Stories about children of all nations every child can read

Preface

W E shall find as we read the accounts of the life of young folk of various nations that boys and girls in distant countries amuse themselves in a manner not very different from our own methods ; and that taking away the gilt of civilization, the brown-skinned lad is as fond of toys and of play as is his white-skinned rival. There are many lessons to be learned, as well as much amusement to be obtained, from stories of child-life. Some of us may think ourselves superior to the “strange children” whom we shall meet; but, in their obedience to parents and attention to set tasks and duties, we may find examples

PREFACE worth imitating, even in some of the so-called “savage” lands. Every nation has something to teach us.

In this book are collected a series of stories of children living in all parts of the globe — not only the boys and girls of England, Germany, France and other parts of Europe; not only the happy little ones of our own dear country and Canada, but also the children of the Turk, the “Fellah child,” the Hindoo, the Chinese, the Japanese, the Malay, and the Filipino, Hawaiian, Porto Rican and all the new peoples of our own nation.

Chapter I. CANADA

S TARTING out on our long journey around the world, let us make our first call on our little cousins in Canada, and see them in their homes. The life of the boys and girls in the large Canadian towns and cities is nearly like that of our own, and we shall speak rather of children of the country than of those of the towns.

The life of a boy or girl in the backwoods of Canada is, in some ways, a harder one than that of most American boys and girls, but it has its advantages. When a family first settles down in the backwoods, its members almost always have to put up with a rough and ready sort of house built of logs, in the building of which the boys and girls of the family all lend a helping hand. The spaces between the logs of the wall are chinked with mud and moss, the rooms are furnished with very large chimneys and hearths capable of holding huge fires. Near the front door is generally a well, with a long pole for drawing up the bucket, and the upper part of the house is used for storing hay and other fodder. A bee-house, a small stone building used as a bake-house, and a roughly-roofed dairy are the other buildings, and there are fenced paddocks or pasture fields around.

It is remarkable how comfortable these loghouses are, and how cheerful and homelike they seem, with the big fire blazing on the hearth, the cold winter’s wind howling outside, while the old woodsmen, with feet stretched toward the grateful blaze, spin long yarns of their adventures with the moose and bears and Indians. No one can tell stories like these old Canadian hunters and trappers. Many were the dangers which they have met with and overcome when they first came into this new country. Wouldn’t you love to be there and hear those stories ?

The school-houses also in remote country districts are often log buildings and are attended by boys and girls alike. During the Canadian winter the snow really lies on the ground for weeks and even months together, and then the young people go to school in sledges, if they live at a distance. This is a pleasant-enough way of going, for nothing could be more enjoyable than a sleigh-drive through a Canadian forest on a bright, frosty winter day.

The horses speed swiftly over the hard, crisp snow, the sleigh-bells ring out merrily in the air and send the echoes flying through the silent forest. Sometimes, as the sleigh passes beneath a drooping bough of spruce or hemlock, a cloud of snow comes showering down upon the occupants of the sleigh, but it is so light and dry that no one is wet. Moonlight sleighing is enjoyed by old and young, and a sleigh-ride at night is even more delightful and picturesque than by day, the soft radiance shimmering over the white, sparkling forest, through which the stars glitter like jewels. These delightful rides take the place of our hay or straw rides, which are so full of fun for us.

You will see that the Canadian home life does not mean simply sitting before a huge fireplace reading fairy stories, cooking, sewing, dancing in the evening or playing games in the parlor, for it includes what is almost the biggest part of the child’s pleasure — the great outdoor life • — skating, boating or picnicking, canoeing, hunting and sailing, and, perhaps the greatest pleasure of all, “camping out.” All these belong to them in the great, big, open country where there is so much “room to play.”

The woods are full of wild fruits of many varieties, such as wild strawberries, black and red currants, cranberries, gooseberries and raspberries. All these grow in rich abundance in the woods, in the swamps or low marshy ground, and even by the wayside. The young people make up “Strawberry Picnics,” gather the berries in baskets and pails, lunch in the woods, and return laden with their spoils at sundown. These wild berries of various sorts are, many of them, very good with sugar and cream, and almost all make excellent pies.

