When the Children Came

       Οne day the mice came to her in great excitement. Some children were coming to the house to stay; they had heard all about it from behind the sitting-room wainscot. The old nursery was being prepared, fresh curtains had been hung at the windows, and the house wife had baked apple pie and a whole lot of ginger cookies the mice could smell them in the oven. 

       Now the little wooden doll was filled with joy. "At last," she said, "someone is coming to play with me." She did her best to rub off the dust that had settled down on her in all these years, for she wanted to look nice and tidy when the children came. Most of it she could manage herself, but where she could not quite reach she asked the mice to help her, and they gladly brushed it off with their paws. The mice were nearly as excited as she was, for they had never seen any real children; they only knew what they were like from the stories the little wooden doll had told them. 

       Every few minutes they came running with news. "They have yellow hair, just as you said!" 

       "One of them is always jumping about!" 

       "They make a big noise with their mouths!" 

       And the little doll nodded her head with excitement, and cried, "Yes, yes! Those are surely children!" 

       Only the big spider in the corner said, "What is all this fuss about? I can't stand children. They are hateful things!" 

       The little doll knew better. 

       All that day she waited, tidied up in her corner, and the next day, and the next. It almost seemed as if the children would never find their way to the attic. Then one afternoon it rained; a shower fell and the big drops beat on the shingles. "Now they will surely come," thought the little doll, for she remembered that children love to play in the attic on wet afternoons. 

       And presently, up the old attic stairs, she heard them . . . creak . . .  creak . . . 

       The little doll was so excited that she wanted to call out and tell them she was there. She sat very still in her corner and waited, while all the little mice ran to their holes and peeped out. It was a terrible moment; perhaps they wouldn't find her at all. She heard whispers, footsteps here and there on the attic floor, stirring the dust. At last they came to the corner where she was sitting. A hand was stretched out, one of the children seized her firmly, and she was held up to the light.

       A voice cried, "Why, look at this funny old thing! It must be some sort of a doll!" And the little sister exclaimed, "Oh, look at it! Fancy any one playing with that!"

       They turned the little doll about in their hands. 

       "All the paint's rubbed off. Isn't it an ugly old thing!" 

       The little sister cried out, "Why, it hasn't even got any clothes!" And they both began to laugh. 

       The poor little doll felt terribly ashamed. She had never thought about clothes. A great lump came in her throat, and she felt that she was going to burst into tears. 

       She had been so happy, and now everything was turning out wrong. 

"Let's play shipwreck with the doll and drown her like a sailor!"

       The little boy held her up between his thumb and finger. "I know what let's do," he said. "Let's have a shipwreck on the pond, and the doll can be the drowned sailor!"

       But the little sister said, "No, that isn't any fun. I don't want to play that. Let's play something nice." 

       "But shipwreck is nice!" 

       "No, I don't want to," said the little sister. 

       "And I don't want to play with that old thing, anyway!" 

       While they were still quarreling, the supper bell rang downstairs. The boy, who had been standing near the attic window, dropped the doll on the window ledge, and they both ran away.

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One Thanksgiving Day

Grandfather remembers the
old days.

       Once upon a day, our whole family, mother and father, and my sister Editha, and I, and, Aunt Mollie from Big Hill, and the two hired men; and Uncle Charlie and Aunt Jane, Cousin Meg and Cousin Peg, and Cousin Ned and Cousin Fred from the city, all went to grandmother's for the whole day. 
       It was November. Once in school we read that a man named Hood wrote about November, and we knew he and his whole family had never been to his grandmother's for a whole wondrous day or he never could have said it. 
       "No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees. 
       No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds. 
       "November!" And Bryant couldn't have had the things in November we had, or he wouldn't have just groaned, 
       "The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrub the jay. 
       And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day." 
       My sister Editha and I never in all our lives saw a gloomy November-
        "Wailing winds and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere."
        The pines and the hemlocks were never naked, nor the evergreen nor the reindeer moss nor the partridge vine, nor the checkerberries. And we thought brown a beautiful color for hair and dresses and roads and caramel candy, so why not for all the meadows, part of the year? 
       Besides, just think of all the vegetables and berries and big fruits that were in the cellar in jars, all treasured up. The leaves were getting ready for spring, and who would think of missing butterflies and wrens, when there was grandmother's, and Thanksgiving and the Pilgrims to think about? Anyway, mother told us she thought November was pearl gray-like, gray pearls, with a shine all through the month because of Thanksgiving. 
       "There is harmony in autumn and a lustre in its sky," agreed father. 
       It was always Thanksgiving when we all went to the Big Gray House of the Apple Orchard all at one time. You see, there were too many of us to all go often. There was grandfather, of course, and Rosy, who helped grandmother with the housework, and two little pale-blue-eyed old ladies that smelled of lavender, who used to go to school with grandmother, and always came over for Thanksgiving dinner and all the rest of us. 
       Grandfather's and grandmother's house was five miles from our house, down the mill road. The stone church was just a little way off. We started very early on Thanksgiving day, because we didn't want to miss anything, and there were heaps of things not to miss. 
       We bumped along in the democrat wagon over the rutty, frozen road, and we kept getting hungrier and hungrier. It looked like snow. It always looked like snow on Thanksgiving day, but it never did snow. It just kept getting more pearl gray and Thanksgiving-y. Editha and I were glad the apple orchard house had stayed gray. 
       You could remember better how old it was. We could call ourselves the seventh generation that had lived there, because we had lived there a whole week one summer, and had had the east front room with the canopy top bedstead and the copper-plate spread with the valance, great blue chest with real linen sheets in it, and the ladder back chairs with rush bottoms, and the yellow maple washstand. 
       Grandmother said there were samples from every generation in every room in the Gray House.
        Weren't we glad when we caught the first glimpse of the old apple tree in the front yard, the one we'd had the board swing in that summer! Then, there was grandmother-father's mother, you know -standing in the front doorway, in a brown-sprigged sateen with a white bib apron with funny little curlicues like stencil stamping running round it, her hair in beautiful white waterfalls over her ears, and her cheeks pink like an old daguerreotype picture. And behind her was grandfather, his face as round as an apple, and as merry-grandfather and his silver headed cane. And in another minute there was Rosy, helping carry in the nut-cakes and jellies mother always brought, and the pile of magazines for winter reading, and the very last of our baby chrysanthemums -russet and gold, from our garden. 
       "Good and early as usual!" chuckled grandfather. 
       "You'll have to put some bricks on these girls' heads," said grandmother. "Come right in and take off your things. Lay them on the sofa. Mollie 'll be here anytime now. Jane and Charlie wrote they might be a little late, because they've taken it into their heads to bring some sort of a surprise. Always up to something." 
       "I'm thinking," said grandfather mysteriously, "the surprise has something to do with Ned.” 
       Ned was our oldest cousin, and most grown up. Ned was in college and knew ever so much. He was very tall and straight and called us little girls, when anybody could see we weren't little at all. 
       "Smell the turkey," cried Editha. 

