The Greatest Animal Tales for a Warm Fuzzy Christmas: 30 Stories & Picture Books in One Volume: The Tailor of Gloucester, Voyages of Doctor Dolittle, Story of a Stuffed Elephant, Peace on Earth Good-Will to Dogs, Miss Muffet's Christmas Party...
By L. Frank Baum, Beatrix Potter, Hugh Lofting and
()
About this ebook
The Tailor of Gloucester (Beatrix Potter)
The Tale of Peter Rabbit (Beatrix Potter)
Black Beauty (Anna Sewell)
The Wind in the Willows (Kenneth Grahame)
The Wonderful Wizard of OZ (L. Frank Baum)
The Adventures of Reddy Fox (Thornton Burgess)
The Adventures of Johnny Chuck (Thornton Burgess)
The Adventures of Peter Cottontail (Thornton Burgess)
The Old Mother West Wind (Thornton Burgess)
The Story of Doctor Dolittle (Hugh Lofting)
The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle (Hugh Lofting)
The Story of a Nodding Donkey (Laura Lee Hope)
Little Bun Rabbit (L. Frank Baum)
The Velveteen Rabbit (Margery Williams)
The Nutcracker and the Mouse King (E. T. A. Hoffmann)
The Story of a Stuffed Elephant (Laura Lee Hope)
Peace on Earth, Good-Will to Dogs (Eleanor Hallowell Abbott)
Kittyboy's Christmas (Amy Ella Blanchard)
The Naughty Reindeer (Amelia C. Houghton)
Miss Muffet's Christmas Party (Samuel McChord Crothers)
The Animals' Christmas Tree (John Punnett Peters)
The Mouse and the Moonbeam (Eugene Field)
The Cricket on the Hearth (Charles Dickens)
The Christmas Cuckoo (Frances Browne)
The Silver Hen (Mary E. Wilkins Freeman)
The Sparrow and the Fairy (Georgianna M. Bishop)
The Wonderful Bird (Georgianna M. Bishop)
The Little Mud-Sparrows (Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward)
The Little Gray Lamb (Archibald Beresford Sullivan)
How Freckle Frog Made Herself Pretty (Charlotte B. Herr)
Cat and Dog Stories (Walter Crane)
L. Frank Baum
L. Frank Baum (1856-1919) published The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in 1900 and received enormous, immediate success. Baum went on to write seventeen additional novels in the Oz series. Today, he is considered the father of the American fairy tale. His stories inspired the 1939 classic film The Wizard of Oz, one of the most widely viewed movies of all time. MinaLima is an award-winning graphic design studio founded by Miraphora Mina and Eduardo Lima, renowned for establishing the visual graphic style of the Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts film series. Specializing in graphic design and illustration, Miraphora and Eduardo have continued their involvement in the Harry Potter franchise through numerous design commissions, from creating all the graphic elements for The Wizarding World of Harry Potter Diagon Alley at Universal Orlando Resort, to designing award-winning publications for the brand. Their best-selling books include Harry Potter and the Philospher’s Stone, Harry Potter Film Wizardry, The Case of Beasts: Explore the Film Wizardry of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, The Archive of Magic: Explore the Film Wizardry of Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, and J.K. Rowling’s Fantastic Beasts screenplays. MinaLima studio is renowned internationally for telling stories through design and has created its own MinaLima Classics series, reimagining a growing collection of much-loved tales including Peter Pan, The Secret Garden, and Pinocchio.
Read more from L. Frank Baum
20 Classic Children Stories Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Illustrated Wizard of Oz Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Wizard of Oz Megapack: 17 Books by L. Frank Baum and Ruth Plumly Thompson Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Complete L. Frank Baum Collection Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Pretty Books - Painted Editions) Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAll-Action Classics: The Wizard of Oz Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
Related to The Greatest Animal Tales for a Warm Fuzzy Christmas
Related ebooks
Among the Meadow People Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsTanglewood Tales Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsJoan and Peter: The story of an education Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSeven Kisses in a Row Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Wild Animals I Have Known Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Greatest Short Stories of Leo Tolstoy Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Lilac Fairy Book Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Place for Elijah Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5On the Road Again: More Travels with My Family Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLord Tony's Wife Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Pearl Hunter Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5An Owl without a Name Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Essential Gene Stratton-Porter Collection Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Lavender Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Story of Treasure Seekers (Illustrated) Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsKnock Three Times! (Illustrated): Children's Fantasy Classic Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsNew Chronicles of Rebecca Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Warlock o' Glenwarlock: A Homely Romance Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Otto of the Silver Hand Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAnother Quest for Celeste: A Story About Abe Lincoln, Honesty, and the Power of Friendship Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Out on the Prairie Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Book of Golden Deeds Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Merry Adventures of Robin Hood Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsUndine Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Wonder Book and Tanglewood Tales For girls and boys Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Man Who Was Thursday Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsI Got It from My Mama! Gregor Mendel Explains Heredity - Science Book Age 9 | Children's Biology Books Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFabre's Book of Insects Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Children's Holidays & Celebrations For You
Sideways Stories from Wayside School Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5On the Banks of Plum Creek Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Scary Stories 3 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Good Egg Presents: The Great Eggscape!: An Easter And Springtime Book For Kids Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Night Before Christmas Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Witch of Blackbird Pond: A Newbery Award Winner Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Little House in the Big Woods Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Little House on the Prairie Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Christmas Carol (Unabridged and Fully Illustrated) Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5A Christmas Carol (Illustrated Edition): In Prose. Being a Ghost Story of Christmas. Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Amelia Bedelia Chapter Book #1: Amelia Bedelia Means Business Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The First Four Years Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Farmer Boy Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Long Winter Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Cool Bean Presents: As Cool as It Gets Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Halloween: Scary Short Stories for Kids Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Little Blue Truck's Valentine Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Pete the Cat Falling for Autumn Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Christmas Stories: Fun Christmas Stories for Kids Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5By the Shores of Silver Lake Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Little Town on the Prairie Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Curious George Christmas Countdown Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Curious George Makes a Valentine Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Berenstain Bears: God Loves You! Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Berenstain Bears and the Christmas Angel Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Vanderbeekers of 141st Street Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Wheel of the Year: An Illustrated Guide to Nature's Rhythms Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Berenstain Bears' Harvest Festival Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5These Happy Golden Years Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
Reviews for The Greatest Animal Tales for a Warm Fuzzy Christmas
0 ratings0 reviews
Book preview
The Greatest Animal Tales for a Warm Fuzzy Christmas - L. Frank Baum
Beatrix Potter, Margery Williams, Anna Sewell, Kenneth Grahame, L. Frank Baum, E. T. A. Hoffmann, Hugh Lofting, Laura Lee Hope, Eleanor Hallowell Abbott, Amy Ella Blanchard, Amelia C. Houghton, Samuel McChord Crothers, John Punnett Peters, Eugene Field, Charles Dickens, Frances Browne, Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, Georgianna M. Bishop, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward, Archibald Beresford Sullivan, Charlotte B. Herr, Walter Crane
The Greatest Animal Tales for a Warm Fuzzy Christmas
30 Stories & Picture Books in One Volume: The Tailor of Gloucester, Voyages of Doctor Dolittle, Story of a Stuffed Elephant, Peace on Earth Good-Will to Dogs, Miss Muffet's Christmas Party...
