My Reading Chair

The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 19

2008-06-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

The Wizard of Oz.
Capter 19. Attacked by the Fighting Trees.

The next morning Dorothy kissed the pretty green girl good-bye,
and they all shook hands with the soldier with the green whiskers,
who had walked with them as far as the gate. When the Guardian of
the Gate saw them again he wondered greatly that they could leave
the beautiful City to get into new trouble. But he at once
unlocked their spectacles, which he put back into the green box,
and gave them many good wishes to carry with them.

"You are now our ruler," he said to the Scarecrow;
"so you must come back to us as soon as possible."

"I certainly shall if I am able," the Scarecrow replied;
"but I must help Dorothy to get home, first."

As Dorothy bade the good-natured Guardian a last farewell she said:

"I have been very kindly treated in your lovely City, and
everyone has been good to me. I cannot tell you how grateful I am."

"Don't try, my dear," he answered. "We should like to keep
you with us, but if it is your wish to return to Kansas, I hope
you will find a way." He then opened the gate of the outer wall,
and they walked forth and started upon their journey.

The sun shone brightly as our friends turned their faces
toward the Land of the South. They were all in the best of spirits,
and laughed and chatted together. Dorothy was once more filled with
the hope of getting home, and the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman were
glad to be of use to her. As for the Lion, he sniffed the fresh air
with delight and whisked his tail from side to side in pure joy at
being in the country again, while Toto ran around them and chased
the moths and butterflies, barking merrily all the time.

"City life does not agree with me at all," remarked the Lion,
as they walked along at a brisk pace. "I have lost much flesh
since I lived there, and now I am anxious for a chance to show the
other beasts how courageous I have grown."

They now turned and took a last look at the Emerald City.
All they could see was a mass of towers and steeples behind the
green walls, and high up above everything the spires and dome
of the Palace of Oz.

"Oz was not such a bad Wizard, after all," said the Tin
Woodman, as he felt his heart rattling around in his breast.

"He knew how to give me brains, and very good brains, too,"
said the Scarecrow.

"If Oz had taken a dose of the same courage he gave me,"
added the Lion, "he would have been a brave man."

Dorothy said nothing. Oz had not kept the promise he made her,
but he had done his best, so she forgave him. As he said, he was
a good man, even if he was a bad Wizard.

The first day's journey was through the green fields and
bright flowers that stretched about the Emerald City on every side.
They slept that night on the grass, with nothing but the stars
over them; and they rested very well indeed.

In the morning they traveled on until they came to a thick wood.
There was no way of going around it, for it seemed to extend to the
right and left as far as they could see; and, besides, they did not
dare change the direction of their journey for fear of getting lost.
So they looked for the place where it would be easiest to get into
the forest.

The Scarecrow, who was in the lead, finally discovered a big
tree with such wide-spreading branches that there was room for the
party to pass underneath. So he walked forward to the tree, but
just as he came under the first branches they bent down and twined
around him, and the next minute he was raised from the ground and
flung headlong among his fellow travelers.

This did not hurt the Scarecrow, but it surprised him, and he
looked rather dizzy when Dorothy picked him up.

"Here is another space between the trees," called the Lion.

"Let me try it first," said the Scarecrow, "for it doesn't hurt
me to get thrown about." He walked up to another tree, as he spoke,
but its branches immediately seized him and tossed him back again.

"This is strange," exclaimed Dorothy. "What shall we do?"

"The trees seem to have made up their minds to fight us,
and stop our journey," remarked the Lion.

"I believe I will try it myself," said the Woodman, and
shouldering his axe, he marched up to the first tree that had
handled the Scarecrow so roughly. When a big branch bent down to
seize him the Woodman chopped at it so fiercely that he cut it in two.
At once the tree began shaking all its branches as if in pain, and the
Tin Woodman passed safely under it.

"Come on!" he shouted to the others. "Be quick!" They all
ran forward and passed under the tree without injury, except Toto,
who was caught by a small branch and shaken until he howled.
But the Woodman promptly chopped off the branch and set the
little dog free.

The other trees of the forest did nothing to keep them back,
so they made up their minds that only the first row of trees could
bend down their branches, and that probably these were the
policemen of the forest, and given this wonderful power in order
to keep strangers out of it.

The four travelers walked with ease through the trees until they
came to the farther edge of the wood. Then, to their surprise, they
found before them a high wall which seemed to be made of white china.
It was smooth, like the surface of a dish, and higher than their heads.

"What shall we do now?" asked Dorothy.

"I will make a ladder," said the Tin Woodman, "for we certainly
must climb over the wall."

Heidi: Chapter 10

2008-06-22T06:00:00.000-07:00

Heidi.
Chapter 10: ON SUNDAY WHEN THE CHURCH BELLS RING

Heidi was standing under the swaying fir-trees, waiting for her
grandfather to join her. He had promised to bring up her trunk from
the village while she went in to visit the grandmother. The child was
longing to see the blind woman again and to hear how she had liked the
rolls. It was Saturday, and the grandfather had been cleaning the
cottage. Soon he was ready to start. When they had descended and Heidi
entered Peter's hut, the grandmother called lovingly to her: "Have you
come again, child?"

She took hold of Heidi's hand and held it tight. Grandmother then told
the little visitor how good the rolls had tasted, and how much
stronger she felt already. Brigida related further that the
grandmother had only eaten a single roll, being so afraid to finish
them too soon. Heidi had listened attentively, and said now:
"Grandmother, I know what I shall do. I am going to write to Clara and
she'll surely send me a whole lot more."

But Brigida remarked: "That is meant well, but they get hard so soon.
If I only had a few extra pennies, I could buy some from our baker. He
makes them too, but I am hardly able to pay for the black bread."

Heidi's face suddenly shone. "Oh, grandmother, I have an awful lot of
money," she cried. "Now I know what I'll do with it. Every day you
must have a fresh roll and two on Sundays. Peter can bring them up
from the village."

"No, no, child," the grandmother implored. "That must not be. You must
give it to grandfather and he'll tell you what to do with it."

But Heidi did not listen but jumped gaily about the little room,
calling over and over again: "Now grandmother can have a roll every
day. She'll get well and strong, and," she called with fresh delight,
"maybe your eyes will see again, too, when you are strong and well."

The grandmother remained silent, not to mar the happiness of the
child. Seeing the old hymn-book on the shelf, Heidi said:

"Grandmother, shall I read you a song from your book now? I can read
quite nicely!" she added after a pause.

"Oh yes, I wish you would, child. Can you really read?"

Heidi, climbing on a chair, took down the dusty book from a shelf.
After she had carefully wiped it off, she sat down on a stool.

"What shall I read, grandmother?"

"Whatever you want to," was the reply. Turning the pages, Heidi found
a song about the sun, and decided to read that aloud. More and more
eagerly she read, while the grandmother, with folded arms, sat in her
chair. An expression of indescribable happiness shone in her
countenance, though tears were rolling down her cheeks. When Heidi
had repeated the end of the song a number of times, the old woman
exclaimed: "Oh, Heidi, everything seems bright to me again and my
heart is light. Thank you, child, you have done me so much good."

Heidi looked enraptured at the grandmother's face, which had changed
from an old, sorrowful expression to a joyous one.

She seemed to look up gratefully, as if she could already behold the
lovely, celestial gardens told of in the hymn.

Soon the grandfather knocked on the window, for it was time to go.
Heidi followed quickly, assuring the grandmother that she would visit
her every day now; on the days she went up to the pasture with Peter,
she would return in the early afternoon, for she did not want to miss
the chance to make the grandmother's heart joyful and light. Brigida
urged Heidi to take her dress along, and with it on her arm the child
joined the old man and immediately told him what had happened.

On hearing of her plan to purchase rolls for the grandmother every
day, the grandfather reluctantly consented.

At this the child gave a bound, shouting: "Oh grandfather, now
grandmother won't ever have to eat hard, black bread any more. Oh,
everything is so wonderful now! If God Our Father had done immediately
what I prayed for, I should have come home at once and could not have
brought half as many rolls to grandmother. I should not have been able
to read either. Grandmama told me that God would make everything much
better than I could ever dream. I shall always pray from now on, the
way grandmama taught me. When God does not give me something I pray
for, I shall always remember how everything has worked out for the
best this time. We'll pray every day, grandfather, won't we, for
otherwise God might forget us."

"And if somebody should forget to do it?" murmured the old man.

"Oh, he'll get on badly, for God will forget him, too. If he is
unhappy and wretched, people don't pity him, for they will say: 'he
went away from God, and now the Lord, who alone can help him, has no
pity on him'."

"Is that true, Heidi? Who told you so?"

"Grandmama explained it all to me."

After a pause the grandfather said: "Yes, but if it has happened, then
there is no help; nobody can come back to the Lord, when God has once
forgotten him."

"But grandfather, everybody can come back to Him; grandmama told me
that, and besides there is the beautiful story in my book. Oh,
grandfather, you don't know it yet, and I shall read it to you as soon
as we get home."

The grandfather had brought a big basket with him, in which he carried
half the contents of Heidi's trunk; it had been too large to be
conveyed up the steep ascent. Arriving at the hut and setting down his
load, he had to sit beside Heidi, who was ready to begin the tale.
With great animation Heidi read the story of the prodigal son, who
was happy at home with his father's cows and sheep. The picture showed
him leaning on his staff, watching the sunset. "Suddenly he wanted to
have his own inheritance, and be able to be his own master. Demanding
the money from his father, he went away and squandered all. When he
had nothing in the world left, he had to go as servant to a peasant,
who did not own fine cattle like his father, but only swine; his
clothes were rags, and for food he only got the husks on which the
pigs were fed. Often he would think what a good home he had left, and
when he remembered how good his father had been to him and his own
ungratefulness, he would cry from repentance and longing. Then he said
to himself: 'I shall go to my father and ask his forgiveness.' When he
approached his former home, his father came out to meet him--"

"What do you think will happen now?" Heidi asked. "You think that the
father is angry and will say: 'Didn't I tell you?' But just listen:
'And his father saw him and had compassion and ran and fell on his
neck. And the son said: Father, I have sinned against Heaven and in
Thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called Thy son. But the father
said to his servants: Bring forth the best robe and put it on him; and
put a ring on his hand and shoes on his feet; and bring hither the
fatted calf and kill it; and let us eat and be merry: For this my son
was dead and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' And they
began to be merry."

"Isn't it a beautiful story, grandfather?" asked Heidi, when he sat
silently beside her.

"Yes, Heidi, it is," said the grandfather, but so seriously that Heidi
quietly looked at the pictures. "Look how happy he is," she said,
pointing to it.

A few hours later, when Heidi was sleeping soundly, the old man
climbed up the ladder. Placing a little lamp beside the sleeping
child, he watched her a long, long time. Her little hands were folded
and her rosy face looked confident and peaceful. The old man now
folded his hands and said in a low voice, while big tears rolled down
his cheeks: "Father, I have sinned against Heaven and Thee, and am no
more worthy to be Thy son!"

The next morning found the uncle standing before the door, looking
about him over valley and mountain. A few early bells sounded from
below and the birds sang their morning anthems.

Re-entering the house, he called: "Heidi, get up! The sun is shining!
Put on a pretty dress, for we are going to church!"

That was a new call, and Heidi obeyed quickly. When the child came
downstairs in her smart little frock, she opened her eyes wide. "Oh,
grandfather!" she exclaimed, "I have never seen you in your Sunday
coat with the silver buttons. Oh, how fine you look!"

The old man, turning to the child, said with a smile: "You look nice,
too; come now!" With Heidi's hand in his they wandered down together.
The nearer they came to the village, the louder and richer the bells
resounded. "Oh grandfather, do you hear it? It seems like a big, high
feast," said Heidi.

When they entered the church, all the people were singing. Though they
sat down on the last bench behind, the people had noticed their
presence and whispered it from ear to ear. When the pastor began to
preach, his words were a loud thanksgiving that moved all his hearers.
After the service the old man and the child walked to the parsonage.
The clergyman had opened the door and received them with friendly
words. "I have come to ask your forgiveness for my harsh words," said
the uncle. "I want to follow your advice to spend the winter here
among you. If the people look at me askance, I can't expect any
better. I am sure, Mr. Pastor, you will not do so."

[Illustration: WITH HEIDI'S HAND IN HIS THEY WANDERED DOWN
TOGETHER]

The pastor's friendly eyes sparkled, and with many a kind word he
commended the uncle for this change, and putting his hand on Heidi's
curly hair, ushered them out. Thus the people, who had been all
talking together about this great event, could see that their
clergyman shook hands with the old man. The door of the parsonage was
hardly shut, when the whole assembly came forward with outstretched
hands and friendly greetings. Great seemed to be their joy at the old
man's resolution; some of the people even accompanied him on his
homeward way. When they had parted at last, the uncle looked after
them with his face shining as with an inward light. Heidi looked up to
him and said: "Grandfather, you have never looked so beautiful!"

"Do you think so, child?" he said with a smile. "You see, Heidi, I am
more happy than I deserve; to be at peace with God and men makes one's
heart feel light. God has been good to me, to send you back."

When they arrived at Peter's hut, the grandfather opened the door and
entered. "How do you do, grandmother," he called out. "I think we
must start to mend again, before the fall wind comes."

"Oh my God, the uncle!" exclaimed the grandmother in joyous surprise.
"How happy I am to be able to thank you for what you have done, uncle!
Thank you, God bless you for it."

With trembling joy the grandmother shook hands with her old friend.
"There is something else I want to say to you, uncle," she continued.
"If I have ever hurt you in any way, do not punish me. Do not let
Heidi go away again before I die. I cannot tell you what Heidi means
to me!" So saying, she held the clinging child to her.

"No danger of that, grandmother, I hope we shall all stay together now
for many years to come."

Brigida now showed Heidi's feather hat to the old man and asked him to
take it back. But the uncle asked her to keep it, since Heidi had
given it to her.

"What blessings this child has brought from Frankfurt," Brigida said.
"I often wondered if I should not send our little Peter too. What do
you think, uncle?"

The uncle's eyes sparkled with fun, when he replied: "I am sure it
would not hurt Peter; nevertheless I should wait for a fitting
occasion before I sent him."

The next moment Peter himself arrived in great haste. He had a letter
for Heidi, which had been given to him in the village. What an event,
a letter for Heidi! They all sat down at the table while the child
read it aloud. The letter was from Clara Sesemann, who wrote that
everything had got so dull since Heidi left. She said that she could
not stand it very long, and therefore her father had promised to take
her to Ragatz this coming fall. She announced that Grandmama was
coming too, for she wanted to see Heidi and her grandfather.
Grandmama, having heard about the rolls, was sending some coffee, too,
so that the grandmother would not have to eat them dry. Grandmama
also insisted on being taken to the grandmother herself when she came
on her visit.

Great was the delight caused by this news, and what with all the
questions and plans that followed, the grandfather himself forgot how
late it was. This happy day, which had united them all, caused the old
woman to say at parting: "The most beautiful thing of all, though, is
to be able to shake hands again with an old friend, as in days gone
by; it is a great comfort to find again, what we have treasured. I
hope you'll come soon again, uncle. I am counting on the child for
tomorrow."

This promise was given. While Heidi and her grandfather were on their
homeward path, the peaceful sound of evening bells accompanied them.
At last they reached the cottage, which seemed to glow in the evening
light.

Heidi: Chapter 9.

2008-06-20T06:00:00.000-07:00

Heidi.
Chapter 9: UP THE ALP ON A SUMMER EVENING

Mr. Sesemann, going upstairs in great agitation, knocked at the
housekeeper's door. He asked her to hurry, for preparations for a
journey had to be made. Miss Rottenmeier obeyed the summons with the
greatest indignation, for it was only half-past four in the morning.
She dressed in haste, though with great difficulty, being nervous and
excited. All the other servants were summoned likewise, and one and
all thought that the master of the house had been seized by the ghost
and that he was ringing for help. When they had all come down with
terrified looks, they were most surprised to see Mr. Sesemann fresh
and cheerful, giving orders. John was sent to get the horses ready and
Tinette was told to prepare Heidi for her departure while Sebastian
was commissioned to fetch Heidi's aunt. Mr. Sesemann instructed the
housekeeper to pack a trunk in all haste for Heidi.

Miss Rottenmeier experienced an extreme disappointment, for she had
hoped for an explanation of the great mystery. But Mr. Sesemann,
evidently not in the mood to converse further, went to his daughter's
room. Clara had been wakened by the unusual noises and was listening
eagerly. Her father told her of what had happened and how the doctor
had ordered Heidi back to her home, because her condition was serious
and might get worse. She might even climb the roof, or be exposed to
similar dangers, if she was not cured at once.

Clara was painfully surprised and tried to prevent her father from
carrying out his plan. He remained firm, however, promising to take
her to Switzerland himself the following summer, if she was good and
sensible now. So the child, resigning herself, begged to have Heidi's
trunk packed in her room. Mr. Sesemann encouraged her to get together
a good outfit for her little friend.

Heidi's aunt had arrived in the meantime. Being told to take her niece
home with her, she found no end of excuses, which plainly showed that
she did not want to do it; for Deta well remembered the uncle's
parting words. Mr. Sesemann dismissed her and summoned Sebastian. The
butler was told to get ready for travelling with the child. He was to
go to Basle that day and spend the night at a good hotel which his
master named. The next day the child was to be brought to her home.

"Listen, Sebastian," Mr. Sesemann said, "and do exactly as I tell you.
I know the Hotel in Basle, and if you show my card they will give you
good accommodations. Go to the child's room and barricade the windows,
so that they can only be opened by the greatest force. When Heidi has
gone to bed, lock the door from outside, for the child walks in her
sleep and might come to harm in the strange hotel. She might get up
and open the door; do you understand?"

"Oh!--Oh!--So it was she?" exclaimed the butler.

"Yes, it was! You are a coward, and you can tell John he is the same.
Such foolish men, to be afraid!" With that Mr. Sesemann went to his
room to write a letter to Heidi's grandfather.

Sebastian, feeling ashamed, said to himself that he ought to have
resisted John and found out alone.

Heidi was dressed in her Sunday frock and stood waiting for further
commands.

Mr. Sesemann called her now. "Good-morning, Mr. Sesemann," Heidi said
when she entered.

"What do you think about it, little one?" he asked her. Heidi looked
up to him in amazement.

"You don't seem to know anything about it," laughed Mr. Sesemann.
Tinette had not even told the child, for she thought it beneath her
dignity to speak to the vulgar Heidi.

"You are going home to-day."

"Home?" Heidi repeated in a low voice. She had to gasp, so great was
her surprise.

"Wouldn't you like to hear something about it?" asked Mr. Sesemann
smiling.

"Oh yes, I should like to," said the blushing child.

"Good, good," said the kind gentleman. "Sit down and eat a big
breakfast now, for you are going away right afterwards."

The child could not even swallow a morsel, though she tried to eat out
of obedience. It seemed to her as if it was only a dream.

"Go to Clara, Heidi, till the carriage comes," Mr. Sesemann said
kindly.

Heidi had been wishing to go, and now she ran to Clara's room, where a
huge trunk was standing.

"Heidi, look at the things I had packed for you. Do you like them?"
Clara asked.

There were a great many lovely things in it, but Heidi jumped for joy
when she discovered a little basket with twelve round white rolls for
the grandmother. The children had forgotten that the moment for
parting had come, when the carriage was announced. Heidi had to get
all her own treasures from her room yet. The grandmama's book was
carefully packed, and the red shawl that Miss Rottenmeier had
purposely left behind. Then putting on her pretty hat, she left her
room to say good-bye to Clara. There was not much time left to do so,
for Mr. Sesemann was waiting to put Heidi in the carriage. When Miss
Rottenmeier, who was standing on the stairs to bid farewell to her
pupil, saw the red bundle in Heidi's hand, she seized it and threw it
on the ground. Heidi looked imploringly at her kind protector, and Mr.
Sesemann, seeing how much she treasured it, gave it back to her. The
happy child at parting thanked him for all his goodness. She also sent
a message of thanks to the good old doctor, whom she suspected to be
the real cause of her going.

While Heidi was being lifted into the carriage, Mr. Sesemann assured
her that Clara and he would never forget her. Sebastian followed with
Heidi's basket and a large bag with provisions. Mr. Sesemann called
out: "Happy journey!" and the carriage rolled away.

Only when Heidi was sitting in the train did she become conscious of
where she was going. She knew now that she would really see her
grandfather and the grandmother again, also Peter and the goats. Her
only fear was that the poor blind grandmother might have died while
she was away.

The thing she looked forward to most was giving the soft white rolls
to the grandmother. While she was musing over all these things, she
fell asleep. In Basle she was roused by Sebastian, for there they were
to spend the night.

The next morning they started off again, and it took them many hours
before they reached Mayenfeld. When Sebastian stood on the platform of
the station, he wished he could have travelled further in the train
rather than have to climb a mountain. The last part of the trip might
be dangerous, for everything seemed half-wild in this country. Looking
round, he discovered a small wagon with a lean horse. A
broad-shouldered man was just loading up large bags, which had come by
the train. Sebastian, approaching the man, asked some information
concerning the least dangerous ascent to the Alp. After a while it was
settled that the man should take Heidi and her trunk to the village
and see to it that somebody would go up with her from there.

Not a word had escaped Heidi, until she now said, "I can go up alone
from the village. I know the road." Sebastian felt relieved, and
calling Heidi to him, presented her with a heavy roll of bills and a
letter for the grandfather. These precious things were put at the
bottom of the basket, under the rolls, so that they could not possibly
get lost.

Heidi promised to be careful of them, and was lifted up to the cart.
The two old friends shook hands and parted, and Sebastian, with a
slightly bad conscience for having deserted the child so soon, sat
down on the station to wait for a returning train.

The driver was no other than the village baker, who had never seen
Heidi but had heard a great deal about her. He had known her parents
and immediately guessed she was the child who had lived with the
Alm-Uncle. Curious to know why she came home again, he began a
conversation.

"Are you Heidi, the child who lived with the Alm-Uncle?"

"Yes."

"Why are you coming home again? Did you get on badly?"

"Oh no; nobody could have got on better than I did in Frankfurt."

"Then why are you coming back?"

"Because Mr. Sesemann let me come."

"Pooh! why didn't you stay?"

"Because I would rather be with my grandfather on the Alp than
anywhere on earth."

"You may think differently when you get there," muttered the baker.
"It is strange though, for she must know," he said to himself.

They conversed no more, and Heidi began to tremble with excitement
when she recognized all the trees on the road and the lofty peaks of
the mountains. Sometimes she felt as if she could not sit still any
longer, but had to jump down and run with all her might. They arrived
at the village at the stroke of five. Immediately a large group of
women and children surrounded the cart, for the trunk and the little
passenger had attracted everybody's notice. When Heidi had been lifted
down, she found herself held and questioned on all sides. But when
they saw how frightened she was, they let her go at last. The baker
had to tell of Heidi's arrival with the strange gentleman, and assured
all the people that Heidi loved her grandfather with all her heart,
let the people say what they would about him.

Heidi, in the meantime, was running up the path; from time to time she
was obliged to stop, for her basket was heavy and she lost her
breath. Her one idea was: "If only grandmother still sits in her
corner by her spinning wheel!--Oh, if she should have died!" When the
child caught sight of the hut at last, her heart began to beat. The
quicker she ran, the more it beat, but at last she tremblingly opened
the door. She ran into the middle of the room, unable to utter one
tone, she was so out of breath.

"Oh God," it sounded from one corner, "our Heidi used to come in like
that. Oh, if I just could have her again with me before I die. Who has
come?"

"Here I am! grandmother, here I am!" shouted the child, throwing
herself on her knees before the old woman. She seized her hands and
arms and snuggling up to her did not for joy utter one more word. The
grandmother had been so surprised that she could only silently caress
the child's curly hair over and over again. "Yes, yes," she said at
last, "this is Heidi's hair, and her beloved voice. Oh my God, I thank
Thee for this happiness." Out of her blind eyes big tears of joy fell
down on Heidi's hand. "Is it really you, Heidi? Have you really come
again?"

"Yes, yes, grandmother," the child replied. "You must not cry, for I
have come and will never leave you any more. Now you won't have to eat
hard black bread any more for a little while. Look what I have brought
you."

Heidi put one roll after another into the grandmother's lap.

"Ah, child, what a blessing you bring to me!" the old woman cried.
"But you are my greatest blessing yourself, Heidi!" Then, caressing
the child's hair and flushed cheeks, she entreated: "Just say one more
word, that I may hear your voice."

While Heidi was talking, Peter's mother arrived, and exclaimed in her
amazement: "Surely, this is Heidi. But how can that be?"

The child rose to shake hands with Brigida, who could not get over
Heidi's splendid frock and hat.

"You can have my hat, I don't want it any more; I have my old one
still," Heidi said, pulling out her old crushed straw hat. Heidi had
remembered her grandfather's words to Deta about her feather hat; that
was why she had kept her old hat so carefully. Brigida at last
accepted the gift after a great many remonstrances. Suddenly Heidi
took off her pretty dress and tied her old shawl about her. Taking the
grandmother's hand, she said: "Good-bye, I must go home to grandfather
now, but I shall come again tomorrow. Good-night, grandmother."

"Oh, please come again to-morrow, Heidi," implored the old woman,
while she held her fast.

"Why did you take your pretty dress off?" asked Brigida.

"I'd rather go to grandfather that way, or else he might not know me
any more, the way you did."

Brigida accompanied the child outside and said mysteriously: "He would
have known you in your frock; you ought to have kept it on. Please be
careful, child, for Peter tells us that the uncle never says a word
to anyone and always seems so angry." But Heidi was unconcerned, and
saying good-night, climbed up the path with the basket on her arm. The
evening sun was shining down on the grass before her. Every few
minutes Heidi stood still to look at the mountains behind her.
Suddenly she looked back and beheld such glory as she had not even
seen in her most vivid dream. The rocky peaks were flaming in the
brilliant light, the snow-fields glowed and rosy clouds were floating
overhead. The grass was like an expanse of gold, and below her the
valley swam in golden mist. The child stood still, and in her joy and
transport tears ran down her cheeks. She folded her hands, and looking
up to heaven, thanked the Lord that He had brought her home again. She
thanked Him for restoring her to her beloved mountains,--in her
happiness she could hardly find words to pray. Only when the glow had
subsided, was Heidi able to follow the path again.