       "Smell the good old cedar fire," cried father. "You girls going to eat so much you'll have to roll on the old woolen carpet this year?" 

       That reminded Editha and me that we were hungry. We didn't even stop to look in the Chippendale mirror with the gold eagle on top. We didn't even stop to slide off the haircloth sofa, or look up our names in the old family Bible. We ran into the kitchen and whispered to grandmother. Grandmother had a beautiful smile, like, well, like Thanksgiving. She put it on when we whispered. "Raisen cake," she whispered back. "Apple pie sweetened with molasses, brown bread with raisins in it, fried cakes, and brown sugar cookies. Help yourselves, but you can't have another thing till dinner-time." 

       "There's always the box of hard checkermints in my room on the bureau," chuckled grandfather at her elbow. "And plenty of lemon drops. I'm thinking Rosy'll give you some of the anise sticks her young man brought her. I guess you young folks won't starve." He added, "Want to peek at the pies?" 

       Did we? 

Peeking at the pies!

       Sitting in spicy rows on the "buttery" shelves mince and squash and pumpkin, lemon, dried peach and dried apple, cranberry, cream and custard, and dozens more. Plenty of them for the family and plenty for Thanksgiving treats for other folks. Just as Editha and I finished fixing the centre piece, all kinds of vegetables from the cellar piled on a great pewter platter, up the path came Aunt Mollie, arms full of fruit-cake and jams. Up the path came the hired men, arms full of books for the winter reading, and the next minute up the road in the station carriage came Uncle Charlie and Aunt Jane and all the cousins, and boxes of candy, and oranges and white grapes and pink grapes and purple grapes, and the surprise, Ned's surprise. 

       She was a lovely girl who looked like a big beautiful doll, and she was just as quiet and bashful as one, too, at first. She was all dressed in a garnet dress trimmed with gray fur, and, what do you think, on her ring finger was a gray pearl ring Ned had given her, and in her arms was a box of great puffy hot-house chrysanthemums, yellow and white, for grandmother. 

       I couldn't help looking at her, every once in a while, all through church time in the little stone church, even while we sang, "We thank Thee, Heavenly Father,” “I praise Thee, Lord, for blessings sent," and "Let The Creator's Praise Arise." Ned's Gray Pearl Girl sang like a lark we used to hear in our very own meadow at home. Uncle Charlie must have told folks about her beautiful voice, because, just before the proclamation, she sang a solo, the one about the Pilgrims, you know- 

       "Ay, call it holy ground, 

       The soil where first they trod! 

       They have left unstained,

       what there they found,— 

      Freedom to worship God." 

       The President's proclamation was wonderful. It made you feel so grown-up and so small at the same time. It was about the vintage being ripe, and the harvest heaping, and families being together, and it said something about the "season of mellow fruitfulness." Editha and I wished Mr. Hood and Mr. Bryant could have heard it. People got up and told how thankful they were, too, and somebody called November, "The Sabbath of the year." 

       Walking back to grandmother's, we were all very quiet, counting things we were glad about, and when we got there, there was grandmother in her best gray dress with the white fichu, and grandfather in his gray suit, with his gold-headed cane, and Rosy, and the two little pale-blue-eyed old ladies that smelled of lavender, and, dinner, waiting for us. 

       “Thy bounty shines in Autumn un- confined. 

       And spreads a common feast for all that live.' 

       Make every day a Thanksgiving Day," said grandfather with bowed head.

       We thought about that, while we were taking jellies and jams and pies and cakes and fruit and magazines to folk who, (maybe like Mr. Hood and Mr. Bryant), didn't have beautiful apple orchard houses, and own folks, and a new cousin with a gray pearl ring, singing "The Breaking Waves Dashed High," and the Pilgrims, and so many other things to be thankful for. Oh, you felt as if you were fairly bursting with joy! Myrta Little Davies

Read History About Thanksgiving:

• Squanto, The Native American Hero of Thanksgiving
• Giving Thanks at Thanksgiving: A Curious History
• The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

Learning New Tricks

        Children need to turn to books for fun, adventure, information, in short, for the same satisfactions for which adults turn to books. Therefore, a wise teacher helps children find fun, adventure, and information in books. She may do this by reading to them. Miss Brown, telling first grade children how to care for a pet kitten which had been given the group, finished by saying, "I found out about all this in the book called Cats and Their Care." As the children examined the book-written for adults-and looked at the pictures, they grew in the fundamental understanding that books help us find out what we want to know. 
       Comments about books by young children reveal this understanding of their value. "Here's a book with interesting and informative pictures." "This is a funny book to make us laugh; even the pictures are funny." "Look at the big words in this book. It's about turkeys. I can read two whole pages." "This book is about a puppy, and he's just like our puppy at home." "If you want to find out about airplanes, here's a good book."

