Henry had a young Indian friend whose name was Keketaw. One day Keketaw said to him, “Let us go into the woods and make a canoe.” “If we had an ax to cut down the trees,” said the white boy, “or an adz, such as they have at Jamestown, or if we could get a […]

A colony of beavers selected a beautiful spot on a clear stream, called Silver Creek, to build themselves a habitation. Without waiting for any orders, and without any wrangling about whose place was the best, they gnawed down some young trees and laid the foundation for a dam. With that skill for which they are […]

A lady brought a mocking-bird from New Orleans to her home in the North. At first all the birds in the neighborhood looked upon it with contempt. The chill northern air made the poor bird homesick, and for a few days he declined to sing for anybody. “Well, I do declare,” screamed out Miss Guinea-fowl, […]

Friday evening next after the one on which John Harlan told his story, it rained; so the club did not meet. But they came together on the following Friday evening, and it was decided that Hans Schlegel should tell the story. “Come, Schlegel,” said Harlan, “you must know a good many, for you are always […]

It was a mild evening in the early fall, when the boys got together for the next story, which of course fell to the lot of Tom Miller, the minister’s son, whom the boys familiarly called “The Dominie.” No boy in the cellar-door club was more obliging to his friends, more forgiving to those who […]

All things have an end. Among other things that had an end was the fine summer weather. Many other things came to an end with it. Grass, flowers, and leaves came to an end. Chirping of katydids came to an end, and chattering of swallows and songs of robins. And with the summer ended the […]

What queer places boys have of assembling. Sometimes in one place, sometimes in another. Hay-mows, river-banks, threshing-floors, these were the old places of resort for country boys. And nothing was so sweet to me, when I was a boy, as the newly cut clover-hay where I sat with two or three companions, watching the barn […]

The next Friday evening found all the members of the Cellar-door Club in their places. Will Sampson, the stammering “chairman,” was at the top, full of life and fun as ever. Jimmie Jackson, running over with mischief, was by him, then came Tom Miller and John Harlan, while Hans Schlegel and Harry Wilson sat at […]

On the third Friday evening the boys came together in some uncertainty in regard to who was to be the story-teller. But Will Sampson, the stammering president of the club, had taken care to notify John Harlan, the widow’s son, that he was to tell the story. If there was any general favorite it was […]

It was rather a warm day in autumn. Aunt Cheerie had given the sewing-machine and the piano a holiday, and was sitting in the woodshed, paring apples for preserves. Wherever Aunt Cheerie was, the children were sure to be; and so there was Sunbeam, knife in hand, and Fairy, cutting a paring something less than […]

Chicken Little was a picture, sitting on the floor by the window, with a stereoscope–“the thing ‘at you look fru,” she calls it–in her hand, and the pictures scattered about her. Now some of the children think that I have been “making up” Chicken Little, and that there is no such a being. A few […]

Chicken Little fixed herself up in her new rocking-chair, set her mouth in a very prim fashion, leaned her head on one side, and began to rock with all her might, jerking her feet from the floor every time. “I yish,” she began, “I yish somebody yould tell some stories yat yould be little for […]

We have oak trees and green grass at our house, what many children in crowded cities do not get. Three little girls love to play in the green grass, with some pet chickens, and a white, pink-eyed rabbit for companions. Now, you must know that I am quite as fond of the oaks and the […]

Little Tilda Tulip had two lips as pretty as any little girl might want. But Tilda Tulip tilted her two lips into a pout, on a moment’s notice. If any thing went wrong–and things had a way of going wrong with her–if any thing went at all wrong, she would go wrong, too, as if […]

Widow Wiggins was a wee, wiry, weird woman, with a wonderful cat–a very wonderful cat, indeed! The neighbors all said it was bewitched. Perhaps it was; I don’t know; but a very wonderful cat it was. It had a strange way of knowing, when people were talking, whether what they said was right or wrong. […]

About the time the chairs had a talk together, I believe I told you. Well, ever since that time I have been afflicted, now and then, with that same disease of the eyes, inclining them to close. In fact, I am rather of the opinion that the affliction must be one of the ear, too, […]

Jack Grip was a queer fellow. Queer because he never got enough money, and yet never seemed to know the right use of money. His family had the bare comforts of life, but his wife was a drudge, and his children had neither books nor pictures, nor any of those other things so necessary to […]

I. THE WALKING-STICK WALKS. Some men carry canes. Some men make the canes carry them. I never could tell just what Mr. Blake carried his cane for. I am sure it did not often feel his weight. For he was neither old, nor rich, nor lazy. He was a tall, straight man, who walked as […]

It was a quiet autumn afternoon. I was stretched on a lounge, with a pile of newspapers for a pillow. I do not know that I succeeded in getting any information into my head by putting newspapers under it. But on this particular afternoon I was attacked by a disease of the eyes, or rather […]

You think that folks in fine clothes are the only folks that ever see fairies, and that poor folks can’t afford them. But in the days of the real old-fashioned “Green Jacket and White Owl’s Feather” fairies, it was the poor boy carrying fagots to the cabin of his widowed mother who saw wonders of […]