The Adventures of Reddy Fox  by Thornton Burgess

The Lost Chicken

W HEN old Granny Fox had laid down the chicken she was bringing home to Reddy Fox to try to catch Peter Rabbit, she had meant to go right back and get it as soon as she had caught Peter. Now she saw Peter going across the Green Meadows, lipperty-lipperty-lip, as fast as he could go. She was so angry that she hopped up and down. She tore up the grass and ground her long, white teeth. She glared up at Ol' Mistah Buzzard, who had warned Peter Rabbit, but all she could do was to scold, and that didn't do her much good, for in a few minutes Ol' Mistah Buzzard was so far up in the blue, blue sky that he couldn't hear a word she was saying. My, my, but old Granny Fox certainly was angry! If she hadn't been so angry she might have seen Johnny Chuck lying as flat as he could make himself behind a big clump of grass.

Johnny Chuck was scared. Yes, indeed, Johnny Chuck was dreadfully scared. He had fought Reddy Fox and whipped him, but he knew that old Granny Fox would be too much for him. So it was with great relief that Johnny Chuck saw her stop tearing up the grass and trot over to see how Reddy Fox was getting along. Then Johnny Chuck crept along until he was far enough away to run. How he did run! He was so fat and roly-poly that he was all out of breath when he reached home, and so tired that he just dropped down on his door-step and panted.

"Serves me right for having so much curiosity," said Johnny Chuck to himself.

Reddy Fox looked up as old Granny Fox came hurrying home. He was weak and very, very hungry. But he felt sure that old Granny Fox would bring him something nice for his breakfast, and as soon as he heard her footsteps his mouth began to water.

"Did you bring me something nice, Granny?" asked Reddy Fox.

Now old Granny Fox had been so put out by the scare she had had and by her failure to catch Peter Rabbit that she had forgotten all about the chicken she had left up on the hill. When Reddy spoke, she remembered it, and the thought of having to go way back after it didn't improve her temper a bit.

"No!" she snapped. "I haven't!—You don't deserve any breakfast anyway. If you had any gumption"—that's the word Granny Fox used, gumption—"if you had any gumption at all, you wouldn't have gotten in trouble, and could get your own breakfast."

Reddy Fox didn't know what gumption meant, but he did know that he was very, very hungry, and do what he would, he couldn't keep back a couple of big tears of disappointment. Granny Fox saw them.

"There, there, Reddy! Don't cry. I've got a fine fat chicken for you up on the hill, and I'll run back and get it," said Granny Fox.

So off she started up the hill to the place where she had left the chicken when she started to try to catch Peter Rabbit. When she got there, there wasn't any chicken. No, Sir, there was no chicken at all—just a few feathers. Granny Fox could hardly believe her own eyes. She looked this way and she looked that way, but there was no chicken, just a few feathers. Old Granny Fox flew into a greater rage than before.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Banbury Cross

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross, To see an old lady upon a white horse. Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes, She shall have music wherever she goes.

 

The Eskimo Twins  by Lucy Fitch Perkins

What Happened When Menie and Koko Went Hunting by Themselves

 

Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Pretty John Watts

 

Fairy Tales Too Good To Miss—In the Meadow  by Lisa M. Ripperton

The Story of the Kid Who Would Not Go

O NCE upon a time I was walking across London Bridge, and I found a penny. So I bought a little kid. But the kid would not go. And I saw by the moonlight it was long past midnight. It was time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.

Then I met a staff, and to the staff I said:—

"Staff, staff, drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago."

But the staff would not drive kid.

Then I met a hatchet, and to the hatchet I said:—

"Hatchet, chop staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago."

But the hatchet would not chop staff.

Then I met a torch, and to the torch I said:—

"Torch, burn hatchet, hatchet will not chop staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago."

But the torch would not burn the hatchet.

Then I met the wind, and to the wind I said:—

"Wind, put out torch, torch will not burn hatchet, hatchet will not chop staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago."

But the wind would not put out the fire.

Then I met a tree, and to the tree I said:—

"Tree, stop wind, wind will not put out torch, torch will not burn staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago."

But the tree would not.