• The Colorful Apple channel introduces parents and teachers to the "How To" picture books. These are important to teach children writing skills, process ordering steps and reading things in order discover the art of creative making...
• How to Spot a Great Picture Book by Simply Charlotte Mason
• Writing: Lists for young students - master this
• Now middle schoolers learn about writing from lists.
• Six skills in order from a writing teacher at The Structured Writing Teacher
• Writers Share by Alan J. Wright "The Value of Making Lists in a Writer's Notebook"

Return to the "Reading Is Fun" Index Page

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All The Days of June . . .

        There are so many days to recognize during this month of June, click links to find the posts that match up with content celebrating the day in the listing. The days listed here are by no means the only ones celebrated worldwide. I've simply included topics/subject matter that students in United States elementary schools may be familiar with. Not every day in June will have a link to a craft here as of yet; I will add these links over time. 

1.) Day to Celebrate Parents Worldwide and National Pen Pal Day and Say Something Nice Day and National Olive Day

2.) National Rocky Road Ice Cream Day and Rotisserie Chicken Day

3.) The International Day for Bicycling and National Egg Day

4.) A Worldwide Day to Remember Child Victims of Aggression and National Cheese Day

5.) Celebrate the Importance of World Environmental Issues and The Day To Remember To Fight Unregulated Fishing of Our Oceans and National Doughnut Day

6.) National Trails Day and D-day and Drive In Movie Day and Yo-yo Day and National Prairie Day

7.) World Food Safety Day and Cancer Survivor's Day and Daniel Boone Day 

• Read about the life of Daniel Boone, 1913 article

8.) World Oceans Day and Best Friends Day

9.) National Strawberry/Rhubarb Pie Day

10.) International Dialogue Among Civilizations Day and National Egg Roll Day and Frosted Cookie Day and Iced Tea Day

11.) Celebrating The Importance of Play Internationally  and Day to Recognize Nursing Assistants, Corn on The Cob and German Chocolate Cake Day

12.) World Day Against Child Labour and Red Rose Day and National Peanut Butter Cookies Day and Jerky Day

13.) Weed Your Garden Day and Blame Someone Else for Problems Day and Random Acts of Light Day and Sewing Machine Appreciation Day

14.) World Blood Donation Day and Flag Day and Children's Day

15.) International Day for Elder Abuse Awareness and National Smile Day and Nature Photography Day

• Learn to craft a grandpa doll for your dollhouse...

16.) The International Day of Family Remittances and National Fudge Day

17.) The Observation Worldwide to Combat Desertification/Drought  and National Eat Your Veggies Day and Root Beer Day and Apple Strudel Day

18.) Dump The Pump Day and Fishing Day

19.) Charles H. Spurgeon Birthday (1834) and Juneteenth Day and Wear Blue Day

• Learn and craft about Juneteenth for Kids and doll play...

20.) World Refugee Day and National Ice Cream Soda Day and The Day of The American Bald Eagle

21.) Celebrate Yoga and The Solstice and Father's Day

22.) Celebrate Onion Rings and Chocolate Eclairs on this day...

• Make Deep Fried Doll Food: onion rings

23.) This is The United Nations Public Service Day and Worldwide Widow's Day and Celebrate Detroit-style Pizza Day

• Make our top 10 mini pizzas for your doll play days!

24.) Nativity of St. John the Baptist and International Celebration of Including Women in Diplomacy

25.) Worldwide Celebration of Seafarers, National Bomb Pop Day, Strawberry Parfait Day and National Catfish Day

26.) International Day to Fight Against Drug Abuse and Illicit Trafficking and National Coconut Day

• Read all about Coconuts and Craft coconut drinks for your dolls too!

27.) World Celebration of Small Business Day and International Day Recognizing Deaf and Blind Peoples Challenges and Summersgiving on the Saturday after the Summer Soltice

28.) Paul Bunyan Day and National Cherry Day

• Make a delicious paper mache cherry pie for playtime...

29.) Saint Peter and Saint Paul's Day (Solemnity) and Asteroid World Day and World Tropics Day and National Waffle Iron Day

30.) International Day Recognizing the Importance of Parliamentarism

Themes often celebrated during the month of June are about: cultural diversity, mental health.

One-Eye, Two-Eyes, and Three-Eyes

      There was once a woman who had three daughters, the eldest of whom was called One-Eye, because she had only one eye in the middle of her forehead, and the second, Two-Eyes, because she had two eyes like other folks, and the youngest, Three-Eyes, because she had three eyes ; and her third eye was in the centre of her forehead.

       Now, as Two-Eyes saw just as other human beings did, her sisters and her mother could not endure her. They said to her, "You, with your two eyes, are no better than common folk. You do not belong to us!" 

       They pushed her about, and threw old clothes to her, and gave her nothing to eat but what they left, and did everything that they could to make her unhappy.

       It came to pass that Two-Eyes had to go out into the fields and tend the goat, but she was still very hungry, because her sisters had given her so little to eat. She sat down on a ridge and began to weep, and so bitterly that two streams ran down from her eyes. 

       And one day, when she looked up in her grief, a woman was  standing beside her, who said, " Why are you weeping, little Two-Eyes?"

       Two-Eyes answered, " Have I not reason to weep, when I have two eyes like other people, and my sisters and mother hate me for it, and push me from one corner to another, throw old clothes at me, and give me nothing to eat but the scraps they leave? Today, they have given me so little that I am still very hungry." 