e-artnow, 2018
Contact: [email protected]
ISBN 978-80-268-9876-4
Table of Contents
The Tailor of Gloucester (Beatrix Potter)
The Tale of Peter Rabbit (Beatrix Potter)
Black Beauty (Anna Sewell)
The Wind in the Willows (Kenneth Grahame)
The Wonderful Wizard of OZ (L. Frank Baum)
Little Bun Rabbit (L. Frank Baum)
The Velveteen Rabbit (Margery Williams)
The Nutcracker and the Mouse King (E. T. A. Hoffmann)
The Adventures of Reddy Fox (Thornton Burgess)
The Adventures of Johnny Chuck (Thornton Burgess)
The Adventures of Peter Cottontail (Thornton Burgess)
The Old Mother West Wind (Thornton Burgess)
The Story of Doctor Dolittle (Hugh Lofting)
The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle (Hugh Lofting)
The Story of a Nodding Donkey (Laura Lee Hope)
The Story of a Stuffed Elephant (Laura Lee Hope)
Peace on Earth, Good-Will to Dogs (Eleanor Hallowell Abbott)
Kittyboy's Christmas (Amy Ella Blanchard)
The Naughty Reindeer (Amelia C. Houghton)
Miss Muffet's Christmas Party (Samuel McChord Crothers)
The Animals’ Christmas Tree (John Punnett Peters)
The Mouse and the Moonbeam (Eugene Field)
The Cricket on the Hearth (Charles Dickens)
The Christmas Cuckoo (Frances Browne)
The Silver Hen (Mary E. Wilkins Freeman)
The Sparrow and the Fairy (Georgianna M. Bishop)
The Wonderful Bird (Georgianna M. Bishop)
The Little Mud-Sparrows (Elizabeth Stuart Phelps)
The Little Gray Lamb (Archibald Beresford Sullivan)
How Freckle Frog Made Herself Pretty (Charlotte B. Herr)
Cat and Dog Stories (Walter Crane)
The Tailor of Gloucester
(Beatrix Potter)
Table of Contents
In the time of swords and periwigs and full-skirted coats with flowered lappets – when gentlemen wore ruffles, and goldlaced waistcoats of paduasoy and taffeta – there lived a tailor in Gloucester.
He sat in the window of a little shop in Westgate Street, cross-legged on a table, from morning till dark.
All day long while the light lasted he sewed and snippeted, piecing out his satin and pompadour, and lute-string; stuffs had strange names, and were very expensive in the days of the Tailor of Gloucester.
But although he sewed fine silk for his neighbours, he himself was very, very poor – a little old man in spectacles, with a pinched face, old crooked fingers, and a suit of threadbare clothes.
He cut his coats without waste, according to his embroidered cloth; they were very small ends and snippets that lay about upon the table – Too narrow breadths for nought – except waistcoats for mice,
said the tailor.
One bitter cold day near Christmas-time the tailor began to make a coat – a coat of cherry-coloured corded silk embroidered with pansies and roses, and a cream-coloured satin waistcoat – trimmed with gauze and green worsted chenille – for the Mayor of Gloucester.
The tailor worked and worked, and he talked to himself. He measured the silk, and turned it round and round, and trimmed it into shape with his shears; the table was all littered with cherry-coloured snippets.
No breadth at all, and cut on the cross; it is no breadth at all; tippets for mice and ribbons for mobs! for mice!
said the Tailor of Gloucester.
When the snow-flakes came down against the small leaded window-panes and shut out the light, the tailor had done his day’s work; all the silk and satin lay cut out upon the table.
There were twelve pieces for the coat and four pieces for the waistcoat; and there were pocket flaps and cuffs, and buttons all in order. For the lining of the coat there was fine yellow taffeta; and for the button-holes of the waistcoat, there was cherry-coloured twist. And everything was ready to sew together in the morning, all measured and sufficient – except that there was wanting just one single skein of cherry-coloured twisted silk.
The tailor came out of his shop at dark, for he did not sleep there at nights; he fastened the window and locked the door, and took away the key. No one lived there at night but little brown mice, and they run in and out without any keys!
For behind the wooden wainscots of all the old houses in Gloucester, there are little mouse staircases and secret trap-doors; and the mice run from house to house through those long narrow passages; they can run all over the town without going into the streets.
But the tailor came out of his shop, and shuffled home through the snow. He lived quite near by in College Court, next the doorway to College Green; and although it was not a big house, the tailor was so poor he only rented the kitchen.
He lived alone with his cat; it was called Simpkin.
Now all day long while the tailor was out at work, Simpkin kept house by himself; and he also was fond of the mice, though he gave them no satin for coats!
Miaw?
said the cat when the tailor opened the door, miaw?
