Dramatic reader

Contents

The Fairies of Caldon Low

The Birds of Killingworth

The Pied Piper of Hamelin

Preface

It IS not so long ago but that the youngest of our pedagogues can remember when many teachers looked askance at anything savoring of Dramatic Reproduction in the school-room.

The excuses offered were the weakest of arguments against it, reflecting more upon the teacher's limitations than the proposed new work.

"My children get so beside themselves. The room is so noisy. I have difficulty in quieting them. There is so much regular work (God save the mark!) to cover, I have no time for frills," and all the most liberal of critics admitted was that she had no deep-rooted prejudice against dramatic reproduction, but professed herself ignorant of ''how to go about it."

At reproduction in narrative form, in which, too often, pupils are allowed to "but against their ands" in an endless number of sentences that have no proper connection — at reproduction with crayon, ink wash, scissors, or pencil, the most conservative teacher did not start back; but dramatic reproduction, the one form of reproduction wholly natural to the child was a bird of quite another and fearsome color.

" Dramatic Reproduction" — as it stands in the "grownups" vocabulary — "Let's play, Let's make believe. Let's pretend," as the child expresses it — has won its own way by proving that, if once applied, it will cure many of the worst ills to which the primary reading class is heir.

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6 PREFACE

The mechanics may be and should be carefully taught, but that by no means insures a child's being able to read. He may have mastered Ward's excellent " Phonic Manual" from cover to cover. He may amaze by his agility in the word gymnastics and still be but little nearer attaining the power to read. In a word, to interpret for his own and others' pleasure, the thought he gains from the printed page.

What do we require in a good reader? First, absence of self- consciousness, else how can he enter into another's thought? Second, sympathetic expression as shown in the inflection, suited to bring out the shading of meaning.

What method more natural to bring about this desired ability than the dramatic ? If he is the Pied Piper, playing rats and children to their doom, how can he be bashful, blundering Bennie ? If he is the irate farmer, protesting against the thievery of the birds and crying for their blood, how can he be the boy whose voice never got much beyond his lips before ?

Admonitions to ''Open your mouth." ''Read a little louder," "Speak more distinctly," "Raise your voice," "Stand erect," "Hold your book properly," and the like, never yet made a reader and never will.

Taking on the personality of another, as one must in dramatic reproduction, has solved many a seemingly hopeless problem of expression, inflection, voice, etc.

How would you go about it? The story part of this little volume is like all other readers and may be treated in the i ame way, as each individual teacher elects.

The dramatic part requires not only reading the part. The child must saturate himself with his particular part. In the case of simpler stories like Msop's Fables, where

PREFACE 7

each little actor's part is shorter, the drama may be absorbed after a very few *' saturations, '* as one learns a game after a few times playing it.

With the more difficult stories where each actor's part is longer, the drama may be read and re-read, each one taking his respective part, until after repeated readings and silent study, each one has become so familiar with his part, the story plays itself.

They tell us there is no Royal Road leading to the Multiplication Table, which statement our experience leads us to think is true, but there should be a Royal Road to anything that is so much a part of the child's life as reading, and this — '^Dramatization "we believe is the name — writ large on the sign post, pointing away from the older and lower road of '^ Everlasting Grind" to the newer and upper road — the King's Highway — leading the child back into a Kingdom that has ever been his own, a kingdom from which he is too often kidnapped by 'Xast-iron, Cut-anddried Methods" at war with both his needs and nature.

THE FAIRIES OF CALDON LOW The Story

Once there lived a little girl called Mary. One summer afternoon her mother missed her, and though she called her many times, and looked everywhere for her little girl, Mary did not come home until the sun was high in the sky the next day.

When her mother asked her where she had been all this time, Mary said she had climbed to the top of Caldon Hill.

Her mother wondered what there was to be seen at the top of Caldon Hill, but Mary said she saw the sunshine — the golden sunshine — come down, and the merry winds play together.

Her mother asked her if she had not been lonely in all those hours of darkness that she had spent on Caldon Hill, but Mary said she heard so many things that she did not feel alone at all. She heard the drops of water as they were made, and heard the ears of com filling.

All this sounded very strange to Mary's mother, lO THE LAND OF MAKE-BELIEVE

but she smiled at her little girl and said, '^ Since you heard so much you must have seen much as well. Perhaps you even saw the fairies.''

^^Oh, yes!" cried Mary, ^^ndeed I did! A hundred fairies danced last night to the merry music of nine harps!"

