Wednesday's Good Reading: "Rushen Coatie" by Joseph Jacobs (in English)

 

There was once a king and a queen, as many a one has been; few have we seen, and as few may we see. But the queen died, leaving only one bonny girl, and she told her on her death-bed: "My dear, after I am gone, there will come to you a little red calf, and whenever you want anything, speak to it, and it will give it you."

Now, after a while, the king married again an ill-natured wife, with three ugly daughters of her own. And they hated the king's daughter because she was so bonny. So they took all her fine clothes away from her, and gave her only a coat made of rushes. So they called her Rushen Coatie, and made her sit in the kitchen nook, amid the ashes. And when dinner-time came, the nasty stepmother sent her out a thimbleful of broth, a grain of barley, a thread of meat, and a crumb of bread. But when she had eaten all this, she was just as hungry as before, so she said to herself: "Oh! how I wish I had something to eat." Just then, who should come in but a little red calf, and said to her: "Put your finger into my left ear." She did so, and found some nice bread. Then the calf told her to put her finger into its right ear, and she found there some cheese, and made a right good meal off the bread and cheese. And so it went on from day to day.

Now the king's wife thought Rushen Coatie would soon die from the scanty food she got, and she was surprised to see her as lively and healthy as ever. So she set one of her ugly daughters on the watch at meal times to find out how Rushen Coatie got enough to live on. The daughter soon found out that the red calf gave food to Rushen Coatie, and told her mother. So her mother went to the king and told him she was longing to have a sweetbread from a red calf. Then the king sent for his butcher, and had the little red calf killed. And when Rushen Coatie heard of it, she sate down and wept by its side, but the dead calf said:

 

"Take me up, bone by bone,

And put me beneath yon grey stone;

When there is aught you want

Tell it me, and that I'll grant."

 

So she did so, but could not find the shank-bone of the calf.

Now the very next Sunday was Yuletide, and all the folk were going to church in their best clothes, so Rushen Coatie said: "Oh! I should like to go to church too," but the three ugly sisters said: "What would you do at the church, you nasty thing? You must bide at home and make the dinner." And the king's wife said: "And this is what you must make the soup of, a thimbleful of water, a grain of barley, and a crumb of bread."

When they all went to church, Rushen Coatie sat down and wept, but looking up, who should she see coming in limping, lamping, with a shank wanting, but the dear red calf? And the red calf said to her: "Do not sit there weeping, but go, put on these clothes, and above all, put on this pair of glass slippers, and go your way to church."

"But what will become of the dinner?" said Rushen Coatie.

"Oh, do not fash about that," said the red calf, "all you have to do is to say to the fire:

 

"Every peat make t'other burn,

Every spit make t'other turn,

Every pot make t'other play,

Till I come from church this good Yuleday,"

and be off to church with you. But mind you come home first."

 

So Rushen Coatie said this, and went off to church, and she was the grandest and finest lady there. There happened to be a young prince there, and he fell at once in love with her. But she came away before service was over, and was home before the rest, and had off her fine clothes and on with her rushen coatie, and she found the calf had covered the table, and the dinner was ready, and everything was in good order when the rest came home. The three sisters said to Rushen Coatie: "Eh, lassie, if you had seen the bonny fine lady in church to-day, that the young prince fell in love with!" Then she said: "Oh! I wish you would let me go with you to the church to-morrow," for they used to go three days together to church at Yuletide.

But they said: "What should the like of you do at church, nasty thing? The kitchen nook is good enough for you."

So the next day they all went to church, and Rushen Coatie was left behind, to make dinner out of a thimbleful of water, a grain of barley, a crumb of bread, and a thread of meat. But the red calf came to her help again, gave her finer clothes than before, and she went to church, where all the world was looking at her, and wondering where such a grand lady came from, and the prince fell more in love with her than ever, and tried to find out where she went to. But she was too quick for him, and got home long before the rest, and the red calf had the dinner all ready.