[Illustration: THROWING HERSELF IN HER GRANDFATHER'S ARMS, SHE HELD
HIM TIGHT]

She climbed so fast that she could soon discover, first the tree-tops,
then the roof, finally the hut. Now she could see her grandfather
sitting on his bench, smoking a pipe. Above the cottage the fir-trees
gently swayed and rustled in the evening breeze. At last she had
reached the hut, and throwing herself in her grandfather's arms, she
hugged him and held him tight. She could say nothing but "Grandfather!
grandfather! grandfather!" in her agitation.

The old man said nothing either, but his eyes were moist, and
loosening Heidi's arms at last, he sat her on his knee. When he had
looked at her a while, he said: "So you have come home again, Heidi?
Why? You certainly do not look very cityfied! Did they send you away?"

"Oh no, you must not think that, grandfather. They all were so good to
me; Clara, Mr. Sesemann and grandmama. But grandfather, sometimes I
felt as if I could not bear it any longer to be away from you! I
thought I should choke; I could not tell any one, for that would have
been ungrateful. Suddenly, one morning Mr. Sesemann called me very
early, I think it was the doctor's fault and--but I think it is
probably written in this letter;" with that Heidi brought the letter
and the bank-roll from her basket, putting them on her grandfather's
lap.

"This belongs to you," he said, laying the roll beside him. Having
read the letter, he put it in his pocket.

"Do you think you can still drink milk with me, Heidi?" he asked,
while he stepped into the cottage. "Take your money with you, you can
buy a bed for it and clothes for many years."

"I don't need it at all, grandfather," Heidi assured him; "I have a
bed and Clara has given me so many dresses that I shan't need any more
all my life."

"Take it and put it in the cupboard, for you will need it some day."

Heidi obeyed, and danced around the hut in her delight to see all the
beloved things again. Running up to the loft, she exclaimed in great
disappointment: "Oh grandfather, my bed is gone."

"It will come again," the grandfather called up from below; "how could
I know that you were coming back? Get your milk now!"

Heidi, coming down, took her old seat. She seized her bowl and emptied
it eagerly, as if it was the most wonderful thing she had ever tasted.
"Grandfather, our milk is the best in all the world."

Suddenly Heidi, hearing a shrill whistle, rushed outside, as Peter and
all his goats came racing down. Heidi greeted the boy, who stopped,
rooted to the spot, staring at her. Then she ran into the midst of her
beloved friends, who had not forgotten her either. Schwaenli and Baerli
bleated for joy, and all her other favorites pressed near to her.
Heidi was beside herself with joy, and caressed little Snowhopper and
patted Thistlefinch, till she felt herself pushed to and fro among
them.

"Peter, why don't you come down and say good-night to me?" Heidi
called to the boy.

"Have you come again?" he exclaimed at last. Then he took Heidi's
proffered hand and asked her, as if she had been always there: "Are
you coming up with me to-morrow?"

"No, to-morrow I must go to grandmother, but perhaps the day after."

Peter had a hard time with his goats that day, for they would not
follow him. Over and over again they came back to Heidi, till she
entered the shed with Baerli and Schwaenli and shut the door.

When Heidi went up to her loft to sleep, she found a fresh, fragrant
bed waiting for her; and she slept better that night than she had for
many, many months, for her great and burning longing had been
satisfied. About ten times that night the grandfather rose from his
couch to listen to Heidi's quiet breathing. The window was filled up
with hay, for from now on the moon was not allowed to shine on Heidi
any more. But Heidi slept quietly, for she had seen the flaming
mountains and had heard the fir-trees roar.

The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 18

2008-06-19T06:00:00.000-07:00

The Wizard of Oz.

18. Away to the South

Dorothy wept bitterly at the passing of her hope to get hometo Kansas again; but when she thought it all over she was glad shehad not gone up in a balloon. And she also felt sorry at losingOz, and so did her companions.
The Tin Woodman came to her and said:
"Truly I should be ungrateful if I failed to mourn for theman who gave me my lovely heart. I should like to cry a littlebecause Oz is gone, if you will kindly wipe away my tears, so thatI shall not rust."
"With pleasure," she answered, and brought a towel at once.Then the Tin Woodman wept for several minutes, and she watched thetears carefully and wiped them away with the towel. When he hadfinished, he thanked her kindly and oiled himself thoroughly withhis jeweled oil-can, to guard against mishap.
The Scarecrow was now the ruler of the Emerald City,and although he was not a Wizard the people were proud of him."For," they said, "there is not another city in all the worldthat is ruled by a stuffed man." And, so far as they knew,they were quite right.
The morning after the balloon had gone up with Oz, thefour travelers met in the Throne Room and talked matters over.The Scarecrow sat in the big throne and the others stoodrespectfully before him.
"We are not so unlucky," said the new ruler, "for this Palaceand the Emerald City belong to us, and we can do just as we please.When I remember that a short time ago I was up on a pole in a farmer'scornfield, and that now I am the ruler of this beautiful City, I amquite satisfied with my lot."
"I also," said the Tin Woodman, "am well-pleased with my new heart;and, really, that was the only thing I wished in all the world."
"For my part, I am content in knowing I am as brave as anybeast that ever lived, if not braver," said the Lion modestly.
"If Dorothy would only be contented to live in the Emerald City,"continued the Scarecrow, "we might all be happy together."
"But I don't want to live here," cried Dorothy. "I want to goto Kansas, and live with Aunt Em and Uncle Henry."
"Well, then, what can be done?" inquired the Woodman.
The Scarecrow decided to think, and he thought so hard that thepins and needles began to stick out of his brains. Finally he said:
"Why not call the Winged Monkeys, and ask them to carry youover the desert?"
"I never thought of that!" said Dorothy joyfully. "It's justthe thing. I'll go at once for the Golden Cap."
When she brought it into the Throne Room she spoke the magicwords, and soon the band of Winged Monkeys flew in through theopen window and stood beside her.
"This is the second time you have called us," said the MonkeyKing, bowing before the little girl. "What do you wish?"
"I want you to fly with me to Kansas," said Dorothy.
But the Monkey King shook his head.
"That cannot be done," he said. "We belong to this country alone,and cannot leave it. There has never been a Winged Monkey in Kansas yet,and I suppose there never will be, for they don't belong there. We shallbe glad to serve you in any way in our power, but we cannot cross the desert.Good-bye."
And with another bow, the Monkey King spread his wings andflew away through the window, followed by all his band.
Dorothy was ready to cry with disappointment. "I have wastedthe charm of the Golden Cap to no purpose," she said, "for theWinged Monkeys cannot help me."
"It is certainly too bad!" said the tender-hearted Woodman.
The Scarecrow was thinking again, and his head bulged out sohorribly that Dorothy feared it would burst.
"Let us call in the soldier with the green whiskers," he said,"and ask his advice."
So the soldier was summoned and entered the Throne Roomtimidly, for while Oz was alive he never was allowed to comefarther than the door.
"This little girl," said the Scarecrow to the soldier,"wishes to cross the desert. How can she do so?"
"I cannot tell," answered the soldier, "for nobody has evercrossed the desert, unless it is Oz himself."
"Is there no one who can help me?" asked Dorothy earnestly.
"Glinda might," he suggested.
"Who is Glinda?" inquired the Scarecrow.
"The Witch of the South. She is the most powerful of all theWitches, and rules over the Quadlings. Besides, her castle standson the edge of the desert, so she may know a way to cross it."
"Glinda is a Good Witch, isn't she?" asked the child.
"The Quadlings think she is good," said the soldier, "and sheis kind to everyone. I have heard that Glinda is a beautiful woman,who knows how to keep young in spite of the many years she has lived."
"How can I get to her castle?" asked Dorothy.
"The road is straight to the South," he answered, "but it issaid to be full of dangers to travelers. There are wild beasts inthe woods, and a race of queer men who do not like strangers tocross their country. For this reason none of the Quadlings evercome to the Emerald City."
The soldier then left them and the Scarecrow said:
"It seems, in spite of dangers, that the best thing Dorothycan do is to travel to the Land of the South and ask Glinda tohelp her. For, of course, if Dorothy stays here she will neverget back to Kansas."
"You must have been thinking again," remarked the Tin Woodman.
"I have," said the Scarecrow.
"I shall go with Dorothy," declared the Lion, "for I amtired of your city and long for the woods and the country again.I am really a wild beast, you know. Besides, Dorothy will needsomeone to protect her."
"That is true," agreed the Woodman. "My axe may be of serviceto her; so I also will go with her to the Land of the South."
"When shall we start?" asked the Scarecrow.
"Are you going?" they asked, in surprise.
"Certainly. If it wasn't for Dorothy I should never have had brains.She lifted me from the pole in the cornfield and brought me to theEmerald City. So my good luck is all due to her, and I shall neverleave her until she starts back to Kansas for good and all."
"Thank you," said Dorothy gratefully. "You are all very kindto me. But I should like to start as soon as possible."
"We shall go tomorrow morning," returned the Scarecrow. "Sonow let us all get ready, for it will be a long journey."

The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 17

2008-06-18T06:00:00.000-07:00

The Wizard of Oz

17. How the Balloon Was Launched

For three days Dorothy heard nothing from Oz. These were sad
days for the little girl, although her friends were all quite
happy and contented. The Scarecrow told them there were wonderful
thoughts in his head; but he would not say what they were because
he knew no one could understand them but himself. When the Tin
Woodman walked about he felt his heart rattling around in his
breast; and he told Dorothy he had discovered it to be a kinder
and more tender heart than the one he had owned when he was made
of flesh. The Lion declared he was afraid of nothing on earth,
and would gladly face an army or a dozen of the fierce Kalidahs.

Thus each of the little party was satisfied except Dorothy,
who longed more than ever to get back to Kansas.

On the fourth day, to her great joy, Oz sent for her, and when
she entered the Throne Room he greeted her pleasantly:

"Sit down, my dear; I think I have found the way to get you
out of this country."

"And back to Kansas?" she asked eagerly.

"Well, I'm not sure about Kansas," said Oz, "for I haven't the
faintest notion which way it lies. But the first thing to do is to
cross the desert, and then it should be easy to find your way home."

"How can I cross the desert?" she inquired.

"Well, I'll tell you what I think," said the little man.
"You see, when I came to this country it was in a balloon. You also
came through the air, being carried by a cyclone. So I believe
the best way to get across the desert will be through the air.
Now, it is quite beyond my powers to make a cyclone; but I've been
thinking the matter over, and I believe I can make a balloon."

"How?" asked Dorothy.

"A balloon," said Oz, "is made of silk, which is coated with
glue to keep the gas in it. I have plenty of silk in the Palace,
so it will be no trouble to make the balloon. But in all this
country there is no gas to fill the balloon with, to make it float."

"If it won't float," remarked Dorothy, "it will be of no use to us."

"True," answered Oz. "But there is another way to make it
float, which is to fill it with hot air. Hot air isn't as good as
gas, for if the air should get cold the balloon would come down in
the desert, and we should be lost."

"We!" exclaimed the girl. "Are you going with me?"

"Yes, of course," replied Oz. "I am tired of being such a humbug.
If I should go out of this Palace my people would soon discover I am not
a Wizard, and then they would be vexed with me for having deceived them.
So I have to stay shut up in these rooms all day, and it gets tiresome.
I'd much rather go back to Kansas with you and be in a circus again."

"I shall be glad to have your company," said Dorothy.

"Thank you," he answered. "Now, if you will help me sew the
silk together, we will begin to work on our balloon."

So Dorothy took a needle and thread, and as fast as Oz cut the
strips of silk into proper shape the girl sewed them neatly together.
First there was a strip of light green silk, then a strip of dark green
and then a strip of emerald green; for Oz had a fancy to make the balloon
in different shades of the color about them. It took three days to sew
all the strips together, but when it was finished they had a big bag of
green silk more than twenty feet long.

Then Oz painted it on the inside with a coat of thin glue, to make
it airtight, after which he announced that the balloon was ready.

"But we must have a basket to ride in," he said. So he sent
the soldier with the green whiskers for a big clothes basket,
which he fastened with many ropes to the bottom of the balloon.

When it was all ready, Oz sent word to his people that he was
going to make a visit to a great brother Wizard who lived in the clouds.
The news spread rapidly throughout the city and everyone came to see the
wonderful sight.

Oz ordered the balloon carried out in front of the Palace,
and the people gazed upon it with much curiosity. The Tin Woodman
had chopped a big pile of wood, and now he made a fire of it,
and Oz held the bottom of the balloon over the fire so that the
hot air that arose from it would be caught in the silken bag.
Gradually the balloon swelled out and rose into the air, until
finally the basket just touched the ground.

Then Oz got into the basket and said to all the people in a
loud voice:

"I am now going away to make a visit. While I am gone the
Scarecrow will rule over you. I command you to obey him as you
would me."

The balloon was by this time tugging hard at the rope that
held it to the ground, for the air within it was hot, and this
made it so much lighter in weight than the air without that it
pulled hard to rise into the sky.

"Come, Dorothy!" cried the Wizard. "Hurry up, or the balloon
will fly away."

"I can't find Toto anywhere," replied Dorothy, who did not
wish to leave her little dog behind. Toto had run into the crowd
to bark at a kitten, and Dorothy at last found him. She picked
him up and ran towards the balloon.

She was within a few steps of it, and Oz was holding out his
hands to help her into the basket, when, crack! went the ropes,
and the balloon rose into the air without her.

"Come back!" she screamed. "I want to go, too!"

"I can't come back, my dear," called Oz from the basket.
"Good-bye!"

"Good-bye!" shouted everyone, and all eyes were turned upward
to where the Wizard was riding in the basket, rising every moment
farther and farther into the sky.

And that was the last any of them ever saw of Oz, the
Wonderful Wizard, though he may have reached Omaha safely,
and be there now, for all we know. But the people remembered
him lovingly, and said to one another:

"Oz was always our friend. When he was here he built for us
this beautiful Emerald City, and now he is gone he has left the
Wise Scarecrow to rule over us."

Still, for many days they grieved over the loss of the
Wonderful Wizard, and would not be comforted.

The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 16

2008-06-17T06:00:00.000-07:00

The Wizard of Oz.

16. The Magic Art of the Great Humbug

Next morning the Scarecrow said to his friends:

"Congratulate me. I am going to Oz to get my brains at last.
When I return I shall be as other men are."

"I have always liked you as you were," said Dorothy simply.

"It is kind of you to like a Scarecrow," he replied. "But surely
you will think more of me when you hear the splendid thoughts my new
brain is going to turn out." Then he said good-bye to them all in a
cheerful voice and went to the Throne Room, where he rapped upon the door.

"Come in," said Oz.

The Scarecrow went in and found the little man sitting down by
the window, engaged in deep thought.

"I have come for my brains," remarked the Scarecrow, a little uneasily.

"Oh, yes; sit down in that chair, please," replied Oz. "You must
excuse me for taking your head off, but I shall have to do it in order
to put your brains in their proper place."

"That's all right," said the Scarecrow. "You are quite welcome to take
my head off, as long as it will be a better one when you put it on again."

So the Wizard unfastened his head and emptied out the straw.
Then he entered the back room and took up a measure of bran, which
he mixed with a great many pins and needles. Having shaken them
together thoroughly, he filled the top of the Scarecrow's head with
the mixture and stuffed the rest of the space with straw, to hold
it in place.

When he had fastened the Scarecrow's head on his body again he
said to him, "Hereafter you will be a great man, for I have given
you a lot of bran-new brains."

The Scarecrow was both pleased and proud at the fulfillment of
his greatest wish, and having thanked Oz warmly he went back to
his friends.

Dorothy looked at him curiously. His head was quite bulged
out at the top with brains.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"I feel wise indeed," he answered earnestly. "When I get used
to my brains I shall know everything."

"Why are those needles and pins sticking out of your head?"
asked the Tin Woodman.

"That is proof that he is sharp," remarked the Lion.

"Well, I must go to Oz and get my heart," said the Woodman.
So he walked to the Throne Room and knocked at the door.

"Come in," called Oz, and the Woodman entered and said,
"I have come for my heart."

"Very well," answered the little man. "But I shall have to cut
a hole in your breast, so I can put your heart in the right place.
I hope it won't hurt you."

"Oh, no," answered the Woodman. "I shall not feel it at all."

So Oz brought a pair of tinsmith's shears and cut a small,
square hole in the left side of the Tin Woodman's breast.
Then, going to a chest of drawers, he took out a pretty heart,
made entirely of silk and stuffed with sawdust.

"Isn't it a beauty?" he asked.

"It is, indeed!" replied the Woodman, who was greatly pleased.
"But is it a kind heart?"

"Oh, very!" answered Oz. He put the heart in the Woodman's
breast and then replaced the square of tin, soldering it neatly
together where it had been cut.

"There," said he; "now you have a heart that any man might be
proud of. I'm sorry I had to put a patch on your breast, but it
really couldn't be helped."

"Never mind the patch," exclaimed the happy Woodman. "I am
very grateful to you, and shall never forget your kindness."

"Don't speak of it," replied Oz.

Then the Tin Woodman went back to his friends, who wished him
every joy on account of his good fortune.

The Lion now walked to the Throne Room and knocked at the door.

"Come in," said Oz.

"I have come for my courage," announced the Lion, entering the room.

"Very well," answered the little man; "I will get it for you."

He went to a cupboard and reaching up to a high shelf took
down a square green bottle, the contents of which he poured into
a green-gold dish, beautifully carved. Placing this before the
Cowardly Lion, who sniffed at it as if he did not like it, the
Wizard said:

"Drink."

"What is it?" asked the Lion.

"Well," answered Oz, "if it were inside of you, it would be courage.
You know, of course, that courage is always inside one; so that this
really cannot be called courage until you have swallowed it. Therefore
I advise you to drink it as soon as possible."

The Lion hesitated no longer, but drank till the dish was empty.

"How do you feel now?" asked Oz.

"Full of courage," replied the Lion, who went joyfully back to
his friends to tell them of his good fortune.

Oz, left to himself, smiled to think of his success in giving
the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman and the Lion exactly what they
thought they wanted. "How can I help being a humbug," he said,
"when all these people make me do things that everybody knows
can't be done? It was easy to make the Scarecrow and the Lion
and the Woodman happy, because they imagined I could do anything.
But it will take more than imagination to carry Dorothy back
to Kansas, and I'm sure I don't know how it can be done."

Heidi: Chapter 8.

2008-06-16T12:52:00.000-07:00

Heidi.

Chapter 8: THE SESEMANN HOUSE IS HAUNTED

For several days Miss Rottenmeier had been wandering silently about
the house. When she went from room to room or along the corridors, she
would often glance back as if she were afraid that somebody was
following her. If she had to go to the upper floor, where the gorgeous
guest-rooms were, or to the lower story, where the big ball-room was
situated, she always told Tinette to come with her. The strange thing
was, that none of the servants dared to go anywhere alone and always
found an excuse to ask each other's company, which requests were
always granted. The cook, who had been in the house for many years,
would often shake her head and mutter: "That I should live to see
this!"

Something strange and weird was happening in the house. Every
morning, when the servants came down-stairs, they found the front door
wide open. At first everybody had thought that the house must have
been robbed, but nothing was missing. Every morning it was the same,
despite the double locks that were put on the door. At last John and
Sebastian, taking courage, prepared themselves to watch through a
night to see who was the ghost. Armed and provided with some
strengthening liquor, they repaired to a room down-stairs. First they
talked, but soon, getting sleepy, they leaned silently back in their
chairs. When the clock from the old church tower struck one, Sebastian
awoke and roused his comrade, which was no easy matter. At last,
however, John was wide awake, and together they went out into the
hall. The same moment a strong wind put out the light that John held
in his hand. Rushing back, he nearly upset Sebastian, who stood behind
him, and pulling the butler back into the room, he locked the door in
furious haste. When the light was lit again, Sebastian noticed that
John was deadly pale and trembling like an aspen leaf. Sebastian, not
having seen anything, asked anxiously: "What is the matter? What did
you see?"

"The door was open and a white form was on the stairs; it went up and
was gone in a moment," gasped John. Cold shivers ran down the butler's
back. They sat without moving till the morning came, and then,
shutting the door, they went upstairs to report to the housekeeper
what they had seen. The lady, who was waiting eagerly, heard the tale
and immediately sat down to write to Mr. Sesemann. She told him that
fright had paralyzed her fingers and that terrible things were
happening in the house. Then followed a tale of the appearance of the
ghost. Mr. Sesemann replied that he could not leave his business, and
advised Miss Rottenmeier to ask his mother to come to stay with them,
for Mrs. Sesemann would easily despatch the ghost. Miss Rottenmeier
was offended with the tone of the letter, which did not seem to take
her account seriously. Mrs. Sesemann also replied that she could not
come, so the housekeeper decided to tell the children all about it.
Clara, at the uncanny tale, immediately exclaimed that she would not
stay alone another moment and that she wished her father to come home.
The housekeeper arranged to sleep with the frightened child, while
Heidi, who did not know what ghosts were, was perfectly unmoved.
Another letter was despatched to Mr. Sesemann, telling him that the
excitement might have serious effects on his daughter's delicate
constitution, and mentioning several misfortunes that might probably
happen if he did not relieve the household from this terror.

This brought Mr. Sesemann. Going to his daughter's room after his
arrival, he was overjoyed to see her as well as ever. Clara was also
delighted to see her father.

"What new tricks has the ghost played on you, Miss Rottenmeier?" asked
Mr. Sesemann with a twinkle in his eye.

"It is no joke, Mr. Sesemann," replied the lady seriously. "I am sure
you will not laugh tomorrow. Those strange events indicate that
something secret and horrible has happened in this house in days gone
by."

"Is that so? this is new to me," remarked Mr. Sesemann. "But will you
please not suspect my venerable ancestors? Please call Sebastian; I
want to speak to him alone."

Mr. Sesemann knew that the two were not on good terms, so he said to
the butler:

"Come here, Sebastian, and tell me honestly, if you have played the
ghost for Miss Rottenmeier's pastime?"

"No, upon my word, master; you must not think that," replied Sebastian
frankly. "I do not like it quite myself."

"Well, I'll show you and John what ghosts look like by day. You ought
to be ashamed of yourselves, strong young men like you! Now go at once
to my old friend, Dr. Classen, and tell him to come to me at nine
o'clock to-night. Tell him that I came from Paris especially to
consult him, and that I want him to sit up all night with me. Do you
understand me, Sebastian?"

"Yes indeed! I shall do as you say, Mr. Sesemann." Mr. Sesemann then
went up to Clara's room to quiet and comfort her.

Punctually at nine o'clock the doctor arrived. Though his hair was
grey, his face was still fresh, and his eyes were lively and kind.
When he saw his friend, he laughed aloud and said: "Well, well, you
look pretty healthy for one who needs to be watched all night."

"Have patience, my old friend," replied Mr. Sesemann. "I am afraid the
person we have to sit up for will look worse, but first we must catch
him."

"What? Then somebody _is_ sick in this house? What do you mean?"

"Far worse, doctor, far worse. A ghost is in the house. My house is
haunted."

When the doctor laughed, Mr. Sesemann continued: "I call that
sympathy; I wish my friend Miss Rottenmeier could hear you. She is
convinced that an old Sesemann is wandering about, expiating some
dreadful deed."

"How did she make his acquaintance?" asked the doctor, much amused.

Mr. Sesemann then explained the circumstances. He said that the matter
was either a bad joke which an acquaintance of the servants was
playing in his absence, or it was a gang of thieves, who, after
intimidating the people, would surely rob his house by and by.

With these explanations they entered the room where the two servants
had watched before. A few bottles of wine stood on the table and two
bright candelabra shed a brilliant light. Two revolvers were ready for
emergencies.

They left the door only partly open, for too much light might drive
the ghost away. Then, sitting down comfortably, the two men passed
their time by chatting, taking a sip now and then.

"The ghost seems to have spied us and probably won't come to-day,"
said the doctor.

"We must have patience. It is supposed to come at one," replied his
friend.

So they talked till one o'clock. Everything was quiet, and not a sound
came from the street. Suddenly the doctor raised his finger.

"Sh! Sesemann, don't you hear something?"

While they both listened, the bar was unfastened, the key was turned,
and the door flew open. Mr. Sesemann seized his revolver.

"You are not afraid, I hope?" said the doctor, getting up.

"Better be cautious!" whispered Mr. Sesemann, seizing the candelabrum
in the other hand. The doctor followed with his revolver and the
light, and so they went out into the hall.

On the threshhold stood a motionless white form, lighted up by the
moon.

"Who is there?" thundered the doctor, approaching the figure. It
turned and uttered a low shriek. There stood Heidi, with bare feet and
in her white night-gown, looking bewildered at the bright light and
the weapons. She was shaking with fear, while the two men were looking
at her in amazement.

"Sesemann, this seems to be your little water carrier," said the
doctor.

"Child, what does this mean?" asked Mr. Sesemann. "What did you want
to do? Why have you come down here?"

Pale from fright, Heidi said: "I do not know."

The doctor came forward now. "Sesemann, this case belongs to my field.
Please go and sit down while I take her to bed."

Putting his revolver aside, he led the trembling child up-stairs.

"Don't be afraid; just be quiet! Everything is all right; don't be
frightened."

When they had arrived in Heidi's room, the doctor put the little girl
to bed, covering her up carefully. Drawing a chair near the couch, he
waited till Heidi had calmed down and had stopped trembling. Then
taking her hand in his, he said kindly: "Now everything is all right
again. Tell me where you wanted to go?"

"I did not want to go anywhere," Heidi assured him; "I did not go
myself, only I was there all of a sudden."

"Really! Tell me, what did you dream?"

"Oh, I have the same dream every night. I always think I am with my
grandfather again and can hear the fir-trees roar. I always think how
beautiful the stars must be, and then I open the door of the hut, and
oh, it is so wonderful! But when I wake up I am always in Frankfurt."
Heidi had to fight the sobs that were rising in her throat.

"Does your back or your head hurt you, child?"

"No, but I feel as if a big stone was pressing me here."

"As if you had eaten something that disagreed with you?"

"Oh no, but as if I wanted to cry hard."

"So, and then you cry out, don't you?"

"Oh no, I must never do that, for Miss Rottenmeier has forbidden it."

"Then you swallow it down? Yes? Do you like to be here?"

"Oh yes," was the faint, uncertain reply.

"Where did you live with your grandfather?"

"Up on the Alp."

"But wasn't it a little lonely there?"