The tailor replied – Simpkin, we shall make our fortune, but I am worn to a ravelling. Take this groat (which is our last fourpence) and Simpkin, take a china pipkin; buy a penn’orth of bread, a penn’orth of milk and a penn’orth of sausages. And oh, Simpkin, with the last penny of our fourpence buy me one penn’orth of cherry-coloured silk. But do not lose the last penny of the fourpence, Simpkin, or I am undone and worn to a thread-paper, for I have NO MORE TWIST.
Then Simpkin again said Miaw?
and took the groat and the pipkin, and went out into the dark.
The tailor was very tired and beginning to be ill. He sat down by the hearth and talked to himself about that wonderful coat.
I shall make my fortune – to be cut bias – the Mayor of Gloucester is to be married on Christmas Day in the morning, and he hath ordered a coat and an embroidered waistcoat – to be lined with yellow taffeta – and the taffeta sufficeth; there is no more left over in snippets than will serve to make tippets for mice —
Then the tailor started; for suddenly, interrupting him, from the dresser at the other side of the kitchen came a number of little noises —
Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!
Now what can that be?
said the Tailor of Gloucester, jumping up from his chair. The dresser was covered with crockery and pipkins, willow pattern plates, and tea-cups and mugs.
The tailor crossed the kitchen, and stood quite still beside the dresser, listening, and peering through his spectacles. Again from under a tea-cup, came those funny little noises —
Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!
This is very peculiar,
said the Tailor of Gloucester; and he lifted up the tea-cup which was upside down.
Out stepped a little live lady mouse, and made a curtsey to the tailor! Then she hopped away down off the dresser, and under the wainscot.
The tailor sat down again by the fire, warming his poor cold hands, and mumbling to himself —
The waistcoat is cut out from peach-coloured satin – tambour stitch and rose-buds in beautiful floss silk! Was I wise to entrust my last fourpence to Simpkin? One-and-twenty button-holes of cherry-coloured twist!
But all at once, from the dresser, there came other little noises —
Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!
This is passing extraordinary!
said the Tailor of Gloucester, and turned over another tea-cup, which was upside down.
Out stepped a little gentleman mouse, and made a bow to the tailor!
And then from all over the dresser came a chorus of little tappings, all sounding together, and answering one another, like watch-beetles in an old worm-eaten window-shutter —
Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!
And out from under tea-cups and from under bowls and basins, stepped other and more little mice, who hopped away down off the dresser and under the wainscot.
The tailor sat down, close over the fire, lamenting – One-and-twenty button-holes of cherry-coloured silk! To be finished by noon of Saturday; and this is Tuesday evening. Was it right to let loose those mice, undoubtedly the property of Simpkin? Alack, I am undone, for I have no more twist!
The little mice came out again, and listened to the tailor; they took notice of the pattern of that wonderful coat. They whispered to one another about the taffeta lining, and about little mouse tippets.
And then all at once they all ran away together down the passage behind the wainscot, squeaking and calling to one another, as they ran from house to house; and not one mouse was left in the tailor’s kitchen when Simpkin came back with the pipkin of milk!
Simpkin opened the door and bounced in, with an angry G-r-r-miaw!
like a cat that is vexed; for he hated the snow, and there was snow in his ears, and snow in his collar at the back of his neck. He put down the loaf and the sausages upon the dresser, and sniffed.
Simpkin,
said the tailor, where is my twist?
But Simpkin set down the pipkin of milk upon the dresser, and looked suspiciously at the tea-cups. He wanted his supper of little fat mouse!
Simpkin,
said the tailor, where is my TWIST?
But Simpkin hid a little parcel privately in the tea-pot, and spit and growled at the tailor; and if Simpkin had been able to talk, he would have asked – Where is my MOUSE?
Alack, I am undone!
said the Tailor of Gloucester, and went sadly to bed.
All that night long Simpkin hunted and searched through the kitchen, peeping into cupboards and under the wainscot, and into the tea-pot where he had hidden that twist; but still he found never a mouse!
Whenever the tailor muttered and talked in his sleep, Simpkin said Miaw-ger-r-w-s-s-ch!
and made strange horrid noises, as cats do at night.
For the poor old tailor was very ill with a fever, tossing and turning in his four-post bed; and still in his dreams he mumbled – No more twist! no more twist!
All that day he was ill, and the next day, and the next; and what should become of the cherry-coloured coat? In the tailor’s shop in Westgate Street the embroidered silk and satin lay cut out upon the table – one-and-twenty button-holes – and who should come to sew them, when the window was barred, and the door was fast locked?
But that does not hinder the little brown mice; they run in and out without any keys through all the old houses in Gloucester!
Out of doors the market folks went trudging through the snow to buy their geese and turkeys, and to bake their Christmas pies; but there would be no Christmas dinner for Simpkin and the poor old Tailor of Gloucester.
The tailor lay ill for three days and nights; and then it was Christmas Eve, and very late at night. The moon climbed up over the roofs and chimneys, and looked down over the gateway into College Court. There were no lights in the windows, nor any sound in the houses; all the city of Gloucester was fast asleep under the snow.
And still Simpkin wanted his mice, and he mewed as he stood beside the four-post bed.
But it is in the old story that all the beasts can talk, in the night between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in the morning (though there are very few folk that can hear them, or know what it is that they say).
When the Cathedral clock struck twelve there was an answer – like an echo of the chimes – and Simpkin heard it, and came out of the tailor’s door, and wandered about in the snow.
From all the roofs and gables and old wooden houses in Gloucester came a thousand merry voices singing the old Christmas rhymes – all the old songs that ever I heard of, and some that I don’t know, like Whittington’s bells.
First and loudest the cocks cried out — Dame, get up, and bake your pies!
Oh, dilly, dilly, dilly!
sighed Simpkin.
And now in a garret there were lights and sounds of dancing, and cats came from over the way.
Hey, diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle! All the cats in Gloucester – except me,
said Simpkin.