        Then the Wise Woman said, " Wipe away your tears, Two- Eyes, and I will tell you something to stop your ever suffering from hunger again; just say to your goat:

 " 'Bleat, bleat, my little Goat, bleat, 

 Cover the table with something to eat!'

and then a clean well-spread little table will stand before you, with the most delicious food upon it, of which you may eat as much as you are inclined. And when you have had enough, and have no more need of the little table, just say:

 " 'Bleat, bleat, my little Goat, I pray

, And take the table quite away!' 

and then it will vanish again from your sight." Hereupon the Wise Woman departed. But Two-Eyes thought, " I must instantly make a trial, and see if what she said is true, for I am far too hungry," and she said:

 "Bleat, bleat, my little Goat, bleat,

 Cover the table with something to eat!" 

and scarcely had she spoken the words than a little table, covered with a white cloth, was standing there, and on it was a plate with a knife and fork, and a silver spoon; and the most delicious food was there also, warm and smoking as if it had just come out of the kitchen. 

       Then Two-Eyes said a little prayer she knew, "Lord God, be with us always, Amen," and helped herself to some food, and enjoyed it. And when she was satisfied, she said, as the Wise Woman had taught her:

 "Bleat, bleat, my little Goat, I pray,

 And take the table quite away!"

and immediately the little table and everything on it was gone again. 

       "That is a delightful way of keeping house!" thought Two- Eyes, and was quite glad and happy.

 In the evening, when she went home with her goat, she found a small earthenware dish with some food, which her sisters had set ready for her, but she did not touch it. Next day, she again went out with her goat, and left the few bits of broken bread which had been handed to her, lying untouched.

 The first and second time that she did this, her sisters did not notice it, but as it happened every time, they did observe it, and said, "There is something wrong about Two-Eyes, she always leaves her food untasted. She used to eat up everything that was given her. She must have discovered other ways of getting food." 

       In order that they might learn the truth, they resolved to send One-Eye with Two-Eyes, when she went to drive her goat to the pasture, to watch what Two-Eyes did while she was there, and whether any one brought her things to eat and drink. So when Two-Eyes set out the next tune, One-Eye went to her and said, " I will go with you to the pasture, and see that the goat is well taken care of, and driven where there is food." 

       But Two-Eyes knew what was in One-Eye's mind, and drove the goat into high grass and said, "Come, One-Eye, we will sit down, and I will sing something to you."

       One-Eye sat down, and was tired with the unaccustomed walk and the heat of the sun, and Two-Eyes sang constantly:

One-Eye, wakest thou?

One-Eye, steepest thou?"

until One-Eye shut her one eye, and fell asleep. As soon as Two-Eyes saw that One-Eye was fast asleep, and could discover nothing, she said:

 

"Bleat, bleat, my little Goat, bleat, 

Cover the table with something to eat!" 

and seated herself at her table, and ate and drank until she was satisfied. Then she again cried:

 "Bleat, bleat, my little Goat, I pray,

 And take the table quite away!" 

and in an instant all was gone. 

       Two-Eyes now awakened One-Eye, and said, "One-Eye, you want to take care of the goat, and yet go to sleep while you are doing it! In the meantime, the goat might run all over the world. Come, let us go home again." 

       So they went home, and again Two-Eyes let her little dish stand untouched, and One-Eye could not tell her mother why she would not eat it, and to excuse herself said, "I fell asleep when I was out." 

        Next day, the mother said to Three-Eyes, "This time you shall go and watch if Two-Eyes eats anything when she is out, and if any one fetches her food and drink, for she must eat and drink in secret." 

       So Three-Eyes went to Two-Eyes, and said, " I will go with you and see if the goat is taken proper care of, and driven where there is food." 

       But Two-Eyes knew what was in Three-Eyes' mind, and drove the goat into high grass and said, "We will sit down, and I will sing something to you, Three-Eyes." Three-Eyes sat down and was tired with the walk and with the heat of the sun, and Two-Eyes began the same song as before, and sang:

 "Three-Eyes, are you waking?" 

but then, instead of singing, 

 "Three-Eyes, are you sleeping!" 

as she ought to have done, she thoughtlessly sang:

 "Two-Eyes, are you sleeping?"

 and sang all the time,

 "Three-Eyes, are you waking? 

Two-Eyes, are you sleeping?" 

       Then two of the eyes which Three-Eyes had, shut and fell asleep, but the third, as it had not been named in the song, did not sleep. It is true that Three-Eyes shut it, but only in her cunning, to pretend it was asleep too. But it blinked, and could see everything very well. And when Two-Eyes thought that Three-Eyes was fast asleep, she used her little charm:

 "Bleat, bleat, my little Goat, bleat, 
 Cover the table with something to eat!" 

 and ate and drank as much as her heart desired, and then ordered the table to go away again:

"Bleat, bleat, my little Goat, I pray, 

And take the table quite away!" 

and Three-Eyes had seen everything. 

       Then Two-Eyes came to her, waked her and said, "Have you been asleep, Three-Eyes? You are a good caretaker! Come, we will go home."

        And when they got home, Two-Eyes again did not eat, and Three-Eyes said to the mother, " Now, I know why that proud thing there does not eat. When she is out, she says to the goat:

 " 'Bleat, bleat, my little Goat, bleat, 

 Cover the table with something to eat!' 

and then a little table appears before her covered with the best of food, much better than any we have here. When she has eaten all she wants, she says:

 " 'Bleat, bleat, my little Goat, I pray, 

 And take the table quite away!' 

and all disappears. I watched everything closely. She put two of my eyes to sleep by using a charm, but luckily the one in my forehead kept awake." 

       Then the envious mother cried, " Do you want to fare better than we do? The desire shall pass away! " and she fetched a butcher's knife, and thrust it into the heart of the goat, which fell down dead.