"Oh no, it was so beautiful!"--But Heidi could say no more. The
recollection, the excitement of the night and all the restrained
sorrow overpowered the child. The tears rushed violently from her eyes
and she broke out into loud sobs.

The doctor rose, and soothing her, said: "It won't hurt to cry; you'll
go to sleep afterward, and when you wake up everything will come
right." Then he left the room.

Joining his anxious friend down-stairs, he said: "Sesemann, the little
girl is a sleep-walker, and has unconsciously scared your whole
household. Besides, she is so home-sick that her little body has
wasted away. We shall have to act quickly. The only remedy for her is
to be restored to her native mountain air. This is my prescription,
and she must go tomorrow."

"What, sick, a sleep-walker, and wasted away in my house! Nobody even
suspected it! You think I should send this child back in this
condition, when she has come in good health? No, doctor, ask
everything but that. Take her in hand and prescribe for her, but let
her get well before I send her back."

"Sesemann," the doctor replied seriously, "just think what you are
doing. We cannot cure her with powders and pills. The child has not a
strong constitution, and if you keep her here, she might never get
well again. If you restore her to the bracing mountain air to which
she is accustomed, she probably will get perfectly well again."

When Mr. Sesemann heard this he said, "If that is your advice, we must
act at once; this is the only way then." With these words Mr. Sesemann
took his friend's arm and walked about with him to talk the matter
over. When everything was settled, the doctor took his leave, for the
morning had already come and the sun was shining in through the door.

The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 15

2008-06-16T12:33:00.000-07:00

The Wizard of Oz.
15. The Discovery of Oz, the Terrible

The four travelers walked up to the great gate of Emerald City
and rang the bell. After ringing several times, it was opened by
the same Guardian of the Gates they had met before.

"What! are you back again?" he asked, in surprise.

"Do you not see us?" answered the Scarecrow.

"But I thought you had gone to visit the Wicked Witch of the West."

"We did visit her," said the Scarecrow.

"And she let you go again?" asked the man, in wonder.

"She could not help it, for she is melted," explained the Scarecrow.

"Melted! Well, that is good news, indeed," said the man.
"Who melted her?"

"It was Dorothy," said the Lion gravely.

"Good gracious!" exclaimed the man, and he bowed very low indeed
before her.

Then he led them into his little room and locked the spectacles
from the great box on all their eyes, just as he had done before.
Afterward they passed on through the gate into the Emerald City.
When the people heard from the Guardian of the Gates that Dorothy
had melted the Wicked Witch of the West, they all gathered around
the travelers and followed them in a great crowd to the Palace of Oz.

The soldier with the green whiskers was still on guard before
the door, but he let them in at once, and they were again met by
the beautiful green girl, who showed each of them to their old
rooms at once, so they might rest until the Great Oz was ready to
receive them.

The soldier had the news carried straight to Oz that Dorothy
and the other travelers had come back again, after destroying the
Wicked Witch; but Oz made no reply. They thought the Great Wizard
would send for them at once, but he did not. They had no word
from him the next day, nor the next, nor the next. The waiting
was tiresome and wearing, and at last they grew vexed that Oz
should treat them in so poor a fashion, after sending them to
undergo hardships and slavery. So the Scarecrow at last asked the
green girl to take another message to Oz, saying if he did not
let them in to see him at once they would call the Winged Monkeys
to help them, and find out whether he kept his promises or not.
When the Wizard was given this message he was so frightened that he
sent word for them to come to the Throne Room at four minutes after
nine o'clock the next morning. He had once met the Winged Monkeys
in the Land of the West, and he did not wish to meet them again.

The four travelers passed a sleepless night, each thinking of the
gift Oz had promised to bestow on him. Dorothy fell asleep only once,
and then she dreamed she was in Kansas, where Aunt Em was telling her
how glad she was to have her little girl at home again.

Promptly at nine o'clock the next morning the green-whiskered
soldier came to them, and four minutes later they all went into
the Throne Room of the Great Oz.

Of course each one of them expected to see the Wizard in the shape
he had taken before, and all were greatly surprised when they looked
about and saw no one at all in the room. They kept close to the door
and closer to one another, for the stillness of the empty room was more
dreadful than any of the forms they had seen Oz take.

Presently they heard a solemn Voice, that seemed to come from
somewhere near the top of the great dome, and it said:

"I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Why do you seek me?"

They looked again in every part of the room, and then, seeing
no one, Dorothy asked, "Where are you?"

"I am everywhere," answered the Voice, "but to the eyes of
common mortals I am invisible. I will now seat myself upon my
throne, that you may converse with me." Indeed, the Voice seemed
just then to come straight from the throne itself; so they walked
toward it and stood in a row while Dorothy said:

"We have come to claim our promise, O Oz."

"What promise?" asked Oz.

"You promised to send me back to Kansas when the Wicked Witch
was destroyed," said the girl.

"And you promised to give me brains," said the Scarecrow.

"And you promised to give me a heart," said the Tin Woodman.

"And you promised to give me courage," said the Cowardly Lion.

"Is the Wicked Witch really destroyed?" asked the Voice,
and Dorothy thought it trembled a little.

"Yes," she answered, "I melted her with a bucket of water."

"Dear me," said the Voice, "how sudden! Well, come to me
tomorrow, for I must have time to think it over."

"You've had plenty of time already," said the Tin Woodman angrily.

"We shan't wait a day longer," said the Scarecrow.

"You must keep your promises to us!" exclaimed Dorothy.

The Lion thought it might be as well to frighten the Wizard,
so he gave a large, loud roar, which was so fierce and dreadful
that Toto jumped away from him in alarm and tipped over the screen
that stood in a corner. As it fell with a crash they looked
that way, and the next moment all of them were filled with wonder.
For they saw, standing in just the spot the screen had hidden,
a little old man, with a bald head and a wrinkled face, who seemed
to be as much surprised as they were. The Tin Woodman, raising
his axe, rushed toward the little man and cried out, "Who are you?"

"I am Oz, the Great and Terrible," said the little man, in a
trembling voice. "But don't strike me--please don't--and I'll
do anything you want me to."

Our friends looked at him in surprise and dismay.

"I thought Oz was a great Head," said Dorothy.

"And I thought Oz was a lovely Lady," said the Scarecrow.

"And I thought Oz was a terrible Beast," said the Tin Woodman.

"And I thought Oz was a Ball of Fire," exclaimed the Lion.

"No, you are all wrong," said the little man meekly. "I have
been making believe."

"Making believe!" cried Dorothy. "Are you not a Great Wizard?"

"Hush, my dear," he said. "Don't speak so loud, or you will be
overheard--and I should be ruined. I'm supposed to be a Great Wizard."

"And aren't you?" she asked.

"Not a bit of it, my dear; I'm just a common man."

"You're more than that," said the Scarecrow, in a grieved tone;
"you're a humbug."

"Exactly so!" declared the little man, rubbing his hands
together as if it pleased him. "I am a humbug."

"But this is terrible," said the Tin Woodman. "How shall I
ever get my heart?"

"Or I my courage?" asked the Lion.

"Or I my brains?" wailed the Scarecrow, wiping the tears from
his eyes with his coat sleeve.

"My dear friends," said Oz, "I pray you not to speak of these
little things. Think of me, and the terrible trouble I'm in at
being found out."

"Doesn't anyone else know you're a humbug?" asked Dorothy.

"No one knows it but you four--and myself," replied Oz. "I
have fooled everyone so long that I thought I should never be
found out. It was a great mistake my ever letting you into the
Throne Room. Usually I will not see even my subjects, and so they
believe I am something terrible."

"But, I don't understand," said Dorothy, in bewilderment.
"How was it that you appeared to me as a great Head?"

"That was one of my tricks," answered Oz. "Step this way,
please, and I will tell you all about it."

He led the way to a small chamber in the rear of the Throne
Room, and they all followed him. He pointed to one corner, in
which lay the great Head, made out of many thicknesses of paper,
and with a carefully painted face.

"This I hung from the ceiling by a wire," said Oz. "I stood
behind the screen and pulled a thread, to make the eyes move and
the mouth open."

"But how about the voice?" she inquired.

"Oh, I am a ventriloquist," said the little man. "I can throw
the sound of my voice wherever I wish, so that you thought it was
coming out of the Head. Here are the other things I used to
deceive you." He showed the Scarecrow the dress and the mask he
had worn when he seemed to be the lovely Lady. And the Tin
Woodman saw that his terrible Beast was nothing but a lot of
skins, sewn together, with slats to keep their sides out. As for
the Ball of Fire, the false Wizard had hung that also from the
ceiling. It was really a ball of cotton, but when oil was poured
upon it the ball burned fiercely.

"Really," said the Scarecrow, "you ought to be ashamed of
yourself for being such a humbug."

"I am--I certainly am," answered the little man sorrowfully;
"but it was the only thing I could do. Sit down, please, there
are plenty of chairs; and I will tell you my story."

So they sat down and listened while he told the following tale.

"I was born in Omaha--"

"Why, that isn't very far from Kansas!" cried Dorothy.

"No, but it's farther from here," he said, shaking his head at
her sadly. "When I grew up I became a ventriloquist, and at that
I was very well trained by a great master. I can imitate any kind
of a bird or beast." Here he mewed so like a kitten that Toto
pricked up his ears and looked everywhere to see where she was.
"After a time," continued Oz, "I tired of that, and became a
balloonist."

"What is that?" asked Dorothy.

"A man who goes up in a balloon on circus day, so as to draw a
crowd of people together and get them to pay to see the circus,"
he explained.

"Oh," she said, "I know."

"Well, one day I went up in a balloon and the ropes got
twisted, so that I couldn't come down again. It went way up above
the clouds, so far that a current of air struck it and carried it
many, many miles away. For a day and a night I traveled through
the air, and on the morning of the second day I awoke and found
the balloon floating over a strange and beautiful country.

"It came down gradually, and I was not hurt a bit. But I
found myself in the midst of a strange people, who, seeing me come
from the clouds, thought I was a great Wizard. Of course I let
them think so, because they were afraid of me, and promised to do
anything I wished them to.

"Just to amuse myself, and keep the good people busy, I
ordered them to build this City, and my Palace; and they did it
all willingly and well. Then I thought, as the country was so
green and beautiful, I would call it the Emerald City; and to make
the name fit better I put green spectacles on all the people, so
that everything they saw was green."

"But isn't everything here green?" asked Dorothy.

"No more than in any other city," replied Oz; "but when you
wear green spectacles, why of course everything you see looks
green to you. The Emerald City was built a great many years ago,
for I was a young man when the balloon brought me here, and I am a
very old man now. But my people have worn green glasses on their
eyes so long that most of them think it really is an Emerald City,
and it certainly is a beautiful place, abounding in jewels and
precious metals, and every good thing that is needed to make
one happy. I have been good to the people, and they like me;
but ever since this Palace was built, I have shut myself up
and would not see any of them.

"One of my greatest fears was the Witches, for while I had no
magical powers at all I soon found out that the Witches were
really able to do wonderful things. There were four of them in
this country, and they ruled the people who live in the North and
South and East and West. Fortunately, the Witches of the North
and South were good, and I knew they would do me no harm; but the
Witches of the East and West were terribly wicked, and had they
not thought I was more powerful than they themselves, they would
surely have destroyed me. As it was, I lived in deadly fear of
them for many years; so you can imagine how pleased I was when
I heard your house had fallen on the Wicked Witch of the East.
When you came to me, I was willing to promise anything if you
would only do away with the other Witch; but, now that you have
melted her, I am ashamed to say that I cannot keep my promises."

"I think you are a very bad man," said Dorothy.

"Oh, no, my dear; I'm really a very good man, but I'm a very
bad Wizard, I must admit."

"Can't you give me brains?" asked the Scarecrow.

"You don't need them. You are learning something every day.
A baby has brains, but it doesn't know much. Experience is the
only thing that brings knowledge, and the longer you are on earth
the more experience you are sure to get."

"That may all be true," said the Scarecrow, "but I shall be
very unhappy unless you give me brains."

The false Wizard looked at him carefully.

"Well," he said with a sigh, "I'm not much of a magician,
as I said; but if you will come to me tomorrow morning, I will
stuff your head with brains. I cannot tell you how to use them,
however; you must find that out for yourself."

"Oh, thank you--thank you!" cried the Scarecrow. "I'll find
a way to use them, never fear!"

"But how about my courage?" asked the Lion anxiously.

"You have plenty of courage, I am sure," answered Oz. "All you need
is confidence in yourself. There is no living thing that is not afraid
when it faces danger. The True courage is in facing danger when you are
afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty."

"Perhaps I have, but I'm scared just the same," said the Lion.
"I shall really be very unhappy unless you give me the sort of
courage that makes one forget he is afraid."

"Very well, I will give you that sort of courage tomorrow,"
replied Oz.

"How about my heart?" asked the Tin Woodman.

"Why, as for that," answered Oz, "I think you are wrong to
want a heart. It makes most people unhappy. If you only knew it,
you are in luck not to have a heart."

"That must be a matter of opinion," said the Tin Woodman.
"For my part, I will bear all the unhappiness without a murmur,
if you will give me the heart."

"Very well," answered Oz meekly. "Come to me tomorrow and you
shall have a heart. I have played Wizard for so many years that I
may as well continue the part a little longer."

"And now," said Dorothy, "how am I to get back to Kansas?"

"We shall have to think about that," replied the little man.
"Give me two or three days to consider the matter and I'll try to
find a way to carry you over the desert. In the meantime you
shall all be treated as my guests, and while you live in the Palace
my people will wait upon you and obey your slightest wish. There is
only one thing I ask in return for my help--such as it is. You must
keep my secret and tell no one I am a humbug."

They agreed to say nothing of what they had learned, and went
back to their rooms in high spirits. Even Dorothy had hope that
"The Great and Terrible Humbug," as she called him, would find a
way to send her back to Kansas, and if he did she was willing to
forgive him everything.

Heidi: Chapter 7.

2008-06-05T06:00:00.000-07:00

Heidi, Chapter 7:

MISS ROTTENMEIER HAS AN UNCOMFORTABLE DAY.

When Heidi opened her eyes next morning, she did not know where she
was. She found herself on a high white bed in a spacious room. Looking
around she observed long white curtains before the windows, several
chairs, and a sofa covered with cretonne; in a corner she saw a
wash-stand with many curious things standing on it.

Suddenly Heidi remembered all the happenings of the previous day.
Jumping out of bed, she dressed in a great hurry. She was eager to
look at the sky and the ground below, as she had always done at home.
What was her disappointment when she found that the windows were too
high for her to see anything except the walls and windows opposite.
Trying to open them, she turned from one to the other, but in vain.
The poor child felt like a little bird that is placed in a glittering
cage for the first time. At last she had to resign herself, and sat
down on a low stool, thinking of the melting snow on the slopes and
the first flowers of spring that she had hailed with such delight.

Suddenly Tinette opened the door and said curtly: "Breakfast's ready."

Heidi did not take this for a summons, for the maid's face was
scornful and forbidding. She was waiting patiently for what would
happen next, when Miss Rottenmeier burst into the room, saying: "What
is the matter, Adelheid? Didn't you understand? Come to breakfast!"

Heidi immediately followed the lady into the dining-room, where Clara
greeted her with a smile. She looked much happier than usual, for she
expected new things to happen that day. When breakfast had passed
without disturbance, the two children were allowed to go into the
library together and were soon left alone.

"How can I see down to the ground?" Heidi asked.

"Open a window and peep out," replied Clara, amused at the question.

"But it is impossible to open them," Heidi said, sadly.

"Oh no. You can't do it and I can't help you, either, but if you ask
Sebastian he'll do it for you."

Heidi was relieved. The poor child had felt like a prisoner in her
room. Clara now asked Heidi what her home had been like, and Heidi
told her gladly about her life in the hut.

The tutor had arrived in the meantime, but he was not asked to go to
the study as usual. Miss Rottenmeier was very much excited about
Heidi's coming and all the complications that arose therefrom. She was
really responsible for it, having arranged everything herself. She
presented the unfortunate case before the teacher, for she wanted him
to help her to get rid of the child. Mr. Candidate, however, was
always careful of his judgments, and not afraid of teaching beginners.

When the lady saw that he would not side with her, she let him enter
the study alone, for the A,B,C held great horrors for her. While she
considered many problems, a frightful noise as of something falling
was heard in the adjoining room, followed by a cry to Sebastian for
help. Running in, she beheld a pile of books and papers on the floor,
with the table-cover on top. A black stream of ink flowed across the
length of the room. Heidi had disappeared.

"There," Miss Rottenmeier exclaimed, wringing her hands. "Everything
drenched with ink. Did such a thing ever happen before? This child
brings nothing but misfortunes on us."

The teacher was standing up, looking at the devastation, but Clara was
highly entertained by these events, and said: "Heidi has not done it
on purpose and must not be punished. In her hurry to get away she
caught on the table-cover and pulled it down. I think she must never
have seen a coach in all her life, for when she heard a carriage
rumbling by, she rushed out like mad."

"Didn't I tell you, Mr. Candidate, that she has no idea whatever about
behavior? She does not even know that she has to sit quiet at her
lessons. But where has she gone? What would Mr. Sesemann say if she
should run away?"

When Miss Rottenmeier went down-stairs to look for the child, she saw
her standing at the open door, looking down the street.

"What are you doing here? How can you run away like that?" scolded
Miss Rottenmeier.

"I heard the fir-trees rustle, but I can't see them and do not hear
them any more," replied Heidi, looking in great perplexity down the
street. The noise of the passing carriage had reminded her of the
roaring of the south-wind on the Alp.

"Fir-trees? What nonsense! We are not in a wood. Come with me now to
see what you have done." When Heidi saw the devastation that she had
caused, she was greatly surprised, for she had not noticed it in her
hurry.

"This must never happen again," said the lady sternly. "You must sit
quiet at your lessons; if you get up again I shall tie you to your
chair. Do you hear me?"

Heidi understood, and gave a promise to sit quietly during her lessons
from that time on. After the servants had straightened the room, it
was late, and there was no more time for studies. Nobody had time to
yawn that morning.

In the afternoon, while Clara was resting, Heidi was left to herself.
She planted herself in the hall and waited for the butler to come
up-stairs with the silver things. When he reached the head of the
stairs, she said to him: "I want to ask you something." She saw that
the butler seemed angry, so she reassured him by saying that she did
not mean any harm.

"All right, Miss, what is it?"

"My name is not Miss, why don't you call me Heidi?"

"Miss Rottenmeier told me to call you Miss."

"Did she? Well then, it must be so. I have three names already,"
sighed the child.

"What can I do for you?" asked Sebastian now.

"Can you open a window for me?"

"Certainly," he replied.

Sebastian got a stool for Heidi, for the window-sill was too high for
her to see over. In great disappointment, Heidi turned her head away.

"I don't see anything but a street of stone. Is it the same way on the
other side of the house?"

"Yes."

"Where do you go to look far down on everything?"

"On a church-tower. Do you see that one over there with the golden
dome? From there you can overlook everything."

Heidi immediately stepped down from the stool and ran down-stairs.
Opening the door, she found herself in the street, but she could not
see the tower any more. She wandered on from street to street, not
daring to accost any of the busy people. Passing a corner, she saw a
boy who had a barrel-organ on his back and a curious animal on his
arm. Heidi ran to him and asked: "Where is the tower with the golden
dome?"

"Don't know," was the reply.

"Who can tell me?"

"Don't know."

"Can you show me another church with a tower?"

"Of course I can."

"Then come and show me."

"What are you going to give me for it?" said the boy, holding out his
hand. Heidi had nothing in her pocket but a little flower-picture.
Clara had only given it to her this morning, so she was loath to part
with it. The temptation to look far down into the valley was too
great for her, though, and she offered him the gift. The boy shook his
head, to Heidi's satisfaction.

"What else do you want?"

"Money."

"I have none, but Clara has some. How much must I give you?"

"Twenty pennies."

"All right, but come."

While they were wandering down the street, Heidi found out what a
barrel-organ was, for she had never seen one. When they arrived before
an old church with a tower, Heidi was puzzled what to do next, but
having discovered a bell, she pulled it with all her might. The boy
agreed to wait for Heidi and show her the way home if she gave him a
double fee.

The lock creaked now from inside, and an old man opened the door. In
an angry voice, he said: "How do you dare to ring for me? Can't you
see that it is only for those who want to see the tower?"

"But I do," said Heidi.

"What do you want to see? Did anybody send you?" asked the man.

"No; but I want to look down from up there."

"Get home and don't try it again." With that the tower-keeper was
going to shut the door, but Heidi held his coat-tails and pleaded with
him to let her come. The tower-keeper looked at the child's eyes,
which were nearly full of tears.

"All right, come along, if you care so much," he said, taking her by
the hand. The two climbed up now many, many steps, which got narrower
all the time. When they had arrived on top, the old man lifted Heidi
up to the open window.

Heidi saw nothing but a sea of chimneys, roofs and towers, and her
heart sank. "Oh, dear, it's different from the way I thought it would
be," she said.

"There! what could such a little girl know about a view? We'll go down
now and you must promise never to ring at my tower any more."

On their way they passed an attic, where a large grey cat guarded her
new family in a basket. This cat caught half-a-dozen mice every day
for herself, for the old tower was full of rats and mice. Heidi gazed
at her in surprise, and was delighted when the old man opened the
basket.

"What charming kittens, what cunning little creatures!" she exclaimed
in her delight, when she saw them crawling about, jumping and
tumbling.

"Would you like to have one?" the old man asked.

"For me? to keep?" Heidi asked, for she could not believe her ears.

"Yes, of course. You can have several if you have room for them," the
old man said, glad to find a good home for the kittens.

How happy Heidi was! Of course there was enough room in the huge
house, and Clara would be delighted when she saw the cunning things.

"How can I take them with me?" the child asked, after she had tried in
vain to catch one.

"I can bring them to your house, if you tell me where you live," said
Heidi's new friend, while he caressed the old cat, who had lived with
him many years.

"Bring them to Mr. Sesemann's house; there is a golden dog on the
door, with a ring in his mouth."

The old man had lived in the tower a long time and knew everybody;
Sebastian also was a special friend of his.

"I know," he said. "But to whom shall I send them? Do you belong to
Mr. Sesemann?"

"No. Please send them to Clara; she will like them, I am sure."

Heidi could hardly tear herself away from the pretty things, so the
old man put one kitten in each of her pockets to console her. After
that she went away.

The boy was waiting patiently for her, and when she had taken leave of
the tower-keeper, she asked the boy: "Do you know where Mr. Sesemann's
house is?"

"No," was the reply.

She described it as well as she could, till the boy remembered it. Off
they started, and soon Heidi found herself pulling the door-bell. When
Sebastian arrived he said: "Hurry up." Heidi went in, and the boy was
left outside, for Sebastian had not even seen him.

"Come up quickly, little Miss," he urged. "They are all waiting for
you in the dining-room. Miss Rottenmeier looks like a loaded cannon.
How could you run away like that?"

Heidi sat down quietly on her chair. Nobody said a word, and there was
an uncomfortable silence. At last Miss Rottenmeier began with a severe
and solemn voice: "I shall speak with you later, Adelheid. How can you
leave the house without a word? Your behavior was very remiss. The
idea of walking about till so late!"

"Meow!" was the reply.

"I didn't," Heidi began--"Meow!"

Sebastian nearly flung the dish on the table, and disappeared.

"This is enough," Miss Rottenmeier tried to say, but her voice was
hoarse with fury. "Get up and leave the room."

Heidi got up. She began again. "I made--" "Meow! meow! meow!--"

"Heidi," said Clara now, "why do you always say 'meow' again, if you
see that Miss Rottenmeier is angry?"

"I am not doing it, it's the kittens," she explained.

"What? Cats? Kittens?" screamed the housekeeper. "Sebastian, Tinette,
take the horrible things away!" With that she ran into the study,
locking herself in, for she feared kittens beyond anything on earth.
When Sebastian had finished his laugh, he came into the room. He had
foreseen the excitement, having caught sight of the kittens when Heidi
came in. The scene was a very peaceful one now; Clara held the little
kittens in her lap, and Heidi was kneeling beside her. They both
played happily with the two graceful creatures. The butler promised to
look after the new-comers and prepared a bed for them in a basket.

A long time afterwards, when it was time to go to bed, Miss
Rottenmeier cautiously opened the door. "Are they away?" she asked.
"Yes," replied the butler, quickly seizing the kittens and taking them
away.

The lecture that Miss Rottenmeier was going to give Heidi was
postponed to the following day, for the lady was too much exhausted
after her fright. They all went quietly to bed, and the children were
happy in the thought that their kittens had a comfortable bed.

Heidi: Chapter 6.

2008-06-04T06:00:00.000-07:00

Chapter 6:
A NEW CHAPTER WITH NEW THINGS.

In a beautiful house in Frankfurt lived a sick child by the name of
Clara Sesemann. She was sitting in a comfortable rolling-chair, which
could be pushed from room to room. Clara spent most of her time in the
study, where long rows of bookcases lined the walls. This room was
used as a living-room, and here she was also given her lessons.

Clara had a pale, thin face with soft blue eyes, which at that moment
were watching the clock impatiently. At last she said: "Oh Miss
Rottenmeier, isn't it time yet?"

The lady so addressed was the housekeeper, who had lived with Clara
since Mrs. Sesemann's death. Miss Rottenmeier wore a peculiar uniform
with a long cape, and a high cap on her head. Clara's father, who was
away from home a great deal, left the entire management of the house
to this lady, on the condition that his daughter's wishes should
always be considered.

While Clara was waiting, Deta had arrived at the front door with
Heidi. She was asking the coachman who had brought her if she could go
upstairs.

"That's not my business," grumbled the coachman; "you must ring for
the butler."

Sebastian, the butler, a man with large brass buttons on his coat,
soon stood before her.

"May I see Miss Rottenmeier?" Deta asked.

"That's not my business," the butler announced. "Ring for Tinette, the
maid." With that, he disappeared.

Deta, ringing again, saw a girl with a brilliant white cap on her
head, coming down the stairway. The maid stopped half-way down and
asked scornfully: "What do you want?"

Deta repeated her wish again. Tinette told her to wait while she went
upstairs, but it did not take long before the two were asked to come
up.

Following the maid, they found themselves in the study. Deta held on
to Heidi's hand and stayed near the door.