^'What wonderful things my little girl has seen!" said her mother. ^^Now you must tell me all that happened to pay me for hunting and missing you all through the long night. "

^^Let me climb up into your lap, then, mother, and I'll tell you what the fairies said. I'll tell you all the wonderful things I heard."

So Mary's mother cuddled her little girl close in her arms and Mary began:

^'The fairies were all such busy little people. Some played with the water-drops and rolled them down the hill to turn the great wheel for the Miller. They said there had been no water since the first of May, so the poor miller could grind no wheat for the farmers, but as soon as he saw the water in the morning what a busy man he would be. They laughed to themselves to think how the Miller would laugh till he cried when he saw the water rise and turn his wheel once more.

" But this was not all the fairies did by half. Some caught the little winds that were whistling over the hill, and put them to their mouths, like horns, blowing

THE LAND OF MAKE-BELIEVE II

on them so sharp and shrill. With every blow of the horn the winds went merrily down to where a poor old blind woman Hved.

^^She was very poor and raised com to make her living, but this year the com had not grown well at all. Mildew had come upon the stalks and kept them from growing stiff and strong. The fairies sent the winds to blow every speck of mildew from the corn.

^^ Though the poor old woman's life was sad and lonely she was merry enough the next morning, when she found every stalk of her com perfectly clean of mildew. But even this was not all the work the fairies did, mother," said Mary cuddling closer.

'' Still not all they did ? What next ?" her mother smiled.

'^From somewhere the fairies came with their hands full of brown linseed and threw it all down from the hills into one field that belonged to a poor lame man, who made his living by spinning and weaving for people.

'^The fairies laughed and shouted to each other, as they threw the seed in handfuls, which they said would be growing in the weaver's field by sunrise.

"The flax from which the poor old lame man spun his thread had not been growing well at all. It had been pretty dwindling and sickly for many weeks. The weaver's laugh would be long and loud when he saw his field full of flowers.

"Then the funniest thing happened — so funny that I laughed aloud and frightened every fairy oflf the top of the hill in a twinkling.

'^ A Brownie, with long whiskers on his chin, spoke up and said that he had spun all the tow he had into a piece of cloth, but he wanted some more tow to spin a little sheet for Mary and an apron for her mother. Do you wonder I laughed?" cried Mary.

''That funny, little fellow wanted to make a sheet for my little bed and an apron for you, but I am sorry that I laughed, for every fairy vanished. Not one was left. I was all alone on the top of Caldon Hill.

''It was no longer pleasant up there, for the fog rose so thick and cold and gray I could not see anything but the stones covered with moss that lay close about me, so I ran home as fast as I could. "

"You don't suppose you could have dreamed all these wonderful things that the fairies did?" asked Mary's mother, when the little girl's story was finished.

"Oh, no, mother!" cried Mary. "I know it was not all a dream, for as I came down the hill I heard the jolly miller laugh, and saw his busy wheel go merrily round. Then, too, I peeped into the poor old blind woman's corn field, and saw the stalks of corn, that had been covered with mildew, standing stiff and green.

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^I even walked down past the weaver's field before I came home, and, though I did not see the flax high in his garden, I saw him standing at his gate with such a happy look in his eyes. I knew the fairy seeds were growing well.

"Now I have told you everything I saw and heard, mother," said Mary^ "so will you tuck me away in my little bed, for I am as tired and sleepy as I can be. "

THE FAIRIES OF CALDON LOW

Dramatis PersoTUK Mary

Mary's Mother The Mhler The Blind Woman Fairies

The Lame Weaver The Brownie

Mary I never went as far from home as this before. What will Mother think? But now I am so near the top of the hill, I'll go on and see what there is to be seen and hear what there is to be heard up there. I must remember all I see and hear to tell Mother, for I don't think she ever climbed as high as this. Here I am at last all out of breath. I wonder how our house will look from here. I have often looked up here from our garden and wondered how it would seem to be up so high. Now I know. Oh, I did not know before that the beautiful golden sunshine fell like rain on our little village. It is falling on our house and garden this minute, a lovely, shining shower, Hark! There's a sound I do not 14 know. It is like merry laughing and sweet singing, like some one whistling, like some one tooting a horn too. Let me listen a moment. Oh, now I know. It is the merry winds at play. Listen! There's another strange sound. Now what is that, I wonder ? Like the babbling of laughing brooks.