 When Two-Eyes saw that, full of sorrow, she went outside, and seated herself on the ridge of grass at the edge of the field, and wept bitter tears. Suddenly the Wise Woman once more stood by her side, and said, " Two-Eyes, why are you weeping? " 

       "Have I not reason to weep? " she answered. " The goat, which covered the table for me every day when I spoke your charm, has been killed by my mother, and now I shall again have to bear hunger and want." 

       The Wise Woman said, " Two-Eyes, I will give you a piece of good advice. Ask your sisters to give you the entrails of the slaughtered goat, and bury them in the ground in front of the house, and your fortune will be made." 

       Then she vanished, and Two-Eyes went home and said to her sisters, " Dear Sisters, do give me some part of my goat. I don't wish for what is good, but give me the entrails." Then they laughed and said, " If that's all you want, you may have it." 

       So Two-Eyes took the entrails and buried them quietly, at evening, in front of the house-door, as the Wise Woman had counseled her to do. 

       Next morning, when they all awoke, and went to the house door, there stood a wonderful, magnificent tree with leaves of silver, and fruit of gold hanging among them, so that in all the wide world there was nothing more beautiful or precious. They did not know how the tree could have come there during the night, but Two-Eyes saw that it had grown up out of the entrails of the goat, for it was standing on the exact spot where she had buried them. 

       Then the mother said to One-Eye, " Climb up, my Child, and gather some of the fruit of the tree for us." One-Eye climbed up, but when she was about to lay hold of one of the golden apples, the branch escaped from her hands. And that happened each time, so that she could not pluck a single apple, let her do what she might. 

       Then said the mother, " Three-Eyes, do you climb up. You with your three eyes can look about you better than One-Eye." 

       One-Eye slipped down, and Three-Eyes climbed up. Three-Eyes was not more skillful, and might search as she liked, but the golden apples always escaped her. 

       At length, the mother grew impatient, and climbed up herself, but could grasp the fruit no better than One-Eye and Three-Eyes, for she always clutched empty air. 

       Then said Two-Eyes, " I will go up, perhaps I may succeed better." The sisters cried, " You, indeed, with your two eyes! What can you do?" 

       But Two-Eyes climbed up, and the golden apples did not get out of her way, but came into her hand of their own accord, so that she could pluck them one after the other. And she brought a whole apron full  down with her. The mother took them away from her, and instead of treating poor Two-Eyes any better for this, she and One-Eye and Three-Eyes were only envious, because Two-Eyes alone had been able to get the fruit. They treated her still more cruelly.

       It so befell that once, when they were all standing together by the tree, a young Knight came up. " Quick, Two-Eyes," cried the two sisters, "creep under this and don't disgrace us!" and with all speed they turned an empty barrel, which was standing close by the tree, over poor Two-Eyes, and they pushed the golden apples which she had been gathering, under it too. 

       When the Knight came nearer he was a handsome lord, who stopped and admired the magnificent gold and silver tree, and said to the two sisters, "To whom does this fine tree belong? Any one who will bestow one branch of it on me may, in return for it, ask whatsoever he desires." 

       Then One-Eye and Three-Eyes replied that the tree belonged to them, and that they would give him a branch. They both tried very hard, but they were not able to do it, for every time the branches and fruit moved away from them. 

       Then said the Knight, "It is very strange that the tree should belong to you, and yet you should still not be able to break a piece off." They again insisted that the tree was their property. Whilst they were saying so, Two-Eyes rolled a couple of golden apples from under the barrel to the feet of the Knight, for she was vexed with One-Eye and Three-Eyes, for not speaking the truth. 

       When the Knight saw the apples he was astonished, and asked from whence they came. One-Eye and Three-Eyes answered that they had another sister, who was not allowed to show herself, for she had only two eyes like any common person. 

      The Knight, however, desired to see her, and cried, "Two Eyes, come hither!" 

       Then Two-Eyes, quite cheered, came from beneath the barrel, and the Knight was surprised at her great beauty, and said, "You, Two-Eyes, can certainly break off a branch from the tree for me." 

        "Yes," replied Two-Eyes, "that I certainly shall be able to do, for the tree belongs to me." And she climbed up, and with the greatest ease broke off a branch with beautiful silver leaves and golden fruit, and gave it to the Knight. 

      Then said the Knight, " Two-Eyes, what shall I give you for it?" 

       "Alas!" answered Two-Eyes, " I suffer from hunger and thirst, grief and want, from early morning till late night. If you would take me with you, and deliver me from these things, I should be happy."

       So the Knight lifted Two-Eyes on his horse, and took her home with him to his father's castle. There he gave her beautiful clothes and meat and drink to her heart's content. And as he loved her so much he married her, and the wedding was solemnized with great rejoicing. When Two-Eyes was thus carried away by the handsome Knight, her two sisters grudged her good fortune in downright earnest. 

       "The wonderful tree, however, remains with us," thought they, " and even if we can gather no fruit from it, every one will stand still and look at it, and come to us and admire it. Who knows what good things may be in store for us?" 

       But next morning, the tree had vanished, and all their hopes were at an end. And when Two-Eyes looked out of the window of her own little room, to her great delight it was standing in front of it. And so it had followed her. Two-Eyes lived a long time in happiness. One day, two poor women came to her castle, and begged for alms. She looked in their faces, and recognized her sisters, One-Eye, and Three-Eyes, who had fallen into such poverty that they had to wander about and beg their bread from door to door. Two-Eyes made them welcome, and was kind to them, and took care of them, so that they both, with all their hearts, repented of the evil that they had done in their youth to their sister. 

