Short Stories for English Courses Part 5

Brother Rabbit, who was waiting in his house, believed that the time had come for him to get some water, so he took his bucket and went to Brother Goat's well. On the way he was very much afraid that something would catch him. He trembled when the wind shook the leaves of the trees. He would go a little distance and then stop and listen; he hid here behind a stone, and there behind a tuft of gra.s.s.

At last he arrived at the well, and there he saw the little negro.

He stopped and looked at it with astonishment. Then he drew back a little way, advanced again, drew back, advanced a little, and stopped once more.

"What can that be?" he said to himself. He listened, with his long ears pointed forward, but the trees could not talk, and the bushes were dumb. He winked his eyes and lowered his head:

"Hey, friend! Who are you?" he asked.

The tar-doll didn't move. Brother Rabbit went up a little closer, and asked again:

"Who are you?"

The tar-doll said nothing. Brother Rabbit breathed more at ease.

Then he went to the brink of the well, but when he looked in the water the tar-doll seemed to look in too. He could see her reflection in the water. This made Brother Rabbit so mad that he grew red in the face.

"See here!" he exclaimed, "If you look in this well I'll give you a rap on the nose!"

Brother Rabbit leaned over the brink of the well, and saw the tar- doll smiling at him in the water. He raised his right hand and hit her--bam! His hand stuck.

"What's this?" exclaimed Brother Rabbit. "Turn me loose, imp of Satan! If you do not, I will rap you on the eye with my other hand."

Then he hit her--bim! The left hand stuck also. Then Brother Rabbit raised his right foot, saying:

"Mark me well, little Congo! Do you see this foot? I will kick you in the stomach if you do not turn me loose this instant."

No sooner said than done. Brother Rabbit let fly his right foot-- vip! The foot stuck, and he raised the other.

"Do you see this foot?" he exclaimed. "If I hit you with it, you will think a thunderbolt has struck you."

Then he kicked her with the left foot, and it also stuck like the other, and Brother Rabbit held fast his Guinea negro.

"Watch out, now!" he cried. "I've already b.u.t.ted a great many people with my head. If I b.u.t.t you in your ugly face I'll knock it into a jelly. Turn me loose! Oho! You don't answer?" Bap!

"Guinea girl!" exclaimed Brother Rabbit, "Are you dead? Gracious goodness! How my head does stick!"

When the sun rose, Brother Goat went to his well to find out something about Brother Rabbit. The result was beyond his expectations.

"Hey, little rogue, big rogue!" exclaimed Brother Goat. "Hey, Brother Rabbit! What are you doing there? I thought you drank the dew from the cups of the flowers, or milk from the cows. Aha, Brother Rabbit! I will punish you for stealing my water."

"I am your friend," said Brother Rabbit; "don't kill me."

"Thief, thief!" cried Brother Goat, and then he ran quickly into the woods, gathered up a pile of dry limbs, and made a great fire.

He took Brother Rabbit from the tar-doll, and prepared to burn him alive. As he was pa.s.sing a thicket of brambles with Brother Rabbit on his shoulders, Brother Goat met his daughter Beledie, who was walking about in the fields.

"Where are you going, Papa, m.u.f.fled up with such a burden? Come and eat the fresh gra.s.s with me, and throw wicked Brother Rabbit in the brambles."

Cunning Brother Rabbit raised his long ears and pretended to be very much frightened.

"Oh, no, Brother Goat!" he cried. "Don't throw me in the brambles.

They will tear my flesh, put out my eyes, and pierce my heart. Oh, I pray you, rather throw me in the fire."

"Aha, little rogue, big rogue! Aha, Brother Rabbit!" exclaimed Brother Goat, exultingly, "You don't like the brambles? Well, then, go and laugh in them," and he threw Brother Rabbit in without a feeling of pity.

Brother Rabbit fell in the brambles, leaped to his feet, and began to laugh.

"Ha-ha-ha! Brother Goat, what a simpleton you are!--ha-ha-ha! A better bed I never had! In these brambles I was born!"

Brother Goat was in despair, but he could not help himself.

Brother Rabbit was safe.

A long beard is not always a sign of intelligence.

SONNY'S CHRISTENING

BY

RUTH McENERY STUART

This is the story of character, in the form of dramatic monologue.

There is only one speaker, but we know by his words that another is present and can infer his part in the conversation. This story has the additional values of humor and local color.

SONNY'S CHRISTENIN'

[Footnote: From "Sonny, a Christmas Guest," by Ruth McEnery Stuart. Copyright, 1896, by The Century Co. Reprinted by special permission.]

Yas, sir, wife an' me, we've turned 'Piscopals--all on account o'

Sonny. He seemed to prefer that religion, an' of co'se we wouldn't have the family divided, so we're a-goin' to be ez good 'Piscopals ez we can.

I reckon it'll come a little bit awkward at first. Seem like I never will git so thet I can sa.s.s back in church 'thout feelin'

sort o' impident--but I reckon I'll chirp up an' come to it, in time.

I never was much of a hand to sound the amens, even in our own Methodist meetin's.

Sir? How old is he? Oh, Sonny's purty nigh six--but he showed a pref'ence for the 'Piscopal Church long fo' he could talk.

When he wasn't no mo' 'n three year old we commenced a-takin him round to church wherever they held meetin's,--'Piscopals, Methodists or Presbyterians,--so's he could see an' hear for hisself. I ca'yed him to a baptizin' over to Chinquepin Crik, once-t, when he was three. I thought I'd let him see it done an'

maybe it might make a good impression; but no, sir! The Baptists didn't suit him! Cried ever' time one was douced, an' I had to fetch him away. In our Methodist meetin's he seemed to git worked up an' pervoked, some way. An' the Presbyterians, he didn't take no stock in them at all. Ricollect, one Sunday the preacher, he preached a mighty powerful disco'se on the doctrine o' lost infants not 'lected to salvation--an' Sonny? Why, he slep' right thoo it.

The first any way lively interest he ever seemed to take in religious services was at the 'Piscopals, Easter Sunday. When he seen the lilies an' the candles he thess clapped his little hands, an' time the folks commenced answerin' back he was tickled all but to death, an' started answerin' hisself--on'y, of co'se he'd answer sort o' hit an' miss.