Miss Rottenmeier, slowly getting up, approached the newcomers. She did
not seem pleased with Heidi, who wore her hat and shawl and was
looking up at the lady's headdress with innocent wonder.

"What is your name?" the lady asked.

"Heidi," was the child's clear answer.

"What? Is that a Christian name? What name did you receive in
baptism?" inquired the lady again.

"I don't remember that any more," the child replied.

"What an answer! What does that mean?" said the housekeeper, shaking
her head. "Is the child ignorant or pert, Miss Deta?"

"I shall speak for the child, if I may, madam," Deta said, after
giving Heidi a little blow for her unbecoming answer. "The child has
never been in such a fine house and does not know how to behave. I
hope the lady will forgive her manners. She is called Adelheid after
her mother, who was my sister."

"Oh well, that is better. But Miss Deta, the child seems peculiar for
her age. I thought I told you that Miss Clara's companion would have
to be twelve years old like her, to be able to share her studies. How
old is Adelheid?"

"I am sorry, but I am afraid she is somewhat younger than I thought. I
think she is about ten years old."

"Grandfather said that I was eight years old," said Heidi now. Deta
gave her another blow, but as the child had no idea why, she did not
get embarrassed.

"What, only eight years old!" Miss Rottenmeier exclaimed indignantly.
"How can we get along? What have you learned? What books have you
studied?"

"None," said Heidi.

"But how did you learn to read?"

"I can't read and Peter can't do it either," Heidi retorted.

"For mercy's sake! you cannot read?" cried the lady in her surprise.
"How is it possible? What else have you studied?"

"Nothing," replied Heidi, truthfully.

"Miss Deta, how could you bring this child?" said the housekeeper,
when she was more composed.

Deta, however, was not easily intimidated, and said: "I am sorry, but
I thought this child would suit you. She _is_ small, but older
children are often spoilt and not like her. I must go now, for my
mistress is waiting. As soon as I can, I'll come to see how the child
is getting along." With a bow she was outside and with a few quick
steps hurried down-stairs.

Miss Rottenmeier followed her and tried to call her back, for she
wanted to ask Deta a number of questions.

Heidi was still standing on the same spot. Clara had watched the
scene, and called to the child now to come to her.

Heidi approached the rolling-chair.

"Do you want to be called Heidi or Adelheid?" asked Clara.

"My name is Heidi and nothing else," was the child's answer.

"I'll call you Heidi then, for I like it very much," said Clara. "I
have never heard the name before. What curly hair you have! Was it
always like that?"

"I think so."

"Did you like to come to Frankfurt?" asked Clara again.

"Oh, no, but then I am going home again to-morrow, and shall bring
grandmother some soft white rolls," Heidi explained.

"What a curious child you are," said Clara. "You have come to
Frankfurt to stay with me, don't you know that? We shall have our
lessons together, and I think it will be great fun when you learn to
read. Generally the morning seems to have no end, for Mr. Candidate
comes at ten and stays till two. That is a long time, and he has to
yawn himself, he gets so tired. Miss Rottenmeier and he both yawn
together behind their books, but when I do it, Miss Rottenmeier makes
me take cod-liver oil and says that I am ill. So I must swallow my
yawns, for I hate the oil. What fun it will be now, when you learn to
read!"

Heidi shook her head doubtfully at these prospects.

"Everybody must learn to read, Heidi. Mr. Candidate is very patient
and will explain it all to you. You won't know what he means at first,
for it is difficult to understand him. It won't take long to learn,
though, and then you will know what he means."

When Miss Rottenmeier found that she was unable to recall Deta, she
came back to the children. She was in a very excited mood, for she
felt responsible for Heidi's coming and did not know how to cancel
this unfortunate step. She soon got up again to go to the dining-room,
criticising the butler and giving orders to the maid. Sebastian, not
daring to show his rage otherwise, noisily opened the folding doors.
When he went up to Clara's chair, he saw Heidi watching him intently.
At last she said: "You look like Peter."

Miss Rottenmeier was horrified with this remark, and sent them all
into the dining-room. After Clara was lifted on to her chair, the
housekeeper sat down beside her. Heidi was motioned to sit opposite
the lady. In that way they were placed at the enormous table. When
Heidi saw a roll on her plate, she turned to Sebastian, and pointing
at it, asked, "Can I have this?" Heidi had already great confidence in
the butler, especially on account of the resemblance she had
discovered. The butler nodded, and when he saw Heidi put the bread in
her pocket, could hardly keep from laughing. He came to Heidi now with
a dish of small baked fishes. For a long time the child did not move;
then turning her eyes to the butler, she said: "Must I eat that?"
Sebastian nodded, but another pause ensued. "Why don't you give it to
me?" the child quietly asked, looking at her plate. The butler, hardly
able to keep his countenance, was told to place the dish on the table
and leave the room.

When he was gone, Miss Rottenmeier explained to Heidi with many signs
how to help herself at table. She also told her never to speak to
Sebastian unless it was important. After that the child was told how
to accost the servants and the governess. When the question came up of
how to call Clara, the older girl said, "Of course you shall call me
Clara."

A great many rules followed now about behavior at all times, about the
shutting of doors and about going to bed, and a hundred other things.
Poor Heidi's eyes were closing, for she had risen at five that
morning, and leaning against her chair she fell asleep. When Miss
Rottenmeier had finished instructions, she said: "I hope you will
remember everything, Adelheid. Did you understand me?"

"Heidi went to sleep a long time ago," said Clara, highly amused.

"It is atrocious what I have to bear with this child," exclaimed Miss
Rottenmeier, ringing the bell with all her might. When the two
servants arrived, they were hardly able to rouse Heidi enough to show
her to her bed-room.

Heidi: Chapter 5.

2008-06-03T06:00:00.000-07:00

CHAPTER 5:

TWO VISITORS.

Two winters had nearly passed. Heidi was happy, for the spring was
coming again, with the soft delicious wind that made the fir-trees
roar. Soon she would be able to go up to the pasture, where blue and
yellow flowers greeted her at every step. She was nearly eight years
old, and had learned to take care of the goats, who ran after her like
little dogs. Several times the village teacher had sent word by Peter
that the child was wanted in school, but the old man had not paid any
attention to the message and had kept her with him as before. It was a
beautiful morning in March. The snow had melted on the slopes, and was
going fast. Snowdrops were peeping through the ground, which seemed to
be getting ready for spring. Heidi was running to and fro before the
door, when she suddenly saw an old gentleman, dressed in black,
standing beside her. As she appeared frightened, he said kindly: "You
must not be afraid of me, for I love children. Give me your hand,
Heidi, and tell me where your grandfather is."

"He is inside, making round wooden spoons," the child replied, opening
the door while she spoke.

It was the old pastor of the village, who had known the grandfather
years ago. After entering, he approached the old man, saying:
"Good-morning, neighbor."

The old man got up, surprised, and offering a seat to the visitor,
said: "Good-morning, Mr. Parson. Here is a wooden chair, if it is good
enough."

Sitting down, the parson said: "It is long since I have seen you,
neighbor. I have come to-day to talk over a matter with you. I am sure
you can guess what it is about."

The clergyman here looked at Heidi, who was standing near the door.

"Heidi, run out to see the goats," said the grandfather, "and bring
them some salt; you can stay till I come."

Heidi disappeared on the spot. "The child should have come to school a
year ago," the parson went on to say. "Didn't you get the teacher's
warning? What do you intend to do with the child?"

"I do not want her to go to school," said the old man, unrelentingly.

"What do you want the child to be?"

"I want her to be free and happy as a bird!"

"But she is human, and it is high time for her to learn something. I
have come now to tell you about it, so that you can make your plans.
She must come to school next winter; remember that."

"I shan't do it, pastor!" was the reply.

"Do you think there is no way?" the clergyman replied, a little hotly.
"You know the world, for you have travelled far. What little sense you
show!"

"You think I am going to send this delicate child to school in every
storm and weather!" the old man said excitedly. "It is a two hours'
walk, and I shall not let her go; for the wind often howls so that it
chokes me if I venture out. Did you know Adelheid, her mother? She was
a sleep-walker, and had fainting-fits. Nobody shall compel me to let
her go; I will gladly fight it out in court."

"You are perfectly right," said the clergyman kindly. "You could not
send her to school from here. Why don't you come down to live among us
again? You are leading a strange life here; I wonder how you can keep
the child warm in winter."

"She has young blood and a good cover. I know where to find good wood,
and all winter I keep a fire going. I couldn't live in the village,
for the people there and I despise each other; we had better keep
apart."

"You are mistaken, I assure you! Make your peace with God, and then
you'll see how happy you will be."

The clergyman had risen, and holding out his hand, he said cordially:
"I shall count on you next winter, neighbor. We shall receive you
gladly, reconciled with God and man."

But the uncle replied firmly, while he shook his visitor by the hand:
"Thank you for your kindness, but you will have to wait in vain."

"God be with you," said the parson, and left him sadly.

The old man was out of humor that day, and when Heidi begged to go to
the grandmother, he only growled: "Not to-day." Next day they had
hardly finished their dinner, when another visitor arrived. It was
Heidi's aunt Deta; she wore a hat with feathers and a dress with such
a train that it swept up everything that lay on the cottage floor.
While the uncle looked at her silently, Deta began to praise him and
the child's red cheeks. She told him that it had not been her
intention to leave Heidi with him long, for she knew she must be in
his way. She had tried to provide for the child elsewhere, and at
last she had found a splendid chance for her. Very rich relations of
her lady, who owned the largest house in Frankfurt, had a lame
daughter. This poor little girl was confined to her rolling-chair and
needed a companion at her lessons. Deta had heard from her lady that a
sweet, quaint child was wanted as playmate and schoolmate for the
invalid. She had gone to the housekeeper and told her all about Heidi.
The lady, delighted with the idea, had told her to fetch the child at
once. She had come now, and it was a lucky chance for Heidi, "for one
never knew what might happen in such a case, and who could tell--"

"Have you finished?" the old man interrupted her at last.

"Why, one might think I was telling you the silliest things. There is
not a man in Praetiggan who would not thank God for such news."

"Bring them to somebody else, but not to me," said the uncle, coldly.

Deta, flaming up, replied: "Do you want to hear what I think? Don't I
know how old she is; eight years old and ignorant of everything. They
have told me that you refuse to send her to church and to school. She
is my only sister's child, and I shall not bear it, for I am
responsible. You do not care for her, how else could you be
indifferent to such luck. You had better give way or I shall get the
people to back me. If I were you, I would not have it brought to
court; some things might be warmed up that you would not care to hear
about."

"Be quiet!" the uncle thundered with flaming eyes. "Take her and ruin
her, but do not bring her before my sight again. I do not want to see
her with feathers in her hat and wicked words like yours."

With long strides he went out.

"You have made him angry!" said Heidi with a furious look.

"He won't be cross long. But come now, where are your things?" asked
Deta.

"I won't come," Heidi replied.

"What?" Deta said passionately. But changing her tone, she continued
in a more friendly manner: "Come now; you don't understand me. I am
taking you to the most beautiful place you have ever seen." After
packing up Heidi's clothes she said again, "Come, child, and take your
hat. It is not very nice, but we can't help it."

"I shall not come," was the reply.

"Don't be stupid and obstinate, like a goat. Listen to me. Grandfather
is sending us away and we must do what he commands, or he will get
more angry still. You'll see how fine it is in Frankfurt. If you do
not like it, you can come home again and by that time grandfather will
have forgiven us."

"Can I come home again to-night?" asked Heidi.

"Come now, I told you you could come back. If we get to Mayenfeld
today, we can take the train to-morrow. That will make you fly home
again in the shortest time!"

Holding the bundle, Deta led the child down the mountain. On their
way they met Peter, who had not gone to school that day. The boy
thought it was a more useful occupation to look for hazel-rods than to
learn to read, for he always needed the rods. He had had a most
successful day, for he carried an enormous bundle on his shoulder.
When he caught sight of Heidi and Deta, he asked them where they were
going.

"I am going to Frankfurt with Aunt Deta," Heidi replied; "but first I
must see grandmother, for she is waiting."

"Oh no, it is too late. You can see her when you come back, but not
now," said Deta, pulling Heidi along with her, for she was afraid that
the old woman might detain the child.

Peter ran into the cottage and hit the table with his rods. The
grandmother jumped up in her fright and asked him what that meant.

"They have taken Heidi away," Peter said with a groan.

"Who has, Peter? Where has she gone?" the unhappy grandmother asked.
Brigida had seen Deta walking up the footpath a short while ago and
soon they guessed what had happened. With a trembling hand the old
woman opened a window and called out as loudly as she could: "Deta,
Deta, don't take the child away. Don't take her from us."

When Heidi heard that she struggled to get free, and said: "I must go
to grandmother; she is calling me."

But Deta would not let her go. She urged her on by saying that she
might return soon again. She also suggested that Heidi might bring a
lovely present to the grandmother when she came back.

Heidi liked this prospect and followed Deta without more ado. After a
while she asked: "What shall I bring to the grandmother?"

"You might bring her some soft white rolls, Heidi. I think the black
bread is too hard for poor grandmother to eat."

"Yes, I know, aunt, she always gives it to Peter," Heidi confirmed
her. "We must go quickly now; we might get to Frankfurt today and
then I can be back tomorrow with the rolls."

[Illustration: WHEN HEIDI HEARD THAT SHE STRUGGLED TO GET FREE]

Heidi was running now, and Deta had to follow. She was glad enough to
escape the questions that people might ask her in the village. People
could see that Heidi was pulling her along, so she said: "I can't
stop. Don't you see how the child is hurrying? We have still far to
go," whenever she heard from all sides: "Are you taking her with you?"
"Is she running away from the uncle?" "What a wonder she is still
alive!" "What red cheeks she has," and so on. Soon they had escaped
and had left the village far behind them.

From that time on the uncle looked more angry than ever when he came
to the village. Everybody was afraid of him, and the women would warn
their children to keep out of his sight.

He came down but seldom, and then only to sell his cheese and buy his
provisions. Often people remarked how lucky it was that Heidi had left
him. They had seen her hurrying away, so they thought that she had
been glad to go.

The old grandmother alone stuck to him faithfully. Whenever anybody
came up to her, she would tell them what good care the old man had
taken of Heidi. She also told them that he had mended her little
house. These reports reached the village, of course, but people only
half believed them, for the grandmother was infirm and old. She began
her days with sighing again. "All happiness has left us with the
child. The days are so long and dreary, and I have no joy left. If
only I could hear Heidi's voice before I die," the poor old woman
would exclaim, day after day.

Talking Books: Heidi, Chapter Four, Part 3

2008-06-02T20:12:00.000-07:00

Heidi

Chapter Four,

Part 3

Heidi could hardly wait before they reached the cottage. She had tried
to talk on the way, but no sound could be heard through the heavy
cover. As soon as they were inside the hut she began: "Grandfather, we
must take some nails and a hammer down tomorrow; a shutter is loose in
grandmother's house and many other places shake. Everything rattles in
her house."

"Is that so? Who says we must?"

"Nobody told me, but I know," Heidi replied. "Everything is loose in
the house, and poor grandmother told me she was afraid that the house
might tumble down. And grandfather, she cannot see the light. Can you
help her and make it light for her? How terrible it must be to be
afraid in the dark and nobody there to help you! Oh, please,
grandfather, do something to help her! I know you can."

Heidi had been clinging to her grandfather and looking up to him with
trusting eyes. At last he said, glancing down: "All right, child,
we'll see that it won't rattle any more. We can do it tomorrow."

Heidi was so overjoyed at these words that she danced around the room
shouting: "We'll do it tomorrow! We can do it tomorrow!"

The grandfather, keeping his word, took Heidi down the following day
with the same instructions as before. After Heidi had disappeared, he
went around the house inspecting it.

The grandmother, in her joy at seeing the child again, had stopped the
wheel and called: "Here is the child again! She has come again!"
Heidi, grasping her outstretched hands, sat herself on a low stool at
the old woman's feet and began to chat. Suddenly violent blows were
heard outside; the grandmother in her fright nearly upset the
spinning-wheel and screamed: "Oh, God, it has come at last. The hut is
tumbling down!"

"Grandmother, don't be frightened," said the child, while she put her
arms around her. "Grandfather is just fastening the shutter and fixing
everything for you."

"Is it possible? Has God not forgotten us after all? Brigida, have you
heard it? Surely that is a hammer. Ask him to come in a moment, if it
is he, for I must thank him."

When Brigida went out, she found the old man busy with putting a new
beam along the wall. Approaching him, she said: "Mother and I wish you
a good-afternoon. We are very much obliged to you for doing us such a
service, and mother would like to see you. There are few that would
have done it, uncle, and how can we thank you?"

"That will do," he interrupted. "I know what your opinion about me is.
Go in, for I can find what needs mending myself."

Brigida obeyed, for the uncle had a way that nobody could oppose. All
afternoon the uncle hammered around; he even climbed up on the roof,
where much was missing. At last he had to stop, for the last nail was
gone from his pocket. The darkness had come in the meantime, and
Heidi was ready to go up with him, packed warmly in his arms.

Thus the winter passed. Sunshine had come again into the blind woman's
life, and made her days less dark and dreary. Early every morning she
would begin to listen for Heidi's footsteps, and when the door was
opened and the child ran in, the grandmother exclaimed every time more
joyfully: "Thank God, she has come again!"

Heidi would talk about her life, and make the grandmother smile and
laugh, and in that way the hours flew by. In former times the old
woman had always sighed: "Brigida, is the day not over yet?" but now
she always exclaimed after Heidi's departure: "How quickly the
afternoon has gone by. Don't you think so, too, Brigida?" Her daughter
had to assent, for Heidi had long ago won her heart. "If only God will
spare us the child!" the grandmother would often say. "I hope the
uncle will always be kind, as he is now."--"Does Heidi look well,
Brigida?" was a frequent question, which always got a reassuring
answer.

Heidi also became very fond of the old grandmother, and when the
weather was fair, she visited her every day that winter. Whenever the
child remembered that the grandmother was blind, she would get very
sad; her only comfort was that her coming brought such happiness. The
grandfather soon had mended the cottage; often he would take down big
loads of timber, which he used to good purpose. The grandmother vowed
that no rattling could be heard any more, and that, thanks to the
uncle's kindness, she slept better that winter than she had done for
many a year.

The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 14.

2008-06-02T10:09:00.000-07:00

Chapter 14, The Winged Monkeys.

You will remember there was no road--not even a pathway--
between the castle of the Wicked Witch and the Emerald City.
When the four travelers went in search of the Witch she had seen
them coming, and so sent the Winged Monkeys to bring them to her.
It was much harder to find their way back through the big fields
of buttercups and yellow daisies than it was being carried.
They knew, of course, they must go straight east, toward the rising
sun; and they started off in the right way. But at noon, when the
sun was over their heads, they did not know which was east and
which was west, and that was the reason they were lost in the
great fields. They kept on walking, however, and at night the
moon came out and shone brightly. So they lay down among the
sweet smelling yellow flowers and slept soundly until morning--
all but the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman.

The next morning the sun was behind a cloud, but they started
on, as if they were quite sure which way they were going.

"If we walk far enough," said Dorothy, "I am sure we shall
sometime come to some place."

But day by day passed away, and they still saw nothing before
them but the scarlet fields. The Scarecrow began to grumble a bit.

"We have surely lost our way," he said, "and unless we find it
again in time to reach the Emerald City, I shall never get my brains."

"Nor I my heart," declared the Tin Woodman. "It seems to me I
can scarcely wait till I get to Oz, and you must admit this is a
very long journey."

"You see," said the Cowardly Lion, with a whimper, "I haven't the
courage to keep tramping forever, without getting anywhere at all."

Then Dorothy lost heart. She sat down on the grass and looked
at her companions, and they sat down and looked at her, and Toto
found that for the first time in his life he was too tired to
chase a butterfly that flew past his head. So he put out his
tongue and panted and looked at Dorothy as if to ask what they
should do next.

"Suppose we call the field mice," she suggested. "They could
probably tell us the way to the Emerald City."

"To be sure they could," cried the Scarecrow. "Why didn't we
think of that before?"

Dorothy blew the little whistle she had always carried about
her neck since the Queen of the Mice had given it to her. In a
few minutes they heard the pattering of tiny feet, and many of the
small gray mice came running up to her. Among them was the Queen
herself, who asked, in her squeaky little voice:

"What can I do for my friends?"

"We have lost our way," said Dorothy. "Can you tell us where
the Emerald City is?"

"Certainly," answered the Queen; "but it is a great way off,
for you have had it at your backs all this time." Then she
noticed Dorothy's Golden Cap, and said, "Why don't you use the
charm of the Cap, and call the Winged Monkeys to you? They will
carry you to the City of Oz in less than an hour."

"I didn't know there was a charm," answered Dorothy, in
surprise. "What is it?"

"It is written inside the Golden Cap," replied the Queen of
the Mice. "But if you are going to call the Winged Monkeys we
must run away, for they are full of mischief and think it great
fun to plague us."

"Won't they hurt me?" asked the girl anxiously.

"Oh, no. They must obey the wearer of the Cap. Good-bye!"
And she scampered out of sight, with all the mice hurrying after her.

Dorothy looked inside the Golden Cap and saw some words written
upon the lining. These, she thought, must be the charm, so she read
the directions carefully and put the Cap upon her head.

"Ep-pe, pep-pe, kak-ke!" she said, standing on her left foot.

"What did you say?" asked the Scarecrow, who did not know what
she was doing.

"Hil-lo, hol-lo, hel-lo!" Dorothy went on, standing this time
on her right foot.

"Hello!" replied the Tin Woodman calmly.

"Ziz-zy, zuz-zy, zik!" said Dorothy, who was now standing on
both feet. This ended the saying of the charm, and they heard a
great chattering and flapping of wings, as the band of Winged
Monkeys flew up to them.

The King bowed low before Dorothy, and asked, "What is your command?"

"We wish to go to the Emerald City," said the child, "and we have
lost our way."

"We will carry you," replied the King, and no sooner had he
spoken than two of the Monkeys caught Dorothy in their arms and
flew away with her. Others took the Scarecrow and the Woodman and
the Lion, and one little Monkey seized Toto and flew after them,
although the dog tried hard to bite him.

The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman were rather frightened at
first, for they remembered how badly the Winged Monkeys had
treated them before; but they saw that no harm was intended, so
they rode through the air quite cheerfully, and had a fine time
looking at the pretty gardens and woods far below them.

Dorothy found herself riding easily between two of the biggest
Monkeys, one of them the King himself. They had made a chair of
their hands and were careful not to hurt her.

"Why do you have to obey the charm of the Golden Cap?" she asked.

"That is a long story," answered the King, with a Winged laugh;
"but as we have a long journey before us, I will pass the time by
telling you about it, if you wish."

"I shall be glad to hear it," she replied.

"Once," began the leader, "we were a free people, living happily
in the great forest, flying from tree to tree, eating nuts and fruit,
and doing just as we pleased without calling anybody master. Perhaps
some of us were rather too full of mischief at times, flying down to
pull the tails of the animals that had no wings, chasing birds, and
throwing nuts at the people who walked in the forest. But we were
careless and happy and full of fun, and enjoyed every minute of the day.
This was many years ago, long before Oz came out of the clouds to rule
over this land.

"There lived here then, away at the North, a beautiful princess,
who was also a powerful sorceress. All her magic was used to help
the people, and she was never known to hurt anyone who was good.
Her name was Gayelette, and she lived in a handsome palace built
from great blocks of ruby. Everyone loved her, but her greatest
sorrow was that she could find no one to love in return, since all
the men were much too stupid and ugly to mate with one so beautiful
and wise. At last, however, she found a boy who was handsome and
manly and wise beyond his years. Gayelette made up her mind that
when he grew to be a man she would make him her husband, so she
took him to her ruby palace and used all her magic powers to
make him as strong and good and lovely as any woman could wish.
When he grew to manhood, Quelala, as he was called, was said to
be the best and wisest man in all the land, while his manly beauty
was so great that Gayelette loved him dearly, and hastened to make
everything ready for the wedding.

"My grandfather was at that time the King of the Winged Monkeys
which lived in the forest near Gayelette's palace, and the old fellow
loved a joke better than a good dinner. One day, just before the wedding,
my grandfather was flying out with his band when he saw Quelala walking
beside the river. He was dressed in a rich costume of pink silk and
purple velvet, and my grandfather thought he would see what he could do.
At his word the band flew down and seized Quelala, carried him in their
arms until they were over the middle of the river, and then dropped him
into the water.

"`Swim out, my fine fellow,' cried my grandfather, `and see if
the water has spotted your clothes.' Quelala was much too wise
not to swim, and he was not in the least spoiled by all his good
fortune. He laughed, when he came to the top of the water, and
swam in to shore. But when Gayelette came running out to him she
found his silks and velvet all ruined by the river.

"The princess was angry, and she knew, of course, who did it.
She had all the Winged Monkeys brought before her, and she said at
first that their wings should be tied and they should be treated
as they had treated Quelala, and dropped in the river. But my
grandfather pleaded hard, for he knew the Monkeys would drown in
the river with their wings tied, and Quelala said a kind word for
them also; so that Gayelette finally spared them, on condition
that the Winged Monkeys should ever after do three times the
bidding of the owner of the Golden Cap. This Cap had been made
for a wedding present to Quelala, and it is said to have cost the
princess half her kingdom. Of course my grandfather and all the
other Monkeys at once agreed to the condition, and that is how it
happens that we are three times the slaves of the owner of the
Golden Cap, whosoever he may be."

"And what became of them?" asked Dorothy, who had been greatly
interested in the story.

"Quelala being the first owner of the Golden Cap," replied
the Monkey, "he was the first to lay his wishes upon us. As his
bride could not bear the sight of us, he called us all to him in
the forest after he had married her and ordered us always to keep
where she could never again set eyes on a Winged Monkey, which we
were glad to do, for we were all afraid of her.

"This was all we ever had to do until the Golden Cap fell into
the hands of the Wicked Witch of the West, who made us enslave the
Winkies, and afterward drive Oz himself out of the Land of the
West. Now the Golden Cap is yours, and three times you have the
right to lay your wishes upon us."

As the Monkey King finished his story Dorothy looked down
and saw the green, shining walls of the Emerald City before them.
She wondered at the rapid flight of the Monkeys, but was glad the
journey was over. The strange creatures set the travelers down
carefully before the gate of the City, the King bowed low to
Dorothy, and then flew swiftly away, followed by all his band.