Then I met a wee mouse, and to the mouse I said:—

"Mouse, gnaw tree, tree will not stop wind, wind will not put out torch, torch will not burn staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago."

Then the wee, wee mouse began to gnaw the tree, the tree began to stop the wind, the wind began to put out the torch, the torch began to burn the staff, the staff began to drive the kid, and the kid began to go.

See by the moonlight it is almost midnight. But kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

The Man in Our Town

There was a man in our town, And he was wondrous wise, He jumped into a bramble bush, And scratched out both his eyes; But when he saw his eyes were out, With all his might and main, He jumped into another bush, And scratched 'em in again.

 

Among the Forest People  by Clara Dillingham Pierson

The Red Squirrels Begin Housekeeping

T HE first thing that Mr. Red Squirrel did after coming to the forest and meeting the Gray Squirrel was to look for something to eat. It was not a good season for a stranger who had no hidden store of nuts and seeds to draw upon. The apples and corn were not ripe, and last year's seeds and acorns were nearly gone. What few remained here and there had lost their sweet and wholesome taste. Poor Mr. Red Squirrel began to wish that he had eaten breakfast before he ran away. He even went to the edge of the forest and looked over toward the farmhouse, where his open cage hung in the sunshine. He knew that there were nuts and a fresh bit of fruit inside of it, and his mouth watered at the thought of them, but he was a sensible young fellow, and he knew that if he went back to eat, the cage door would be snapped shut, and he would never again be free to scamper in the beautiful trees.

"I will starve first!" he said to himself, and he was so much in earnest that he spoke quite loudly.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when "Pft!" a fat acorn came down at his feet. He caught it up with his forepaws before looking around. It was smooth and glossy, not at all as though it had passed a long winter on an oak branch. He took a good nibble at it and then looked up to see if there were more on the tree above him. You can think how surprised he was to find himself sitting beneath a maple, for in all the years since the world began no maple has ever borne acorns.

"There are no more to come," he said. "I must take small bites and make it last as long as I can." And he turned it around and around, clutching it tightly with his long, crooked claws, so that not the tiniest bit could be lost. At last it was all eaten, not a crumb was left, and then "Pft!" down came a walnut. This hit him squarely on the back, but he was too hungry to mind, and he ate it all, just stopping long enough to say: "If this maple bears such fruit as acorns and walnuts, I should like to live in a maple grove."

Next came a hazelnut, then a butternut, and last of all a fat kernel of yellow corn. He knew now that some friend was hidden in the branches above, so he tucked the corn in one of his cheek-pockets, and scampered up the maple trunk to find out who it was. He saw a whisking reddish-brown tail, and knew that some other Red Squirrel was there. But whoever it was did not mean to be caught, and such a chase as he had! Just as he thought he had overtaken his unknown friend, he could see nothing more of her, and he was almost vexed to think how careless he must have been to miss her. He ran up and down the tree on which he last saw her, and found a little hollow in one of its large branches. He looked in, and there she was, the same dainty creature whom he had so often watched from his cage. He could see that she was breathless from running so fast, yet she pretended to be surprised at seeing him. Perhaps she now thought that she had been too bold in giving him food, and so wanted him to think that it had been somebody else.

"Good morning!" said he. "Thank you very much for your kindness."

"What do you mean?" said she.

"As though you didn't know!" he answered. "I never heard of a maple tree that bore acorns, nuts, and corn, and that in the springtime."

"Oh, well," said she, tossing her pretty head, "you have lived in a cage and may not know what our forest trees can do."

That was a rather saucy thing to say, but Mr. Red Squirrel knew her kind heart and that she said it only in mischief. "How do you know I have lived in a cage?" he asked.

"I—I thought you looked like the Squirrel at the farmhouse," she said; and then forgetting herself, she added, "You did look so surprised when that walnut hit you."

"Where were you then?" he asked quickly.

"Oh! I was on a branch above you," she answered, seeing that he now knew all about it. "You looked so hungry, and I had plenty of food stored away. You may have some whenever you wish. It must have been dreadful in that cage."

