“Little Boy Blue!” he cried; “ho! Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn!” But there was no reply. He rode on a way and now discovered that the sheep were deep within the meadows, and that made him more angry still.
“Here, Isaac,” he said to a farmer’s lad who chanced to pass by, “where is Little Boy Blue?”
“He ‘s under the haystack, your honor, fast asleep!” replied Isaac with a grin, for he had passed that way and seen that the boy was lying asleep.
“Will you go and wake him?” asked the Squire; “for he must drive out the sheep and the cows before they do more damage.”
“Not I,” replied Isaac, “if I wake him he ‘ll surely cry, for he is but a baby, and not fit to mind the sheep. But I myself will drive them out for your honor,” and away he ran to do so, thinking that now the Squire would give him Little Boy Blue’s place, and make him the shepherd boy, for Isaac had long coveted the position.
The Squire’s daughter, hearing the angry tones of her father’s voice, now came out to see what was amiss, and when she heard that Little Boy Blue had failed in his trust she was deeply grieved, for she had loved the child for his pretty ways.
The Squire dismounted from his horse and came to where the boy was lying.
“Awake!” said he, shaking him by the shoulder, “and depart from my lands, for you have betrayed my trust, and let the sheep and the cows stray into the fields and meadows!”
Little Boy Blue started up at once and rubbed his eyes; and then he did as Isaac prophesied, and began to weep bitterly, for his heart was sore that he had failed in his duty to the good Squire and so forfeited his confidence.
But the Squire’s daughter was moved by the child’s tears, so she took him upon her lap and comforted him, asking,
“Why did you sleep, Little Boy Blue, when you should have watched the cows and the sheep?”
“My mother has broken her leg,” answered the boy, between his sobs, “and I did not sleep all last night, but sat by her bedside nursing her. And I tried hard not to fall asleep, but could not help myself; and oh, Squire! I hope you will forgive me this once, for my poor mother’s sake!”
“Where does your mother live?” asked the Squire, in a kindly tone, for he had already forgiven Little Boy Blue.
“In the cottage down by the river,” answered the child; “and she is all alone, for there is no one near to help us in our trouble.”
“Come,” said Mistress Madge, rising to her feet and taking his hand; “lead us to your home, and we will see if we cannot assist your poor mother.”
So the Squire and his daughter and Little Boy Blue all walked down to the little cottage, and the Squire had a long talk with the poor widow. And that same day a big basket of dainties was sent to the cottage, and Mistress Madge bade her own maid go to the widow and nurse her carefully until she recovered.
So that after all Little Boy Blue did more for his dear mother by falling asleep than he could had he kept wide awake; for after his mother was well again the Squire gave them a pretty cottage to live in very near to the great house itself, and the Squire’s daughter was ever afterward their good friend, and saw that they wanted for no comforts of life.
And Little Boy Blue did not fall asleep again at his post, but watched the cows and the sheep faithfully for many years, until he grew up to manhood and had a farm of his own.
He always said his mother’s accident had brought him good luck, but I think it was rather his own loving heart and his devotion to his mother that made him friends. For no one is afraid to trust a boy who loves to serve and care for his mother.
The Cat and the Fiddle
Hey, diddle, diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon!
The little dog laughed
To see such sport,
And the dish ran off with the spoon!
Perhaps you think this verse is all nonsense, and that the things it mentions could never have happened; but they did happen, as you will understand when I have explained them all to you clearly.
Little Bobby was the only son of a small farmer who lived out of town upon a country road. Bobby’s mother looked after the house and Bobby’s father took care of the farm, and Bobby himself, who was not very big, helped them both as much as he was able.
It was lonely upon the farm, especially when his father and mother were both busy at work, but the boy had one way to amuse himself that served to pass many an hour when he would not otherwise have known what to do. He was very fond of music, and his father one day brought him from the town a small fiddle, or violin, which he soon learned to play upon. I don’t suppose he was a very fine musician, but the tunes he played pleased himself; as well as his father and mother, and Bobby’s fiddle soon became his constant companion.
One day in the warm summer the farmer and his wife determined to drive to the town to sell their butter and eggs and bring back some groceries in exchange for them, and while they were gone Bobby was to be left alone.
“We shall not be back till late in the evening,” said his mother, “for the weather is too warm to drive very fast. But I have left you a dish of bread and milk for your supper, and you must be a good boy and amuse yourself with your fiddle until we return.”
Bobby promised to be good and look after the house, and then his father and mother climbed into the wagon and drove away to the town.
The boy was not entirely alone, for there was the big black tabby-cat lying upon the floor in the kitchen, and the little yellow dog barking at the wagon as it drove away, and the big moolie-cow lowing in the pasture down by the brook. Animals are often very good company, and Bobby did not feel nearly as lonely as he would had there been no living thing about the house.
Besides he had some work to do in the garden, pulling up the weeds that grew thick in the carrot-bed, and when the last faint sounds of the wheels had died away he went into the garden and began his task.