"That was a good ride," said the little girl.

"Yes, and a quick way out of our troubles," replied the Lion.
"How lucky it was you brought away that wonderful Cap!"

The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 13

2008-06-02T09:26:00.000-07:00

The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 13. The Rescue.

The Cowardly Lion was much pleased to hear that the Wicked Witch had been melted by a bucket of water, and Dorothy at once unlocked the gate of his prison and set him free. They went in together to the castle, where Dorothy's first act was to call all the Winkies together and tell them that they were no longer slaves.

There was great rejoicing among the yellow Winkies, for they had been made to work hard during many years for the Wicked Witch, who had always treated them with great cruelty. They kept this day as a holiday, then and ever after, and spent the time in feasting and dancing.

"If our friends, the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, were only
with us," said the Lion, "I should be quite happy."

"Don't you suppose we could rescue them?" asked the girl anxiously.

"We can try," answered the Lion.

So they called the yellow Winkies and asked them if they would
help to rescue their friends, and the Winkies said that they would
be delighted to do all in their power for Dorothy, who had set them
free from bondage. So she chose a number of the Winkies who looked
as if they knew the most, and they all started away. They traveled
that day and part of the next until they came to the rocky plain
where the Tin Woodman lay, all battered and bent. His axe was near him,
but the blade was rusted and the handle broken off short.

The Winkies lifted him tenderly in their arms, and carried him
back to the Yellow Castle again, Dorothy shedding a few tears by
the way at the sad plight of her old friend, and the Lion looking
sober and sorry. When they reached the castle Dorothy said to the
Winkies:

"Are any of your people tinsmiths?"

"Oh, yes. Some of us are very good tinsmiths," they told her.

"Then bring them to me," she said. And when the tinsmiths came,
bringing with them all their tools in baskets, she inquired,
"Can you straighten out those dents in the Tin Woodman, and bend him
back into shape again, and solder him together where he is broken?"

The tinsmiths looked the Woodman over carefully and then
answered that they thought they could mend him so he would be as
good as ever. So they set to work in one of the big yellow rooms
of the castle and worked for three days and four nights, hammering
and twisting and bending and soldering and polishing and pounding
at the legs and body and head of the Tin Woodman, until at last he
was straightened out into his old form, and his joints worked as
well as ever. To be sure, there were several patches on him, but
the tinsmiths did a good job, and as the Woodman was not a vain
man he did not mind the patches at all.

When, at last, he walked into Dorothy's room and thanked her
for rescuing him, he was so pleased that he wept tears of joy,
and Dorothy had to wipe every tear carefully from his face with
her apron, so his joints would not be rusted. At the same time
her own tears fell thick and fast at the joy of meeting her old
friend again, and these tears did not need to be wiped away. As
for the Lion, he wiped his eyes so often with the tip of his tail
that it became quite wet, and he was obliged to go out into the
courtyard and hold it in the sun till it dried.

"If we only had the Scarecrow with us again," said the
Tin Woodman, when Dorothy had finished telling him everything
that had happened, "I should be quite happy."

"We must try to find him," said the girl.

So she called the Winkies to help her, and they walked all that day
and part of the next until they came to the tall tree in the branches of
which the Winged Monkeys had tossed the Scarecrow's clothes.

It was a very tall tree, and the trunk was so smooth that no
one could climb it; but the Woodman said at once, "I'll chop it
down, and then we can get the Scarecrow's clothes."

Now while the tinsmiths had been at work mending the Woodman
himself, another of the Winkies, who was a goldsmith, had made an
axe-handle of solid gold and fitted it to the Woodman's axe,
instead of the old broken handle. Others polished the blade until
all the rust was removed and it glistened like burnished silver.

As soon as he had spoken, the Tin Woodman began to chop, and in a
short time the tree fell over with a crash, whereupon the Scarecrow's
clothes fell out of the branches and rolled off on the ground.

Dorothy picked them up and had the Winkies carry them back to
the castle, where they were stuffed with nice, clean straw; and
behold! here was the Scarecrow, as good as ever, thanking them
over and over again for saving him.

Now that they were reunited, Dorothy and her friends spent a
few happy days at the Yellow Castle, where they found everything
they needed to make them comfortable.

But one day the girl thought of Aunt Em, and said, "We must go
back to Oz, and claim his promise."

"Yes," said the Woodman, "at last I shall get my heart."

"And I shall get my brains," added the Scarecrow joyfully.

"And I shall get my courage," said the Lion thoughtfully.

"And I shall get back to Kansas," cried Dorothy, clapping her hands.
"Oh, let us start for the Emerald City tomorrow!"

This they decided to do. The next day they called the Winkies
together and bade them good-bye. The Winkies were sorry to have
them go, and they had grown so fond of the Tin Woodman that they
begged him to stay and rule over them and the Yellow Land of the West.
Finding they were determined to go, the Winkies gave Toto and the Lion
each a golden collar; and to Dorothy they presented a beautiful bracelet
studded with diamonds; and to the Scarecrow they gave a gold-headed
walking stick, to keep him from stumbling; and to the Tin Woodman they
offered a silver oil-can, inlaid with gold and set with precious jewels.

Every one of the travelers made the Winkies a pretty speech in
return, and all shook hands with them until their arms ached.

Dorothy went to the Witch's cupboard to fill her basket with
food for the journey, and there she saw the Golden Cap. She tried
it on her own head and found that it fitted her exactly. She did
not know anything about the charm of the Golden Cap, but she saw
that it was pretty, so she made up her mind to wear it and carry
her sunbonnet in the basket.

Then, being prepared for the journey, they all started for the
Emerald City; and the Winkies gave them three cheers and many good
wishes to carry with them.

The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 12

2008-04-28T23:33:00.000-07:00

Chapter 12. The Search for the Wicked Witch

The soldier with the green whiskers led them through the
streets of the Emerald City until they reached the room where the
Guardian of the Gates lived. This officer unlocked their spectacles
to put them back in his great box, and then he politely opened the
gate for our friends.

"Which road leads to the Wicked Witch of the West?" asked
Dorothy.

"There is no road," answered the Guardian of the Gates.
"No one ever wishes to go that way."

"How, then, are we to find her?" inquired the girl.

"That will be easy," replied the man, "for when she knows you
are in the country of the Winkies she will find you, and make you
all her slaves."

"Perhaps not," said the Scarecrow, "for we mean to destroy her."

"Oh, that is different," said the Guardian of the Gates.
"No one has ever destroyed her before, so I naturally thought she
would make slaves of you, as she has of the rest. But take care;
for she is wicked and fierce, and may not allow you to destroy her.
Keep to the West, where the sun sets, and you cannot fail to find her."

They thanked him and bade him good-bye, and turned toward the West,
walking over fields of soft grass dotted here and there with daisies
and buttercups. Dorothy still wore the pretty silk dress she had put on
in the palace, but now, to her surprise, she found it was no longer green,
but pure white. The ribbon around Toto's neck had also lost its green
color and was as white as Dorothy's dress.

The Emerald City was soon left far behind. As they advanced
the ground became rougher and hillier, for there were no farms nor
houses in this country of the West, and the ground was untilled.

In the afternoon the sun shone hot in their faces, for there
were no trees to offer them shade; so that before night Dorothy
and Toto and the Lion were tired, and lay down upon the grass and
fell asleep, with the Woodman and the Scarecrow keeping watch.

Now the Wicked Witch of the West had but one eye, yet that was as
powerful as a telescope, and could see everywhere. So, as she sat in
the door of her castle, she happened to look around and saw Dorothy
lying asleep, with her friends all about her. They were a long
distance off, but the Wicked Witch was angry to find them in her
country; so she blew upon a silver whistle that hung around her neck.

At once there came running to her from all directions a pack
of great wolves. They had long legs and fierce eyes and sharp teeth.

"Go to those people," said the Witch, "and tear them to pieces."

"Are you not going to make them your slaves?" asked the leader
of the wolves.

"No," she answered, "one is of tin, and one of straw; one is
a girl and another a Lion. None of them is fit to work, so you
may tear them into small pieces."

"Very well," said the wolf, and he dashed away at full speed,
followed by the others.

It was lucky the Scarecrow and the Woodman were wide awake and
heard the wolves coming.

"This is my fight," said the Woodman, "so get behind me and I
will meet them as they come."

He seized his axe, which he had made very sharp, and as the
leader of the wolves came on the Tin Woodman swung his arm and
chopped the wolf's head from its body, so that it immediately died.
As soon as he could raise his axe another wolf came up, and he also
fell under the sharp edge of the Tin Woodman's weapon. There were
forty wolves, and forty times a wolf was killed, so that at last
they all lay dead in a heap before the Woodman.

Then he put down his axe and sat beside the Scarecrow, who said,
"It was a good fight, friend."

They waited until Dorothy awoke the next morning. The little
girl was quite frightened when she saw the great pile of shaggy
wolves, but the Tin Woodman told her all. She thanked him for
saving them and sat down to breakfast, after which they started
again upon their journey.

Now this same morning the Wicked Witch came to the door of her
castle and looked out with her one eye that could see far off.
She saw all her wolves lying dead, and the strangers still
traveling through her country. This made her angrier than before,
and she blew her silver whistle twice.

Straightway a great flock of wild crows came flying toward her,
enough to darken the sky.

And the Wicked Witch said to the King Crow, "Fly at once to
the strangers; peck out their eyes and tear them to pieces."

The wild crows flew in one great flock toward Dorothy and her
companions. When the little girl saw them coming she was afraid.

But the Scarecrow said, "This is my battle, so lie down beside
me and you will not be harmed."

So they all lay upon the ground except the Scarecrow, and he
stood up and stretched out his arms. And when the crows saw him
they were frightened, as these birds always are by scarecrows, and
did not dare to come any nearer. But the King Crow said:

"It is only a stuffed man. I will peck his eyes out."

The King Crow flew at the Scarecrow, who caught it by the head
and twisted its neck until it died. And then another crow flew at
him, and the Scarecrow twisted its neck also. There were forty
crows, and forty times the Scarecrow twisted a neck, until at last
all were lying dead beside him. Then he called to his companions
to rise, and again they went upon their journey.

When the Wicked Witch looked out again and saw all her crows
lying in a heap, she got into a terrible rage, and blew three
times upon her silver whistle.

Forthwith there was heard a great buzzing in the air, and a
swarm of black bees came flying toward her.

"Go to the strangers and sting them to death!" commanded
the Witch, and the bees turned and flew rapidly until they came
to where Dorothy and her friends were walking. But the Woodman
had seen them coming, and the Scarecrow had decided what to do.

"Take out my straw and scatter it over the little girl and the
dog and the Lion," he said to the Woodman, "and the bees cannot
sting them." This the Woodman did, and as Dorothy lay close beside
the Lion and held Toto in her arms, the straw covered them entirely.

The bees came and found no one but the Woodman to sting, so
they flew at him and broke off all their stings against the tin,
without hurting the Woodman at all. And as bees cannot live when
their stings are broken that was the end of the black bees, and
they lay scattered thick about the Woodman, like little heaps of
fine coal.

Then Dorothy and the Lion got up, and the girl helped the Tin
Woodman put the straw back into the Scarecrow again, until he was
as good as ever. So they started upon their journey once more.

The Wicked Witch was so angry when she saw her black bees in
little heaps like fine coal that she stamped her foot and tore her
hair and gnashed her teeth. And then she called a dozen of her
slaves, who were the Winkies, and gave them sharp spears, telling
them to go to the strangers and destroy them.

The Winkies were not a brave people, but they had to do as
they were told. So they marched away until they came near to
Dorothy. Then the Lion gave a great roar and sprang towards them,
and the poor Winkies were so frightened that they ran back as fast
as they could.

When they returned to the castle the Wicked Witch beat them
well with a strap, and sent them back to their work, after which
she sat down to think what she should do next. She could not
understand how all her plans to destroy these strangers had failed;
but she was a powerful Witch, as well as a wicked one, and she soon
made up her mind how to act.

There was, in her cupboard, a Golden Cap, with a circle of
diamonds and rubies running round it. This Golden Cap had a charm.
Whoever owned it could call three times upon the Winged Monkeys,
who would obey any order they were given. But no person
could command these strange creatures more than three times.
Twice already the Wicked Witch had used the charm of the Cap.
Once was when she had made the Winkies her slaves, and set herself
to rule over their country. The Winged Monkeys had helped her
do this. The second time was when she had fought against the
Great Oz himself, and driven him out of the land of the West.
The Winged Monkeys had also helped her in doing this. Only once
more could she use this Golden Cap, for which reason she did not
like to do so until all her other powers were exhausted. But now
that her fierce wolves and her wild crows and her stinging bees were
gone, and her slaves had been scared away by the Cowardly Lion,
she saw there was only one way left to destroy Dorothy and her friends.

So the Wicked Witch took the Golden Cap from her cupboard and
placed it upon her head. Then she stood upon her left foot and
said slowly:

"Ep-pe, pep-pe, kak-ke!"

Next she stood upon her right foot and said:

"Hil-lo, hol-lo, hel-lo!"

After this she stood upon both feet and cried in a loud voice:

"Ziz-zy, zuz-zy, zik!"

Now the charm began to work. The sky was darkened, and a low
rumbling sound was heard in the air. There was a rushing of many
wings, a great chattering and laughing, and the sun came out of the
dark sky to show the Wicked Witch surrounded by a crowd of monkeys,
each with a pair of immense and powerful wings on his shoulders.

One, much bigger than the others, seemed to be their leader.
He flew close to the Witch and said, "You have called us for the
third and last time. What do you command?"

"Go to the strangers who are within my land and destroy them
all except the Lion," said the Wicked Witch. "Bring that beast to
me, for I have a mind to harness him like a horse, and make him work."

"Your commands shall be obeyed," said the leader. Then, with
a great deal of chattering and noise, the Winged Monkeys flew away
to the place where Dorothy and her friends were walking.

Some of the Monkeys seized the Tin Woodman and carried him
through the air until they were over a country thickly covered
with sharp rocks. Here they dropped the poor Woodman, who fell a
great distance to the rocks, where he lay so battered and dented
that he could neither move nor groan.

Others of the Monkeys caught the Scarecrow, and with their
long fingers pulled all of the straw out of his clothes and head.
They made his hat and boots and clothes into a small bundle and
threw it into the top branches of a tall tree.

The remaining Monkeys threw pieces of stout rope around
the Lion and wound many coils about his body and head and legs,
until he was unable to bite or scratch or struggle in any way.
Then they lifted him up and flew away with him to the Witch's castle,
where he was placed in a small yard with a high iron fence around it,
so that he could not escape.

But Dorothy they did not harm at all. She stood, with Toto in
her arms, watching the sad fate of her comrades and thinking it
would soon be her turn. The leader of the Winged Monkeys flew up
to her, his long, hairy arms stretched out and his ugly face
grinning terribly; but he saw the mark of the Good Witch's kiss
upon her forehead and stopped short, motioning the others not to
touch her.

"We dare not harm this little girl," he said to them, "for she
is protected by the Power of Good, and that is greater than the
Power of Evil. All we can do is to carry her to the castle of the
Wicked Witch and leave her there."

So, carefully and gently, they lifted Dorothy in their
arms and carried her swiftly through the air until they came
to the castle, where they set her down upon the front doorstep.
Then the leader said to the Witch:

"We have obeyed you as far as we were able. The Tin Woodman and
the Scarecrow are destroyed, and the Lion is tied up in your yard.
The little girl we dare not harm, nor the dog she carries in her arms.
Your power over our band is now ended, and you will never see us again."

Then all the Winged Monkeys, with much laughing and chattering
and noise, flew into the air and were soon out of sight.

The Wicked Witch was both surprised and worried when she saw
the mark on Dorothy's forehead, for she knew well that neither the
Winged Monkeys nor she, herself, dare hurt the girl in any way.
She looked down at Dorothy's feet, and seeing the Silver Shoes,
began to tremble with fear, for she knew what a powerful charm
belonged to them. At first the Witch was tempted to run away from
Dorothy; but she happened to look into the child's eyes and saw
how simple the soul behind them was, and that the little girl did
not know of the wonderful power the Silver Shoes gave her. So the
Wicked Witch laughed to herself, and thought, "I can still make
her my slave, for she does not know how to use her power."
Then she said to Dorothy, harshly and severely:

"Come with me; and see that you mind everything I tell you,
for if you do not I will make an end of you, as I did of the Tin
Woodman and the Scarecrow."

Dorothy followed her through many of the beautiful rooms in
her castle until they came to the kitchen, where the Witch bade
her clean the pots and kettles and sweep the floor and keep the
fire fed with wood.

Dorothy went to work meekly, with her mind made up to work as
hard as she could; for she was glad the Wicked Witch had decided
not to kill her.

With Dorothy hard at work, the Witch thought she would go into
the courtyard and harness the Cowardly Lion like a horse; it would
amuse her, she was sure, to make him draw her chariot whenever she
wished to go to drive. But as she opened the gate the Lion gave a
loud roar and bounded at her so fiercely that the Witch was afraid,
and ran out and shut the gate again.

"If I cannot harness you," said the Witch to the Lion,
speaking through the bars of the gate, "I can starve you.
You shall have nothing to eat until you do as I wish."

So after that she took no food to the imprisoned Lion;
but every day she came to the gate at noon and asked, "Are you
ready to be harnessed like a horse?"

And the Lion would answer, "No. If you come in this yard, I
will bite you."

The reason the Lion did not have to do as the Witch wished was
that every night, while the woman was asleep, Dorothy carried him
food from the cupboard. After he had eaten he would lie down on
his bed of straw, and Dorothy would lie beside him and put her
head on his soft, shaggy mane, while they talked of their troubles
and tried to plan some way to escape. But they could find no way
to get out of the castle, for it was constantly guarded by the
yellow Winkies, who were the slaves of the Wicked Witch and
too afraid of her not to do as she told them.

The girl had to work hard during the day, and often the Witch
threatened to beat her with the same old umbrella she always
carried in her hand. But, in truth, she did not dare to strike
Dorothy, because of the mark upon her forehead. The child did not
know this, and was full of fear for herself and Toto. Once the
Witch struck Toto a blow with her umbrella and the brave little
dog flew at her and bit her leg in return. The Witch did not
bleed where she was bitten, for she was so wicked that the blood
in her had dried up many years before.

Dorothy's life became very sad as she grew to understand that
it would be harder than ever to get back to Kansas and Aunt Em again.
Sometimes she would cry bitterly for hours, with Toto sitting at her
feet and looking into her face, whining dismally to show how sorry
he was for his little mistress. Toto did not really care whether
he was in Kansas or the Land of Oz so long as Dorothy was with him;
but he knew the little girl was unhappy, and that made him unhappy too.

Now the Wicked Witch had a great longing to have for her own
the Silver Shoes which the girl always wore. Her bees and her
crows and her wolves were lying in heaps and drying up, and she
had used up all the power of the Golden Cap; but if she could
only get hold of the Silver Shoes, they would give her more power
than all the other things she had lost. She watched Dorothy carefully,
to see if she ever took off her shoes, thinking she might steal them.
But the child was so proud of her pretty shoes that she never took
them off except at night and when she took her bath. The Witch was
too much afraid of the dark to dare go in Dorothy's room at night
to take the shoes, and her dread of water was greater than her
fear of the dark, so she never came near when Dorothy was bathing.
Indeed, the old Witch never touched water, nor ever let water
touch her in any way.

But the wicked creature was very cunning, and she finally thought of
a trick that would give her what she wanted. She placed a bar of iron
in the middle of the kitchen floor, and then by her magic arts made the
iron invisible to human eyes. So that when Dorothy walked across the floor
she stumbled over the bar, not being able to see it, and fell at full length.
She was not much hurt, but in her fall one of the Silver Shoes came off; and
before she could reach it, the Witch had snatched it away and put it on her
own skinny foot.

The wicked woman was greatly pleased with the success of her trick,
for as long as she had one of the shoes she owned half the power of
their charm, and Dorothy could not use it against her, even had she
known how to do so.

The little girl, seeing she had lost one of her pretty shoes,
grew angry, and said to the Witch, "Give me back my shoe!"

"I will not," retorted the Witch, "for it is now my shoe, and
not yours."

"You are a wicked creature!" cried Dorothy. "You have no right
to take my shoe from me."

"I shall keep it, just the same," said the Witch, laughing at her,
"and someday I shall get the other one from you, too."

This made Dorothy so very angry that she picked up the bucket
of water that stood near and dashed it over the Witch, wetting her
from head to foot.

Instantly the wicked woman gave a loud cry of fear, and then, as
Dorothy looked at her in wonder, the Witch began to shrink and fall away.

"See what you have done!" she screamed. "In a minute I shall melt away."

"I'm very sorry, indeed," said Dorothy, who was truly frightened to
see the Witch actually melting away like brown sugar before her very eyes.

"Didn't you know water would be the end of me?" asked the
Witch, in a wailing, despairing voice.

"Of course not," answered Dorothy. "How should I?"

"Well, in a few minutes I shall be all melted, and you will
have the castle to yourself. I have been wicked in my day, but I
never thought a little girl like you would ever be able to melt me
and end my wicked deeds. Look out--here I go!"

With these words the Witch fell down in a brown, melted,
shapeless mass and began to spread over the clean boards of the
kitchen floor. Seeing that she had really melted away to nothing,
Dorothy drew another bucket of water and threw it over the mess.
She then swept it all out the door. After picking out the silver
shoe, which was all that was left of the old woman, she cleaned
and dried it with a cloth, and put it on her foot again. Then,
being at last free to do as she chose, she ran out to the
courtyard to tell the Lion that the Wicked Witch of the West had
come to an end, and that they were no longer prisoners in a
strange land.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 11

2008-04-19T20:24:00.000-07:00

11. The Wonderful City of Oz

Even with eyes protected by the green spectacles, Dorothy
and her friends were at first dazzled by the brilliancy of the
wonderful City. The streets were lined with beautiful houses all
built of green marble and studded everywhere with sparkling
emeralds. They walked over a pavement of the same green marble,
and where the blocks were joined together were rows of emeralds,
set closely, and glittering in the brightness of the sun. The
window panes were of green glass; even the sky above the City had
a green tint, and the rays of the sun were green.

There were many people--men, women, and children--walking about,
and these were all dressed in green clothes and had greenish skins.
They looked at Dorothy and her strangely assorted company with
wondering eyes, and the children all ran away and hid behind
their mothers when they saw the Lion; but no one spoke to them.
Many shops stood in the street, and Dorothy saw that everything
in them was green. Green candy and green pop corn were offered
for sale, as well as green shoes, green hats, and green clothes
of all sorts. At one place a man was selling green lemonade,
and when the children bought it Dorothy could see that they paid
for it with green pennies.

There seemed to be no horses nor animals of any kind; the men
carried things around in little green carts, which they pushed
before them. Everyone seemed happy and contented and prosperous.

The Guardian of the Gates led them through the streets until
they came to a big building, exactly in the middle of the City,
which was the Palace of Oz, the Great Wizard. There was a soldier
before the door, dressed in a green uniform and wearing a long
green beard.

"Here are strangers," said the Guardian of the Gates to him,
"and they demand to see the Great Oz."

"Step inside," answered the soldier, "and I will carry your
message to him."

So they passed through the Palace Gates and were led into a
big room with a green carpet and lovely green furniture set with
emeralds. The soldier made them all wipe their feet upon a green
mat before entering this room, and when they were seated he said
politely:

"Please make yourselves comfortable while I go to the door of
the Throne Room and tell Oz you are here."

They had to wait a long time before the soldier returned.
When, at last, he came back, Dorothy asked:

"Have you seen Oz?"

"Oh, no," returned the soldier; "I have never seen him.
But I spoke to him as he sat behind his screen and gave him your
message. He said he will grant you an audience, if you so desire;
but each one of you must enter his presence alone, and he will
admit but one each day. Therefore, as you must remain in the
Palace for several days, I will have you shown to rooms where you
may rest in comfort after your journey."

"Thank you," replied the girl; "that is very kind of Oz."

The soldier now blew upon a green whistle, and at once a young girl,
dressed in a pretty green silk gown, entered the room. She had lovely
green hair and green eyes, and she bowed low before Dorothy as she said,
"Follow me and I will show you your room."

So Dorothy said good-bye to all her friends except Toto, and
taking the dog in her arms followed the green girl through seven
passages and up three flights of stairs until they came to a room
at the front of the Palace. It was the sweetest little room in
the world, with a soft comfortable bed that had sheets of green
silk and a green velvet counterpane. There was a tiny fountain in
the middle of the room, that shot a spray of green perfume into
the air, to fall back into a beautifully carved green marble basin.
Beautiful green flowers stood in the windows, and there was a shelf
with a row of little green books. When Dorothy had time to open
these books she found them full of queer green pictures that made
her laugh, they were so funny.

In a wardrobe were many green dresses, made of silk and satin
and velvet; and all of them fitted Dorothy exactly.

"Make yourself perfectly at home," said the green girl,
"and if you wish for anything ring the bell. Oz will send
for you tomorrow morning."

She left Dorothy alone and went back to the others. These she
also led to rooms, and each one of them found himself lodged in a
very pleasant part of the Palace. Of course this politeness was
wasted on the Scarecrow; for when he found himself alone in his
room he stood stupidly in one spot, just within the doorway, to
wait till morning. It would not rest him to lie down, and he
could not close his eyes; so he remained all night staring at a
little spider which was weaving its web in a corner of the room,
just as if it were not one of the most wonderful rooms in the world.
The Tin Woodman lay down on his bed from force of habit, for he
remembered when he was made of flesh; but not being able to sleep,
he passed the night moving his joints up and down to make sure they
kept in good working order. The Lion would have preferred a bed of
dried leaves in the forest, and did not like being shut up in a room;
but he had too much sense to let this worry him, so he sprang upon
the bed and rolled himself up like a cat and purred himself asleep
in a minute.

The next morning, after breakfast, the green maiden came to
fetch Dorothy, and she dressed her in one of the prettiest gowns,
made of green brocaded satin. Dorothy put on a green silk apron
and tied a green ribbon around Toto's neck, and they started
for the Throne Room of the Great Oz.

First they came to a great hall in which were many ladies and
gentlemen of the court, all dressed in rich costumes. These
people had nothing to do but talk to each other, but they always
came to wait outside the Throne Room every morning, although they
were never permitted to see Oz. As Dorothy entered they looked at
her curiously, and one of them whispered:

"Are you really going to look upon the face of Oz the Terrible?"