When the warm spring rains have driven away the snow, and the sap in the maple-sugar trees is running, then the time to make maple sugar has come. The country hoys and girls love to watch the way in which little holes are bored in the trees, a spigot driven in, and pails placed beneath to catch the quickly-running sap. This used to be collected and put into big iron caldrons over huge fires in the woods to be boiled down to the delicious syrup which we so love to put on our griddle-cakes. Sometimes our little friends try this on their own account, and, not being sure which are the sugar maples, the syrup they get has often a very peculiar taste. Now-a-days sugar-making has come to be a business and the old, picturesque methods have been given up for more modern ones, but you will still find the children making their own maple sugar in the good, old-fashioned way. Just think of being able to make your own maple-sugar candy! And how much sweeter it tastes when you have made it yourselves !

The little Canadians think springtime the loveliest season of the whole year, and we can just imagine little Jack running up to his sister all out of breath and saying :

“I know something awful nice ! I’ll give you three guesses.”

“Is it a visit to Aunt Polly ?”

“ Is it a trip to the sea-shore ? ’ ’

“Is it a picnic?”

“Something much nicer than any of them; but you have had three guesses.”

She coaxes him, just as any little girl would, and at last he can’t keep it to himself any longer.

‘ ‘ Mother says, If we are real good and do all our lessons until the holidays, then we shall go camping. ’ ’

“Camping out! In the woods! In tents! Oh, won’t that be fun!” And then they dance with glee and plan all kinds of things they are going to do, for there is nothing these lovers of outdoor life like so much as going off in real old forests.

Let us follow them in their trip. The longlooked for day arrives at last. The men are loading the light canoes and the guide is an Indian. Yes, a real live Indian. But he’s not a wild one, so there is no danger of anyone being scalped. Nothing having been forgotten, they all start off down the stream singing “Rolling My Ball” or “Tenting on the Old Camp Ground.”

Before long, the party hears, not far ahead, the sound of water rushing over rocks and dashing along at a great rate. This means that they are coming to the rapids, or ‘ 4 quick-water, ’ ’ which our little friends had never before seen. Even brave little Jack, when they plunge into it, takes a tight hold on the sides of the canoe, and hardly dares look around him. They seem to fly along, the water seething, whirling and splashing. Each moment he fears that they will crash into the black rocks ahead, hut with a quick turn of the paddle behind him they shoot past unharmed, and when at last the rush, and noise, and confusion are over, the successful canoemen draw their little boats safely to the shore, and the time has come for dinner.

What fun it is now to gather the wood for a cooking fire, and how quickly everything is made ready ; and sitting around under the grand old trees, how they eat! But no time is to he lost, for they must reach the camping ground far down the stream where they are to spend the night. They pass lovely islands and sandy beaches, and Jack would have liked the day to last forever.

The camping ground is beside a cool, clear spring. It is wonderful to see with what quickness the tent poles are collected and gotten into position, the things unpacked, and the balsam twigs cut and laid on the ground within the tents for their beds. You and I will he very lucky if we can always have beds as comfortable as these springy, sweet-smelling boughs.

It is getting dark. The fireplace is made by placing two upright sticks with forked tops in the ground and laying a heavy, horizontal pole on top. From this the kettles are hung, and the fire is built beneath them. The water is soon boiling, and the smell of the cooking makes our little Canadian friends feel as though they must have dreamed about their dinner and hadn’t eaten a thing all day, they are so hungry. Pork and beans, bacon and canned vegetables, with preserved strawberries and toast, may not seem very nice to you if you are used to having everything fresh, but perhaps you have never eaten them like our little Canadians, out in the woods after a day on the water.

Anyway, they disappear with quickness, and soon the big campfire is built up while the entire party gathers around to plan for the next day, to sing and, best of all, to listen to the men telling stories of hunting and fishing. But we notice that Jack has lost the last story, for he has fallen sound asleep with his head on his mother’s lap. Soon they are all off to bed, and quiet settles down over the little encampment.

All the forest around seems very black. The white tents look ghostly as the dying fire shoots up for a moment, and there is not a sound except the gentle murmuring of the stream in its sleep.

The next morning Jack wakes np and sees a big wasp in the tent chasing flies. His yell wakes np the entire party, and soon the camp is as busy as can be. We can only hint at all they do that day. How the girls help to wash the dishes, how the men drive nails into the tentpoles for hooks on which to hang their clothes, and how they split logs to make benches and tables ; and how the children nearly fall into the stream trying to catch fish.

That night at supper the guide tells them that there are salmon in the stream, and promises to show them the Indian way of catching at night these gamiest of fishes. The little folks are greatly excited when the time comes, but, of course, are trying to think they are perfectly cool.