Fairy You'll never be able to guess, for you are a little Earth Child, aren't you?

Mary Yes, and I do beheve you are a fairy, though I never saw one before; but you look just as I'd expect a fairy to look. Are you ?

Fairy Yes, and there are a hundred more like me, who will be here in a moment to dance upon the grass in this beautiful silvery moonlight. Before they come, I'll answer any questions you'd Hke to ask about what you have seen or heard from this very high place.

Mary I was trying to guess — just as you came up — what that could be which sounded like the babbling of laughing brooks.

Fairy Not far from here is the place where all the drops of water are made for the valley your home is in. That babbling noise you hear is the filling of the drops.

Mary You'll have to tell me more, good fairy. Since you have been talking, I have heard another strange sound. What can that be?

Fairy What does it sound like to you?

Mary As much like the shelling of peas or beans or corn as anything, though I see no garden near.

Fairy Not in sight, but not far from here is the place where the ears of com are filled with big, fat yellow kernels. It is a very nice job — this filling the ears of corn — for each kernel must fit exactly into its little white satin bed.

Mary Oh, Ksten, Ksten! Do you hear that sweet, sweet music? It is so very soft it must be far away.

Fairy But coming nearer all the time, for it is the music of the nine harps to which the fairies are to dance.

Mary Oh, see those dear little fairies over there ! They seem as busy as bees in June. With what are they playing ? Can you see ?

Fairy I know with what they are playing, but let us walk over near them, so you can see for yourself.

Mary They are playing with waterdrops ! I can hardly believe my eyes! And rolling them down hill, as we would marbles. Why, I wonder?

Fairy Ask one of them. He'll be glad to tell you.

Mary I see you are very busy, good fairies, but I cannot see what you are doing. Will you tell me ? Or don't you wish any of the Earth people to know?

First Fairy It is no secret, little girl. We are trying to help the good Miller out of his troubles. There has been no rain since the first of May, so there has been no water to turn the great wheel.

Mary And when the great wheel can not turn the Miller can grind no wheat for the farmers. I have heard my Father talking about it.

Second Fairy So we are rolling these waterdrops down the hill to him.

Third Fairy When he sees the water rise in the morning, what a busy man he'll be.

Mary And what a happy man, too, I guess.

Fourth Fairy How he will laugh when he sees his great wheel turning once more!

Fifth Fairy Laugh? Indeed he will laugh till he cries. Now, fairies, that is water enough. We have done all we can for the Miller. Who else is there that needs us?

First Fairy I could hardly wait to finish our work for the Miller to tell you of that poor old blind woman who raises com to make a living.

Second Fairy Is she ill ?

First Fairy No; but this year her com has not done at all well.

Third Fairy Do you know what keeps it from growing ?

First Fairy Mildew has come upon the stalks and kept them from growing stiff and strong. It must be taken off so the corn can grow.

Fourth Fairy What is the best way to take it oflf without hurting the com, I wonder?

Fijth Fairy The wmd must do it for us. Not a strong enough wind to break the com down, but a wind that will whip the mildew from every stalk and leave it perfectly clean. Then it will have a chance to grow stiff and strong, as it should.

First Fairy These little winds that come whistling over the hills are the very ones we want. Let us all catch some of them.

Mary Oh ! Oh ! How that frightened me ! What was it? So sharp and shrill!

Second Fairy Some of the fairies are putting the winds to their lips and blowing them like horns. Then they set the winds free and they go merrily down to whip the mildew off from that poor old blind woman's sickly com.

Second Fairy That poor old lady's life is so sad and lonely! We fairies are all so sorry for her and try to help her all we can.

Mary She'll be merry enough to-morrow moming, I guess, when she finds every stalk with the thick mildew, that kept it from growing, all gone.

Third Fairy Do any of you know of any one else who needs help that we can give ?

Mary I know some one who has had a great deal of trouble all summer, but I fear it would take too long to help him.

Fourth Fairy Tell us about him, little girl. You know we fairies are able to do many things in a short time that Earth people have to take a long time to do. Whom do you know? Let us hear.

Mary Oh, I'll be so glad if you can do anything for him. He is a poor lame man who makes his living by spinning and weaving for people. He has one large field in which he can raise all the flax he needs for his thread, but for many weeks now the flax has been dwindling and sickly. It has not been doing well at all. Of course, if his flax does not grow he has nothing of which to make thread for his weaving. He has no other way to earn any money.