Under the wooden eaves the starlings and sparrows sang of Christmas pies; the jack-daws woke up in the Cathedral tower; and although it was the middle of the night the throstles and robins sang; the air was quite full of little twittering tunes.
But it was all rather provoking to poor hungry Simpkin!
Particularly he was vexed with some little shrill voices from behind a wooden lattice. I think that they were bats, because they always have very small voices – especially in a black frost, when they talk in their sleep, like the Tailor of Gloucester.
They said something mysterious that sounded like —
"Buz, quoth the blue fly; hum, quoth the bee;
Buz and hum they cry, and so do we!"
and Simpkin went away shaking his ears as if he had a bee in his bonnet.
From the tailor’s shop in Westgate came a glow of light; and when Simpkin crept up to peep in at the window it was full of candles.
There was a snippeting of scissors, and snappeting of thread; and little mouse voices sang loudly and gaily —
"Four-and-twenty tailors
Went to catch a snail,
The best man amongst them
Durst not touch her tail;
She put out her horns
Like a little kyloe cow,
Run, tailors, run! or she’ll
have you all e’en now!"
Then without a pause the little mouse voices went on again —
"Sieve my lady’s oatmeal,
Grind my lady’s flour,
Put it in a chestnut,
Let it stand an hour —"
Mew! Mew!
interrupted Simpkin, and he scratched at the door.
But the key was under the tailor’s pillow; he could not get in.
The little mice only laughed, and tried another tune —
"Three little mice sat down to spin,
Pussy passed by and she peeped in.
What are you at, my fine little men?
Making coats for gentlemen.
Shall I come in and cut off your threads?
Oh, no, Miss Pussy, you’d bite off our heads!"
Mew! Mew!
cried Simpkin. Hey diddle dinketty?
answered the little mice —
"Hey diddle dinketty, poppetty pet!
The merchants of London they wear scarlet;
Silk in the collar, and gold in the hem,
So merrily march the merchantmen!"
They clicked their thimbles to mark the time, but none of the songs pleased Simpkin; he sniffed and mewed at the door of the shop.
"And then I bought
A pipkin and a popkin,
A slipkin and a slopkin,
All for one farthing —
and upon the kitchen dresser!" added the rude little mice.
Mew! scratch! scratch!
scuffled Simpkin on the window-sill; while the little mice inside sprang to their feet, and all began to shout at once in little twittering voices – No more twist! No more twist!
And they barred up the window shutters and shut out Simpkin.
But still through the nicks in the shutters he could hear the click of thimbles, and little mouse voices singing —
No more twist! No more twist!
Simpkin came away from the shop and went home, considering in his mind. He found the poor old tailor without fever, sleeping peacefully.
Then Simpkin went on tip-toe and took a little parcel of silk out of the tea-pot, and looked at it in the moonlight; and he felt quite ashamed of his badness compared with those good little mice!
When the tailor awoke in the morning, the first thing which he saw, upon the patchwork quilt, was a skein of cherry-coloured twisted silk, and beside his bed stood the repentant Simpkin!
Alack, I am worn to a ravelling,
said the Tailor of Gloucester, but I have my twist!
The sun was shining on the snow when the tailor got up and dressed, and came out into the street with Simpkin running before him.
The starlings whistled on the chimney stacks, and the throstles and robins sang – but they sang their own little noises, not the words they had sung in the night.
Alack,
said the tailor, I have my twist; but no more strength – nor time – than will serve to make me one single button-hole; for this is Christmas Day in the Morning! The Mayor of Gloucester shall be married by noon – and where is his cherry-coloured coat?
He unlocked the door of the little shop in Westgate Street, and Simpkin ran in, like a cat that expects something.
But there was no one there! Not even one little brown mouse!
The boards were swept and clean; the little ends of thread and the little silk snippets were all tidied away, and gone from off the floor.
But upon the table – oh joy! the tailor gave a shout – there, where he had left plain cuttings of silk – there lay the most beautifullest coat and embroidered satin waistcoat that ever were worn by a Mayor of Gloucester!
There were roses and pansies upon the facings of the coat; and the waistcoat was worked with poppies and corn-flowers.
Everything was finished except just one single cherry-coloured button-hole, and where that button-hole was wanting there was pinned a scrap of paper with these words – in little teeny weeny writing —
NO MORE TWIST.
And from then began the luck of the Tailor of Gloucester; he grew quite stout, and he grew quite rich.
He made the most wonderful waistcoats for all the rich merchants of Gloucester, and for all the fine gentlemen of the country round.
Never were seen such ruffles, or such embroidered cuffs and lappets! But his button-holes were the greatest triumph of it all.
The stitches of those button-holes were so neat – so neat – I wonder how they could be stitched by an old man in spectacles, with crooked old fingers, and a tailor’s thimble.
The stitches of those button-holes were so small – so small – they looked as if they had been made by little mice!
The End
The Tale of Peter Rabbit
(Beatrix Potter)
Table of Contents
Once upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names were—
Flopsy,
Mopsy,
Cotton-tail,
and Peter.
They lived with their Mother in a sand-bank, underneath the root of a very big fir-tree.
Rabbit family home'Now my dears,' said old Mrs. Rabbit one morning, 'you may go into the fields or down the lane, but don't go into Mr. McGregor's garden: your Father had an accident there; he was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor.'
Mother gives a warning'Now run along, and don't get into mischief. I am going out.'
Be good little bunniesThen old Mrs. Rabbit took a basket and her umbrella, and went through the wood to the baker's. She bought a loaf of brown bread and five currant buns.
Mrs. Rabbit goes shoppingFlopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, who were good little bunnies, went down the lane to gather blackberries:
Bunnies picking berriesBut Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr. McGregor's garden, and squeezed under the gate!
Bad boy PeterFirst he ate some lettuces and some French beans; and then he ate some radishes;
Peter pigs outAnd then, feeling rather sick, he went to look for some parsley.