Now, only the steersman paddles, the man in front kneeling and watching the water. Placed in the bow of the canoe is a flaming torch made of a roll of birch-bark fastened to the end of a stick. This torch throws a glare on the water all around and lights up the dusky face of the Indian. Soon the salmon are attracted by the light, and like a flash a spear is struck down. There is a brief struggle and the fish lies gasping in the canoe. Jack thinks that sport very cruel though very exciting, but he knows that when the time comes to help eat the fish he will forget all about how it was caught.

We must leave this little party in the morning to their sports and adventures in the woods, but we can understand why this 4 4 camping out” is among the greatest of all their pleasures.

But the settlers’ children in the backwoods sometimes meet with strange scenes and come upon perils and dangers. The following little story is told as true: A young man was out hunting one day in the forest. As he was passing by a clump of raspberry bushes he heard a stirring and rustling among the leaves. Thinking it might be a bear or some other wild animal, he kept his fingers on the lock of his rifle, and cautiously drew near. Presently he saw a thin, brown hand stretched out to catch a spray of the raspberry bush, and to his great surprise the form of a little girl appeared.

The child presented a strange and pitiful figure. Her clothes were torn and soiled, her face and hands were as brown as a nut, and stained with the juice of wild berries; her hair fell in rough tangles over her bright eyes. At first she seemed timid and shy of approaching the young hunter, but he encouraged her with gentle words, and she drew near his side.

She said that she had been lost in the woods while on her way to carry her father ’s dinner — had mistaken a cattle-track for the right path. She could not exactly say how long she had been lost, but thought it must be six or seven days. Her father’s dinner had served her for food for two days and then she lived on wild berries.

She had found plenty of water, and had slept at night under the shelter of a large, fallen treetrunk.

One night she was awakened by a noise, and beheld, quite close to her, two black beasts looming big in the moonlight. In the confused sensation of sudden awakening from sleep, she thought the two huge, black creatures were her father’s cows, and began calling, “Cherry!” “Sweetlips!” But no bells tinkled in answer to her call, for the creatures were bears. Whether it was the novelty of the situation that startled them, or whatever the cause was I know not, but the two great creatures, instead of doing any harm to the little girl, looked at her for a few minutes in silence, standing on their hind legs, and then trotted quietly away.

The hunter took the tired and weak little wanderer on his shoulder, and carried her to the nearest farm-house with which he was acquainted. The farmer happened to know the little girl’s friends, and she was soon restored to her rejoicing parents, who had been vainly seeking her for days.

On a certain day in the early summer, the Indians in their villages meet to celebrate the Corpus Christi Festival, and it will be interesting to know what they do on that day. A party of children arrived at the pretty Indian village in time for the services in the little old church. The congregation consisted chiefly of Indians and half breeds, with our little friends and a few other visitors. Most of the Indians wore wonderfully-colored coats and dresses, which formed the queerest mixingup of their old savage costume with that of civilization. The priest, a tall, good-looking man with piercing eyes, sang High Mass, and then the procession followed. First came an altar boy, then six hoys with lighted tapers and two walking backward scattering boughs. These boys were all Indians, hut their features had lost their heaviness and were lit up with an expression of worship. The procession entered the school-house not far from the church, where the Host, which is the bread used in the Holy Sacrament, was placed in a little tabernacle of green boughs while the service went on. The Indians then went back to their homes to receive the visitors, who found their huts for once very neat and clean. There they were given something to eat.

In the afternoon all the full-grown Indians, as the priest told the visitors, were to hold a “pow-wow” for the purpose of electing a chief. This good man took our visitors around the village and showed them into several of the little wooden houses. In one they found twin papooses, or Indian babies, 4 ‘ brown as Autumn beech leaves,” sleeping side by side in a basket of their mother’s making. Many beaded moccasins and brightly-colored baskets were offered for sale, together with handkerchief cases made of fragrant wood. The Canadians nearly all speak a kind of French, and a mixture of French, English and Indian is the only language now used by the Indians, and so, although you and I could not have understood these Indians, their remarks were plain enough to our little Canadian cousins.

Before we mention the winters of Canada, we should learn that the great Canadian province of British Columbia is very near our own province of Alaska. It is very beautiful there, especially in the summer. The mountains are very high, and the deep valleys which are quite cut off from the winds are wonderfully fertile. The snow melting on the mountains forms many sparkling streams and water-falls, but the coast is the most beautiful portion of Canada. The fiords or ocean inlets of British Columbia resemble very closely those of Norway, and the entire coast, with its forest-covered shores, snowy mountain peaks, and flashing cataracts, is very beautiful.