The little dog went too, for dogs love to be with people and to watch what is going on; and he sat down near Bobby and cocked up his ears and wagged his tail and seemed to take a great interest in the weeding. Once in a while he would rush away to chase a butterfly or bark at a beetle that crawled through the garden, but he always came back to the boy and kept near his side.
By and by the cat, which found it lonely in the big, empty kitchen, now that Bobby’s mother was gone, came walking into the garden also, and lay down upon a path in the sunshine and lazily watched the boy at his work. The dog and the cat were good friends, having lived together so long that they did not care to fight each other. To be sure Towser, as the little dog was called, sometimes tried to tease pussy, being himself very mischievous; but when the cat put out her sharp claws and showed her teeth, Towser, like a wise little dog, quickly ran away, and so they managed to get along in a friendly manner.
By the time the carrot-bed was all weeded, the sun was sinking behind the edge of the forest and the new moon rising in the east, and now Bobby began to feel hungry and went into the house for his dish of bread and milk.
“I think I ‘ll take my supper down to the brook,” he said to himself, “and sit upon the grassy bank while I eat it. And I ‘ll take my fiddle, too, and play upon it to pass the time until father and mother come home.”
It was a good idea, for down by the brook it was cool and pleasant; so Bobby took his fiddle under his arm and carried his dish of bread and milk down to the bank that sloped to the edge of the brook. It was rather a steep bank, but Bobby sat upon the edge, and placing his fiddle beside him, leaned against a tree and began to eat his supper.
The little dog had followed at his heels, and the cat also came slowly walking after him, and as Bobby ate, they sat one on either side of him and looked earnestly into his face as if they too were hungry. So he threw some of the bread to Towser, who grabbed it eagerly and swallowed it in the twinkling of an eye. And Bobby left some of the milk in the dish for the cat, also, and she came lazily up and dra
nk it in a dainty, sober fashion, and licked both the dish and spoon until no drop of the milk was left.
Then Bobby picked up his fiddle and tuned it and began to play some of the pretty tunes he knew. And while he played he watched the moon rise higher and higher until it was reflected in the smooth, still water of the brook. Indeed, Bobby could not tell which was the plainest to see, the moon in the sky or the moon in the water. The little dog lay quietly on one side of him, and the cat softly purred upon the other, and even the moolie-cow was attracted by the music and wandered near until she was browsing the grass at the edge of the brook.
After a time, when Bobby had played all the tunes he knew, he laid the fiddle down beside him, near to where the cat slept, and then he lay down upon the bank and began to think.
It is very hard to think long upon a dreamy summer night without falling asleep, and very soon Bobby’s eyes closed and he forgot all about the dog and the cat and the cow and the fiddle, and dreamed he was Jack the Giant Killer and was just about to slay the biggest giant in the world.
And while he dreamed, the cat sat up and yawned and stretched herself; and then began wagging her long tail from side to side and watching the moon that was reflected in the water.
But the fiddle lay just behind her, and as she moved her tail, she drew it between the strings of the fiddle, where it caught fast. Then she gave her tail a jerk and pulled the fiddle against the tree, which made a loud noise. This frightened the cat greatly, and not knowing what was the matter with her tail, she started to run as fast as she could. But still the fiddle clung to her tail, and at every step it bounded along and made such a noise that she screamed with terror. And in her fright she ran straight towards the cow, which, seeing a black streak coming at her, and hearing the racket made by the fiddle, became also frightened and made such a jump to get out of the way that she jumped right across the brook, leaping over the very spot where the moon shone in the water!
Bobby had been awakened by the noise, and opened his eyes in time to see the cow jump; and at first it seemed to him that she had actually jumped over the moon in the sky, instead of the one in the brook.
The dog was delighted at the sudden excitement caused by the cat, and ran barking and dancing along the bank, so that he presently knocked against the dish, and behold! it slid down the bank, carrying the spoon with it, and fell with a splash into the water of the brook.
As soon as Bobby recovered from his surprise he ran after the cat, which had raced to the house, and soon came to where the fiddle lay upon the ground, it having at last dropped from the cat’s tail. He examined it carefully, and was glad to find it was not hurt, in spite of its rough usage. And then he had to go across the brook and drive the cow back over the little bridge, and also to roll up his sleeve and reach into the water to recover the dish and the spoon.
Then he went back to the house and lighted a lamp, and sat down to compose a new tune before his father and mother returned.
The cat had recovered from her fright and lay quietly under the stove, and Towser sat upon the floor panting, with his mouth wide open, and looking so comical that Bobby thought he was actually laughing at the whole occurrence.
And these were the words to the tune that Bobby composed that night:
Hey, diddle, diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon!
The little dog laughed
To see such sport,
And the dish ran off with the spoon!
The Black Sheep
Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes, my little master, three bags full;
One for my master and one for his dame,
And one for the little boy that lives in the lane.
It was a bright spring day, and the sun shone very warm and pleasant over the pastures, where the new grass was growing so juicy and tender that all the sheep thought they had never tasted anything so delicious.