Second Fairy Oh, ho! Such an easy thing for us to do. Gather handfuls of the brown linseed, all you fairies, and throw it down into that field at the left as fast as you can. More! More! fairies — handfuls of it — until there is not room for another seed !

Mary But will it not take many weeks to grow up and ripen? I am afraid the frost will come before it does.

Third Fairy Ho! Ho! How little she knows of the way we fairies do things. That seed will be growing in the weaver's field before the sun is up to-morrow.

Mary You don't know how happy the poor lame weaver will be. His laugh will be louder than the

Miller's, for he is so poor. When his flax failed him he had nothing left.

Fourth Fairy He'll see his field full of strong, healthy plants in full blossom as soon as the sun is up to-morrow, if that will make him happy.

Brownie I want some more ! I want some more ! I have spun all I have, but it isn't enough. I want some more !

{Mary laughs aloud.)

Fifth Fairy Sh! Sh! If you laugh so loud you'll frighten every fairy off the hill in a twinkling. See them running now. The fairies are afraid of Earth people. We did not know you were one until you laughed.

Mary I am sorry, but who could help laughing at such a funny little man with such long whiskers on his chin? Of what does he want more, do you suppose ?

Fifth Fairy What, is it you want. Brownie, and what have you been spinning?

Brownie I need some more tow. I have spun all I had into a piece of cloth, but I want some more.

Sixth Fairy What are you going to do with all that cloth. Brownie, if I give you more tow to spin ?

Brownie I mean to make a sheet for Mary's little bed and a big white apron for her Mother.

{Mary laughs louder than before. The last of the fairies and the Brownie vanish.)

Mary Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I have frightened them all away now. I am sorry I laughed, but how could I help it at that funny little fellow? Fancy his making a sheet for me and an apron for Mother. Not a fairy is left. Everyone has gone and I am alone on the top of the hill. I do not find it pleasant up here any longer. I do not like to be alone with no one to talk to, and the fog is rising so thick and cold and gray that I can see nothing except the mosscovered stones that lie very near me. There seems nothing more for me to hear or see, so I'll run home to Mother. Poor Mother! She has been worr)dng, I fear, while I have been having so good a time.

{Mary starts down hill,)

Hark! Who is laughing so merrily and — Listen! There it is again.

(iiZ"a, ha! Ha, ha! is heard in the distance,)

Mary And what can that roaring be I hear? Oh, now I know. The Miller is so happy over the raindrops the fairies rolled down the hill to turn his great mill wheel, and the roaring I hear is the busy mill wheel as it goes merrily round, grinding the farmer's wheat. Now I'll go round by the poor old

22 THE LAND OF MAKE-BELll^VE

bKnd woman's cornfield, and see if the winds did their work for her as well as the waterdrops did theirs for the Miller. Yes, to be sure they have, for there stand the very same cornstalks that were covered with mildew only last night, now stiff and green as any com need to be. How happy she must be! I'll go on down past the lame weaver's field. I hope he has fared as well as the Miller and the blind woman, for he needs help even more than they. Oh, the fence is too high for me to see into his field! Now I'll not know whether his flax is growing or not. But — look! Wlio is that, leaning on the gate ? The weaver himself, I do believe. It is the weaver himself. Though I do not know him well enough to ask about his flax, I'll walk past and I can tell by the way he looks whether the seeds the fairies planted are doing well or no. I never before saw so happy a look in his eyes. He'd not look like that if his seeds were not doing well. Here I am at home once more. It seems as if I had been away a long time. There is Mother at the gate now watching for me. She has been worrying too, I fear.

Mother Mary, child, where have you been since yesterday afternoon? Don't you know Father and Mother were worried almost to death about you? We feared some harm had befallen our little girl, when it grew dark, and still you did not come. As soon as I missed you, I called you over and over again. Then when Father came home we looked every place we could think of for you. We were hunting you nearly all night and did not sleep a wink. Don't ever stay away so long again, Mary. Now tell Mother where you have been all this time.

Mary I climbed to the top of Caldon Hill, Mother, and I am sorry I made you and Father worry so much about me. I was having so good a time, I forgot to come home — forgot it was growing late and forgot you would be wondering why I did not come. I'm so sorry, Mother. Will you forgive me? Indeed I did not mean to hurt you and Father so.