The next day the calf dressed her in even grander clothes than before, and she went to the church. And the young prince was there again, and this time he put a guard at the door to keep her, but she took a hop and a run and jumped over their heads, and as she did so, down fell one of her glass slippers. She didn't wait to pick it up, you may be sure, but off she ran home, as fast as she could go, on with the rushen coatie, and the calf had all things ready.

Then the young prince put out a proclamation that whoever could put on the glass slipper should be his bride. All the ladies of his court went and tried to put on the slipper. And they tried and tried and tried, but it was too small for them all. Then he ordered one of his ambassadors to mount a fleet horse and ride through the kingdom and find an owner for the glass shoe. He rode and he rode to town and castle, and made all the ladies try to put on the shoe. Many a one tried to get it on that she might be the prince's bride. But no, it wouldn't do, and many a one wept, I warrant, because she couldn't get on the bonny glass shoe. The ambassador rode on and on till he came at the very last to the house where there were the three ugly sisters. The first two tried it and it wouldn't do, and the queen, mad with spite, hacked off the toes and heels of the third sister, and she could then put the slipper on, and the prince was brought to marry her, for he had to keep his promise. The ugly sister was dressed all in her best and was put up behind the prince on horseback, and off they rode in great gallantry. But ye all know, pride must have a fall, for as they rode along a raven sang out of a bush—

 

"Hackèd Heels and Pinchèd Toes

Behind the young prince rides,

But Pretty Feet and Little Feet

Behind the cauldron bides."

 

"What's that the birdie sings?" said the young prince.

"Nasty lying thing," said the step-sister, "never mind what it says."

But the prince looked down and saw the slipper dripping with blood, so he rode back and put her down. Then he said "There must be some one that the slipper has not been tried on."

"Oh, no," said they, "there's none but a dirty thing that sits in the kitchen nook and wears a rushen coatie."

But the prince was determined to try it on Rushen Coatie, but she ran away to the grey stone, where the red calf dressed her in her bravest dress, and she went to the prince and the slipper jumped out of his pocket on to her foot, fitting her without any chipping or paring. So the prince married her that very day, and they lived happy ever after.

Wednesday's Good Reading: "The Fox and the Geese" by unknown writer (in English)

 

    There was once a Goose at the point of death,

    So she called her three daughters near,

    And desired them all, with her latest breath,

    Her last dying words to hear.

 

    "There's a Mr. Fox," said she, "that I know,

    Who lives in a covert hard by,

    To our race he has proved a deadly foe,

    So beware of his treachery."

 

    Build houses, ere long, of stone or of bricks,

    And get tiles for your roofs, I pray;

    For I know, of old, Mr. Reynard's tricks,

    And I fear he may come any day."

 

    Thus saying, she died, and her daughters fair, --

    Gobble, Goosey, and Ganderee, --

    Agreed together, that they would beware

    Of Mr. Fox, their enemy.

 

    But Gobble, the youngest, I grieve to say,

    Soon came to a very bad end,

    Because she preferred her own silly way,

    And would not to her mother attend.

 

    For she made, with some boards, an open nest,

    For a roof took the lid of a box;

    Then quietly laid herself down to rest,

    And thought she was safe from the Fox.

 

    But Reynard, in taking an evening run,

    Soon scented the goose near the pond;

    Thought he, " Now I'll have some supper and fun,

    For of both I am really fond."

 

    Then on to the box he sprang in a trice,

    And roused Mrs. Gobble from bed;

    She only had time to hiss once or twice

    Ere he snapped off her lily-white head.

 

 

 

    Her sisters at home felt anxious and low

    When poor Gobble did not appear,

    And Goosey, determined her fate to know,

    Went and sought all the field far and near.

 

    At last she descried poor Gobble's head,

    And some feathers not far apart,

    So she told Ganderee she had found her dead,

    And they both felt quite sad at heart.

