Ada M. (Ada Maria) Skinner.

Pearl story book : stories & legends of winter, Christmas & New Year's day online

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Drawn by Maxfitld'-Parrish


Stories and Legends of
Winter, Christmas, and New Year's Day






Editors of "The t!.v tr$ld S.vrj^Book" ',TneTcij,at, Story Book"
"The Turquoise Story Bnok," "Children's Plays," Etc.





T!LDti\ I



V 1

The editors' thanks are due to the following
authors and publishers for the use of valuable
material in this book:

To T. C. and E. C. Jack of Edinburg for
permission to usr, "Holly"- and the legend of
the "Yew" from "Shown to the Children
Series"; to Frederick A. Stokes Company for
"The Voice of the. Fine- Tree*,," from "Myths
and Legends of Japan"; to the Wessels Com-
pany for "The First Winter" by W. W. Can-
field ; to Julia Dodge for permission to use two
poems by Mary Mapes Dodge; to the Chris-
tian Herald for a poem by Margaret E.
Sangster, Jr.; to Lothrop, Lee and Shepherd
for "The Pine and the Flax" by Albrekt Seg-
erstedt; to the Outlook Company for a story
by Mine Morishima; to the Independent for
the poem "Who Loves the Trees Best?"; to
Laura E. Richards for her story "Christmas
Gifts"; to George Putnam and Sons for "Sil-
ver Bells" by Hamish Hendry, and "The


Happy Prince" by Oscar Wilde; to the
Churchman for a story by John P. Peters; to
Dodd, Mead and Company for the story
"Holly" from the "Story Hour"; and "Prince
Winter" from "The Four Seasons" by Carl
Ewald; to George Jacobs for "A Legend of
St. Nicholas" from "In God's Garden" by
Amy Steedman; to A. Flanagan Company for
"The New Year's Bell" from "Christ-Child
Tales" by Andrea. .Hofer. Proud foot; to Jay T.
Stocking and the Pilgrims P'ress for "The
Snowball That Didn't Melt" from "The Gol-
den Goblet"; to the NSW York State Museum
for permission tc us'e two sto-ries contained in
Bulletin 125, by Mrs. H. M. Converse; to
Small, Maynard and Company for "A Song
of the Snow," from "Cgmplete Works of
Madison Cawein."

The selections from James Russell Lowell,
Edna Dean Procter, Celia Thaxter, Nathaniel
Hawthorne, Edith M. Thomas, Margaret
Deland, John Townsend Trowbridge, and
Frank Dempster Sherman are used by per-
mission of, and by special arrangement with,
Houghton, Mifflin Company, authorized
publishers of their works.





Winter (selection) James Russell Lowell 2

The Ice King (Indian legend) Eleanor L. Skinner 3

A Song of the Snow (poem) Madison Cawein Q

_King Frost and King Winter (adapted)

Margaret T. Canby n

The Snowstorm (poem) Ralph Waldo Emerson 18

The First Winter (Iroquois legend)....^. W. Can field 20

Snow Song (poem) Frank Dempster Sherman 24

The Snow Maiden (Russian legend. Translated from

the French) Eleanor L. Skinner 25

The Frost King (poem) Mary Mapcs Dodge 30

King Winter's Harvest Selected 32

Old King Winter (poem) Anna E. Skinner 36

Sheltering Wings Harriet Louise Jerome 37

Snowflakes (selection) . .Henry Wads-worth Longfellow 41

The Snow-Image Nathaniel Hawthorne 42


The First Snow-Fall James Russell Lowell 62

The Voice of the Pine Trees (Japanese legend)

Frank Hadland Dams 63

The Pine Tree Maiden (Indian legend) . .Ada M. Skinner 68

The Holly Janet Harvey Kelman 73

The Fable of the Three Elms (poem)

Margaret E. Songster, Jr. 70

The Pine and the Willow Mine Morishima 82

Why the Wild Rabbits Are White in Winter (Algonquin

legend retold) Eleanor L. Skinner 86

The Yew ' Janet Harvey Kelman 93 .