Peter ate too muchBut round the end of a cucumber frame, whom should he meet but Mr. McGregor!
Peter is discoveredMr. McGregor was on his hands and knees planting out young cabbages, but he jumped up and ran after Peter, waving a rake and calling out, 'Stop thief!'
McGregor chases PeterPeter was most dreadfully frightened; he rushed all over the garden, for he had forgotten the way back to the gate.
He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the other shoe amongst the potatoes.
Peter loses his shoesAfter losing them, he ran on four legs and went faster, so that I think he might have got away altogether if he had not unfortunately run into a gooseberry net, and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket. It was a blue jacket with brass buttons, quite new.
Peter is caught in a netPeter gave himself up for lost, and shed big tears; but his sobs were overheard by some friendly sparrows, who flew to him in great excitement, and implored him to exert himself.
Sparrows offer adviceMr. McGregor came up with a sieve, which he intended to pop upon the top of Peter; but Peter wriggled out just in time, leaving his jacket behind him.
Peter escapes McGregorAnd rushed into the tool-shed, and jumped into a can. It would have been a beautiful thing to hide in, if it had not had so much water in it.
Peter chooses a wet place to hideMr. McGregor was quite sure that Peter was somewhere in the tool-shed, perhaps hidden underneath a flower-pot. He began to turn them over carefully, looking under each.
Presently Peter sneezed—'Kertyschoo!' Mr. McGregor was after him in no time.
'Kertyschoo!'And tried to put his foot upon Peter, who jumped out of a window, upsetting three plants. The window was too small for Mr. McGregor, and he was tired of running after Peter. He went back to his work.
Peter tips over potsPeter sat down to rest; he was out of breath and trembling with fright, and he had not the least idea which way to go. Also he was very damp with sitting in that can.
After a time he began to wander about, going lippity—lippity—not very fast, and looking all round.
Peter looks around for the exitHe found a door in a wall; but it was locked, and there was no room for a fat little rabbit to squeeze underneath.
An old mouse was running in and out over the stone doorstep, carrying peas and beans to her family in the wood. Peter asked her the way to the gate, but she had such a large pea in her mouth that she could not answer. She only shook her head at him. Peter began to cry.
Peter asks the mouseThen he tried to find his way straight across the garden, but he became more and more puzzled. Presently, he came to a pond where Mr. McGregor filled his water-cans. A white cat was staring at some gold-fish, she sat very, very still, but now and then the tip of her tail twitched as if it were alive. Peter thought it best to go away without speaking to her; he had heard about cats from his cousin, little Benjamin Bunny.
Peter encounters a catHe went back towards the tool-shed, but suddenly, quite close to him, he heard the noise of a hoe—scr-r-ritch, scratch, scratch, scritch. Peter scuttered underneath the bushes. But presently, as nothing happened, he came out, and climbed upon a wheelbarrow and peeped over. The first thing he saw was Mr. McGregor hoeing onions. His back was turned towards Peter, and beyond him was the gate!
Peter finds a vantage pointPeter got down very quietly off the wheelbarrow; and started running as fast as he could go, along a straight walk behind some black-currant bushes.
Mr. McGregor caught sight of him at the corner, but Peter did not care. He slipped underneath the gate, and was safe at last in the wood outside the garden.
Peter dashes for the gateMr. McGregor hung up the little jacket and the shoes for a scare-crow to frighten the blackbirds.
Peter never stopped running or looked behind him till he got home to the big fir-tree.
Scare-crow of rabbit clothesHe was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on the floor of the rabbit-hole and shut his eyes. His mother was busy cooking; she wondered what he had done with his clothes. It was the second little jacket and pair of shoes that Peter had lost in a fortnight!
Peter is back homeI am sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening.
His mother put him to bed, and made some camomile tea; and she gave a dose of it to Peter!
'One table-spoonful to be taken at bed-time.'
Petered outBut Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail had bread and milk and blackberries for supper.
Eating the berries they pickedThe End
Black Beauty
(Anna Sewell)
Table of Contents
Part I
01 My Early Home
02 The Hunt
03 My Breaking In
04 Birtwick Park
05 A Fair Start
06 Liberty
07 Ginger
08 Ginger's Story Continued
09 Merrylegs
10 A Talk in the Orchard
11 Plain Speaking
12 A Stormy Day
13 The Devil's Trade Mark
14 James Howard
15 The Old Hostler
16 The Fire
17 John Manly's Talk
18 Going for the Doctor
19 Only Ignorance
20 Joe Green
21 The Parting
Part II
22 Earlshall
23 A Strike for Liberty
24 The Lady Anne, or a Runaway Horse
25 Reuben Smith
26 How it Ended
27 Ruined and Going Downhill
28 A Job Horse and His Drivers
29 Cockneys
30 A Thief
31 A Humbug
Part III
32 A Horse Fair
33 A London Cab Horse
34 An Old War Horse
35 Jerry Barker
36 The Sunday Cab
37 The Golden Rule
38 Dolly and a Real Gentleman
39 Seedy Sam
40 Poor Ginger
41 The Butcher
42 The Election
43 A Friend in Need
44 Old Captain and His Successor
45 Jerry's New Year
Part IV
46 Jakes and the Lady
47 Hard Times
48 Farmer Thoroughgood and His Grandson Willie
49 My Last Home
To my dear and honored Mother,
whose life, no less than her pen,
has been devoted to the welfare of others,
this little book is affectionately dedicated.
Part I
Table of Contents
01 My Early Home
Table of Contents
The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned over it, and rushes and water-lilies grew at the deep end. Over the hedge on one side we looked into a plowed field, and on the other we looked over a gate at our master's house, which stood by the roadside; at the top of the meadow was a grove of fir trees, and at the bottom a running brook overhung by a steep bank.
While I was young I lived upon my mother's milk, as I could not eat grass. In the daytime I ran by her side, and at night I lay down close by her. When it was hot we used to stand by the pond in the shade of the trees, and when it was cold we had a nice warm shed near the grove.