Now Mr. Red Squirrel had loved his little friend ever since the first time he saw her on the rail fence, but he had never thought she would care for him—a tired, discouraged fellow, who had passed such a sorrowful life in prison. Yet when he heard her pitying words, and saw the light in her tender eyes, he wondered if he could win her for his wife.

"I shall never be able to do anything for you," said he. "You are young and beautiful and know the forest ways. I am a stranger and saddened by my hard life. I wish I could help you."

"The Blue Jays! The Blue Jays!" she cried, starting up. "They have found my hidden acorns and are eating them."

And sure enough, a pair of those handsome robbers were pulling acorn after acorn out of a tree-hollow near by, and eating them as fast as they could. You should have seen Mr. Red Squirrel then! He leaped from branch to branch until he reached the Blue Jays; then he stood by the hole where the acorns were stored, and scolded them. "Chickaree-chickaree-quilch-quilch-chickaree-chickaree!" he said; and that in the Red Squirrel language is a very  severe scolding. He jumped about with his head down and his tail jerking, while his eyes gleamed like coals of fire. The Blue Jays made a great fuss and called "Jay! Jay!" at him, and made fun of him for being a stranger, but they left at last, and Mr. Red Squirrel turned to his friend.

"What would I have done without your help?" she said. "I was so dreadfully frightened. Don't you see how my paws are shaking still?" And she held out the prettiest little paws imaginable for him to see.

Then Mr. Red Squirrel's heart began to thump very fast and hard beneath the white fur of his chest, and he sighed softly. "I wish I might always help you and protect you," he said; "but I suppose there are better fellows than I who want to do that." And he sighed again.

"Yes, they might want to," she said, looking away from him and acting as though she saw another Blue Jay coming.

"You wouldn't be my little wife, would you?" he asked, coming nearer to her.

"Why—I—might!" she answered, with a saucy flirt of her tail, and she scampered away as fast as she could. Do you think Mr. Red Squirrel stopped then to eat his fat kernel of yellow corn? Or do you think he waited to see whether the Blue Jays were around? No, indeed! He followed as fast as his legs could carry him from tree to tree, from branch to branch, and it was not until he had reached the top of a tall beech that he overtook his little sweetheart. They were still there when the Gray Squirrel happened along in the afternoon.

"Ah!" said he, squinting at Mr. Red Squirrel, for his eyes were poor. "You are getting acquainted, are you? Pleasant society here. The Squirrel set is very select. You must meet some of our young people. Suppose you will begin housekeeping one of these days?"

"I have done so already, sir," answered Mr. Red Squirrel, although his wife was nudging him with one paw and motioning him to keep quiet. "Mrs. Red Squirrel and I will build our round home in the top fork of this tree. We shall be pleased to have you call when we are settled."

"Is that so?" exclaimed the Gray Squirrel. "I did not know that you were married. I thought you came alone to the forest."

"This is my wife, sir," said Mr. Red Squirrel, and the Gray Squirrel made his very best bow and looked at her as sharply as his poor eyes would let him.

"I think I must have seen you somewhere," he said; "your face is very familiar." And he scratched his poor old puzzled head with one claw.

"Why, Cousin Gray Squirrel, don't you know Bushy-tail?" she cried. "You lived the next tree to mine all winter."

"To be sure!" he exclaimed. "But isn't your marriage rather sudden?"

"No," she said, blushing under her fur. "We have always liked each other, although we never spoke until this morning. I used to scamper along the rail fence to see Mr. Red Squirrel in his cage."

"Did you truly come for that?" asked her husband, after their caller had gone.

"I truly did," she answered, "but I never expected anybody to know it. You poor fellow! I felt so sorry for you. I would have given every nut I had to set you free."

They were a very happy couple, and the next fall the Gray Squirrel watched them and their children gathering nuts for their winter stores. Mr. Red Squirrel, as the head of the family, planned the work, yet each did his share. The nuts were not yet ripe, and they gnawed off the stems, then came to the ground, filled their cheek-pockets with the fallen nuts, and scampered off to hide them in many places. They were stored in tree-hollows, under the rustling leaves which strewed the ground, in the cracks of old logs, beneath brush-heaps, and in holes in the ground.

"Don't stop to think how many you need," said the little mother to her children. "Get every nut you can. It may be a very long winter."