 

    Now Goosey was pretty, but liked her own way,

    Like Gobble, and some other birds."

    'Tis no matter," said she, "if I only obey

    A part of my mother's last words."

 

    So her house she soon built of nice red brick,

    But she only thatched it with straw;

    And she thought that, however the fox might kick,

    He could not get e'en a paw.

 

    So she went to sleep, and at dead of night

    She heard at the door a low scratch;

    And presently Reynard, with all his might,

    Attempted to jump on the thatch.

 

    But he tumbled back, and against the wall

    Grazed his nose in a fearful way,

    Then, almost mad with the pain of his fall,

    He barked, and ran slowly away.

 

    So Goosey laughed, and felt quite o'erjoyed

    To have thus escaped from all harm;

    But had she known how the Fox was employed,

    She would have felt dreadful alarm;

 

    For Gobble had been his last dainty meat,

    So hungry he really did feel, --

    And resolved in his mind to accomplish this feat,

    And have the young goose for a meal.

 

    So he slyly lighted a bundle of straws,

    And made no more noise than a mouse,

    Then lifted himself up on his hind paws,

    And quickly set fire to the house.

 

    'Twas soon in a blaze, and Goosey awoke,

    With fright almost ready to die,

    And, nearly smothered with heat and with smoke,

    Up the chimney was forced to fly.

 

    The Fox was rejoiced to witness her flight,

    And, heedless of all her sad groans,

    He chased her until he saw her alight,

    Then eat her up all but her bones.

 

    Poor Ganderee's heart was ready to break

    When the sad news reached her ear.

    "'Twas that villain the Fox," said good Mr. Drake,

    Who lived in a pond very near.

 

    "Now listen to me, I pray you," he said,

    "And roof your new house with some tiles,

    Or you, like your sisters, will soon be dead, --

    A prey to your enemy's wiles."

 

    So she took the advice of her mother and friend,

    And made her house very secure,

    Then she said, -- "Now, whatever may be my end,

    The Fox cannot catch me, I'm sure."

 

    He called at her door the very next day,

    And loudly and long did he knock,

    But she said to him, -- "Leave my house, I pray,

    For the door I will not unlock;

 

    "For you've killed my sisters I know full well,

    And you wish that I too were dead."

    "Oh dear," said the Fox, " I can't really tell

    Who put such a thought in your head:

 

    "For I've always liked geese more than other birds,

    And you of your race I've loved best."

    But the Goose ne'er heeded his flattering words,

    So hungry he went to his rest.

 

    Next week she beheld him again appear,

    "Let me in very quick," he cried,

    "For the news I've to tell you'll be charmed to hear,

    And 'tis rude to keep me outside."

 

    But the Goose only opened one window-pane,

    And popped out her pretty red bill,

    Said she, "Your fair words are all in vain,

    But talk to me here if you will."

 

    "Tomorrow," he cried, " there will be a fair,

    All the birds and the beasts will go;

    So allow me, I pray, to escort you there,

    For you will be quite charmed I know."

 

    "Many thanks for your news," said Ganderee,

    "But I had rather not go with you;

    I care not for any gay sight to see," --

    So the window she closed, and withdrew.

 

    In the morning, howe'er, her mind she changed,

    And she thought she would go to the fair;

    So her numerous feathers she nicely arranged,

    And cleaned her red bill with much care.

 

    She went, I believe, before it was light,

    For of Reynard she felt much fear;

    So quickly she thought she would see each sight,

    And return ere he should appear.

 

    When the Goose arrived she began to laugh

    At the wondrous creatures she saw;

    There were dancing bears, and a tall giraffe,

    And a beautiful red macaw.

 

    A monkey was weighing out apples and roots;

    An ostrich, too, sold by retail;

    There were bees and butterflies tasting the fruits,

    And a pig drinking out of a pail.