As soon as I was old enough to eat grass my mother used to go out to work in the daytime, and come back in the evening.
There were six young colts in the meadow besides me; they were older than I was; some were nearly as large as grown-up horses. I used to run with them, and had great fun; we used to gallop all together round and round the field as hard as we could go. Sometimes we had rather rough play, for they would frequently bite and kick as well as gallop.
One day, when there was a good deal of kicking, my mother whinnied to me to come to her, and then she said:
I wish you to pay attention to what I am going to say to you. The colts who live here are very good colts, but they are cart-horse colts, and of course they have not learned manners. You have been well-bred and well-born; your father has a great name in these parts, and your grandfather won the cup two years at the Newmarket races; your grandmother had the sweetest temper of any horse I ever knew, and I think you have never seen me kick or bite. I hope you will grow up gentle and good, and never learn bad ways; do your work with a good will, lift your feet up well when you trot, and never bite or kick even in play.
I have never forgotten my mother's advice; I knew she was a wise old horse, and our master thought a great deal of her. Her name was Duchess, but he often called her Pet.
Our master was a good, kind man. He gave us good food, good lodging, and kind words; he spoke as kindly to us as he did to his little children. We were all fond of him, and my mother loved him very much. When she saw him at the gate she would neigh with joy, and trot up to him. He would pat and stroke her and say, Well, old Pet, and how is your little Darkie?
I was a dull black, so he called me Darkie; then he would give me a piece of bread, which was very good, and sometimes he brought a carrot for my mother. All the horses would come to him, but I think we were his favorites. My mother always took him to the town on a market day in a light gig.
There was a plowboy, Dick, who sometimes came into our field to pluck blackberries from the hedge. When he had eaten all he wanted he would have what he called fun with the colts, throwing stones and sticks at them to make them gallop. We did not much mind him, for we could gallop off; but sometimes a stone would hit and hurt us.
One day he was at this game, and did not know that the master was in the next field; but he was there, watching what was going on; over the hedge he jumped in a snap, and catching Dick by the arm, he gave him such a box on the ear as made him roar with the pain and surprise. As soon as we saw the master we trotted up nearer to see what went on.
Bad boy!
he said, bad boy! to chase the colts. This is not the first time, nor the second, but it shall be the last. There—take your money and go home; I shall not want you on my farm again.
So we never saw Dick any more. Old Daniel, the man who looked after the horses, was just as gentle as our master, so we were well off.
02 The Hunt
Table of Contents
Before I was two years old a circumstance happened which I have never forgotten. It was early in the spring; there had been a little frost in the night, and a light mist still hung over the woods and meadows. I and the other colts were feeding at the lower part of the field when we heard, quite in the distance, what sounded like the cry of dogs. The oldest of the colts raised his head, pricked his ears, and said, There are the hounds!
and immediately cantered off, followed by the rest of us to the upper part of the field, where we could look over the hedge and see several fields beyond. My mother and an old riding horse of our master's were also standing near, and seemed to know all about it.
They have found a hare,
said my mother, and if they come this way we shall see the hunt.
And soon the dogs were all tearing down the field of young wheat next to ours. I never heard such a noise as they made. They did not bark, nor howl, nor whine, but kept on a yo! yo, o, o! yo! yo, o, o!
at the top of their voices. After them came a number of men on horseback, some of them in green coats, all galloping as fast as they could. The old horse snorted and looked eagerly after them, and we young colts wanted to be galloping with them, but they were soon away into the fields lower down; here it seemed as if they had come to a stand; the dogs left off barking, and ran about every way with their noses to the ground.
They have lost the scent,
said the old horse; perhaps the hare will get off.
What hare?
I said.
Oh! I don't know what hare; likely enough it may be one of our own hares out of the woods; any hare they can find will do for the dogs and men to run after;
and before long the dogs began their yo! yo, o, o!
again, and back they came altogether at full speed, making straight for our meadow at the part where the high bank and hedge overhang the brook.
Now we shall see the hare,
said my mother; and just then a hare wild with fright rushed by and made for the woods. On came the dogs; they burst over the bank, leaped the stream, and came dashing across the field followed by the huntsmen. Six or eight men leaped their horses clean over, close upon the dogs. The hare tried to get through the fence; it was too thick, and she turned sharp round to make for the road, but it was too late; the dogs were upon her with their wild cries; we heard one shriek, and that was the end of her. One of the huntsmen rode up and whipped off the dogs, who would soon have torn her to pieces. He held her up by the leg torn and bleeding, and all the gentlemen seemed well pleased.
As for me, I was so astonished that I did not at first see what was going on by the brook; but when I did look there was a sad sight; two fine horses were down, one was struggling in the stream, and the other was groaning on the grass. One of the riders was getting out of the water covered with mud, the other lay quite still.
His neck is broke,
said my mother.
And serve him right, too,
said one of the colts.
I thought the same, but my mother did not join with us.
Well, no,
she said, you must not say that; but though I am an old horse, and have seen and heard a great deal, I never yet could make out why men are so fond of this sport; they often hurt themselves, often spoil good horses, and tear up the fields, and all for a hare or a fox, or a stag, that they could get more easily some other way; but we are only horses, and don't know.
While my mother was saying this we stood and looked on. Many of the riders had gone to the young man; but my master, who had been watching what was going on, was the first to raise him. His head fell back and his arms hung down, and every one looked very serious. There was no noise now; even the dogs were quiet, and seemed to know that something was wrong. They carried him to our master's house. I heard afterward that it was young George Gordon, the squire's only son, a fine, tall young man, and the pride of his family.
There was now riding off in all directions to the doctor's, to the farrier's, and no doubt to Squire Gordon's, to let him know about his son. When Mr. Bond, the farrier, came to look at the black horse that lay groaning on the grass, he felt him all over, and shook his head; one of his legs was broken. Then some one ran to our master's house and came back with a gun; presently there was a loud bang and a dreadful shriek, and then all was still; the black horse moved no more.