"Of course," answered the girl, "if he will see me."

"Oh, he will see you," said the soldier who had taken her
message to the Wizard, "although he does not like to have people
ask to see him. Indeed, at first he was angry and said I should
send you back where you came from. Then he asked me what you
looked like, and when I mentioned your silver shoes he was very
much interested. At last I told him about the mark upon your
forehead, and he decided he would admit you to his presence."

Just then a bell rang, and the green girl said to Dorothy,
"That is the signal. You must go into the Throne Room alone."

She opened a little door and Dorothy walked boldly through and
found herself in a wonderful place. It was a big, round room with
a high arched roof, and the walls and ceiling and floor were covered
with large emeralds set closely together. In the center of the roof
was a great light, as bright as the sun, which made the emeralds
sparkle in a wonderful manner.

But what interested Dorothy most was the big throne of green
marble that stood in the middle of the room. It was shaped like a
chair and sparkled with gems, as did everything else. In the
center of the chair was an enormous Head, without a body to
support it or any arms or legs whatever. There was no hair upon
this head, but it had eyes and a nose and mouth, and was much
bigger than the head of the biggest giant.

As Dorothy gazed upon this in wonder and fear, the eyes turned
slowly and looked at her sharply and steadily. Then the mouth
moved, and Dorothy heard a voice say:

"I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Who are you, and why do you
seek me?"

It was not such an awful voice as she had expected to come
from the big Head; so she took courage and answered:

"I am Dorothy, the Small and Meek. I have come to you for help."

The eyes looked at her thoughtfully for a full minute.
Then said the voice:

"Where did you get the silver shoes?"

"I got them from the Wicked Witch of the East, when my house
fell on her and killed her," she replied.

"Where did you get the mark upon your forehead?" continued the voice.

"That is where the Good Witch of the North kissed me when she
bade me good-bye and sent me to you," said the girl.

Again the eyes looked at her sharply, and they saw she was
telling the truth. Then Oz asked, "What do you wish me to do?"

"Send me back to Kansas, where my Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are,"
she answered earnestly. "I don't like your country, although it is
so beautiful. And I am sure Aunt Em will be dreadfully worried over
my being away so long."

The eyes winked three times, and then they turned up to the
ceiling and down to the floor and rolled around so queerly that
they seemed to see every part of the room. And at last they
looked at Dorothy again.

"Why should I do this for you?" asked Oz.

"Because you are strong and I am weak; because you are a Great
Wizard and I am only a little girl."

"But you were strong enough to kill the Wicked Witch of the East,"
said Oz.

"That just happened," returned Dorothy simply; "I could not help it."

"Well," said the Head, "I will give you my answer. You have no
right to expect me to send you back to Kansas unless you do something
for me in return. In this country everyone must pay for everything
he gets. If you wish me to use my magic power to send you home again
you must do something for me first. Help me and I will help you."

"What must I do?" asked the girl.

"Kill the Wicked Witch of the West," answered Oz.

"But I cannot!" exclaimed Dorothy, greatly surprised.

"You killed the Witch of the East and you wear the silver shoes,
which bear a powerful charm. There is now but one Wicked Witch left
in all this land, and when you can tell me she is dead I will send
you back to Kansas--but not before."

The little girl began to weep, she was so much disappointed;
and the eyes winked again and looked upon her anxiously, as if the
Great Oz felt that she could help him if she would.

"I never killed anything, willingly," she sobbed. "Even if I
wanted to, how could I kill the Wicked Witch? If you, who are Great
and Terrible, cannot kill her yourself, how do you expect me to do it?"

"I do not know," said the Head; "but that is my answer, and
until the Wicked Witch dies you will not see your uncle and aunt
again. Remember that the Witch is Wicked--tremendously Wicked
-and ought to be killed. Now go, and do not ask to see me again
until you have done your task."

Sorrowfully Dorothy left the Throne Room and went back where
the Lion and the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman were waiting to
hear what Oz had said to her. "There is no hope for me," she
said sadly, "for Oz will not send me home until I have killed
the Wicked Witch of the West; and that I can never do."

Her friends were sorry, but could do nothing to help her; so
Dorothy went to her own room and lay down on the bed and cried
herself to sleep.

The next morning the soldier with the green whiskers came to
the Scarecrow and said:

"Come with me, for Oz has sent for you."

So the Scarecrow followed him and was admitted into the great
Throne Room, where he saw, sitting in the emerald throne, a most
lovely Lady. She was dressed in green silk gauze and wore upon
her flowing green locks a crown of jewels. Growing from her
shoulders were wings, gorgeous in color and so light that they
fluttered if the slightest breath of air reached them.

When the Scarecrow had bowed, as prettily as his straw stuffing would
let him, before this beautiful creature, she looked upon him sweetly,
and said:

"I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Who are you, and why do you seek me?"

Now the Scarecrow, who had expected to see the great Head Dorothy had
told him of, was much astonished; but he answered her bravely.

"I am only a Scarecrow, stuffed with straw. Therefore I have
no brains, and I come to you praying that you will put brains in
my head instead of straw, so that I may become as much a man as
any other in your dominions."

"Why should I do this for you?" asked the Lady.

"Because you are wise and powerful, and no one else can help me,"
answered the Scarecrow.

"I never grant favors without some return," said Oz; "but this
much I will promise. If you will kill for me the Wicked Witch of
the West, I will bestow upon you a great many brains, and such
good brains that you will be the wisest man in all the Land of Oz."

"I thought you asked Dorothy to kill the Witch," said the Scarecrow,
in surprise.

"So I did. I don't care who kills her. But until she is dead
I will not grant your wish. Now go, and do not seek me again
until you have earned the brains you so greatly desire."

The Scarecrow went sorrowfully back to his friends and told
them what Oz had said; and Dorothy was surprised to find that the
Great Wizard was not a Head, as she had seen him, but a lovely Lady.

"All the same," said the Scarecrow, "she needs a heart as much
as the Tin Woodman."

On the next morning the soldier with the green whiskers came
to the Tin Woodman and said:

"Oz has sent for you. Follow me."

So the Tin Woodman followed him and came to the great Throne
Room. He did not know whether he would find Oz a lovely Lady or a
Head, but he hoped it would be the lovely Lady. "For," he said to
himself, "if it is the head, I am sure I shall not be given a
heart, since a head has no heart of its own and therefore cannot
feel for me. But if it is the lovely Lady I shall beg hard for a
heart, for all ladies are themselves said to be kindly hearted."

But when the Woodman entered the great Throne Room he saw
neither the Head nor the Lady, for Oz had taken the shape of a
most terrible Beast. It was nearly as big as an elephant, and the
green throne seemed hardly strong enough to hold its weight. The
Beast had a head like that of a rhinoceros, only there were five
eyes in its face. There were five long arms growing out of its
body, and it also had five long, slim legs. Thick, woolly hair
covered every part of it, and a more dreadful-looking monster
could not be imagined. It was fortunate the Tin Woodman had no
heart at that moment, for it would have beat loud and fast from
terror. But being only tin, the Woodman was not at all afraid,
although he was much disappointed.

"I am Oz, the Great and Terrible," spoke the Beast, in a voice
that was one great roar. "Who are you, and why do you seek me?"

"I am a Woodman, and made of tin. Therefore I have no heart,
and cannot love. I pray you to give me a heart that I may be as
other men are."

"Why should I do this?" demanded the Beast.

"Because I ask it, and you alone can grant my request,"
answered the Woodman.

Oz gave a low growl at this, but said, gruffly: "If you indeed
desire a heart, you must earn it."

"How?" asked the Woodman.

"Help Dorothy to kill the Wicked Witch of the West," replied
the Beast. "When the Witch is dead, come to me, and I will then
give you the biggest and kindest and most loving heart in all the
Land of Oz."

So the Tin Woodman was forced to return sorrowfully to his
friends and tell them of the terrible Beast he had seen.
They all wondered greatly at the many forms the Great Wizard
could take upon himself, and the Lion said:

"If he is a Beast when I go to see him, I shall roar my
loudest, and so frighten him that he will grant all I ask. And if
he is the lovely Lady, I shall pretend to spring upon her, and so
compel her to do my bidding. And if he is the great Head, he will
be at my mercy; for I will roll this head all about the room until
he promises to give us what we desire. So be of good cheer, my
friends, for all will yet be well."

The next morning the soldier with the green whiskers led the
Lion to the great Throne Room and bade him enter the presence of Oz.

The Lion at once passed through the door, and glancing around saw,
to his surprise, that before the throne was a Ball of Fire, so fierce
and glowing he could scarcely bear to gaze upon it. His first thought
was that Oz had by accident caught on fire and was burning up; but when
he tried to go nearer, the heat was so intense that it singed his whiskers,
and he crept back tremblingly to a spot nearer the door.

Then a low, quiet voice came from the Ball of Fire, and these
were the words it spoke:

"I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Who are you, and why do you seek me?"

And the Lion answered, "I am a Cowardly Lion, afraid of everything.
I came to you to beg that you give me courage, so that in reality I may
become the King of Beasts, as men call me."

"Why should I give you courage?" demanded Oz.

"Because of all Wizards you are the greatest, and alone have
power to grant my request," answered the Lion.

The Ball of Fire burned fiercely for a time, and the voice said,
"Bring me proof that the Wicked Witch is dead, and that moment I will
give you courage. But as long as the Witch lives, you must remain a coward."

The Lion was angry at this speech, but could say nothing in reply,
and while he stood silently gazing at the Ball of Fire it became
so furiously hot that he turned tail and rushed from the room.
He was glad to find his friends waiting for him, and told them
of his terrible interview with the Wizard.

"What shall we do now?" asked Dorothy sadly.

"There is only one thing we can do," returned the Lion, "and
that is to go to the land of the Winkies, seek out the Wicked
Witch, and destroy her."

"But suppose we cannot?" said the girl.

"Then I shall never have courage," declared the Lion.

"And I shall never have brains," added the Scarecrow.

"And I shall never have a heart," spoke the Tin of Woodman.

"And I shall never see Aunt Em and Uncle Henry," said Dorothy,
beginning to cry.

"Be careful!" cried the green girl. "The tears will fall on
your green silk gown and spot it."

So Dorothy dried her eyes and said, "I suppose we must try it;
but I am sure I do not want to kill anybody, even to see Aunt Em again."

"I will go with you; but I'm too much of a coward to kill the
Witch," said the Lion.

"I will go too," declared the Scarecrow; "but I shall not be
of much help to you, I am such a fool."

"I haven't the heart to harm even a Witch," remarked the Tin
Woodman; "but if you go I certainly shall go with you."

Therefore it was decided to start upon their journey the next
morning, and the Woodman sharpened his axe on a green grindstone
and had all his joints properly oiled. The Scarecrow stuffed
himself with fresh straw and Dorothy put new paint on his eyes
that he might see better. The green girl, who was very kind to
them, filled Dorothy's basket with good things to eat, and
fastened a little bell around Toto's neck with a green ribbon.

They went to bed quite early and slept soundly until daylight,
when they were awakened by the crowing of a green cock that lived
in the back yard of the Palace, and the cackling of a hen that had
laid a green egg.

image credit: http://www.animactionsunlimited.com/Wizard%20of%20Oz.gif

Talking Books: Heidi Chapter Four, Part 2

2008-04-16T20:08:00.000-07:00

Heidi.

Chapter Four, Part 2

Opening the door, Heidi found herself in a tiny, dark kitchen, and
going through another door, she entered a narrow chamber. Near a table
a woman was seated, busy with mending Peter's coat, which Heidi had
recognized immediately. A bent old woman was sitting in a corner, and
Heidi, approaching her at once, said: "How do you do, grandmother? I
have come now, and I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long!"

Lifting her head, the grandmother sought for Heidi's hand. Feeling it
thoughtfully, she said: "Are you the little girl who lives up with the
uncle? Is your name Heidi?"

"Yes," Heidi replied. "The grandfather just brought me down in the
sled."

"How is it possible? Your hands are as warm as toast! Brigida, did the
uncle really come down with the child?"

Brigida, Peter's mother, had gotten up to look at the child. She said:
"I don't know if he did, but I don't think so. She probably doesn't
know."

Heidi, looking up, said quite decidedly: "I know that grandfather
wrapped me up in a cover when we coasted down together."

"Peter was right after all," said the grandmother. "We never thought
the child would live more than three weeks with him. Brigida, tell me
what she looks like."

"She has Adelheid's fine limbs and black eyes, and curly hair like
Tobias and the old man. I think she looks like both of them."

While the women were talking, Heidi had been taking in everything.
Then she said: "Grandmother, look at the shutter over there. It is
hanging loose. If grandfather were here, he would fasten it. It will
break the window-pane! Just look at it."

"What a sweet child you are," said the grandmother tenderly. "I can
hear it, but I cannot see it, child. This cottage rattles and creaks,
and when the wind blows, it comes in through every chink. Some day the
whole house will break to pieces and fall on top of us. If only Peter
knew how to mend it! We have no one else."

"Why, grandmother, can't you see the shutter?" asked Heidi.

"Child, I cannot see anything," lamented the old woman.

"Can you see it when I open the shutter to let in the light?"

"No, no, not even then. Nobody can ever show me the light again."

"But you can see when you go out into the snow, where everything is
bright. Come with me, grandmother, I'll show you!" and Heidi, taking
the old woman by the hand, tried to lead her out. Heidi was frightened
and got more anxious all the time.

"Just let me stay here, child. Everything is dark for me, and my poor
eyes can neither see the snow nor the light."

"But grandmother, does it not get light in the summer, when the sun
shines down on the mountains to say good-night, setting them all
aflame?"

"No, child, I can never see the fiery mountains any more. I have to
live in darkness, always."

Heidi burst out crying now and sobbed aloud. "Can nobody make it light
for you? Is there nobody who can do it, grandmother? Nobody?"

The grandmother tried all possible means to comfort the child; it
wrung her heart to see her terrible distress. It was awfully hard for
Heidi to stop crying when she had once begun, for she cried so seldom.
The grandmother said: "Heidi, let me tell you something. People who
cannot see love to listen to friendly words. Sit down beside me and
tell me all about yourself. Talk to me about your grandfather, for it
has been long since I have heard anything about him. I used to know
him very well."

Heidi suddenly wiped away her tears, for she had had a cheering
thought. "Grandmother, I shall tell grandfather about it, and I am
sure he can make it light for you. He can mend your little house and
stop the rattling."

The old woman remained silent, and Heidi, with the greatest vivacity,
began to describe her life with the grandfather. Listening
attentively, the two women would say to each other sometimes: "Do you
hear what she says about the uncle? Did you listen?"

Heidi's tale was interrupted suddenly by a great thumping on the door;
and who should come in but Peter. No sooner had he seen Heidi, than he
smiled, opening his round eyes as wide as possible. Heidi called,
"Good-evening, Peter!"

"Is it really time for him to come home!" exclaimed Peter's
grandmother. "How quickly the time has flown. Good-evening, little
Peter; how is your reading going?"

"Just the same," the boy replied.

"Oh, dear, I was hoping for a change at last. You are nearly twelve
years old, my boy."

"Why should there be a change?" inquired Heidi with greatest interest.

"I am afraid he'll never learn it after all. On the shelf over there
is an old prayer-book with beautiful songs. I have forgotten them all,
for I do not hear them any more. I longed that Peter should read them
to me some day, but he will never be able to!"

Peter's mother got up from her work now, saying, "I must make a light.
The afternoon has passed and now it's getting dark."

When Heidi heard those words, she started, and holding out her hand to
all, she said: "Good-night. I have to go, for it is getting dark." But
the anxious grandmother called out: "Wait, child, don't go up alone!
Go with her, Peter, and take care that she does not fall. Don't let
her get cold, do you hear? Has Heidi a shawl?"

"I haven't, but I won't be cold," Heidi called back, for she had
already escaped through the door. She ran so fast that Peter could
hardly follow her. The old woman frettingly called out: "Brigida, run
after her. Get a warm shawl, she'll freeze in this cold night. Hurry
up!" Brigida obeyed. The children had hardly climbed any distance,
when they saw the old man coming and with a few vigorous steps he
stood beside them.

"I am glad you kept you word, Heidi," he said; and packing her into
her cover, he started up the hill, carrying the child in his arms.
Brigida had come in time to see it, and told the grandmother what she
had witnessed.

"Thank God, thank God!" the old woman said. "I hope she'll come again;
she has done me so much good! What a soft heart she has, the darling,
and how nicely she can talk." All evening the grandmother said to
herself, "If only he lets her come again! I have something to look
forward to in this world now, thank God!"

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 10

2008-04-15T20:16:00.000-07:00

10. The Guardian of the Gate.

It was some time before the Cowardly Lion awakened, for he had
lain among the poppies a long while, breathing in their deadly
fragrance; but when he did open his eyes and roll off the truck
he was very glad to find himself still alive.

"I ran as fast as I could," he said, sitting down and yawning,
"but the flowers were too strong for me. How did you get me out?"

Then they told him of the field mice, and how they had generously
saved him from death; and the Cowardly Lion laughed, and said:

"I have always thought myself very big and terrible; yet such
little things as flowers came near to killing me, and such small
animals as mice have saved my life. How strange it all is!
But, comrades, what shall we do now?"

"We must journey on until we find the road of yellow brick again,"
said Dorothy, "and then we can keep on to the Emerald City."

So, the Lion being fully refreshed, and feeling quite himself again,
they all started upon the journey, greatly enjoying the walk through the soft,
fresh grass; and it was not long before they reached the road of yellow brick
and turned again toward the Emerald City where the Great Oz dwelt.

The road was smooth and well paved, now, and the country about
was beautiful, so that the travelers rejoiced in leaving the
forest far behind, and with it the many dangers they had met in
its gloomy shades. Once more they could see fences built beside
the road; but these were painted green, and when they came to a
small house, in which a farmer evidently lived, that also was
painted green. They passed by several of these houses during the
afternoon, and sometimes people came to the doors and looked at
them as if they would like to ask questions; but no one came near
them nor spoke to them because of the great Lion, of which they
were very much afraid. The people were all dressed in clothing of
a lovely emerald-green color and wore peaked hats like those of
the Munchkins.

"This must be the Land of Oz," said Dorothy, "and we are
surely getting near the Emerald City."

"Yes," answered the Scarecrow. "Everything is green here,
while in the country of the Munchkins blue was the favorite color.
But the people do not seem to be as friendly as the Munchkins, and
I'm afraid we shall be unable to find a place to pass the night."

"I should like something to eat besides fruit," said the girl,
"and I'm sure Toto is nearly starved. Let us stop at the next
house and talk to the people."

So, when they came to a good-sized farmhouse, Dorothy walked
boldly up to the door and knocked.

A woman opened it just far enough to look out, and said,
"What do you want, child, and why is that great Lion with you?"

"We wish to pass the night with you, if you will allow us,"
answered Dorothy; "and the Lion is my friend and comrade, and
would not hurt you for the world."

"Is he tame?" asked the woman, opening the door a little wider.

"Oh, yes," said the girl, "and he is a great coward, too.
He will be more afraid of you than you are of him."

"Well," said the woman, after thinking it over and taking
another peep at the Lion, "if that is the case you may come in,
and I will give you some supper and a place to sleep."

So they all entered the house, where there were, besides the
woman, two children and a man. The man had hurt his leg, and was
lying on the couch in a corner. They seemed greatly surprised to
see so strange a company, and while the woman was busy laying the
table the man asked:

"Where are you all going?"

"To the Emerald City," said Dorothy, "to see the Great Oz."

"Oh, indeed!" exclaimed the man. "Are you sure that Oz will see you?"

"Why not?" she replied.

"Why, it is said that he never lets anyone come into his presence.
I have been to the Emerald City many times, and it is a beautiful and
wonderful place; but I have never been permitted to see the Great Oz,
nor do I know of any living person who has seen him."

"Does he never go out?" asked the Scarecrow.

"Never. He sits day after day in the great Throne Room of his
Palace, and even those who wait upon him do not see him face to face."

"What is he like?" asked the girl.

"That is hard to tell," said the man thoughtfully. "You see,
Oz is a Great Wizard, and can take on any form he wishes. So that
some say he looks like a bird; and some say he looks like an
elephant; and some say he looks like a cat. To others he appears
as a beautiful fairy, or a brownie, or in any other form that
pleases him. But who the real Oz is, when he is in his own form,
no living person can tell."

"That is very strange," said Dorothy, "but we must try, in
some way, to see him, or we shall have made our journey for nothing."

"Why do you wish to see the terrible Oz?" asked the man.

"I want him to give me some brains," said the Scarecrow eagerly.

"Oh, Oz could do that easily enough," declared the man.
"He has more brains than he needs."

"And I want him to give me a heart," said the Tin Woodman.

"That will not trouble him," continued the man, "for Oz has a
large collection of hearts, of all sizes and shapes."

"And I want him to give me courage," said the Cowardly Lion.

"Oz keeps a great pot of courage in his Throne Room," said
the man, "which he has covered with a golden plate, to keep it
from running over. He will be glad to give you some."

"And I want him to send me back to Kansas," said Dorothy.

"Where is Kansas?" asked the man, with surprise.

"I don't know," replied Dorothy sorrowfully, "but it is my home,
and I'm sure it's somewhere."

"Very likely. Well, Oz can do anything; so I suppose he will
find Kansas for you. But first you must get to see him, and that
will be a hard task; for the Great Wizard does not like to see anyone,
and he usually has his own way. But what do YOU want?" he continued,
speaking to Toto. Toto only wagged his tail; for, strange to say,
he could not speak.

The woman now called to them that supper was ready, so they
gathered around the table and Dorothy ate some delicious porridge
and a dish of scrambled eggs and a plate of nice white bread, and
enjoyed her meal. The Lion ate some of the porridge, but did not
care for it, saying it was made from oats and oats were food for
horses, not for lions. The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman ate
nothing at all. Toto ate a little of everything, and was glad to
get a good supper again.

The woman now gave Dorothy a bed to sleep in, and Toto lay
down beside her, while the Lion guarded the door of her room so
she might not be disturbed. The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman
stood up in a corner and kept quiet all night, although of course
they could not sleep.

The next morning, as soon as the sun was up, they started on
their way, and soon saw a beautiful green glow in the sky just
before them.

"That must be the Emerald City," said Dorothy.

As they walked on, the green glow became brighter and brighter,
and it seemed that at last they were nearing the end of their travels.
Yet it was afternoon before they came to the great wall that surrounded
the City. It was high and thick and of a bright green color.

In front of them, and at the end of the road of yellow brick,
was a big gate, all studded with emeralds that glittered so in the
sun that even the painted eyes of the Scarecrow were dazzled by
their brilliancy.

There was a bell beside the gate, and Dorothy pushed the
button and heard a silvery tinkle sound within. Then the big gate
swung slowly open, and they all passed through and found
themselves in a high arched room, the walls of which glistened
with countless emeralds.

Before them stood a little man about the same size as the
Munchkins. He was clothed all in green, from his head to his
feet, and even his skin was of a greenish tint. At his side was a
large green box.

When he saw Dorothy and her companions the man asked,
"What do you wish in the Emerald City?"

"We came here to see the Great Oz," said Dorothy.

The man was so surprised at this answer that he sat down to
think it over.

"It has been many years since anyone asked me to see Oz,"
he said, shaking his head in perplexity. "He is powerful and
terrible, and if you come on an idle or foolish errand to bother
the wise reflections of the Great Wizard, he might be angry and
destroy you all in an instant."

"But it is not a foolish errand, nor an idle one," replied the
Scarecrow; "it is important. And we have been told that Oz is a
good Wizard."

"So he is," said the green man, "and he rules the Emerald City
wisely and well. But to those who are not honest, or who approach
him from curiosity, he is most terrible, and few have ever dared
ask to see his face. I am the Guardian of the Gates, and since
you demand to see the Great Oz I must take you to his Palace.
But first you must put on the spectacles."

"Why?" asked Dorothy.

"Because if you did not wear spectacles the brightness and
glory of the Emerald City would blind you. Even those who live in
the City must wear spectacles night and day. They are all locked
on, for Oz so ordered it when the City was first built, and I have
the only key that will unlock them."

He opened the big box, and Dorothy saw that it was filled with
spectacles of every size and shape. All of them had green glasses
in them. The Guardian of the Gates found a pair that would just
fit Dorothy and put them over her eyes. There were two golden
bands fastened to them that passed around the back of her head,
where they were locked together by a little key that was at the
end of a chain the Guardian of the Gates wore around his neck.
When they were on, Dorothy could not take them off had she wished,
but of course she did not wish to be blinded by the glare of the
Emerald City, so she said nothing.

Then the green man fitted spectacles for the Scarecrow and the
Tin Woodman and the Lion, and even on little Toto; and all were
locked fast with the key.

Then the Guardian of the Gates put on his own glasses and told
them he was ready to show them to the Palace. Taking a big golden
key from a peg on the wall, he opened another gate, and they all
followed him through the portal into the streets of the Emerald City.

Talking Books: Heid Chapter Four; Part 1

2008-04-15T20:02:00.000-07:00

Heidi.
Chapter 4,
Part One.

IN THE GRANDMOTHER'S HUT.

Next morning Peter came again with his goats, and Heidi went up to the
pasture with them. This happened day after day, and in this healthy
life Heidi grew stronger, and more sunburnt every day. Soon the autumn
came and when the wind was blowing across the mountainside, the
grandfather would say: "You must stay home to-day, Heidi; for the wind
can blow such a little thing as you down into the valley with a single
gust."
It always made Peter unhappy when Heidi did not come along, for he saw
nothing but misfortunes ahead of him; he hardly knew how to pass his
time, and besides, he was deprived of his abundant dinner. The goats
were so accustomed to Heidi by this time, that they did not follow
Peter when she was not with him.

Heidi herself did not mind staying at home, for she loved nothing
better than to watch her grandfather with his saw and hammer.
Sometimes the grandfather would make small round cheeses on those
days, and there was no greater pleasure for Heidi than to see him stir
the butter with his bare arms. When the wind would howl through the
fir-trees on those stormy days, Heidi would run out to the grove,
thrilled and happy by the wondrous roaring in the branches. The sun
had lost its vigor, and the child had to put on her shoes and
stockings and her little dress.