The sheep had had a strange experience that morning, for the farmer had taken them down to the brook and washed them, and then he tied their legs together and laid them on the grass and clipped all the heavy, soft wool from their bodies with a great pair of shears.
The sheep did not like this very well, for every once in a while the shears would pull the wool and hurt them; and when they were sheared they felt very strange, for it was almost as if someone took off all your clothes and let you run around naked. None of them were in a very good temper this morning, although the sun shone so warmly and the grass was so sweet, and as they watched the farmer and his man carry their wool up to the house in great bags, the old ram said, crossly,
“I hope they are satisfied, now that they have stolen from us all our soft, warm fleece.”
“What are they going to do with it?” asked one of the sheep.
“Oh, they will spin it into threads and make coats for the men and dresses for the women. For men are such strange creatures that no wool grows on them at all, and that is why they selfishly rob us of our fleece that they may cover their own skinny bodies!”
“It must be horrid to be a man,” said the Black Sheep, “and not to have any wool grow on you at all. I ‘m sorry for that little boy that lives in the lane, for he will never be able to keep warm unless we give him some of our wool.”
“But what a shame it is,” continued the ram, “for the farmer to steal all the wool from us when we have taken all the trouble to grow it!”
“I do n’t mind,” bleated a young lamb named Frisky, as it kicked up its heels and gambolled about upon the grass; “it ‘s nice to have all that heavy wool cut off my back, for I sha’ n’t have to carry it around wherever I go.”
“Oh, indeed!” sneered the ram, “you like it, do you? Have you any idea what you look like, all sheared down to your skin? How would you like to have someone come along and see you, now that you are all head and legs?”
“Oh, I would n’t mind,” said the lamb again; “I shall grow more wool by wintertime, and I ‘m sure I do n’t look any worse than you do.”
Some of the sheep looked at the ram and began to titter, for he was old and thin, and looked very comical indeed without any wool. And this made him so angry that he went off by himself and began eating grass, and would not speak to the others at all.
“I do n’t know why sheep should feel badly about having their fleeces cut,” remarked the Black Sheep, thoughtfully, “for the farmer is very kind to us, and so is his dame, and I am glad my wool serves to keep them warm in the winter. For before the snow comes our wool will grow out again, and we shall not be any the worse for our loss.”
“What do those people who have n’t any sheep do for clothes?” asked the lamb.
“I ‘m sure I do n’t know. They must nearly freeze in the winter.
Perhaps the ram can tell us.”
But the ram was still angry, and refused to say anything, so the sheep stopped talking and began to scatter over the pasture and eat the tender, new grass.
By and by the Black Sheep wandered near the lane, and looking up, saw the little boy watching it through the bars.
“Good morning, Black Sheep,” said the boy; “why do you look so funny this morning?”
“They have cut off my wool,” answered the sheep.
“What will they do with it, Black Sheep?” enquired the little boy.
“They will make coats of it, to keep themselves warm.”
“I wish I had some wool,” said the boy,” for I need a new coat very badly, and mamma is so poor she cannot buy me one.”
“That is too bad,” replied the Black Sheep; “but I shall have more wool by and by, and then I will give you a bagful to make a new coat from.”
“Will you really?” asked the boy, looking very much pleased.
“Indeed I will,” answered the sheep, “for you are always kind and have a pleasant word for me. So you watch until my wool grows again, and then you shall have your share of it.”
“Oh, than
k you!” said the boy, and he ran away to tell his mother what the Black Sheep had said.
When the farmer came into the field again the Black Sheep said to him,
“Master, how many bags of wool did you cut from my back?”
“Two bags full,” replied the farmer; “and it was very nice wool indeed.”
“If I grow three bags full the next time, may I have one bag for myself?” asked the sheep.
“Why, what could you do with a bag of wool?” questioned the farmer.
“I want to give it to the little boy that lives in the lane. He is very poor and needs a new coat.”
“Very well,” answered the master; “if you can grow three bags full I will give one to the little boy.”
So the Black Sheep began to grow wool, and tried in every way to grow the finest and heaviest fleece in all the flock. She always lay in the sunniest part of the pastures, and drank from the clearest part of the brook, and ate only the young and juicy shoots of grass and the tenderest of the sheep-sorrel. And each day the little boy came to the bars and looked at the sheep and enquired how the wool was growing.
“I am getting along finely,” the Black Sheep would answer, “for not one sheep in the pasture has so much wool as I have grown already.”
“Can I do anything to help you?” asked the little boy.
“Not that I think of,” replied the sheep, “unless you could get me a little salt. I believe salt helps the wool to grow.”
So the boy ran to the house and begged his mother for a handful of salt, and then he came back to the bars, where the Black Sheep licked it out of his hand.
Day by day the wool on the sheep grew longer and longer, and even the old ram noticed it and said, “You are foolish to grow so much wool, for the farmer will cut it all off, and it will do you no good. Now I am growing just as little as possible, for since he steals what I have I am determined he shall get very little wool from my back.”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 813