"And if you don't eat them all," said their hard-working father with a twinkle in his eyes, "you may want to drop a few down to some poor fellow who has none. That was your mother's way."

"When was it her way? What makes you smile when you say it? Mother, what does he mean?" cried the young Red Squirrels all in a breath.

"I gave some nuts to a hungry Squirrel once," she said, "and he was so grateful that he drove the Blue Jays away when they tried to rob me." But she looked so happy as she spoke that the children knew there was more to the story. They dared not tease her to tell, so they whispered among themselves and wondered what their father meant.

As they gathered nuts near the Gray Squirrel, he motioned them to come close. "S-sh!" said he. "Don't tell it from me, but I think the poor hungry fellow was your father, and it was a lucky thing for you that she had enough to give away."

"Do you suppose that was it?" the young Red Squirrels whispered to each other. "Do you really suppose so?"

 

A Book of Nursery Rhymes  by Francis D. Bedford

Georgie Porgie

 

Mother Stories  by Maud Lindsay

The Wind's Work

ONE morning Jan waked up very early, and the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was his great kite in the corner. His big brother had made it for him; and it had a smiling face, and a long tail that reached from the bed to the fireplace. It did not smile at Jan that morning though, but looked very sorrowful and seemed to say "Why was I made? Not to stand in a corner, I hope!" for it had been finished for two whole days and not a breeze had blown to carry it up like a bird in the air.

Jan jumped out of bed, dressed himself, and ran to the door to see if the windmill on the hill was at work; for he hoped that the wind had come in the night. But the mill was silent and its arms stood still. Not even a leaf turned over in the yard.

The windmill stood on a high hill where all the people could see it, and when its long arms went whirling around everyone knew that there was no danger of being hungry, for then the Miller was busy from morn to night grinding the grain that the farmers brought him.

When Jan looked out, however, the Miller had nothing to do, and was standing in his doorway, watching the clouds, and saying to himself (though Jan could not hear him):—

"Oh! how I wish the wind would blow So that my windmill's sails might go, To turn my heavy millstones round! For corn and wheat must both be ground, And how to grind I do not know Unless the merry wind will blow."

He sighed as he spoke, for he looked down in the village, and saw the Baker in neat cap and apron, standing idle too.

The Baker's ovens were cold, and his trays were clean, and he, too, was watching the sky and saying:—

"Oh! how I wish the wind would blow, So that the Miller's mill might go, And grind me flour so fine, to make My good light bread and good sweet cake! But how to bake I do not know Without the flour as white as snow."

Jan heard every word that the Baker said, for he lived next door to him; and he felt so sorry for his good neighbor that he wanted to tell him so. But before he had time to speak, somebody else called out from across the street:—

"Well! I'm sure I wish the wind would blow, For this is washing day, you know. I've scrubbed and rubbed with all my might, In tubs of foam from morning light, And now I want the wind to blow To dry my clothes as white as snow."

This was the Washerwoman who was hanging out her clothes. Jan could see his own Sunday shirt, with ruffles, hanging limp on her line, and it was as white as a snowflake, sure enough!

"Come over, little neighbor," cried the Washerwoman, when she saw Jan. "Come over, little neighbor, and help me work to-day!" So, as soon as Jan had eaten his breakfast, he ran over to carry her basket for her. The basket was heavy, but he did not care; and as he worked he heard some one singing a song, with a voice almost as loud and as strong as the wind.

"Oh! if the merry wind would blow, Yeo ho! lads, ho! yeo ho! yeo ho! My gallant ship would gaily go, Yeo ho! lads, ho! yeo ho! In fresh'ning gales we'd loose our sails, And o'er the sea, Where blue waves dance, and sunbeams glance, We'd sail in glee, But winds must blow, before we go, Across the sea, Yeo ho! my lads, yeo ho!" Air Nancy Lee

Jan and the Washerwoman and all the neighbors looked out to see who was singing so cheerily, and it was the Sea-captain whose white ship Jan had watched in the harbor. The ship was laden with linen and laces for fine ladies, but it could not go till the wind blew. The Captain was impatient to be off, and so he walked about town, singing his jolly song to keep himself happy.