My mother seemed much troubled; she said she had known that horse for years, and that his name was Rob Roy
; he was a good horse, and there was no vice in him. She never would go to that part of the field afterward.
Not many days after we heard the church-bell tolling for a long time, and looking over the gate we saw a long, strange black coach that was covered with black cloth and was drawn by black horses; after that came another and another and another, and all were black, while the bell kept tolling, tolling. They were carrying young Gordon to the churchyard to bury him. He would never ride again. What they did with Rob Roy I never knew; but 'twas all for one little hare.
03 My Breaking In
Table of Contents
I was now beginning to grow handsome; my coat had grown fine and soft, and was bright black. I had one white foot and a pretty white star on my forehead. I was thought very handsome; my master would not sell me till I was four years old; he said lads ought not to work like men, and colts ought not to work like horses till they were quite grown up.
When I was four years old Squire Gordon came to look at me. He examined my eyes, my mouth, and my legs; he felt them all down; and then I had to walk and trot and gallop before him. He seemed to like me, and said, When he has been well broken in he will do very well.
My master said he would break me in himself, as he should not like me to be frightened or hurt, and he lost no time about it, for the next day he began.
Every one may not know what breaking in is, therefore I will describe it. It means to teach a horse to wear a saddle and bridle, and to carry on his back a man, woman or child; to go just the way they wish, and to go quietly. Besides this he has to learn to wear a collar, a crupper, and a breeching, and to stand still while they are put on; then to have a cart or a chaise fixed behind, so that he cannot walk or trot without dragging it after him; and he must go fast or slow, just as his driver wishes. He must never start at what he sees, nor speak to other horses, nor bite, nor kick, nor have any will of his own; but always do his master's will, even though he may be very tired or hungry; but the worst of all is, when his harness is once on, he may neither jump for joy nor lie down for weariness. So you see this breaking in is a great thing.
I had of course long been used to a halter and a headstall, and to be led about in the fields and lanes quietly, but now I was to have a bit and bridle; my master gave me some oats as usual, and after a good deal of coaxing he got the bit into my mouth, and the bridle fixed, but it was a nasty thing! Those who have never had a bit in their mouths cannot think how bad it feels; a great piece of cold hard steel as thick as a man's finger to be pushed into one's mouth, between one's teeth, and over one's tongue, with the ends coming out at the corner of your mouth, and held fast there by straps over your head, under your throat, round your nose, and under your chin; so that no way in the world can you get rid of the nasty hard thing; it is very bad! yes, very bad! at least I thought so; but I knew my mother always wore one when she went out, and all horses did when they were grown up; and so, what with the nice oats, and what with my master's pats, kind words, and gentle ways, I got to wear my bit and bridle.
Next came the saddle, but that was not half so bad; my master put it on my back very gently, while old Daniel held my head; he then made the girths fast under my body, patting and talking to me all the time; then I had a few oats, then a little leading about; and this he did every day till I began to look for the oats and the saddle. At length, one morning, my master got on my back and rode me round the meadow on the soft grass. It certainly did feel queer; but I must say I felt rather proud to carry my master, and as he continued to ride me a little every day I soon became accustomed to it.
The next unpleasant business was putting on the iron shoes; that too was very hard at first. My master went with me to the smith's forge, to see that I was not hurt or got any fright. The blacksmith took my feet in his hand, one after the other, and cut away some of the hoof. It did not pain me, so I stood still on three legs till he had done them all. Then he took a piece of iron the shape of my foot, and clapped it on, and drove some nails through the shoe quite into my hoof, so that the shoe was firmly on. My feet felt very stiff and heavy, but in time I got used to it.
And now having got so far, my master went on to break me to harness; there were more new things to wear. First, a stiff heavy collar just on my neck, and a bridle with great side-pieces against my eyes called blinkers, and blinkers indeed they were, for I could not see on either side, but only straight in front of me; next, there was a small saddle with a nasty stiff strap that went right under my tail; that was the crupper. I hated the crupper; to have my long tail doubled up and poked through that strap was almost as bad as the bit. I never felt more like kicking, but of course I could not kick such a good master, and so in time I got used to everything, and could do my work as well as my mother.
I must not forget to mention one part of my training, which I have always considered a very great advantage. My master sent me for a fortnight to a neighboring farmer's, who had a meadow which was skirted on one side by the railway. Here were some sheep and cows, and I was turned in among them.
I shall never forget the first train that ran by. I was feeding quietly near the pales which separated the meadow from the railway, when I heard a strange sound at a distance, and before I knew whence it came—with a rush and a clatter, and a puffing out of smoke—a long black train of something flew by, and was gone almost before I could draw my breath. I turned and galloped to the further side of the meadow as fast as I could go, and there I stood snorting with astonishment and fear. In the course of the day many other trains went by, some more slowly; these drew up at the station close by, and sometimes made an awful shriek and groan before they stopped. I thought it very dreadful, but the cows went on eating very quietly, and hardly raised their heads as the black frightful thing came puffing and grinding past.
For the first few days I could not feed in peace; but as I found that this terrible creature never came into the field, or did me any harm, I began to disregard it, and very soon I cared as little about the passing of a train as the cows and sheep did.
Since then I have seen many horses much alarmed and restive at the sight or sound of a steam engine; but thanks to my good master's care, I am as fearless at railway stations as in my own stable.
Now if any one wants to break in a young horse well, that is the way.
My master often drove me in double harness with my mother, because she was steady and could teach me how to go better than a strange horse. She told me the better I behaved the better I should be treated, and that it was wisest always to do my best to please my master; but,
said she, there are a great many kinds of men; there are good thoughtful men like our master, that any horse may be proud to serve; and there are bad, cruel men, who never ought to have a horse or dog to call their own. Besides, there are a great many foolish men, vain, ignorant, and careless, who never trouble themselves to think; these spoil more horses than all, just for want of sense; they don't mean it, but they do it for all that. I hope you will fall into good hands; but a horse never knows who may buy him, or who may drive him; it is all a chance for us; but still I say, do your best wherever it is, and keep up your good name.
