land, full of the plums which the good woman washed with the waters of many lakes.