Jan thought it was a beautiful song, and when he went home he tried to sing it himself. He did not know all the words, but he put his hands in his pockets and swelled out his little chest and sang in as big a voice as he could: "Yeo ho! my lads, yeo ho!"

While he sang, something kissed him on the cheek; and when he turned to see what it was his hat spun off into the yard as if it were enchanted; and when he ran to pick his hat up he heard a whispering all through the town. He looked up, and he looked down, and on every side, but saw nobody! At last the golden weather-vane on the church tower called down:—

"Foolish child, it is the wind from out of the east."

The trees had been the first to know of its coming, and they were bowing and bending to welcome it; while the leaves danced off the branches and down the hill, in a whirl of delight.

The windmill's arms whirled round, oh! so fast, and the wheat was ground into white flour for the Baker, who kindled his fires and beat his eggs in the twinkling of an eye; and he was not quicker than the Sea-captain, who loosed his sails in the fresh'ning gales, just as he had said he would, and sailed away to foreign lands.

Jan watched him go, and then ran in great haste to get his kite; for the petticoats on the Washerwoman's clothesline were puffed up like balloons, and all the world was astir.

"Now I'm in my proper place," said the kite as it sailed over the roofs of the houses, over the tree tops, over the golden weather vane, and even over the windmill itself. Higher, higher, higher it flew, as if it had wings; till it slipped away from the string, and Jan never saw it again, and only the wind knew where it landed at last.

"Now I'm in my proper place," said the kite.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Georgy Porgy

Georgy Porgy, pudding and pie, Kissed the girls and made them cry. When the boys came out to play, Georgy Porgy ran away.

 

The Sandman: His Farm Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The Baking Story

NCE upon a time there was a farm-house, and it was painted white and had green blinds; and it stood not far from the road. In the fence was a wide gate to let the wagons through to the barn. And the wagons, going through, had made a little track that led up past the kitchen door and past the shed and past the barn and past the orchard to the wheat-field.

One morning the old rooster had crowed very early, and Uncle Solomon and Uncle John and Aunt Phyllis and Aunt Deborah had come down-stairs and done their work. It was Saturday morning, and that was baking day; so, when they had all finished breakfast, and Aunt Deborah and Aunt Phyllis had cleared up the things and washed the dishes, they got ready for the baking.

The chimney was a great enormous chimney that went all across the end of the kitchen. And beside the big fireplace was an iron door that opened into the oven. For the oven was a big hole in the chimney, beside the fireplace; and right in the middle of the chimney, behind the fireplace, was a great big hole, as big as a closet, and at the back was a little door that was just big enough for people to go in. In this closet in the chimney they used to build a fire sometimes, and hang hams and fish over it in the smoke.

When they were ready to begin, Aunt Deborah opened the door to the oven, and she took some wood that Uncle John had brought in, and she built a fire right in the oven. Then she took up some coals from the fireplace and lighted the fire in the oven and shut the door. And the fire burned and the oven got hot. And once in awhile Aunt Deborah opened the door and put in some more wood.

Then, while the fire was burning in the oven and getting the oven hot, Aunt Deborah and Aunt Phyllis took flour and butter and lard and water, and they mixed them together just the right way, and made some dough. And they rolled the dough out thin, with a long wooden roller, and they folded it over and rolled it out again, and did that over and over until they thought it was right. Then they spread the thin dough out on the bottom of some plates that were middle-sized deep.

And Aunt Deborah had some apples all ready, with the skin cut off and the cores cut out, and the nice part of the apples cut up into slices. And some of the apples she had stewed in water until they were all soft, and some she hadn't.

First she put some of the stewed apples in the plates on top of the thin dough, and put in a little sugar and some cinnamon and some nutmeg on top of some; and on some she didn't put any cinnamon or any nutmeg. Then she laid another thin piece of dough over the top of the apples, and she made little marks with a fork all around the edge, and she cut holes in the top with a knife.

Then, in other plates she put the apples that were not stewed, and a lot of sugar, and thin dough on top, the same way. Those were apple pies, and they were three kinds.