How the Pine Tree Did Some Good. .Sanutcl W. Duffield 95

A Wonderful Weaver (poem) George Cooper 105

The Pine and the Flax Albrekt Segerstedt 107



The Fir Tree (poem) Edith M. Thomas no

Why Bruin Has a Stumpy Tail (Norwegian legend)

Eleanor L. Skinner in

Pines and Firs Mrs. Dyson 116

Who Loves the Trees Best? (poem) Selected 131


A Christmas Song Phillips Brooks 134

The Shepherd Maiden's Gift (Eastern legend)

Eleanor L. Skinner 135

Christmas Gifts Laura E. Richards 141

Silver Bells (poem) Hainish Hendry 146

The Animals' Christmas Tree John P. Peters 147

A Christmas Carol Christina Rossetti 162

Holly Ada M. Marzials 164

The Willow Man (poem) Juliana Horatio E^mng 175

The Ivy Green (selection) Charles Dickens 178

Legend of St. Nicholas Amy Stcedman 179

Christmas Bells (selection)

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 197

A Night With Santa Clans Anna R. Annan 198

A Child's Thought About Santa Claus (poem)

Sydney Dayre 208

Charity in a Cottage Jean Ingelow 210

The Waits (poem) Margaret Deland 223

Where Love Is There God Is Also (adapted)

Leo Tolstoi 225

God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen. . ..Dinah Mulock Craik 234


The Glad New Year (poem) Mary Mapes Dodge 236

The Bad Little Goblin's New Year Mary Stewart 237

Selection Robert Herrick 248

The Queen of the Year (poem) . . . .Edna Dean Proctor 249

The New Year's Bell Andrea Hofer Proudfoot 250

The New Year Selected 256

The Child and the Year (poem) Celia Tha.vter 257

A Masque of the Days Charles Lamb 258

Ring Out Wild Bells (poem) Alfred Tennyson 262


The Bells (selection) Edgar Allen Poc 264

A January Thaw Dallas^ Lore Sharp 265

The Snow Man Hans Christian Andersen 276



The Happy Prince Oscar Wilde 284

The Legend of King Wenceslaus (adapted)

John Mason Ncale 303

Midwinter (poem) John Townsend Trowbridge 310


Old Winter (poem) Thomas Noel 314

The Snowball That Didn't Melt Jay T. Stocking 315

Gau-wi-di-ne and Go-Hay (Iroquois legend retold)

Eleanor L. Skinner 330
Naming the Winds (Indian legend retold)

Ada M. Skinner 339

North Wind's Frolic (translated) Montgomery Maze 343

The Months: A Pageant (adapted) . .Christina Rossctti 346

Prince Winter Carl Ewald 366

How Winter and Spring Met (poem) . .Edith M. Thomas 376


"ONCE upon a time," in the winter season
suggests happy, young faces grouped about a
blazing fire. A heavy snowstorm promises
plenty of sport for tomorrow, but at present
the cosiness indoors is very attractive, espe-
cially now that the evening story hour is at
hand. And while the story-teller is slowly
choosing his subjects he hears the children's
impatient whispers of "The Snow Man,"
"Prince Winter," "The Legend of Holly,"
"The Animals' Christmas Tree."

Silence! The story-teller turns his eyes
from the glowing fire to the faces of his eager
audience. He is ready to begin.

Each season of the year opens a treasury of
suggestion for stories. In the beauty and won-
der of nature are excellent themes for tales
which quicken children's interest in the prom-
ise of joyous springtime, in the rich pageantry


of ripening summer, in the blessings of gen-
erous autumn, and in the merry cheer of grim
old winter.

The Pearl Story Book is the fourth volume
in a series of nature books each of which em-
phasizes the interest and beauty characteristic
of a particular season. The central theme of
this volume is winter, "snow-wrapped and



Down swept the chill wind from the moun-
tain peak,

From the snow five thousand summers old;
On open wold and hill-top bleak
It had gathered all the cold,
And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's


It carried a shiver everywhere
From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare;
The little brook heard it and built a roof
'Neath which he could house him winter-

All night by the white stars' frosty gleams
He groined his arches and matched his beams;
Slender and clear were his crystal spars
As the lashes of light that trim the stars:
He sculptured every summer delight
In his halls and chambers out of sight.




ONCE upon a time there was an Indian village
built on the bank of a wide river. During the
spring, summer, and autumn the people were
very happy. There was plenty of fuel and
game in the deep woods ; the river afforded ex-
cellent fish. But the Indians dreaded the
months when the Ice King reigned.