Mother That is Mother's good little girl — my own Mary. I know you will never do it again. But tell Mother what there was to be seen at the top of the hill that made you forget to come home to us, even when it grew dark. I should think Mother's little girl would have been lonely all those long hours, when it was dark. Were you not afraid, all alone, on the top of that high hill?

Mary Oh, Mother! You hear so many things up there that you do not hear down here. Listening to all those strange sounds kept me from being lonely. I did not feel as if I were alone a moment.

Mother Has Mother never heard any of these sounds? May Mother hear about them?

Mary Did you ever hear the little drops of water being made, Mother?

{Mother smiles and shakes her head.)

Mary I did, and I heard them filling the ears of corn with kernels.

Mother What a strange sound that must have been! Since you heard much you must have seen much as well. Perhaps my little girl even saw the fairies.

Mary Oh, yes! Indeed I did, a hundred fairies.

Mother As many as that?

Mary A hundred fairies danced last night on the green grass in the moonlight to the sweetest music I ever heard — played on nine harps.

Mother What wonderful things my little girl has seen! Now, begin at the beginning and tell Mother everything that happened to pay me for hunting and missing you all through the long night.

Mary Then let me climb into your lap, Mother. Cuddle your Mary close in your arms.

Mother Mother loves to hold her little girl so. Now we are ready for your story.

Mary Oh, Mother, I am so tired and sleepy I can't keep my eyes open. I want to tell you everything I saw and heard, but I can't hold my head up.

Mother Of course you can't, Mother's tired little girl. You shall save it all to tell when Father comes home to-night. He will want to hear about all these wonderful things you saw, too. Mother will tuck you away in your little white bed and there you may sleep as long as you wish.

THE BIRDS OF KILLINGWORTH The Story

The spring of the year had come in the little town of Killingworth. The birds were building their nests, singing as they worked, songs that God had taught them.

The buds on the branches were swelling and the little streams were running down the hillside, laughing and singing on their way.

The robin and blue-bird were down in the orchards, singing their merriest tunes.

The sparrows chirped the only song they knew.

The hungry crows were off by themselves — a great crowd of them — cawing every minute for something to eat.

The farmers were out in the fields ploughing and getting the earth ready to plant their crops. They did not welcome the birds as we do, for they thought them the most dreadful of thieves.

Robins and blue-birds like cherries and strawberries

\ far too well.

\ The crows helped themselves to the corn as soon

as it was planted.

The farmers were afraid their crops would be 26 spoiled by the birds, so they called a meeting of all the men to decide what was best to do.

Most of the farmers thought the only thing to do was to offer to pay so much for every dead bird brought them. They had tried to frighten the birds away with scare-crows, but the saucy things perched on his shoulders and even his tattered coat, flapping in the wind, did not alarm them.

All the town were on their way to this meeting where they should decide what was best to be done with the birds.

First came the Judge, who lived in the big white house with the red roof and the great pillars. The Judge walked slowly down the street to the new Town Hall, where the meeting was to be held.

Next came the minister, who cut off the poor daisies' heads with his swinging cane, as he came down the lane.

He was a good man, I have no doubt, but he was not gentle-hearted.

He thought it fine sport to kill the beautiful deer that bounded through the woods. There was not enough love in his heart for either man or beast.

Then, from the school-house on the hill came the teacher, watching the soft, white clouds as he walked on, thinking of many things.

After the teacher came the Deacon, dressed, as he always was, in a suit of black, with the whitest of neckties. The Deacon went slowly, for he was a very large, heavy man.

The people of the village thought there never was anyone so wise as the Deacon, and that he might never be forgotten they had named a street in town after him.

All these men of whom I have told you, with the farmers from the country round, came together in the new Town Hall.

The Judge sat upon the platform and led the meeting. Many people spoke, telling what they thought should be done to the birds.

It seemed as if the birds did not have a friend in all that crowd.

They all talked as if they were bitter enemies of the poor little birds.

Man after man got up and told of the dreadful things the birds did.

When they had all said their say the teacher stood upon his feet to tell what he thought. He trembled and was half afraid to talk before all these people, but he knew what he had to say was the right thing to say, so he spoke out in a clear strong voice.

He made up his mind that they should neither laugh nor frown him down.

^^If you kill the sweet singers of the woods," he began, ''you will be like a wicked king who once drove all of the poets from his kingdom. When people are troubled and sad the birds make sweet music for us, as David, the shepherd boy, once did for Saul, a great king.