 

    Ganderee went into an elephant's shop,

    And quickly she bought a new churn;

    For, as it grew late, she feared to stop,

    As in safety she wished to return.

 

    Ere, however, she got about half the way,

    She saw approaching her foe;

    And now she hissed with fear and dismay,

    For she knew not which way to go.

 

    But at last of a capital plan she bethought,

    Of a place where she safely might hide;

    She got into the churn that she had just bought,

    And then fastened the lid inside.

 

    The churn was placed on the brow of a hill,

    And with Ganderee's weight down it rolled,

    Passing the Fox, who stood perfectly still,

    Quite alarmed, though he was very bold.

 

    For the Goose's wings flapped strangely about,

    And the noise was fearful to hear;

    And so bruised she felt she was glad to get out,

    When she thought that the coast was clear.

 

    So safely she reached her own home at noon,

    And the Fox ne'er saw her that day;

    But after the fair he came very soon,

    And cried out in a terrible way, --

 

    "Quick, quick, let me in! oh, for once be kind,

    For the huntsman's horn I hear;

    Oh, hide me in any snug place you can find,

    For the hunters and hounds draw near."

 

    So the Goose looked out in order to see

    Whether Reynard was only in jest;

    Then, knowing that he in her power would be,

    She opened the door to her guest.

 

    "I'll hide you," she said, " in my nice new churn."

    "That will do very well," said he;

    "And thank you for doing me this good turn,

    Most friendly and kind Ganderee."

 

    Then into the churn the Fox quickly got;

    But, ere the Goose put on the top,

    A kettle she brought of water quite hot,

    And poured in every drop.

 

    Then the Fox cried out, "O! I burn, I burn,

    And I feel in a pitiful plight;"

    But the Goose held fast the lid of the churn,

    So Reynard he died that night.

 

    Moral

    Mankind have an enemy whom they well know,

    Who tempts them in every way;

    But they, too, at length shall o'ercome this foe,

    If wisdom's right law they obey.

Saturda's Good REading: " Who Killed Cock Robin?" (in English)

 

                   Who killed Cock Robin?

                    I, said the Sparrow,

                    With my bow and arrow,

                    I kill'd Cock Robin.

 

                    Who saw him die?

                    I, said the Fly,

                    With my little eye,

                    I saw him die.

 

                    Who caught his blood?

                    I, said the Fish,

                    With my little dish,

                    I caught his blood.

 

                    Who'll make his shroud?

                    I, said the Beetle,

                    With my thread and needle,

                    I'll make his shroud.

 

                    Who'll dig his grave?

                    I, said the Owl,

                    With my spade and trowel,

                    I'll dig his grave.

 

                    Who'll bear the pall?

                    We, said the Wren,

                    Both the Cock and the Hen,

                    We'll bear the pall.

 

                    Who'll carry him to the grave?

                    I, said the Kite,

                    If it's not in the night,

                    I'll carry him to the grave.

 

                    Who'll be the Parson?

                    I, said the Rook,

                    With my little book,

                    I'll be the Parson.

 

                    Who'll sing a Psalm?

                    I, said the Thrush,

                    As he sat in the bush,

                    I'll sing a Psalm?

 

                    Who'll be the Clerk?

                    I, said the Lark,

                    If it's not in the dark,

                    I'll be the Clerk.

 

                    Who'll be chief mourner?

                    I, said the Dove,

                    Because I mourned for my love,

                    I'll be chief mourner.

 

                    Who'll carry the link?

                    I, said the Linnet,

                    I'll fetch it in a minute,

                    I'll carry the link.

 

                    Who'll toll the bell?

                    I, said the Bull,

                    Because I can pull,

                    I'll toll the bell.

 

                    All the birds in the air

                    Fell to sighing and sobbing

                    When they heard the bell

                    For poor Cock Robin.

 

                    While the cruel Cock Sparrow,

                    The cause of their grief,

                    Was hung on a gibbet

                    Next day, like a thief.