Little Jack and his sister are now very busy collecting brown, red and yellow leaves, carefully pressing and varnishing them, and dipping others in heated wax so that they will keep their colors; for Autumn has come, and the forests are gleaming in the sunlight with all the colors of the rainbow. These leaves are carefully pressed and put aside for a purpose of which we shall tell you later.

We shall see that the Canadians spend Hallowe’en in very much the same way as we do. The children ask their friends, and make lists of Hallowe’en games and tricks. Pumpkins are transformed into grinning faces to scare the visitors as they arrive. Everybody has a happy time. Some bob for apples; some try to take a ring, with their lips, from a mound of flour; some try to take the first bite out of an apple ; some try walking backward in the garden with a lamp in one hand and a mirror in the other. Then, of course, there are fortunes told by means of cabbages, and, amid much laughter, they play some of the old-fashioned games dear to children everywhere — “Hunt the Slipper,” “ Blind Man’s Buff,” and many others.

Soon the weather gets colder and the streams are covered with ice, very clear and smooth. As you may know, the Canadians are all splendid skaters. Whenever there is skating at any place in our country or in England, if there is a skater of great skill and grace, that one is almost sure to be from Canada. The little children learn to skate almost as soon as they can walk. In the cities of Quebec, Toronto and elsewhere, skating is made very much of, for the big waters of the St. Lawrence River and of Toronto Bay offer fine sheets of ice all winter long. Many pretty skating festivals are arranged for the young people. A space is covered in on the ice, and a rink thus formed. The young people assemble at night, with their grown-up friends, all in fancy costumes. The place is gayly lit up with colored lamps and Chinese lanterns, and to lively strains of music the guests skate and show off all their fancy tricks. Nothing could be more bright, graceful and pretty than the effect thus produced.

Several years ago a great palace made of glittering cakes of ice, with brightly-colored flags on the turrets, was built every winter, and hundreds in bright costumes, wearing snowshoes and carrying torches, gathered to storm this fairy-like fortress. This carnival was the greatest day of the year for the little boys and girls of Toronto.

Snowshoeing is one of the peculiar sports of the Canadians. The little boys and girls very soon learn to avoid stumbling on these broad, web-like shoes, and after a while get into the easy, swinging stride which makes the miles go by so quickly. They would seem to us to be almost equal to the “Seven Leagued Boots.’ ’ The winters in eastern Canada are very cold, but the air is so dry and clear that our little friends do not realize how low the thermometer is, unless they happen to sea one. In fact, children are as much outdoors in winter as they are in summer. Their winters are very long, but the children there, warmly housed and clad, revel in all the season’s healthful sports.

As Christmas time draws near, the atmosphere of mystery settles down upon the household. Strange looking parcels arrive, hut it is no use to ask, for no one seems to know about them. When the Holidays begin, there is plenty of work to be done, and most of this is the kind of work in which the children love to take part. Now comes the time when they use the brightly . colored leaves which they collected during the Fall. Every picture is framed in these, and fir, balsam and hemlock are brought in from the woods, with bright red cranberries scattered through them, to add to the decorations. Of course, the mistletoe and holly, two favorite evergreens which you will find, if it is possible to get them, in all countries where Christmas is celebrated, form a very prominent part.

Great preparations are being made in the kitchen. Mother is busy making cakes in special shapes and forms, and all the good things which children like are being prepared by loving hands. The night before Christmas, the children are packed off to bed, each one hoping to be the first to waken the next morning. None of the old customs are forgotten, and with the first peep of the sun the mother is roused by a childish shout of “ Merry Christmas ! Merry Christmas ! 9 9 and down the hall it goes until the whole household is wide awake. Then quickly putting on wrappers and slippers the family gathers in the mother ’s room, and as the children enter they gaze with eyes as big as

16 CHILDBEN OF ALL NATIONS saucers on the long row of pillow cases bulging into the oddest kinds of shapes.

These are placed to suit each age. The youngest, who in this family is a boy, is the first to get his pillow case. We can well imagine what is in it, for their toys differ but little from ours. Books, just the ones he was wanting, games, a top, a box of blocks, a tiny pair of snowshoes, and maybe a bugle, a sword or a drum, and, best of all, a nice, brightly-painted sled. Then his little sister examines her pillow case while all look on with the greatest interest. Soon afterward the servants come in and thank their kind master and mistress for all the good things they have found in their own pillow cases. Some of the families use stockings, the same as we do, but the majority do as these we are visiting, preferring the pillow cases, perhaps because they hold so much more.