• In old folklore, it is often believed that trees and plants have mysterious powers. This is perhaps a common allusion to the herbal medicine widely practiced by both ancient and modern people today. The Grimm Brothers preserved several fairy tales that include trees with magical powers in their printed volumes: The Hazel Branch, The Rose and The Ear of Corn. 

Little Two-Eyes picking from her apple tree.

R. F. D.

       W. Levi Clough, rural mail carrier, Queen Annes County, Maryland, saw the red flag up on the Enoch Sloan box. He stopped his horse at the box, opened it, and took out an alarm clock, with a note attached. The note read: "Pa's watch stopped. Will you please set our clock?" 

       It would appear that delivering mail to 30,000,000 people would be a big enough job for our 32,546 rural mail carriers without the added duty of setting clocks. But to the families lined up along the thousands of miles of rural routes in this country, the mail carrier is just another neighbor, willing and glad to help out with little favors. 

       The carriers themselves feel the same way about it. The service has a fine tradition of helpfulness and neighborliness back of it, built up during its relatively short life. The rural mail delivery service will observe its fifty-eighth birthday this year. 

       It all started back in the middle 1880's when a pert little farmer's wife got to her feet in a Grange meet- ing out in the Grand Prairie region of our Midwest and complained bitterly about having to drive eight miles over bad roads for the mail. “People in the cities have their mail delivered to them," she said. "Are they any better than we are; why can't we have a rural free delivery?" 

       The idea swept the country like a fire on the Grand Prairie. Politicians were quick to see its virtue as a rural vote getter. By 1891 there was sufficient pressure back of the idea to induce Postmaster General Wanamaker to suggest a bill in Congress to create such a service. The bill failed, but the next year Congress appropriated $10,000 for an experimental rural delivery route. Mr. Wanamaker was annoyed at the stingy appropriation and stated that it was inadequate for a full exploitation of even an experimental route. The appropriation was on an annual basis and by 1896 enough had accumulated to justify a start. 

       On June 9, 1896, the first R.F.D. route was started at Charles Town, West Virginia, and a little later in the same year two more routes were established in the same state. The service spread like the green bay tree. At its peak there were 45,382 routes serving the rural areas. 

       The name, Rural Free Delivery, is a misnomer, and although it was used officially for a time, the “free” was dropped in 1903, no one knows why. The official designation now is simply Rural Delivery. It is not now, and never was free. 

       Rural mail carriers are a race apart. Theirs is a lonely life. They go their appointed rounds, day after day over the same routes, with no company but their thoughts. They watch the snows of winter melt off the hillsides, the tender green of spring appear, merging into the lush summer and then into the painted autumn. They get to know every stick and stone and puddle along their piece of country highway. Some of the people along their routes remain only names on the mailboxes; others, as lonely as they, become friends and neighbors, coming to the end of the lane in sunbonnet and apron, to exchange a few words with the outside world. They see children grow up and become fathers and mothers and then grand- parents. From the very nature of their duties they become helpful neighbors, and their chores stretch beyond their official duties of carrying the mail, making out money orders, selling stamps. 

       W. Levi Clough, who set the clock, has been carrying the mail over the same route for forty-seven years. His total mileage would reach twenty times around the earth. He wore out more horses and buggies than he can remember, and nine automobiles. For thirteen years after he started his route in 1916 he drove a horse. Sometimes, when the bottom fell out of the dirt roads in winter, he rode horseback, taking short cuts across the fields. A runaway horse once dumped him, with all his mail, into a wet ditch. He once wrote a letter for an illiterate farmhand to his best girl. The letter, a proposal of marriage, was so convincing she said yes. 

       The Post Office Department learned very early that it could not restrict the extracurricular activities of its mail carriers. There are a few things they cannot do they cannot solicit on their routes, and they cannot make deliveries for business firms. But there is nothing in the regulations to prevent them from matching a spool of thread for a patron or stopping at the blacksmith shop for a sharpened plowshare. They have delivered babies, put out fires, helped round up strayed livestock, taken splinters out of fingers. Walter Hansen, of Vermont, found this note in a box: "Will you please stir my apple butter. I'm taking Lafe his dinner." 

       The telephone, radio, and daily paper have not seriously threatened to displace the mail carrier as purveyor of news, rumor, and neighborhood gossip. 

       The hazards of driving more than a million miles would seem to be a strain on the law of averages. Yet John Stansbury, who has carried the mail in Vermillion Parish, Louisiana, for thirty-two years, has never had an accident-"never even bumped into anyone," he says. The carriers have a remarkable safety record. 

       The department permits carriers to operate side- line businesses as long as they do not interfere with the delivery of the mail. Stansbury has a little farm, gets up at four o'clock, feeds his stock, and goes to the post office to sort his mail. He says that he always looks forward to his daily thirty-mile drive, for like all carriers he believes the people along his route are the best. "Why," he says, "I'm always finding a bunch of new onions or a length of sausage at butchering time, or a cup of hot coffee on the cold days." 

       If a carrier wants to stop and chat, there's nothing in the regulations to prevent it. He is not confined to a time schedule, but is expected to cover his route regardless of storm or heat or cold or gloom of night. If he finds a bridge out, he is permitted to take alternate roads, but otherwise he cannot take short cuts even though he has no mail to deliver. 

       When the service was started in the late nineties the routes were shorter than they are now. Up to the early twenties routes were laid out on the basis of the distance a cavalry horse could walk in eight hours. As automobiles replaced the horse, the length of routes has been increased. Very often when a carrier retires, his route is combined with another. The longest route today, 104.1 miles, is out of Edinsburg, Texas. The shortest is out of Robbin, Illinois, and is 6.25 miles in length. The standard route is 30 miles, and it is on this length that the basic salary is computed. The first carrier was paid $200 per year. Through the years the salary has been gradually in- creased. Today the maximum salary a carrier can draw is between $4,000 and $5,000, depending on the length of service, length of route, and the population served. He furnishes his own car, but is paid depreciation and maintenance. Carriers are required to retire at the age of seventy. A few reach this age with fifty years of service behind them. These veterans are regarded as the royal family among carriers. 