The weather got colder and colder, and when Peter came up in the
morning, he would blow into his hands, he was so frozen. At last even
Peter could not come any more, for a deep snow had fallen over night.
Heidi stood at the window, watching the snow falling down. It kept on
snowing till it reached the windows; still it did not stop, and soon
the windows could not be opened, and they were all shut in. When it
had lasted for several days, Heidi thought that it would soon cover
up the cottage. It finally stopped, and the grandfather went out to
shovel the snow away from the door and windows, piling it up high here
and there. In the afternoon the two were sitting near the fire when
noisy steps were heard outside and the door was pushed open. It was
Peter, who had come up to see Heidi. Muttering, "Good-evening," he
went up to the fire. His face was beaming, and Heidi had to laugh when
she saw little waterfalls trickling down from his person, for all the
ice and snow had melted in the great heat.

The grandfather now asked Peter how he got along in school. Heidi was
so interested that she asked him a hundred questions. Poor Peter, who
was not an easy talker, found himself in great difficulty answering
the little girl's inquiries, but at least it gave him leisure to dry
his clothes.

During this conversation the grandfather's eyes had been twinkling,
and at last he said to the boy: "Now that you have been under fire,
general, you need some strengthening. Come and join us at supper."

With that the old man prepared a meal which amply satisfied Peter's
appetite. It had begun to get dark, and Peter knew that it was time to
go. He had said good-bye and thank you, when turning to Heidi he
remarked:

"I'll come next Sunday, if I may. By the way, Heidi, grandmother asked
me to tell you that she would love to see you."

Heidi immediately approved of this idea, and her first word next
morning was: "Grandfather, I must go down to grandmother. She is
expecting me."

Four days later the sun was shining and the tight-packed frozen snow
was crackling under every step. Heidi was sitting at the dinner-table,
imploring the old man to let her make the visit then, when he got up,
and fetching down her heavy cover, told her to follow him. They went
out into the glistening snow; no sound was heard and the snow-laden
fir-trees shone and glittered in the sun. Heidi in her transport was
running to and fro: "Grandfather, come out! Oh, look at the trees!
They are all covered with silver and gold," she called to the
grandfather, who had just come out of his workshop with a wide sled.
Wrapping the child up in her cover, he put her on the sled, holding
her fast. Off they started at such a pace that Heidi shouted for joy,
for she seemed to be flying like a bird. The sled had stopped in front
of Peter's hut, and grandfather said: "Go in. When it gets dark, start
on your way home." When he had unwrapped her, he turned homewards with
his sled.

Heidi: Chapter Three, Part 2

2008-04-15T19:50:00.000-07:00

Heidi.
Chapter 3: Part 2

The boy could tell them all to her, for their names were about the
only thing he had to carry in his head. She soon knew them, too, for
she had listened attentively. One of them was the Big Turk, who tried
to stick his big horns into all the others. Most of the goats ran away
from their rough comrade. The bold Thistlefinch alone was not afraid,
and running his horns three or four times into the other, so
astonished the Turk with his great daring that he stood still and gave
up fighting, for the Thistlefinch had sharp horns and met him in the
most warlike attitude. A small, white goat, called Snowhopper, kept up
bleating in the most piteous way, which induced Heidi to console it
several times. Heidi at last went to the little thing again, and
throwing her arms around its head, she asked, "What is the matter with
you, Snowhopper? Why do you always cry for help?" The little goat
pressed close to Heidi's side and became perfectly quiet. Peter was
still eating, but between the swallows he called to Heidi: "She is so
unhappy, because the old goat has left us. She was sold to somebody in
Mayenfeld two days ago."

"Who was the old goat?"

"Her mother, of course."

"Where is her grandmother?"

"She hasn't any."

"And her grandfather?"

"Hasn't any either."

"Poor little Snowhopper!" said Heidi, drawing the little creature
tenderly to her. "Don't grieve any more; see, I am coming up with you
every day now, and if there is anything the matter, you can come to
me."

Snowhopper rubbed her head against Heidi's shoulder and stopped
bleating. When Peter had finally finished his dinner, he joined Heidi.

The little girl had just been observing that Schwaenli and Baerli were
by far the cleanest and prettiest of the goats. They evaded the
obtrusive Turk with a sort of contempt and always managed to find the
greenest bushes for themselves. She mentioned it to Peter, who
replied: "I know! Of course they are the prettiest, because the uncle
washes them and gives them salt. He has the best stable by far."

All of a sudden Peter, who had been lying on the ground, jumped up and
bounded after the goats. Heidi, knowing that something must have
happened, followed him. She saw him running to a dangerous abyss on
the side. Peter had noticed how the rash Thistlefinch had gone nearer
and nearer to the dangerous spot. Peter only just came in time to
prevent the goat from falling down over the very edge. Unfortunately
Peter had stumbled over a stone in his hurry and was only able to
catch the goat by one leg. The Thistlefinch, being enraged to find
himself stopped in his charming ramble, bleated furiously. Not being
able to get up, Peter loudly called for help. Heidi immediately saw
that Peter was nearly pulling off the animal's leg. She quickly picked
some fragrant herbs and holding them under the animal's nose, she said
soothingly: "Come, come, Thistlefinch, and be sensible. You might fall
down there and break your leg. That would hurt you horribly."

The goat turned about and devoured the herbs Heidi held in her hand.
When Peter got to his feet, he led back the runaway with Heidi's help.
When he had the goat in safety, he raised his rod to beat it for
punishment. The goat retreated shyly, for it knew what was coming.
Heidi screamed loudly: "Peter, no, do not beat him! look how scared he
is."

"He well deserves it," snarled Peter, ready to strike. But Heidi,
seizing his arm, shouted, full of indignation: "You mustn't hurt him!
Let him go!"

Heidi's eyes were sparkling, and when he saw her with her commanding
mien, he desisted and dropped his rope. "I'll let him go, if you give
me a piece of your cheese again to-morrow," he said, for he wanted a
compensation for his fright.

"You may have it all to-morrow and every day, because I don't need
it," Heidi assured him. "I shall also give you a big piece of bread,
if you promise never to beat any of the goats."

"I don't care," growled Peter, and in that way he gave his promise.

Thus the day had passed, and the sun was already sinking down behind
the mountains. Sitting on the grass, Heidi looked at the bluebells and
the wild roses that were shining in the last rays of the sun. The
peaks also started to glow, and Heidi suddenly called to the boy: "Oh,
Peter, look! everything is on fire. The mountains are burning and the
sky, too. Oh, look! the moon over there is on fire, too. Do you see
the mountains all in a glow? Oh, how beautiful the snow looks! Peter,
the eagle's nest is surely on fire, too. Oh, look at the fir-trees
over there!"

Peter was quietly peeling his rod, and looking up, said to Heidi:
"This is no fire; it always looks like that."

"But what is it then?" asked Heidi eagerly, gazing about her
everywhere.

"It gets that way of itself," explained Peter.

"Oh look! Everything is all rosy now! Oh, look at this mountain over
there with the snow and the sharp peaks. What is its name?"

"Mountains have no names," he answered.

"Oh, see, how beautiful! It looks as if many, many roses were growing
on those cliffs. Oh, now they are getting grey. Oh dear! the fire has
gone out and it is all over. What a terrible shame!" said Heidi quite
despondently.

"It will be the same again tomorrow," Peter reassured her. "Come now,
we have to go home."

When Peter had called the goats together, they started downwards.

"Will it be like that every day when we are up?" asked Heidi, eagerly.

"It usually is," was the reply.

"What about tomorrow?" she inquired.

"Tomorrow it will be like that, I am sure," Peter affirmed.

That made Heidi feel happy again. She walked quietly by Peter's side,
thinking over all the new things she had seen. At last, reaching the
hut, they found the grandfather waiting for them on a bench under the
fir-trees. Heidi ran up to him and the two goats followed, for they
knew their master. Peter called to her: "Come again tomorrow!
Good-night!"

Heidi gave him her hand, assuring him that she would come, and finding
herself surrounded by the goats, she hugged Snowhopper a last time.

When Peter had disappeared, Heidi returned to her grandfather. "Oh
grandfather! it was so beautiful! I saw the fire and the roses on the
rocks! And see the many, many flowers I am bringing you!" With that
Heidi shook them out of her apron. But oh, how miserable they looked!
Heidi did not even know them any more.

"What is the matter with them, grandfather? They looked so different!"
Heidi exclaimed in her fright.

"They are made to bloom in the sun and not to be shut up in an apron,"
said the grandfather.

"Then I shall never pick them any more! Please, grandfather, tell me
why the eagle screeches so loudly," asked Heidi.

"First go and take a bath, while I go into the shed to get your milk.
Afterwards we'll go inside together and I'll tell you all about it
during supper-time."

They did as was proposed, and when Heidi sat on her high chair before
her milk, she asked the same question as before.

"Because he is sneering at the people down below, who sit in the
villages and make each other angry. He calls down to them:--'If you
would go apart to live up on the heights like me, you would feel much
better!'" The grandfather said these last words with such a wild
voice, that it reminded Heidi of the eagle's screech.

"Why do the mountains have no names, grandfather?" asked Heidi.

"They all have names, and if you tell me their shape I can name them
for you."

Heidi described several and the old man could name them all. The child
told him now about all the happenings of the day, and especially about
the wonderful fire. She asked how it came about.

"The sun does it," he exclaimed. "Saying good-night to the mountains,
he throws his most beautiful rays to them, that they may not forget
him till the morning."

Heidi was so much pleased with this explanation, that she could hardly
wait to see the sun's good-night greetings repeated. It was time now
to go to bed, and Heidi slept soundly all night. She dreamt that the
little Snowhopper was bounding happily about on the glowing mountains
with many glistening roses blooming round her.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz; Chapter 9

2008-04-09T18:34:00.000-07:00

The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 9.

The Queen of the Field Mice.

"We cannot be far from the road of yellow brick, now," remarked
the Scarecrow, as he stood beside the girl, "for we have come
nearly as far as the river carried us away."

The Tin Woodman was about to reply when he heard a low growl,
and turning his head (which worked beautifully on hinges) he saw a
strange beast come bounding over the grass toward them. It was,
indeed, a great yellow Wildcat, and the Woodman thought it must
be chasing something, for its ears were lying close to its head
and its mouth was wide open, showing two rows of ugly teeth, while
its red eyes glowed like balls of fire. As it came nearer the Tin
Woodman saw that running before the beast was a little gray field
mouse, and although he had no heart he knew it was wrong for the
Wildcat to try to kill such a pretty, harmless creature.

So the Woodman raised his axe, and as the Wildcat ran by he gave
it a quick blow that cut the beast's head clean off from its body,
and it rolled over at his feet in two pieces.

The field mouse, now that it was freed from its enemy, stopped short;
and coming slowly up to the Woodman it said, in a squeaky little voice:

"Oh, thank you! Thank you ever so much for saving my life."

"Don't speak of it, I beg of you," replied the Woodman.
"I have no heart, you know, so I am careful to help all those
who may need a friend, even if it happens to be only a mouse."

"Only a mouse!" cried the little animal, indignantly.
"Why, I am a Queen--the Queen of all the Field Mice!"

"Oh, indeed," said the Woodman, making a bow.

"Therefore you have done a great deed, as well as a brave one,
in saving my life," added the Queen.

At that moment several mice were seen running up as fast as
their little legs could carry them, and when they saw their Queen
they exclaimed:

"Oh, your Majesty, we thought you would be killed! How did
you manage to escape the great Wildcat?" They all bowed so low to
the little Queen that they almost stood upon their heads.

"This funny tin man," she answered, "killed the Wildcat and
saved my life. So hereafter you must all serve him, and obey his
slightest wish."

"We will!" cried all the mice, in a shrill chorus. And then they
scampered in all directions, for Toto had awakened from his sleep, and
seeing all these mice around him he gave one bark of delight and jumped
right into the middle of the group. Toto had always loved to chase mice
when he lived in Kansas, and he saw no harm in it.

But the Tin Woodman caught the dog in his arms and held him tight,
while he called to the mice, "Come back! Come back! Toto shall not hurt you."

At this the Queen of the Mice stuck her head out from underneath a clump
of grass and asked, in a timid voice, "Are you sure he will not bite us?"

"I will not let him," said the Woodman; "so do not be afraid."

One by one the mice came creeping back, and Toto did not bark again,
although he tried to get out of the Woodman's arms, and would have bitten
him had he not known very well he was made of tin. Finally one of the
biggest mice spoke.

"Is there anything we can do," it asked, "to repay you for
saving the life of our Queen?"

"Nothing that I know of," answered the Woodman; but the
Scarecrow, who had been trying to think, but could not because his
head was stuffed with straw, said, quickly, "Oh, yes; you can save
our friend, the Cowardly Lion, who is asleep in the poppy bed."

"A Lion!" cried the little Queen. "Why, he would eat us all up."

"Oh, no," declared the Scarecrow; "this Lion is a coward."

"Really?" asked the Mouse.

"He says so himself," answered the Scarecrow, "and he would
never hurt anyone who is our friend. If you will help us to save
him I promise that he shall treat you all with kindness."

"Very well," said the Queen, "we trust you. But what shall we do?"

"Are there many of these mice which call you Queen and are willing
to obey you?"

"Oh, yes; there are thousands," she replied.

"Then send for them all to come here as soon as possible,
and let each one bring a long piece of string."

The Queen turned to the mice that attended her and told them
to go at once and get all her people. As soon as they heard her
orders they ran away in every direction as fast as possible.

"Now," said the Scarecrow to the Tin Woodman, "you must go to
those trees by the riverside and make a truck that will carry the Lion."

So the Woodman went at once to the trees and began to work;
and he soon made a truck out of the limbs of trees, from which he
chopped away all the leaves and branches. He fastened it together
with wooden pegs and made the four wheels out of short pieces of a
big tree trunk. So fast and so well did he work that by the time
the mice began to arrive the truck was all ready for them.

They came from all directions, and there were thousands of
them: big mice and little mice and middle-sized mice; and each
one brought a piece of string in his mouth. It was about this
time that Dorothy woke from her long sleep and opened her eyes.
She was greatly astonished to find herself lying upon the grass,
with thousands of mice standing around and looking at her timidly.
But the Scarecrow told her about everything, and turning to the
dignified little Mouse, he said:

"Permit me to introduce to you her Majesty, the Queen."

Dorothy nodded gravely and the Queen made a curtsy, after
which she became quite friendly with the little girl.

The Scarecrow and the Woodman now began to fasten the mice to
the truck, using the strings they had brought. One end of a
string was tied around the neck of each mouse and the other end to
the truck. Of course the truck was a thousand times bigger than
any of the mice who were to draw it; but when all the mice had
been harnessed, they were able to pull it quite easily. Even the
Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman could sit on it, and were drawn swiftly
by their queer little horses to the place where the Lion lay asleep.

After a great deal of hard work, for the Lion was heavy, they
managed to get him up on the truck. Then the Queen hurriedly gave
her people the order to start, for she feared if the mice stayed
among the poppies too long they also would fall asleep.

At first the little creatures, many though they were, could
hardly stir the heavily loaded truck; but the Woodman and the
Scarecrow both pushed from behind, and they got along better.
Soon they rolled the Lion out of the poppy bed to the green fields,
where he could breathe the sweet, fresh air again, instead of the
poisonous scent of the flowers.

Dorothy came to meet them and thanked the little mice warmly
for saving her companion from death. She had grown so fond of
the big Lion she was glad he had been rescued.

Then the mice were unharnessed from the truck and scampered
away through the grass to their homes. The Queen of the Mice was
the last to leave.

"If ever you need us again," she said, "come out into the
field and call, and we shall hear you and come to your assistance.
Good-bye!"

"Good-bye!" they all answered, and away the Queen ran, while
Dorothy held Toto tightly lest he should run after her and
frighten her.

After this they sat down beside the Lion until he should
awaken; and the Scarecrow brought Dorothy some fruit from a tree
near by, which she ate for her dinner.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 8

2008-03-31T11:00:00.000-07:00

The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 8.

The Deadly Poppy Field.

Our little party of travelers awakened the next morning
refreshed and full of hope, and Dorothy breakfasted like a
princess off peaches and plums from the trees beside the river.
Behind them was the dark forest they had passed safely through,
although they had suffered many discouragements; but before them was a lovely, sunny country that seemed to beckon them on to the Emerald City.

To be sure, the broad river now cut them off from this beautiful land. But the raft was nearly done, and after the Tin Woodman had cut a few more logs and fastened them together with wooden pins, they were ready to start. Dorothy sat down in the
middle of the raft and held Toto in her arms. When the Cowardly Lion stepped upon the raft it tipped badly, for he was big and heavy; but the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman stood upon the other end to steady it, and they had long poles in their hands to push the raft through the water.

They got along quite well at first, but when they reached the
middle of the river the swift current swept the raft downstream,
farther and farther away from the road of yellow brick. And the
water grew so deep that the long poles would not touch the bottom.

"This is bad," said the Tin Woodman, "for if we cannot get to
the land we shall be carried into the country of the Wicked Witch
of the West, and she will enchant us and make us her slaves."

"And then I should get no brains," said the Scarecrow.

"And I should get no courage," said the Cowardly Lion.

"And I should get no heart," said the Tin Woodman.

"And I should never get back to Kansas," said Dorothy.

"We must certainly get to the Emerald City if we can,"
the Scarecrow continued, and he pushed so hard on his long pole
that it stuck fast in the mud at the bottom of the river. Then,
before he could pull it out again--or let go--the raft was swept
away, and the poor Scarecrow left clinging to the pole in the
middle of the river.

"Good-bye!" he called after them, and they were very sorry to leave him.
Indeed, the Tin Woodman began to cry, but fortunately remembered that he
might rust, and so dried his tears on Dorothy's apron.

Of course this was a bad thing for the Scarecrow.

"I am now worse off than when I first met Dorothy," he
thought. "Then, I was stuck on a pole in a cornfield, where I
could make-believe scare the crows, at any rate. But surely there
is no use for a Scarecrow stuck on a pole in the middle of a
river. I am afraid I shall never have any brains, after all!"

Down the stream the raft floated, and the poor Scarecrow was
left far behind. Then the Lion said:

"Something must be done to save us. I think I can swim to the
shore and pull the raft after me, if you will only hold fast to
the tip of my tail."

So he sprang into the water, and the Tin Woodman caught fast
hold of his tail. Then the Lion began to swim with all his might
toward the shore. It was hard work, although he was so big; but
by and by they were drawn out of the current, and then Dorothy took
the Tin Woodman's long pole and helped push the raft to the land.

They were all tired out when they reached the shore at last
and stepped off upon the pretty green grass, and they also knew
that the stream had carried them a long way past the road of
yellow brick that led to the Emerald City.

"What shall we do now?" asked the Tin Woodman, as the Lion lay
down on the grass to let the sun dry him.

"We must get back to the road, in some way," said Dorothy.

"The best plan will be to walk along the riverbank until we
come to the road again," remarked the Lion.

So, when they were rested, Dorothy picked up her basket and
they started along the grassy bank, to the road from which the
river had carried them. It was a lovely country, with plenty of
flowers and fruit trees and sunshine to cheer them, and had they
not felt so sorry for the poor Scarecrow, they could have been
very happy.

They walked along as fast as they could, Dorothy only stopping
once to pick a beautiful flower; and after a time the Tin Woodman
cried out: "Look!"

Then they all looked at the river and saw the Scarecrow perched
upon his pole in the middle of the water, looking very lonely and sad.

"What can we do to save him?" asked Dorothy.

The Lion and the Woodman both shook their heads, for they did
not know. So they sat down upon the bank and gazed wistfully at
the Scarecrow until a Stork flew by, who, upon seeing them,
stopped to rest at the water's edge.

"Who are you and where are you going?" asked the Stork.

"I am Dorothy," answered the girl, "and these are my friends,
the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion; and we are going to the
Emerald City."

"This isn't the road," said the Stork, as she twisted her long
neck and looked sharply at the queer party.

"I know it," returned Dorothy, "but we have lost the
Scarecrow, and are wondering how we shall get him again."

"Where is he?" asked the Stork.

"Over there in the river," answered the little girl.

"If he wasn't so big and heavy I would get him for you,"
remarked the Stork.

"He isn't heavy a bit," said Dorothy eagerly, "for he is
stuffed with straw; and if you will bring him back to us, we shall
thank you ever and ever so much."

"Well, I'll try," said the Stork, "but if I find he is too
heavy to carry I shall have to drop him in the river again."

So the big bird flew into the air and over the water till she
came to where the Scarecrow was perched upon his pole. Then the
Stork with her great claws grabbed the Scarecrow by the arm and
carried him up into the air and back to the bank, where Dorothy
and the Lion and the Tin Woodman and Toto were sitting.

When the Scarecrow found himself among his friends again, he
was so happy that he hugged them all, even the Lion and Toto; and
as they walked along he sang "Tol-de-ri-de-oh!" at every step, he
felt so gay.

"I was afraid I should have to stay in the river forever,"
he said, "but the kind Stork saved me, and if I ever get any brains
I shall find the Stork again and do her some kindness in return."

"That's all right," said the Stork, who was flying along
beside them. "I always like to help anyone in trouble. But I
must go now, for my babies are waiting in the nest for me. I hope
you will find the Emerald City and that Oz will help you."

"Thank you," replied Dorothy, and then the kind Stork flew
into the air and was soon out of sight.

They walked along listening to the singing of the brightly
colored birds and looking at the lovely flowers which now became
so thick that the ground was carpeted with them. There were big
yellow and white and blue and purple blossoms, besides great
clusters of scarlet poppies, which were so brilliant in color they
almost dazzled Dorothy's eyes.

"Aren't they beautiful?" the girl asked, as she breathed in
the spicy scent of the bright flowers.

"I suppose so," answered the Scarecrow. "When I have brains,
I shall probably like them better."

"If I only had a heart, I should love them," added the Tin Woodman.

"I always did like flowers," said the Lion. "They of seem so
helpless and frail. But there are none in the forest so bright as these."

They now came upon more and more of the big scarlet poppies,
and fewer and fewer of the other flowers; and soon they found
themselves in the midst of a great meadow of poppies. Now it is
well known that when there are many of these flowers together
their odor is so powerful that anyone who breathes it falls
asleep, and if the sleeper is not carried away from the scent of
the flowers, he sleeps on and on forever. But Dorothy did not
know this, nor could she get away from the bright red flowers that
were everywhere about; so presently her eyes grew heavy and she
felt she must sit down to rest and to sleep.

But the Tin Woodman would not let her do this.

"We must hurry and get back to the road of yellow brick before dark,"
he said; and the Scarecrow agreed with him. So they kept walking until
Dorothy could stand no longer. Her eyes closed in spite of herself and
she forgot where she was and fell among the poppies, fast asleep.

"What shall we do?" asked the Tin Woodman.

"If we leave her here she will die," said the Lion. "The smell of
the flowers is killing us all. I myself can scarcely keep my eyes open,
and the dog is asleep already."

It was true; Toto had fallen down beside his little mistress.
But the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, not being made of flesh,
were not troubled by the scent of the flowers.

"Run fast," said the Scarecrow to the Lion, "and get out of
this deadly flower bed as soon as you can. We will bring the
little girl with us, but if you should fall asleep you are too big
to be carried."

So the Lion aroused himself and bounded forward as fast as he
could go. In a moment he was out of sight.

"Let us make a chair with our hands and carry her," said the
Scarecrow. So they picked up Toto and put the dog in Dorothy's
lap, and then they made a chair with their hands for the seat and
their arms for the arms and carried the sleeping girl between them
through the flowers.

On and on they walked, and it seemed that the great carpet of
deadly flowers that surrounded them would never end. They followed
the bend of the river, and at last came upon their friend the Lion,
lying fast asleep among the poppies. The flowers had been too strong
for the huge beast and he had given up at last, and fallen only a short
distance from the end of the poppy bed, where the sweet grass spread in
beautiful green fields before them.

"We can do nothing for him," said the Tin Woodman, sadly; "for
he is much too heavy to lift. We must leave him here to sleep on
forever, and perhaps he will dream that he has found courage at last."

"I'm sorry," said the Scarecrow. "The Lion was a very good
comrade for one so cowardly. But let us go on."

They carried the sleeping girl to a pretty spot beside the river,
far enough from the poppy field to prevent her breathing any more of
the poison of the flowers, and here they laid her gently on the soft
grass and waited for the fresh breeze to waken her.

Talking Books: Heidi; Chapter Three, Part 2

2008-03-29T00:26:00.000-07:00

Heidi: Chapter Three, Part 2

Peter generally took his quarters for the day at the foot of a high
cliff, which seemed to reach far up into the sky. Overhanging rocks on
one side made it dangerous, so that the grandfather was wise to warn
Peter.

After they had reached their destination, the boy took off his bag,
putting it in a little hollow in the ground. The wind often blew in
violent gusts up there, and Peter did not want to lose his precious
load. Then he lay down in the sunny grass, for he was very tired.

Heidi, taking off her apron, rolled it tightly together and put it
beside Peter's bag. Then, sitting down beside the boy, she looked
about her. Far down she saw the glistening valley; a large field of
snow rose high in front of her. Heidi sat a long time without
stirring, with Peter asleep by her side and the goats climbing about
between the bushes. A light breeze fanned her cheek and those big
mountains about her made her feel happy as never before. She looked up
at the mountain-tops till they all seemed to have faces, and soon they
were familiar to her, like old friends. Suddenly she heard a loud,
sharp scream, and looking up she beheld the largest bird she had ever
seen, flying above her. With outspread wings he flew in large circles
over Heidi's head.

"Wake up, Peter!" Heidi called. "Look up, Peter, and see the eagle
there!"

Peter got wide wake, and then they both watched the bird breathlessly.
It rose higher and higher into the azure, till it disappeared at last
behind the mountain-peak.

"Where has it gone?" Heidi asked.

"Home to its nest," was Peter's answer.

"Oh, does it really live way up there? How wonderful that must be! But
tell me why it screams so loud?" Heidi inquired.

"Because it has to," Peter replied.

"Oh, let's climb up there and see its nest!" implored Heidi, but
Peter, expressing decided disapproval in his voice, answered: "Oh
dear, Oh dear, not even goats could climb up there! Grandfather has
told me not to let you fall down the rocks, so we can't go!"

Peter now began to call loudly and to whistle, and soon all the goats
were assembled on the green field. Heidi ran into their midst, for she
loved to see them leaping and playing about.