At breakfast, each member of the family finds a piece of holly at his place, and this is to be worn all day. The old folks go to church, but Christmas dinner does not come until the evening. The children are too excited, as you or I would be, to think of anything but presents during the afternoon. Christmas dinner is the only time in the year when a second or even a third helping is rarely refused and everybody gets all he can eat of good things at the jolly Christmas table.

In the evening, all gather around the fire and sing. The youngest of the family, allowed to stay up so late, is asked to sing “God Save the King,” which he does with great glee and pride. At ten o’clock, tea and plum-cake are brought in, and the evening always ends with a few of the favorite hymns.

There are certain sports in Canada which we cannot enjoy, though the boys must be a little older before they take part in them. In some hilly provinces, the boys slide down the smooth surfaces on skees, or very long strips of wood, turned up at the ends and fastened on the feet like skates. This is a very exciting sport, though it is often dangerous. The hoys also like to chop a hole in the ice and catch fish in the water beneath. Sometimes, they go at night and hold a torch over the hole, when the fish will be attracted to the light and caught more easily. Tobogganing is another sport which is pretty generally enjoyed and is very little different from the sledding,, with which we are all so familiar. In fact, the only difference is that the sled is flat on the snow.

Little boys and girls are seldom allowed on the ice-boats in which their older brothers fly along over the big, frozen waters of the St. Lawrence River and Toronto Bay. This sport is full of risk and danger. Just think of skimming over the ice faster than you have ever gone on a train, for they do go that fast at times !

But we have seen what the little Canadian boys and girls are doing, and so now we shall take a big ocean steamer and call on onr next nearest relative in “dear old England.’ ’

We feel the moving of machinery beneath us. Everyone on board is waving his handkerchief and calling “Good-bye” to those on shore, and we are off for the great Atlantic Ocean and a long journey over the wide waters.

Chapter II. ENGLAND

W E find on our arrival in England that the little British baby, like the American child, is tended very carefully — • washed, dressed, nursed and petted by all in the house until he is able to crawl and then learns to walk nicely. The time when the baby has his first birthday party — that is fun! They play “ Blind Man’s Buff,” ‘ 4 Puss in the Corner,” “Hunt the Slipper,” and many such pleasant games in which the youngest can join and enjoy the fun as much as the older ones. After some fine fun, the little one climbs on his mother’s knee until it is time to go to sleep. The pretty picture book helps to amuse and teach him, and slowly and surely the first stages of lessons and music are passed. The perambulator (which is their long name for the babycarriage) is put away, and the hoop, the top, the battledore and shuttlecock (games which we do not often see in America) and the paint box are daily amusements and pastimes for the children.

A few years pass away, and then study time comes. Most of the boys and -girls whose parents can afford it are taught at home by a governess. The poorer children are sent to government schools. The little girls who wish to be useful to their parents help their mother in the housekeeping, learn to sew and hem and stitch and put on buttons.

When the holidays come, then the British boys and girls have a good time. The school year in Great Britain is generally divided into three terms, so there are three separate holidays — Eastertime, Midsummer and Christmas. At Eastertime it is the custom to send cards to children, and older people too, but the children receive more ; pretty pictures with verses suited to the season, much as we send here at various seasons to our friends.

Good St. Valentine is not so much remembered in England as he used to be; Christmas and Easter and birthday cards have put valentines aside in many families. These cards make up very pretty albums for the poorer children. Some boys and girls paste all their cards into scrap-books, and after a while give them away to poorer children whose parents. cannot afford to give them such nice things. There are thousands of children in Great Britain who work in mines and factories, and have no comforts, no pretty toys, and have very little care shown to them, but whenever it is possible we like to think that the good gifts and presents of the wealthier class are gladly and freely shared with them.

ENGLAND

The great pet of the English girl is her doll, and in whatever station of life she may be the “dolly” is cared for almost as much as the baby. Even the favorite fat pussy cat is neglected for the new doll. Some of the English children have splendid doll houses, and a beautiful entertainment is held at the doll’s house at which tea and cake are the leading features. In this way, as you know, the little English and the little American girls are very much alike.