".How well I remember my early days, almost to babyhood when it was always the care of my beautiful mother to bath me herself every day; there was also Mary my nursemaid, but when Mamma had to be away at any time the supervision of my bath was delegated to her sister. Auntie Gertie, a pretty girl of sixteen or seventeen.
Till six or seven years of age I slept in a cot in my parents' own bed-room. Papa was a very dark fine handsome man, Mamma equally so, or much more beautiful to me, had lovely golden hair and deep blue eyes full of love for me in every glance.
These tales are translated from a variety of authors. The translator has been chiefly led to the task by the hope of composing an entertaining volume out of materials not generally accessible. The works in which many of them are found, are by no means common, and the indelicacy with which almost all collections of Italian tales are polluted, deservedly excludes them from general perusal. Such care has, however, been employed in the following selection, and such liberties taken with the originalsMore info →
The Arabian Nights:
The Talking Bird, The Singing Tree, and the Golden Water
The Story of the Fisherman and the Genie
The History of the Young King of the Black Isles
The Story of Gulnare of the Sea
The Story of Aladdin; Or, the Wonderful Lamp
The Story of Prince Agib
The Story of the City of Brass
The Story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves
The History of Codadad and His Brothers
The Story of Sinbad the Voyager
THE FIRST VOYAGE
THE SECOND VOYAGE
THE THIRD VOYAGE
THE FOURTH VOYAGE
THE FIFTH VOYAGE
THE SIXTH VOYAGE
THE SEVENTH AND LAST VOYAGE
While I was amusing myself by watching the titmice, Harry, who had rambled on a little way, came running back to ask me what the funny thing could be that he had found. It was a mole that had been caught in a trap, and was dangling in the air with a swarm of bees around. I told Harry that the moles are blind, or nearly so, and that they live under the ground, and do great good to the farmers by eating the slugs and other things that destroy the corn; but that they turn up such great mounds of earth when making their tunnels, that the farmers are often glad to get rid of them, and therefore set traps to kill them.More info →
LONG, LONG AGO, in ancient times, there lived a King and Queen, And for the blessing of a child their longing sore had been:
At last, a little daughter fair, to their great joy, was given,
And to the christening feast they made, they bade the Fairies seven—
ONCE upon a time there was a poor peasant who had one son. And it came to pass that his wife said to him: ‘He should learn some trade, for when he is separated from thee, what will he do if he is left ignorant like thee?’ The wife importuned him; she gave him no rest. So the peasant took his child, and went to seek a master for him. On the way they were thirsty. He saw a rivulet, drank eagerly till his thirst was quenched, and when he lifted up his head he cried out: ‘Ah! how good thou art!’1 On saying this, there came forth from the water a devil in the form of a man, and said to the peasant: ‘What dost thou want, O man! I am Vakhraca; what troubles thee?’ The peasant told him all his story. The devil, when he learnt this, said: ‘Give me this son of thine: I will teach him for one year, then come hither; if thou knowest him, it is well, he will go with thee; if not, he is mine and mine alone, he shall be lost to thee.’More info →
The success of "The Children's Book of Christmas Stories" has encouraged the Editor to hope that a similar collection of stories about Thanksgiving would prove useful to parents, librarians, and teachers, and enjoyable to children.More info →
WHILE I was engaged in writing the following brief work, again and again the question arose in my mind, “Can I make subjects so deep and difficult really interesting and intelligible to the young? The importance of reading Old Testament types in the light thrown on them by the Gospel cannot, indeed, be overrated, especially in these perilous times; but can a child be taught thus to read them?”More info →
MORE than a thousand years have rolled away since a castle looked down cheerfully from a height amid the Franconian plains into the well-watered Kinzig Valley, with its pleasant villages and towns.
It belonged to the powerful Swabian duke Frederick of Hohenstaufen, whose young and valiant son loved this the best of all his father's proud castles, and often left his uncle's splendid palace to hunt in its forests, or to look down from its lofty oriel window on the blooming plain below.