One winter the weather was terribly cold
and the people suffered severely. The Ice
King called forth the keen wind from the
northern sky, and piled the snowdrifts so high
in the forests that it was most difficult to sup-
ply the wigwams with game. He covered the
river with ice so thick that the Indians feared
it would never melt.

"When will the Ice King leave us?" they
asked each other. "We shall all perish if he
continues his cruel reign."

At last signs of spring encouraged the



stricken people. The great snowdrifts in the
forests disappeared and the ice on the river
broke into large pieces. All of these floated
downstream except one huge cake which
lodged on the bank very near the village. And
when the Indians saw that the spring sunshine
did not melt this great mass of ice they were
puzzled and anxious.

"It is the roof of the Ice King's lodge," they
said. "We shall never enjoy warm weather
while he dwells near us. Have we no brave
who is willing to do battle with this winter ty-

At last, a courageous young hunter armed
himself with a huge club and went forth to see
if he could shatter the glittering frozen mass
and rid the village of the giant who dwelt
beneath it. With all his strength he struck the
ice roof blow upon blow, crying out, "Begone,
O cruel Ice King! Your time is past! Be-

Finally, there was a deafening noise like the
crashing of forest trees when the lightning
strikes, and the huge ice cake split into several


"Begone!" cried the young brave, as he
struggled with each great lump of ice until he
pushed it from the bank and tumbled it into
the river below.

And when the mighty task was finished the
white figure of the Ice King stood before the
Indian brave.

"You have ruined my lodge," said the

"The winter season is past," answered the
brave. "Begone!"

"After several moons I shall return to stay,"
threatened the Ice King. Then he stalked
away toward the North.

The people were very happy when they
knew that the young brave had conquered the
giant; but their joy was somewhat dampened
when they heard about the threatened return
of the Ice King.

"I shall prepare for his return and do battle
with him again," declared the Indian con-

This promise comforted the people some-
what, but still they thought of the coming win-
ter with dread.


During the autumn the hunter built near
the river a strong wigwam and stored therein
abundant fuel and dried game. He rilled
many bags made of skin, with oil, which he
procured from the animals he killed. Also,
he was well supplied with fur rugs, blankets,
and warm clothes.

At last the winter season came. The cold
north wind blew unceasingly, the snow piled
high around the wigwams; ice several feet
thick covered the river.

"The Ice King has come," said the Indians.
"If he keeps his threat to stay among us we
shall surely perish."

One bitter cold day the young Indian who
had prepared well for the severe weather sat
in his wigwam near a blazing fire. Suddenly,
a strong gust of wind tore aside the bear skin
which protected the doorway and into the
lodge stalked the Ice King. His freezing
breath filled the place and dampened the fire.
He took a seat opposite the Indian brave who
said, "Welcome, Ice King."

"I've come to stay," answered the giant.

The Indian shivered with cold at the sud-


den change of temperature in his wigwam, but
he rose and brought more logs to the fire.
Also, he opened one of his bags of oil and
poured the contents on the great pieces of
wood. The flames soon caught the oil-soaked
logs and a roaring fire crackled and blazed in
the wigwam. More and more fuel the young
brave piled on his fire until finally the frosty
cold air was changed to summer heat.

The Ice King shifted his seat away from the
glowing fire. Farther and farther away he
pushed until he sat with his back against the
wall of the wigwam. As he moved he seemed
to grow smaller and weaker. The icy feathers
of his headgear drooped about his forehead
and great drops of sweat covered his face.
But still the Indian brave piled fuel on the
blazing fire.

"Spare me, O hunter," cried the Ice King.

But to the words of the giant the young In-
dian was deaf. He opened another bag of
oil and poured it on the logs.

"Have mercy, I beg you!" pleaded the Ice
King. He rose and staggered toward the door.

"You have conquered me," he said in a weak


voice. "I will depart. Twice you have won a
victory over me. I give up my hope of reign-
ing continually among your people. My sea-
son shall last during three moons, only."
He staggered out of the wigwam and stalked
wearily away. Since that day the giant Ice
King has not tried to reign throughout the


Sing, Ho, a song of the winter dawn,

When the air is still and the clouds are gone,

And the snow lies deep on hill and lawn,

And the old clock ticks, " Tis time ! Tis


And the household rises with many a yawn
Sing, Ho, a song of the winter dawn!

