Story Hour Readers Part 15

Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear!

Robin sings so sweetly In the falling of the year.

Bright yellow, red, and orange, The leaves come down in hosts; The trees are Indian princes, But soon they'll turn to ghosts; The leathery pears and apples Hang russet on the bough; It's autumn, autumn, autumn late, 'Twill soon be winter now.

Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear!

And what will this poor robin do?

For pinching days are near.

The fireside for the cricket, The wheat stack for the mouse, When trembling night winds whistle And moan all round the house; The frosty ways like iron, The branches plumed with snow-- Alas! In winter dead and dark, Where can poor Robin go?

Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear!

And a crumb of bread for Robin, His little heart to cheer!

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

THORN ROSE

In the long, long ago, there lived a king and queen who for many years had no children.

At last a lovely baby was born to them--a little princess.

There was great rejoicing over all the land. The king and queen decided to have a party in honor of the princess.

In the palace there was hurry and stir to make ready. Messengers were sent far and near, to invite the lords and ladies of the land to the great feast.

Among the guests invited to the party were seven good fairies.

It was a beautiful summer afternoon. The roses on the palace wall were nodding their heads sleepily in the warm breeze, when the chariot with the seven fairies arrived.

The good fairies entered the princess' room. There the tiny baby lay, sleeping in a dainty pearl cradle.

"She is as sweet and fair as a rose!" they exclaimed. "We will call her Rose."

Now it happened that the king and queen had failed to invite a spiteful and ill-tempered old witch. The old witch was very angry, because she had not been invited to the party.

After the guests had all arrived, she entered through the keyhole. No one saw her enter.

Each of the good fairies bestowed on the princess a precious gift.

"I bestow upon you, sweet princess, the gifts of health and cheerfulness," said the first fairy.

"You shall be the most beautiful princess in the world," said the second fairy.

"You shall be witty and wise," said the third.

"You shall have the sweetest voice that ever was heard," said the fourth.

"You shall be generous and kind," said the fifth.

"Everyone shall love you," said the sixth of the good fairies.

Just then a spiteful laugh was heard.

"Ah, ah, ah!" some one called.

The king and queen saw the old witch who had not been invited to the party.

"I will tell you what shall happen to this little wonder," said the witch. "She will cut her finger with a spindle before she is fifteen years old, and then she will die!"

The old witch shook her black stick at the princess.

Then she disappeared, as she had entered, through the keyhole.

The king and queen were troubled when they heard the witch's words, but the seventh fairy, who had not yet spoken, stepped forward.

"The king's daughter shall not die, but she shall sleep for a hundred years. When the princess falls asleep, everyone in the palace will go to sleep, too. They will all sleep for a hundred years."

Then the king ordered that every spindle in the kingdom should be destroyed.

Not a spindle was to be used, anywhere in the country, until after the princess had pa.s.sed her fifteenth birthday.

The gifts of the fairies proved true. The princess was so beautiful and so good that she was loved by all. She was witty and wise and her voice was like a silver bell.

One day, when the princess was nearly fifteen years old, she wandered through the palace and up the winding stairs to an old tower.

There, in a little room, sat an old woman, busily twisting thread upon a spinning wheel. The old woman had never heard the king's command.

"How merrily the wheel goes round! Let me see if I can spin!" said the princess.

Scarcely had the princess touched the spindle when she cut her finger.

The girl fell at once into a deep sleep. She lay upon the floor beside the spinning wheel, fast asleep.

In the castle below, the king, the queen, and all the servants fell asleep, too. The horses slept in their stalls. The dogs slept in their kennels.

The pigeons on the roof, and the birds in their nests, all went sound asleep. Even the fire flaming on the hearth became still.

Deep shadows darkened the sunny rooms of the palace, and the garden round about.

A hedge of thorns at once began to grow around the palace.

The hedge became thicker and higher as the days went by, until at last it was so tall that not even the palace towers could be seen.

The story of the princess, the beautiful Thorn Rose, was told far and wide.