Then Aunt Deborah made some squash pies, and put in on the dough that was on the bottom of the plates some of the inside of squashes that she had cooked over the fire. The very inside of squashes is soft and full of seeds, and that part isn't good to eat; but just next to the seeds is the part that is good. And spices and a lot of things were mixed with the squash to make it taste better. There wasn't any thin dough put over the top of the squash pies, but just a thin strip around the edge. And there were other kinds of pies besides the apple and the squash, and when they were made, there were so many that they covered the tops of both the tables, for Uncle Solomon and Uncle John liked pies.

Then Aunt Deborah thought the oven was hot enough, and she opened the door of the oven, and with a long rake she pulled the fire out into a big pan and put it into the fireplace. Then she put into the oven all the pies it would hold, and she shut the door; and the pies were baking in the oven, it was so hot, though there wasn't any fire in it. And when those pies had been in the oven for awhile, they were all done, and Aunt Deborah pulled them out with a kind of shovel and set them down in front of the fire, and she put other pies in; and so she did until all the pies were baked.

Then she put coals in the oven again, and a little wood, to get the oven hotter, for it had cooled, baking so many pies.

When she first came down that morning, Aunt Deborah had mixed some bread, and had set it in a big pan near the fire, to rise; and now it had risen enough, and she took it out of the big pan. And while the oven was getting hot again, she put the bread on a smooth board and rolled it around and pushed it with her hands. That is what they call kneading.

Then she took some square pans that were deep, and she put some of the bread in each pan and set them down by the fire again. And pretty soon the oven was hot enough, and the fire was raked out, and the bread was put in. By that time it was time to get dinner ready, and Aunt Deborah left the bread in the oven while she got dinner. For the oven was getting cooler all the time, and the bread would not get burned.

So, when the bread was done, Aunt Deborah took it out and wrapped it in a cloth until it was cool. And Aunt Phyllis put all the pies in the buttery. Then they had enough pies and enough bread to last them all a whole week, and they would not bake any more until the next Saturday.

And that's all.

 

Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Little King Boggen

 

The Nursery Book of Bible Stories  by Amy Steedman

The Story of the Spies

O N the banks of the river Jordan a great army was encamped; the fields were covered with tents, and there was the constant sound of the marching of feet and the clash of weapons. For this was the army of the children of Israel, led by their great general, Joshua. It was waiting there to cross the river and attack the city of Jericho, which could be seen across the plain, clear against the distant line of the horizon.

Moses was dead, but God had given His people a new leader, who was to carry on the great work of conquest and lead the people into the Promised Land. No one knew yet what sort of a leader Joshua would prove to be. The test would come in the battle which awaited them when they would march against the city across the river. They could not know how powerful and how splendidly brave he was; they had not heard the message of his commission from God: "Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest."

It is a great sight to see an army march out with banners flying and drums beating; but there is another part of war which always seems almost mean and contemptible, although it is most necessary. It is the part which is played by spies, men so cunning and quick and clever that they can steal the enemies' secrets, and find out many things that may save the lives of their own soldiers, and help to give them the victory.

Now Joshua knew just how useful a spy could be, and he wanted to know what was happening behind the high walls of Jericho, and what the people there were thinking about. So early one morning two figures went stealing across the plain, and crept nearer and nearer to the distant city until they came quite close to one of its gates.

It was a wonderful city, with high, thick walls and strong gates, fortified against every kind of enemy; and it was a beautiful city too, for palm trees grew all around it, and the sweet scent of spices came floating over its streets. So it was called Jericho, which means "fragrant," and some of the people called it "the city of palm trees."

As soon as the sun began to sink and the dusk crept on, the two spies slipped through the open gate, hoping that no one would notice them as they mixed with the crowd that always gathered there. They listened carefully to what the people were saying to each other, they noted everything with their quick eyes, and they soon learned all they wanted to know, and especially the fact that the people were desperately afraid of the army encamped on the river bank. It was not its strength and fighting power they feared—these men of Jericho were brave men and great fighters; but there was something strange and mysterious about that army, and they had heard wonderful tales of how that wandering people were guided and protected and helped by the unseen God whom they worshipped.