04 Birtwick Park
Table of Contents
At this time I used to stand in the stable and my coat was brushed every day till it shone like a rook's wing. It was early in May, when there came a man from Squire Gordon's, who took me away to the hall. My master said, Good-by, Darkie; be a good horse, and always do your best.
I could not say good-by
, so I put my nose into his hand; he patted me kindly, and I left my first home. As I lived some years with Squire Gordon, I may as well tell something about the place.
Squire Gordon's park skirted the village of Birtwick. It was entered by a large iron gate, at which stood the first lodge, and then you trotted along on a smooth road between clumps of large old trees; then another lodge and another gate, which brought you to the house and the gardens. Beyond this lay the home paddock, the old orchard, and the stables. There was accommodation for many horses and carriages; but I need only describe the stable into which I was taken; this was very roomy, with four good stalls; a large swinging window opened into the yard, which made it pleasant and airy.
The first stall was a large square one, shut in behind with a wooden gate; the others were common stalls, good stalls, but not nearly so large; it had a low rack for hay and a low manger for corn; it was called a loose box, because the horse that was put into it was not tied up, but left loose, to do as he liked. It is a great thing to have a loose box.
Into this fine box the groom put me; it was clean, sweet, and airy. I never was in a better box than that, and the sides were not so high but that I could see all that went on through the iron rails that were at the top.
He gave me some very nice oats, he patted me, spoke kindly, and then went away.
When I had eaten my corn I looked round. In the stall next to mine stood a little fat gray pony, with a thick mane and tail, a very pretty head, and a pert little nose.
I put my head up to the iron rails at the top of my box, and said, How do you do? What is your name?
He turned round as far as his halter would allow, held up his head, and said, My name is Merrylegs. I am very handsome; I carry the young ladies on my back, and sometimes I take our mistress out in the low chair. They think a great deal of me, and so does James. Are you going to live next door to me in the box?
I said, Yes.
Well, then,
he said, I hope you are good-tempered; I do not like any one next door who bites.
Just then a horse's head looked over from the stall beyond; the ears were laid back, and the eye looked rather ill-tempered. This was a tall chestnut mare, with a long handsome neck. She looked across to me and said:
So it is you who have turned me out of my box; it is a very strange thing for a colt like you to come and turn a lady out of her own home.
I beg your pardon,
I said, I have turned no one out; the man who brought me put me here, and I had nothing to do with it; and as to my being a colt, I am turned four years old and am a grown-up horse. I never had words yet with horse or mare, and it is my wish to live at peace.
Well,
she said, we shall see. Of course, I do not want to have words with a young thing like you.
I said no more.
In the afternoon, when she went out, Merrylegs told me all about it.
The thing is this,
said Merrylegs. Ginger has a bad habit of biting and snapping; that is why they call her Ginger, and when she was in the loose box she used to snap very much. One day she bit James in the arm and made it bleed, and so Miss Flora and Miss Jessie, who are very fond of me, were afraid to come into the stable. They used to bring me nice things to eat, an apple or a carrot, or a piece of bread, but after Ginger stood in that box they dared not come, and I missed them very much. I hope they will now come again, if you do not bite or snap.
I told him I never bit anything but grass, hay, and corn, and could not think what pleasure Ginger found it.
Well, I don't think she does find pleasure,
says Merrylegs; it is just a bad habit; she says no one was ever kind to her, and why should she not bite? Of course, it is a very bad habit; but I am sure, if all she says be true, she must have been very ill-used before she came here. John does all he can to please her, and James does all he can, and our master never uses a whip if a horse acts right; so I think she might be good-tempered here. You see,
he said, with a wise look, I am twelve years old; I know a great deal, and I can tell you there is not a better place for a horse all round the country than this. John is the best groom that ever was; he has been here fourteen years; and you never saw such a kind boy as James is; so that it is all Ginger's own fault that she did not stay in that box.
05 A Fair Start
Table of Contents
The name of the coachman was John Manly; he had a wife and one little child, and they lived in the coachman's cottage, very near the stables.
The next morning he took me into the yard and gave me a good grooming, and just as I was going into my box, with my coat soft and bright, the squire came in to look at me, and seemed pleased. John,
he said, I meant to have tried the new horse this morning, but I have other business. You may as well take him around after breakfast; go by the common and the Highwood, and back by the watermill and the river; that will show his paces.
I will, sir,
said John. After breakfast he came and fitted me with a bridle. He was very particular in letting out and taking in the straps, to fit my head comfortably; then he brought a saddle, but it was not broad enough for my back; he saw it in a minute and went for another, which fitted nicely. He rode me first slowly, then a trot, then a canter, and when we were on the common he gave me a light touch with his whip, and we had a splendid gallop.
Ho, ho! my boy,
he said, as he pulled me up, you would like to follow the hounds, I think.
As we came back through the park we met the Squire and Mrs. Gordon walking; they stopped, and John jumped off.
Well, John, how does he go?
First-rate, sir,
answered John; he is as fleet as a deer, and has a fine spirit too; but the lightest touch of the rein will guide him. Down at the end of the common we met one of those traveling carts hung all over with baskets, rugs, and such like; you know, sir, many horses will not pass those carts quietly; he just took a good look at it, and then went on as quiet and pleasant as could be. They were shooting rabbits near the Highwood, and a gun went off close by; he pulled up a little and looked, but did not stir a step to right or left. I just held the rein steady and did not hurry him, and it's my opinion he has not been frightened or ill-used while he was young.
That's well,
said the squire, I will try him myself to-morrow.
The next day I was brought up for my master. I remembered my mother's counsel and my good old master's, and I tried to do exactly what he wanted me to do. I found he was a very good rider, and thoughtful for his horse too. When he came home the lady was at the hall door as he rode up.
Well, my dear,
she said, how do you like him?
He is exactly what John said,