Sing, Ho ! I


Sing, Ho, a song of the winter sky
When the last star closes its icy eye
And deep in the road the snow-drifts lie,
And the old clock ticks, " 'Tis late! 'Tis

And the flame on the hearth leaps red leaps


Sing, Ho, a song of the winter sky!
Sing, Ho!



Sing, Ho, a song of the winter morn

When the snow makes ghostly the wayside


And hills of pearl are the shocks of corn,
And the old clock ticks, "Tick-tock; tick-

And the goodman bustles about the barn
Sing, Ho, a song of the winter morn!
Sing, Ho!

Sing, Ho, a song of the winter day,
When ermine capped are the stocks of hay,
And the wood-smoke pillars the air with gray,
And the old clock ticks, "To work! To


And the goodwife sings as she churns away
Sing, Ho, a song of the winter day!




KING WINTER lives in a very strong palace
near the cold North Pole; it is built of great
blocks of thick ice, and all around it stand,
high, pointed icebergs, and cross, white bears
keep guard at the gate. He has many little
fairy servants to do his bidding and they are
like their master, cross and spiteful, and sel-
dom do any kind actions, so that few are found
who love them. King Winter is rich and pow-
erful, but he keeps all his wealth so tightly
locked up that it does no one any good; and
what is worse, he often tries to get the treas-
ures of other persons, to add to the store in
his money chests.

One day when this selfish old king was walk-
ing through the woods he saw the leaves
thickly covered with gold and precious stones,
which had been spread upon them by King


Frost, to make the trees more beautiful and
give pleasure to all who saw them. But look-
ing at them did not satisfy King Winter; he
wanted to have the gold for his own, and he
made up his mind to get it, somehow. Back
he went to his palace to call his servants home
to do this new work. As soon as he reached
the gate, he blew a loud, shrill note on his horn
and in a few minutes his odd little fairies came
flying in at the windows and doors and stood
before him quietly waiting their commands.
The king ordered some to go out into the for-
est, at nightfall, armed with canes and clubs,
and beat off all the gold and ruby leaves; and
he told others to take strong bags, and gather
up all the treasure, and bring it to him.

"If that silly King Frost does not think any
more of gold and precious stones than to waste
them on trees I shall teach him better," said
the old king.

The fairies promised to obey him, and as
soon as night came, off they rushed to the for-
est, and a terrible noise they made, flying from
one beautiful tree to another, banging and
beating the leaves off. Branches were crack-


ing and falling on all sides, and leaves were
flying about, while the sound of shouting and
laughing and screaming told all who heard it
that the spiteful winter fairies were at some
mischief. The other fairies followed, and
gathered up the poor shattered leaves, cram-
ming them into the great bags they had
brought, and taking them to King Winter's
palace as fast as they were filled.

This work was kept up nearly all night and
when morning came, the magic forest of
many-colored leaves was changed into a dreary
place. Bare trees stretched their long brown
branches around and seemed to shiver in the
cold wind and to sigh for the beautiful dress
of shining leaves so rudely torn from them.

King Winter was very much pleased, as one
great sack after another was tugged in by the
fairies and when morning came he called his
servants together and said, "You have all
worked well, my fairies, and have saved much
treasure from being wasted; I will now open
these bags and show you the gold. Each of
you shall have a share."

The king took up the sack nearest to him,


their surprise, when out rushed a great heap
of brown leaves, which flew all over the floor
and half choked them with dust! When the
king saw this he growled with rage and
looked at the fairies with a dark frown
on his face. They begged him to look
at the next sack, but when he did so, it,
too, was full of brown leaves, instead of
gold and precious stones. This was too much
for King Winter's patience. He tossed
the bags one by one out of the palace win-
dow, and would have tossed the unlucky
fairies after them, had not some of the bravest
ones knelt down and asked for mercy, telling
him they had obeyed his orders, and, if King
Frost had taken back his treasure, they were
not to blame.

This turned their master's anger against
King Frost, and very angry and fierce he was.
He gnashed his great teeth with rage and
rushed up and down in his palace, until it
shook again. At last he made up his mind to
go out that night, break down King Frost's
beautiful palace, and take away all his


When night came, he started out with all his
fairies. Some were armed with the clubs they
had beaten off the leaves with, and others had
lumps of ice to throw at their enemy; but the
king had been so angry all day that he had not
told them what to do; also, he had left their
sharp spears locked up. He wrapped himself
in his great white cloak of swan's down in
order that he might look very grand, and so
they went on their way.