All this the spies discovered; and then, as daylight began to fade, they looked for a place where they could safely rest for the night. It was but a poor place they found, a little house built into the city wall, and the woman, Rahab, who lived there, was not at all what we would call a good woman. But, as it turned out, it was a place of real safety, and the woman proved a very good friend indeed to those two weary spies who had come to seek for a night's lodging in her house.

For so it was that scarcely had the men gone in and settled themselves to rest, than a loud knocking sounded on the door, and the voice of the king's messenger was heard ordering the woman Rahab to open and deliver up the two men who had come to spy out the city. There had been keen eyes on the look-out at the gate that evening. The men had been noticed and watched, and a message had been sent to tell the king that there were spies in the house of Rahab. "Bring forth the men which are entered into thy house," the messenger shouted.

But Rahab was quite sure that the mysterious army from the other side of the river would soon come marching on to take Jericho, as it had taken so many other cities; and so she made up her mind quickly to save the spies, and perhaps gain their friendship. Very hastily, then, she made up her plan, and taking the men on to the roof where her store of flax was laid out to dry, she told them to lie down flat, while she spread the flax over them, and hid them completely. After that she went down to open the door, and to answer the king's messenger.

"Spies!" she said; "how could I know that the two men who came here were spies? And besides, they left long ago before the city gates were shut. If you go quickly, you may overtake them."

Never doubting her word, the messenger hurried away; and in a short time a company of men rode out, the city gates clanging shut behind them, while they hurried on their way, hoping to overtake the spies before they should reach the river.

But as soon as the men were gone Rahab brought the spies down from the roof, and told them what she had done, and begged them in return to save her and all her relations when the great army should sweep on, and the city should be taken.

The two men promised at once that this should be done if she still kept their secret. "And it shall be," they said, "when the Lord hath given us the land that we will deal kindly and truly with thee."

Then she took a scarlet rope and lowered the men out of the window, which was built into the city wall, and told them to go up into the mountains and hide there for three days until the king's messengers should grow tired of looking for them.

There, in the dark shadow of the city wall, the men must have stood looking up at the face of the woman who leaned out of the window, above the scarlet thread that dangled down from her hand. And before they left they whispered up that they would surely remember their promise, but that she must bring all her kindred safely into those rooms and mark the house with the scarlet cord, and then, as a reward for her great kindness, not one of them should come to harm.

Three days later the spies managed to get back to the camp, and told the great leader what they had seen and learned, and of the promise they had made. It was exactly what Joshua had wanted to know, and so ere long the great army began its onward march.

Just as He had done at the Red Sea, so God again made a passage through the deep wide river for His army to pass through, and it soon reached the city and encamped before it. The soldiers did not begin to fight or try to climb the walls of the city, or to break down the gates. The people of Jericho would have understood that kind of warfare and would have been quite ready to defend themselves. No, the movements of the great army were very strange and difficult to understand. Very silently and in perfect order the men marched round the city in a circling ring, in front the soldiers, then the priests carrying the golden shrine of the Ark of God, then the people following. Not the whispering sound of one single voice came up from that great silent marching host, only the steady tramp of their feet, and the sound of the trumpet call which the priests blew from their horns as they carried the Ark of the Lord.

"Arise, go over this Jordan, thou, and all this people."

Day after day passed, and each day the same thing happened. The mighty army marched silently round the city in the same mysterious way. At last came the seventh day, and the uneasy people within the city saw that the enemy was very early astir and that they began their marching at dawn. And this day they did not stop their march. On and on they went until, when they had been round the city seven times, and the priests were blowing their trumpets, a word of command rang out from their general—

"Shout!"

At that word a mighty sound went up from the whole host, a shout that rose to heaven and seemed to shake the very earth. And behold! the walls of the city fell down flat and the gates were broken, and the children of Israel were able to go up and enter in and take the city in God's name. Joshua had done exactly as God directed, and had proved that he was a great leader.

The Taking of Jericho

And in the day of victory the promise made by the spies was not forgotten. The cord bound in the window of the little house was a flag of safety, and there Rahab and her kindred found shelter under its scarlet sign.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

For Every Evil

For every evil under the sun There is a remedy or there is none. If there be one, seek till you find it; If there be none, never mind it.