       A carrier is chosen from the area he will serve. When a vacancy occurs, a Civil Service examination is held and the highest man, usually, gets the appointment. The qualifications are simple—a citizen, must know postal rates and regulations, be able to read No. 4 print at fourteen inches, be sound of wind and limb. Both sexes are eligible, but the calling has scant appeal for women. Out of the 32,000-odd carriers, only 348 are women. 

       "Miss Lutie" Mayfield, Morely, Missouri, retired last year on her annuity at the age of seventy, one of the few women carriers to achieve that distinction. She became a carrier after the death in France of her husband in the First World War. She had previously been a schoolteacher. 

       Rural mail has been delivered from about every sort of contrivance that moves-buggy, motorcycle, sled, sleigh, wagon, bicycle, automobile, by foot, and from the back of a mule. About the turn of the century the Post Office Department authorized a standard delivery wagon, a boxlike affair, painted white, with the inscription, U.S. MAIL, and the route number. The mail was filed in a slotted shelf in front of the driver. The reins came through slits above the shelf. It could be closed tightly against the elements, but the windshield could be dropped and the sliding doors opened in pleasant weather. During the winter the carrier usually placed a lighted kerosene lantern between his legs to keep him warm. His lunch reposed under the seat. In those days the more elegant carriers wore a uniform, somewhat reminiscent of what was worn by the boys in blue during the Civil War. It was a trifle stuffy for hot July and August days, and was gradually discontinued. 

       The standard mail "hack" in turn gave way to the automobile. Fred. J. McKeown, Giddings, Texas, started carrying the mail on pony back in 1903 and retired in 1953 after fifty years of service. He acquired a two-wheel cart which he used when the Texas roads dried out. "During the winter rains I often had to swim my pony across streams and if I wasn't careful he could drop into a mud hole." 

       He thought a Model T Ford could get around as the roads improved, and he bought one in 1917. But he had to be pulled out of so many mud holes by friendly farmers that he went back to his pony for a few years more. 

       He passes daily the one-room schoolhouse which he attended, and four of his schoolmates are on his route. In the early days, before telephones were common, he was often asked to send the doctor after he got back in town. He still does a brisk business toting packages from town and to neighbors. 

       The old-time mail carrier periodically had a very knotty problem-what to do with his horse once he was through with him. A horse which had been used for any length of time by a mail carrier was ruined forever after as a driving animal. He wanted to stop at every mailbox along the road, and what was more frustrating, slowed up as soon as he saw one; he was reluctant to travel any road other than his old mail route. No one ever got anywhere on time with an old R.F.D. horse. The daily twenty to thirty miles of an average route soon took the ginger out of a horse, but he was still good as a family horse long after he was unfit for a mail route. Gypsies or traders usually bought the mail horses, at a very low price, and ped- dled them to suckers in strange neighborhoods. 

       A growing number of special cars are being made for the rural mail carrier. These have a right-hand drive which permits reaching the mailbox without sliding across the seat. They are equipped for easy and convenient storage of mail and packages. 

       When parcel post came along, the duties of the carriers were more than doubled. Packages up to seventy pounds were handled. The Post Office Department adopted a larger mailbox, capable of hand- ling the larger packages, and asked the carriers to push them. However, there are still many small rural boxes. When the carrier has a package larger than the box will accommodate, he may deliver it directly, if it is convenient. Otherwise, he leaves a note asking the patron to call at the post office for it, or to meet him at the box the next day. He cannot leave it outside. A carrier dare not take mail from a home which is quarantined. He must deliver a special delivery letter up to half a mile off his route. The department requests that he not leave his mail out of his sight, although it is doubtful if there would be a prosecution should a carrier be invited into a home for a chicken dinner.

       A carrier gets 13 days' vacation a year for less than 3 years' service, 20 days up to 15 years' service, and 26 days after that. He is allowed 13 days' sick leave per year with pay. 

      Rural mail delivery blankets the country today. There is scarcely a family, however isolated, that doesn't get its mail delivered regularly. Some isolated mountain communities are still served by pony ex- press. In the bayous of the South, where there are no roads, the mail is sometimes delivered by boat. Claude Underwood is one of the carriers down there. His route, in Baldwin County, Alabama, is served entirely by boat. He starts at Magnolia Springs, going through Weeks Bay and up the Fish River. He moves from one side of the river to another in his six-cylinder boat, "Jeanetta," stopping at docks, boathouses, and at boxes nailed on trees. He sometimes has to dodge alligators, and keeps an eye open for snakes. His route is a little over twenty-two miles long, with sixty- eight families. 

      Rural carriers have an exuberant national organization, The National Rural Letter Carriers' Association, with headquarters in Washington. Their patriotism takes no back seat, even to the D.A.R., and they have a zealous pride in their organization and membership. Each state has its own tight little association. The carriers have a death benefit association, the Rural Carriers' Provident Guild, and a social organization known as the Retired and Pioneer Carriers' Club. 

       In Washington the politicians come and go, but the rural mail carrier, oblivious to everything except the prompt and regular delivery of his mail, goes his appointed way. There are few who would challenge the statement that no government worker does a better job of serving the citizen.

• Return to The Good Old Days

Video about the R.F.D. by Smithsonian.

All The Days of July . . .