King Frost lived on the other side of the
wood, and he had heard all the noise made by
the winter fairies in spoiling the trees and had
seen the next morning the mischief they had
done. It made him very sorry to find the beau-
tiful leaves all knocked off and taken away,
and he determined to punish King Winter by
going to attack his palace that night. He
spent the day making ready and dressing him-
self and his servants in shining coats of ice-
armour and giving each one several spears and
darts of ice tipped with sharp diamond points.
They looked like brave little soldiers.

The two groups of fairies met in the midst
of the great wood. After some words between


the kings, their servants fell to blows and a
great battle they had. The winter fairies
fought with their clubs and threw lumps of ice
at the frost fairies; but their clubs were weak
from being used so roughly the night before
and soon broke; and when their ice-balls were
all thrown away they could find no more. But
King Frost had armed his servants well, and
they threw their icy darts among the winter
fairies. The trees, too, seemed to fight on the
Frost King's side. The bare twigs pulled their
hair and the branches ripped their ice clothes
wherever they could. So the winter fairies
had the worst of it and at last started off at full
speed and rushed through the woods, never
stopping till they reached the palace, and
shut themselves in leaving their king, who
was too proud to run, all alone with King
Frost and his fairies. You may be sure they
were not very merciful to him. They began
to pull his cloak, calling out, "Give us your
cloak to keep our trees warm. You stole their
pretty leaves; you must give us your cloak."

Now this was a magic cloak and had been
given to King Winter by the Queen of the
fairies, so when he felt them pulling at it, he


wrapped it tightly about him, and began to
run. After him flew the frost fairies, pulling
and plucking at his great white cloak, snatch-
ing out a bit here and a bit there and laughing
and shouting while King Winter howled and
roared and rushed along, not knowing where
he went. On they flew up and down the wood
in and out among the trees, their way marked
by the scattered bits of white down from King
Winter's cloak. When day began King Win-
ter found himself near his own palace. He
dashed his tattered cloak to the ground and
rushed through the gate, shaking his fist at
King Frost.

He and his fairies took the cloak. As they
went home through the woods they hung beau-
tiful wreaths of white down on all the trees
and also trimmed the branches with their
broken spears and darts, which shone like sil-
ver in the sunlight, and made the woods look
as bright almost, as before it had been robbed
of its golden and ruby leaves. Even the
ground was covered with shining darts and
white feathers. Every one thought it very
beautiful, and no one could tell how it hap-
pened. (Adapted.}


Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, and river, and the


And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end,
The sled and traveler stopped, the courier's

Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates


Around the radiant fireplace, inclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

Come, see the north wind's masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.



Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parain wreaths;
A swanlike form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,
Mauger the farmer's sighs; and at the gate
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the


Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone-
Built in an age, the mad wincf s night work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.




THERE was a time when the days were always
of the same length, and it was always summer.
The red men lived continually in the smile of
the Great Spirit and were happy. But there
arose a chief wiio was so powerful that he at
last declared himself mightier than the Great
Spirit, and taught his brothers to go forth to
the plain and mock him. They would call
upon the Great Spirit to come and fight with
them or would challenge him to take away the
crop of growing corn or drive the game from
the woods. They would say he was an unkind
father to keep himself and their dead brothers
in the Happy Hunting Grounds, where the
red men could hunt forever without weariness.
They laughed at their old men who had
feared for so many moons to reproach the
Great Spirit for his unfair treatment of the



Indians who were compelled to hunt and fish
for game for their wives and children, while
their own women had to plant the corn and
harvest it.

"In the Happy Hunting Grounds," they
said, "the Great Spirit feeds our brothers and
their wives and does not let any foes or dangers
come upon them, but here he lets us go hun-
gry many times. If he is as great as you have
said, why does he not take care of his chil-
dren here?"

Then the Great Spirit told them he would
turn his smiling face away from them, so that
they should have no more light and warmth
and they must build fires in the forest if they

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Online LibraryAda M. (Ada Maria) SkinnerPearl story book : stories & legends of winter, Christmas & New Year's day → online text (page 1 of 14)