         Kids can celebrate all the days of July here by using our family blog posts. I will highlight the days of celebration in the United States/Canada with a pale orange color and the world days of observation with a pale lavender highlight. Sometimes the themes repeat themselves and so I will choose to list a topic under a month that has less content in order to spread things out a bit. I will be covering all of the months of the year. Readers will notice that I make additions to the listings over time and that I also choose content that is age appropriate in order to maintain my certifications.

1.) National Postal Worker Day:

•  Post office related content here. 

2.) National Firefighter Day:

• The recycled fire fighter costume
•  fire fighter coloring pages

3.) National Hawaii Day and St. Thomas Day:

• Visit our collection of Hawaii themed crafts and articles here and here. 

4.) Independence Day (USA):

• See our American patriotic doll crafts listed here.

5.) National Apple Turnover Day

6.) National Fried Chicken Day

7.) World Chocolate Day:

•  Celebrate world chocolates on July 7th

8.) Liberty Bell Day:

• Read about the Liberty Bell...

9.) National Sugar Cookie Day:

• sugar cookies on cookie sheets
• hearts and stars sugar cookies

10.) Teddy Bear Picnic Day and National Kitten Day: 

• Our collection of teddy bear crafts and articles here. 
•  Read about "Raggedy Ann and The Kittens"

11.) Cheer Up the Lonely Day

12.) National Eat Your Jello Day

13.) National French Fry Day: 

• How we crafted deep fried doll foods

14.) National Mac and Cheese Day and Cow Appreciation Day:

• Macaroni and cheese casserole is sculpted along with many other side dishes here. 
• The Ox and The Cow article

15.) National Give Something Away Day: share your dolls, make crafts for your friends

16.) World Snake Day 

17.) World Emoji Day:  

• Read about antiquated smilies, forerunners of Emojis, originally drawn and made famous by Harvey Peake. (and also the origin of the word 'twitter.')

18.) National Tropical Fruit Day:

• Search our growing collections of tropical fruits for dolls here and tropical fruits coloring sheets here

19.) National Ice Cream Day:

• So many flavors to make and for doll's to taste!

20.) World Chess Day  and  Space Exploration Day:

•  How we made a chess board for dolls.  
•  See our favorite links to space and dollplay here!

21.) Take a Monkey to Lunch Day:

• How to sew a mini sock monkey for your dolls...

22.) National Hammock Day:

• Our doll hammock craft for lazy Summer days...

23.) National Hot Dog Day:

• Our classic doll camp foods playset includes all American hot dogs!

24.) National Amelia Earhart Day  

25.) National Thread the Needle Day and St. James' Day: 

• Check out our sewing projects for doll lovers. 

26.) National Parents Day:

• Download and print out this lovely Birth Certificate to commemorate the first time you become a baby doll's new parent. 
• Then, give your new baby doll a name...

27.) Bagpipe Appreciation Day 

28.) World Nature Conservation Day:

• The index to our large collection of nature studies...

29.) National Lipstick Day: 

• Craft doll-sized lip sticks. 

30.) Cheesecake Day 

31.) Harry Potter's Birthday: 

• Read about Harry Potter and Friends Dolls

Your Birthday Trees

       A tree, like all growing things, belongs, in a way, to all who enjoy it. But it is a splendid idea for you to have a tree that is definitely your own. A tree that is at its best during your birthday month will soon come to be a real member of the family, watched and cherished.
       Many children plant their own trees. If your birthday happens to come in March or April, you can plant an oak or an elm, an apple or a maple, to celebrate the day, and as you grow, the tree grows with you. Presently you stop growing, but the tree goes on, and by the time you are a man or woman you will look at your tree and marvel at its size and beauty. It will some day give you a great thrill to tell some little child how you planted the acorn from which the oak grew, or the apple tree when it was only a whip. Many a grown man points with pride to some old tree that his grandfather planted.
       The trees that lose their leaves in winter are called deciduous trees and these can be planted successfully only when they are dormant or asleep, which is in the early spring or late fall; but evergreen trees - all except the holly - can be planted at any time during the spring and fall. They must have plenty of water given them for the first year, and they will repay your care. Here is a list of trees and shrubs to plant for birthday months:
       If you were born in May, plant a dogwood tree in April.
       If you are a June child, plant a climbing rose in April or in the late fall before the ground freezes.
       If you want a tree to do its best for you in July, plant a black cherry in April.
       If August is your month, plant in April a pair of pale pink or white Rose of Sharon bushes.
       In September a mountain ash is a lovely sight with all of its red berries. And ash planted early in April may not have berries for a year or two, but once it is started, your ash will not forget your birthdays.
       In October a maple changes to gold or red, or an apple tree bears its gifts.
       In November the little Christmas rose in a sheltered corner begins to bloom, or bittersweet is bright with fruit.
      For the December baby the holly is at its best. January is the month when a white pine is a welcome friend amid the snow. In February a pussy-willow will greet you with its furry buds. In March you can bring in branches of forsythia, and they will burst into bloom. Now that it is April, you can choose for yourself, you April children, what shall be your birthday tree, shrub, or flower? Wodell.

 

Poem illustrated.

 The Trees by John Martin

I turn away from my own fears,

And doubts and pain that come 

with these;

Forgetful of all loss and tears,

My soul communes with trees.

Oh, understanding friends of mine,

There are no heights or depths in me

Your fearless patience can't divine,

Your wisdom cannot see.

Your roots have pierced the somber earth;

You've spread your branches into

Heaven;

Tempest and sunshine taught you

mirth;

You've suffered and forgiven.

 

Your spirit speaks the living word

Out of the very heart of things.

The thunder and the song of bird

Out of your being springs.

 

No matter what I ask, you give;

An unmoved, faithfulness is yours.

I need not fret, complain, or strive,

When such calm strength endures.

You taught the meaning of true

prayer;

You bound God's goodness close

to me.

The perfect Song of Life

is where

He put His living Tree.