Peter in the meantime was preparing dinner for Heidi and himself, by
putting her large pieces on one side and his own small ones on the
other. Then he milked Baerli and put the full bowl in the middle. When
he was ready, he called to the little girl. But it took some time
before she obeyed his call.

"Stop jumping, now," said Peter, "and sit down; your dinner is ready."

"Is this milk for me?" she inquired.

"Yes it is; those large pieces also belong to you. When you are
through with the milk, I'll get you some more. After that I'll get
mine."

"What milk do you get?" Heidi inquired.

"I get it from my own goat, that speckled one over there. But go ahead
and eat!" Peter commanded again. Heidi obeyed, and when the bowl was
empty, he filled it again. Breaking off a piece of bread for herself,
she gave Peter the rest, which was still bigger than his own portion
had been. She handed him also the whole slice of cheese, saying: "You
can eat that, I have had enough!"

Peter was speechless with surprise, for it would have been impossible
for him ever to give up any of his share. Not taking Heidi in earnest,
he hesitated till she put the things on his knees. Then he saw she
really meant it, and he seized his prize. Nodding his thanks to her,
he ate the most luxurious meal he had ever had in all his life. Heidi
was watching the goats in the meantime, and asked Peter for their
names.

Talking Books: Heidi; Chapter Three, Part 1

2008-03-27T19:00:00.000-07:00

Heidi: Chapter Three, Part 1

ON THE PASTURE
Heidi was awakened early next morning by a loud whistle. Opening her eyes, she saw her little bed and the hay beside her bathed in golden sunlight. For a short while she did not know where she was, but when she heard her grandfather's deep voice outside, she recollected everything. She remembered how she had come up the mountain the day before and left old Ursula, who was always shivering with cold and sat
near the stove all day. While Heidi lived with Ursula, she had always been obliged to keep in the house, where the old woman could see her.
Being deaf, Ursula was afraid to let Heidi go outdoors, and the child had often fretted in the narrow room and had longed to run outside. She was therefore delighted to find herself in her new home and hardly could wait to see the goats again. Jumping out of bed, she put on her few things and in a short time went down the ladder and ran outside. Peter was already there with his flock, waiting for Schwaenli and
Baerli, whom the grandfather was just bringing to join the other goats.

"Do you want to go with him to the pasture?" asked the grandfather.

"Yes," cried Heidi, clapping her hands.

"Go now, and wash yourself first, for the sun will laugh at you if he
sees how dirty you are. Everything is ready there for you," he added,
pointing to a large tub of water that stood in the sun. Heidi did as
she was told, and washed and rubbed herself till her cheeks were
glowing. In the meanwhile the grandfather called to Peter to come into
the hut and bring his bag along. The boy followed the old man, who
commanded him to open the bag in which he carried his scanty dinner.
The grandfather put into the bag a piece of bread and a slice of
cheese, that were easily twice as large as those the boy had in the
bag himself.

"The little bowl goes in, too," said the Uncle, "for the child does
not know how to drink straight from the goat, the way you do. She is
going to stay with you all day, therefore milk two bowls full for her
dinner. Look out that she does not fall over the rocks! Do you hear?"

Just then Heidi came running in. "Grandfather, can the sun still laugh
at me?" she asked. The child had rubbed herself so violently with the
coarse towel which the grandfather had put beside the tub that her
face, neck and arms were as red as a lobster. With a smile the
grandfather said: "No, he can't laugh any more now; but when you come
home to-night you must go into the tub like a fish. When one goes
about like the goats, one gets dirty feet. Be off!"

They started merrily up the Alp. A cloudless, deep-blue sky looked
down on them, for the wind had driven away every little cloud in the
night. The fresh green mountain-side was bathed in brilliant sunlight,
and many blue and yellow flowers had opened. Heidi was wild with joy
and ran from side to side. In one place she saw big patches of fine
red primroses, on another spot blue gentians sparkled in the grass,
and everywhere the golden rock-roses were nodding to her. In her
transport at finding such treasures, Heidi even forgot Peter and his
goats. She ran far ahead of him and then strayed away off to one side,
for the sparkling flowers tempted her here and there. Picking whole
bunches of them to take home with her, she put them all into her
little apron.

Peter, whose round eyes could only move about slowly, had a hard time
looking out for her. The goats were even worse, and only by shouting
and whistling, especially by swinging his rod, could he drive them
together.

"Heidi, where are you now?" he called quite angrily.

"Here," it sounded from somewhere. Peter could not see her, for she
was sitting on the ground behind a little mound, which was covered
with fragrant flowers. The whole air was filled with their perfume,
and the child drew it in, in long breaths.

"Follow me now!" Peter called out. "The grandfather has told me to
look out for you, and you must not fall over the rocks."

"Where are they?" asked Heidi without even stirring.

"Way up there, and we have still far to go. If you come quickly, we
may see the eagle there and hear him shriek."

That tempted Heidi, and she came running to Peter, with her apron full
of flowers.

"You have enough now," he declared. "If you pick them all to-day,
there won't be any left to-morrow." Heidi admitted that, besides which
she had her apron already full. From now on she stayed at Peter's
side. The goats, scenting the pungent herbs, also hurried up without
delay.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 7

2008-03-26T10:57:00.000-07:00

7. The Journey to the Great Oz

They were obliged to camp out that night under a large tree in
the forest, for there were no houses near. The tree made a good,
thick covering to protect them from the dew, and the Tin Woodman
chopped a great pile of wood with his axe and Dorothy built a
splendid fire that warmed her and made her feel less lonely. She
and Toto ate the last of their bread, and now she did not know
what they would do for breakfast.

"If you wish," said the Lion, "I will go into the forest and
kill a deer for you. You can roast it by the fire, since your
tastes are so peculiar that you prefer cooked food, and then you
will have a very good breakfast."

"Don't! Please don't," begged the Tin Woodman. "I should
certainly weep if you killed a poor deer, and then my jaws would
rust again."

But the Lion went away into the forest and found his own supper,
and no one ever knew what it was, for he didn't mention it. And the
Scarecrow found a tree full of nuts and filled Dorothy's basket with them,
so that she would not be hungry for a long time. She thought this was
very kind and thoughtful of the Scarecrow, but she laughed heartily at the
awkward way in which the poor creature picked up the nuts. His padded
hands were so clumsy and the nuts were so small that he dropped almost
as many as he put in the basket. But the Scarecrow did not mind how long
it took him to fill the basket, for it enabled him to keep away from the fire,
as he feared a spark might get into his straw and burn him up. So he kept a
good distance away from the flames, and only came near to cover Dorothy with
dry leaves when she lay down to sleep. These kept her very snug and warm,
and she slept soundly until morning.

When it was daylight, the girl bathed her face in a little rippling brook,
and soon after they all started toward the Emerald City.

This was to be an eventful day for the travelers. They had
hardly been walking an hour when they saw before them a great
ditch that crossed the road and divided the forest as far as they
could see on either side. It was a very wide ditch, and when they
crept up to the edge and looked into it they could see it was also
very deep, and there were many big, jagged rocks at the bottom.
The sides were so steep that none of them could climb down, and
for a moment it seemed that their journey must end.

"What shall we do?" asked Dorothy despairingly.

"I haven't the faintest idea," said the Tin Woodman, and the
Lion shook his shaggy mane and looked thoughtful.

But the Scarecrow said, "We cannot fly, that is certain.
Neither can we climb down into this great ditch. Therefore,
if we cannot jump over it, we must stop where we are."

"I think I could jump over it," said the Cowardly Lion, after
measuring the distance carefully in his mind.

"Then we are all right," answered the Scarecrow, "for you can
carry us all over on your back, one at a time."

"Well, I'll try it," said the Lion. "Who will go first?"

"I will," declared the Scarecrow, "for, if you found that you
could not jump over the gulf, Dorothy would be killed, or the Tin
Woodman badly dented on the rocks below. But if I am on your back
it will not matter so much, for the fall would not hurt me at all."

"I am terribly afraid of falling, myself," said the Cowardly
Lion, "but I suppose there is nothing to do but try it. So get on
my back and we will make the attempt."

The Scarecrow sat upon the Lion's back, and the big beast
walked to the edge of the gulf and crouched down.

"Why don't you run and jump?" asked the Scarecrow.

"Because that isn't the way we Lions do these things," he replied.
Then giving a great spring, he shot through the air and landed safely
on the other side. They were all greatly pleased to see how easily
he did it, and after the Scarecrow had got down from his back the Lion
sprang across the ditch again.

Dorothy thought she would go next; so she took Toto in her
arms and climbed on the Lion's back, holding tightly to his mane
with one hand. The next moment it seemed as if she were flying
through the air; and then, before she had time to think about it,
she was safe on the other side. The Lion went back a third time
and got the Tin Woodman, and then they all sat down for a few
moments to give the beast a chance to rest, for his great leaps
had made his breath short, and he panted like a big dog that has
been running too long.

They found the forest very thick on this side, and it looked
dark and gloomy. After the Lion had rested they started along the
road of yellow brick, silently wondering, each in his own mind, if
ever they would come to the end of the woods and reach the bright
sunshine again. To add to their discomfort, they soon heard strange
noises in the depths of the forest, and the Lion whispered to them
that it was in this part of the country that the Kalidahs lived.

"What are the Kalidahs?" asked the girl.

"They are monstrous beasts with bodies like bears and heads
like tigers," replied the Lion, "and with claws so long and sharp
that they could tear me in two as easily as I could kill Toto.
I'm terribly afraid of the Kalidahs."

"I'm not surprised that you are," returned Dorothy.
"They must be dreadful beasts."

The Lion was about to reply when suddenly they came to another
gulf across the road. But this one was so broad and deep that the
Lion knew at once he could not leap across it.

So they sat down to consider what they should do, and after
serious thought the Scarecrow said:

"Here is a great tree, standing close to the ditch. If the
Tin Woodman can chop it down, so that it will fall to the other
side, we can walk across it easily."

"That is a first-rate idea," said the Lion. "One would almost
suspect you had brains in your head, instead of straw."

The Woodman set to work at once, and so sharp was his axe that
the tree was soon chopped nearly through. Then the Lion put his
strong front legs against the tree and pushed with all his might,
and slowly the big tree tipped and fell with a crash across the
ditch, with its top branches on the other side.

They had just started to cross this queer bridge when a sharp growl
made them all look up, and to their horror they saw running toward them
two great beasts with bodies like bears and heads like tigers.

"They are the Kalidahs!" said the Cowardly Lion, beginning to tremble.

"Quick!" cried the Scarecrow. "Let us cross over."

So Dorothy went first, holding Toto in her arms, the Tin
Woodman followed, and the Scarecrow came next. The Lion, although
he was certainly afraid, turned to face the Kalidahs, and then he
gave so loud and terrible a roar that Dorothy screamed and the
Scarecrow fell over backward, while even the fierce beasts stopped
short and looked at him in surprise.

But, seeing they were bigger than the Lion, and remembering
that there were two of them and only one of him, the Kalidahs
again rushed forward, and the Lion crossed over the tree and
turned to see what they would do next. Without stopping an
instant the fierce beasts also began to cross the tree.
And the Lion said to Dorothy:

"We are lost, for they will surely tear us to pieces with
their sharp claws. But stand close behind me, and I will fight
them as long as I am alive."

"Wait a minute!" called the Scarecrow. He had been thinking
what was best to be done, and now he asked the Woodman to chop
away the end of the tree that rested on their side of the ditch.
The Tin Woodman began to use his axe at once, and, just as the two
Kalidahs were nearly across, the tree fell with a crash into the
gulf, carrying the ugly, snarling brutes with it, and both were
dashed to pieces on the sharp rocks at the bottom.

"Well," said the Cowardly Lion, drawing a long breath of
relief, "I see we are going to live a little while longer, and I
am glad of it, for it must be a very uncomfortable thing not to be
alive. Those creatures frightened me so badly that my heart is
beating yet."

"Ah," said the Tin Woodman sadly, "I wish I had a heart to beat."

This adventure made the travelers more anxious than ever to
get out of the forest, and they walked so fast that Dorothy became
tired, and had to ride on the Lion's back. To their great joy the
trees became thinner the farther they advanced, and in the
afternoon they suddenly came upon a broad river, flowing swiftly
just before them. On the other side of the water they could see
the road of yellow brick running through a beautiful country, with
green meadows dotted with bright flowers and all the road bordered
with trees hanging full of delicious fruits. They were greatly
pleased to see this delightful country before them.

"How shall we cross the river?" asked Dorothy.

"That is easily done," replied the Scarecrow. "The Tin Woodman
must build us a raft, so we can float to the other side."

So the Woodman took his axe and began to chop down small trees
to make a raft, and while he was busy at this the Scarecrow found
on the riverbank a tree full of fine fruit. This pleased Dorothy,
who had eaten nothing but nuts all day, and she made a hearty meal
of the ripe fruit.

But it takes time to make a raft, even when one is as industrious
and untiring as the Tin Woodman, and when night came the work was not done.
So they found a cozy place under the trees where they slept well until the
morning; and Dorothy dreamed of the Emerald City, and of the good Wizard Oz,
who would soon send her back to her own home again.

Talking Books: Heidi; Chapter Two, Part 2

2008-03-26T10:38:00.000-07:00

Heidi: Chapter Two, Part 2

At last the evening came. The old fir-trees were rustling and a mighty wind was roaring and howling through the tree-tops. Those sounds thrilled Heidi's heart and filled it with happiness and joy. She danced and jumped about under the trees, for those sounds made her feel as if a wonderful thing had happened to her. The grandfather stood under the door, watching her, when suddenly a shrill whistle was heard. Heidi stood still and the grandfather joined her outside. Down from the heights came one goat after another, with Peter in their midst. Uttering a cry of joy, Heidi ran into the middle of the flock, greeting her old friends. When they had all reached the hut, they stopped on their way and two beautiful slender goats came out of the herd, one of them white and the other brown. They came up to the grandfather, who held out some salt in his hands to them, as he did every night. Heidi tenderly caressed first one and then the other,
seeming beside herself with joy.

"Are they ours, grandfather? Do they both belong to us? Are they going
to the stable? Are they going to stay with us?" Heidi kept on asking
in her excitement. The grandfather hardly could put in a "yes, yes,
surely" between her numerous questions. When the goats had licked up
all the salt, the old man said, "Go in, Heidi, and fetch your bowl
and the bread."

Heidi obeyed and returned instantly. The grandfather milked a full
bowl from the white goat, cut a piece of bread for the child, and told
her to eat. "Afterwards you can go to bed. If you need some shirts and
other linen, you will find them in the bottom of the cupboard. Aunt
Deta has left a bundle for you. Now good-night, I have to look after
the goats and lock them up for the night."

"Good-night, grandfather! Oh, please tell me what their names are,"
called Heidi after him.

"The white one's name is Schwaenli and the brown one I call Baerli," was
his answer.

"Good-night, Schwaenli! Good-night, Baerli," the little girl called
loudly, for they were just disappearing in the shed. Heidi now sat
down on the bench and took her supper. The strong wind nearly blew her
from her seat, so she hurried with her meal, to be able to go inside
and up to her bed. She slept in it as well as a prince on his royal
couch.

Very soon after Heidi had gone up, before it was quite dark, the old
man also sought his bed. He was always up in the morning with the sun,
which rose early over the mountain-side in those summer days. It was a
wild, stormy night; the hut was shaking in the gusts and all the
boards were creaking. The wind howled through the chimney and the old
fir-trees shook so strongly that many a dry branch came crashing down.
In the middle of the night the grandfather got up, saying to himself:
"I am sure she is afraid." Climbing up the ladder, he went up to
Heidi's bed. The first moment everything lay in darkness, when all of
a sudden the moon came out behind the clouds and sent his brilliant
light across Heidi's bed. Her cheeks were burning red and she lay
peacefully on her round and chubby arms. She must have had a happy
dream, for she was smiling in her sleep. The grandfather stood and
watched her till a cloud flew over the moon and left everything in
total darkness. Then he went down to seek his bed again.

2008-03-19T14:00:00.000-07:00

The Tale of Benjamin Bunny: Part Three

Beatrix Potter

Part Three:

I cannot draw you a picture
of Peter and Benjamin underneath
the basket, because it
was quite dark, and because
the smell of onions was fearful;
it made Peter Rabbit and little
Benjamin cry.

The sun got round behind
the wood, and it was quite late
in the afternoon; but still the
cat sat upon the basket.

AT length there was a pitter-
patter, pitter-patter, and
some bits of mortar fell from
the wall above.

The cat looked up and saw
old Mr. Benjamin Bunny
prancing along the top of the
wall of the upper terrace.

He was smoking a pipe of
rabbit-tobacco, and had a little
switch in his hand.

He was looking for his son.

OLD Mr. Bunny had no
opinion whatever of cats.

He took a tremendous jump
off the top of the wall on to
the top of the cat, and cuffed
it off the basket, and kicked it
into the garden-house, scratching
off a handful of fur.

The cat was too much surprised
to scratch back.

WHEN old Mr. Bunny had
driven the cat into the
green-house, he locked the
door.

Then he came back to the
basket and took out his son
Benjamin by the ears, and
whipped him with the little
switch.

Then he took out his nephew
Peter.

THEN he took out the handkerchief
of onions, and
marched out of the garden.

When Mr. McGregor
returned about half an
hour later, he observed several
things which perplexed him.

It looked as though some
person had been walking all
over the garden in a pair of
clogs--only the foot-marks
were too ridiculously little!

Also he could not understand
how the cat could have
managed to shut herself up
INSIDE the green-house, locking
the door upon the OUTSIDE.

WHEN Peter got home,
his mother forgave him,
because she was so glad to see
that he had found his shoes
and coat. Cotton-tail and
Peter folded up the pocket-
handkerchief, and old Mrs.
Rabbit strung up the onions
and hung them from the
kitchen ceiling, with the
rabbit-tobacco.

THE END

The Tale of Benjamin Bunny: Part Two

2008-03-17T13:52:00.000-07:00

The Tale of Benjamin Bunny: Part Two.

Beatrix Potter.

Part Two:

THEY went away hand in
hand, and got upon the
flat top of the wall at the bottom
of the wood. From here they
looked down into Mr. McGregor's
garden. Peter's coat
and shoes were plainly to be
seen upon the scarecrow,
topped with an old tam-o-
shanter of Mr. McGregor's.

LITTLE Benjamin said,
"It spoils people's clothes
to squeeze under a gate; the
proper way to get in, is to
climb down a pear tree."

Peter fell down head first;
but it was of no consequence,
as the bed below was newly
raked and quite soft.

IT had been sown with lettuces.

They left a great many odd
little foot-marks all over the
bed, especially little Benjamin,
who was wearing clogs.

LITTLE Benjamin said that
the first thing to be done
was to get back Peter's clothes,
in order that they might be
able to use the pocket handkerchief.

They took them off the scarecrow.
There had been rain
during the night; there was
water in the shoes, and the
coat was somewhat shrunk.

Benjamin tried on the tam-
o-shanter, but it was too big
for him.

THEN he suggested that
they should fill the pocket-
handkerchief with onions, as
a little present for his Aunt.

Peter did not seem to be
enjoying himself; he kept
hearing noises.

BENJAMIN, on the contrary,
was perfectly at
home, and ate a lettuce leaf.
He said that he was in the
habit of coming to the garden
with his father to get lettuces
for their Sunday dinner.

(The name of little Benjamin's
papa was old Mr. Benjamin
Bunny.)

The lettuces certainly were
very fine.

PETER did not eat anything;
he said he should
like to go home. Presently he
dropped half the onions.

LITTLE Benjamin said that
it was not possible to get
back up the pear-tree, with a
load of vegetables. He led
the way boldly towards the
other end of the garden. They
went along a little walk on
planks, under a sunny red-
brick wall.

The mice sat on their door-
steps cracking cherry-stones,
they winked at Peter Rabbit
and little Benjamin Bunny.

PRESENTLY Peter let the
pocket-handkerchief go
again.

THEY got amongst flower-
pots, and frames and
tubs; Peter heard noises worse
than ever, his eyes were as big
as lolly-pops!

He was a step or two in
front of his cousin, when he
suddenly stopped.

THIS is what those little
rabbits saw round that
corner!

Little Benjamin took one
look, and then, in half a minute
less than no time, he hid himself
and Peter and the onions
underneath a large basket. . . .

THE cat got up and stretched
herself, and came and
sniffed at the basket.

Perhaps she liked the smell
of onions!

Anyway, she sat down upon
the top of the basket.

SHE sat there for FIVE HOURS.

2008-03-13T23:54:00.000-07:00

The Tale of Benjamin Bunny: Part One.
For the Children of Sawry From Old Mr. Bunny.

ONE morning a little rabbit
sat on a bank.

He pricked his ears and
listened to the trit-trot,
trit-trot of a pony.

A gig was coming along the
road; it was driven by Mr.
McGregor, and beside him sat
Mrs. McGregor in her best
bonnet.

AS soon as they had passed,
little Benjamin Bunny
slid down into the road, and
set off--with a hop, skip and
a jump--to call upon his relations,
who lived in the wood at
the back of Mr. McGregor's
garden.

THAT wood was full of
rabbit holes; and in the
neatest sandiest hole of all,
cousins--Flopsy, Mopsy,
Cotton-tail and Peter.

Old Mrs. Rabbit was a
widow; she earned her living
by knitting rabbit-wool mittens
and muffetees (I once bought
a pair at a bazaar). She also
sold herbs, and rosemary tea,
and rabbit-tobacco (which is
what WE call lavender).

LITTLE Benjamin did not
very much want to see
his Aunt.

He came round the back of
the fir-tree, and nearly tumbled
upon the top of his Cousin
Peter.

PETER was sitting by himself.
He looked poorly,
and was dressed in a red cotton
pocket-handkerchief.

"Peter,"--said little Benjamin,
in a whisper--"who has
got your clothes?"

PETER replied--"The scarecrow
in Mr. McGregor's
garden," and described how he
had been chased about the
garden, and had dropped his
shoes and coat.

Little Benjamin sat down beside
his cousin, and assured him
that Mr. McGregor had gone
out in a gig, and Mrs. McGregor
also; and certainly for the day,
because she was wearing her
best bonnet.

PETER said he hoped that
it would rain.

At this point, old Mrs.
Rabbit's voice was heard inside
the rabbit hole calling--
"Cotton-tail! Cotton-tail!
fetch some more camomile!"

Peter said he thought he
might feel better if he went
for a walk.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 6

2008-03-12T08:08:00.000-07:00

6. The Cowardly Lion.

All this time Dorothy and her companions had been walking
through the thick woods. The road was still paved with yellow
brick, but these were much covered by dried branches and dead
leaves from the trees, and the walking was not at all good.

There were few birds in this part of the forest, for birds
love the open country where there is plenty of sunshine. But now
and then there came a deep growl from some wild animal hidden
among the trees. These sounds made the little girl's heart beat
fast, for she did not know what made them; but Toto knew, and he
walked close to Dorothy's side, and did not even bark in return.

"How long will it be," the child asked of the Tin Woodman,
"before we are out of the forest?"

"I cannot tell," was the answer, "for I have never been to the
Emerald City. But my father went there once, when I was a boy,
and he said it was a long journey through a dangerous country,
although nearer to the city where Oz dwells the country is beautiful.
But I am not afraid so long as I have my oil-can, and nothing can hurt
the Scarecrow, while you bear upon your forehead the mark of the
Good Witch's kiss, and that will protect you from harm."

"But Toto!" said the girl anxiously. "What will protect him?"

"We must protect him ourselves if he is in danger," replied
the Tin Woodman.

Just as he spoke there came from the forest a terrible roar,
and the next moment a great Lion bounded into the road. With one
blow of his paw he sent the Scarecrow spinning over and over to
the edge of the road, and then he struck at the Tin Woodman with
his sharp claws. But, to the Lion's surprise, he could make no
impression on the tin, although the Woodman fell over in the road
and lay still.

Little Toto, now that he had an enemy to face, ran barking
toward the Lion, and the great beast had opened his mouth to bite
the dog, when Dorothy, fearing Toto would be killed, and heedless
of danger, rushed forward and slapped the Lion upon his nose as
hard as she could, while she cried out:

"Don't you dare to bite Toto! You ought to be ashamed of
yourself, a big beast like you, to bite a poor little dog!"

"I didn't bite him," said the Lion, as he rubbed his nose with
his paw where Dorothy had hit it.

"No, but you tried to," she retorted. "You are nothing but a
big coward."

"I know it," said the Lion, hanging his head in shame. "I've
always known it. But how can I help it?"

"I don't know, I'm sure. To think of your striking a stuffed
man, like the poor Scarecrow!"

"Is he stuffed?" asked the Lion in surprise, as he watched her
pick up the Scarecrow and set him upon his feet, while she patted
him into shape again.

"Of course he's stuffed," replied Dorothy, who was still angry.

"That's why he went over so easily," remarked the Lion.
"It astonished me to see him whirl around so. Is the other one
stuffed also?"

"No," said Dorothy, "he's made of tin." And she helped the
Woodman up again.

"That's why he nearly blunted my claws," said the Lion.
"When they scratched against the tin it made a cold shiver run
down my back. What is that little animal you are so tender of?"

"He is my dog, Toto," answered Dorothy.

"Is he made of tin, or stuffed?" asked the Lion.

"Neither. He's a--a--a meat dog," said the girl.

"Oh! He's a curious animal and seems remarkably small,
now that I look at him. No one would think of biting such a
little thing, except a coward like me," continued the Lion sadly.

"What makes you a coward?" asked Dorothy, looking at the great
beast in wonder, for he was as big as a small horse.

"It's a mystery," replied the Lion. "I suppose I was born
that way. All the other animals in the forest naturally expect me
to be brave, for the Lion is everywhere thought to be the King of
Beasts. I learned that if I roared very loudly every living thing
was frightened and got out of my way. Whenever I've met a man
I've been awfully scared; but I just roared at him, and he has
always run away as fast as he could go. If the elephants and the
tigers and the bears had ever tried to fight me, I should have run
myself--I'm such a coward; but just as soon as they hear me roar
they all try to get away from me, and of course I let them go."

"But that isn't right. The King of Beasts shouldn't be a coward,"
said the Scarecrow.

"I know it," returned the Lion, wiping a tear from his eye
with the tip of his tail. "It is my great sorrow, and makes my
life very unhappy. But whenever there is danger, my heart begins
to beat fast."

"Perhaps you have heart disease," said the Tin Woodman.

"It may be," said the Lion.

"If you have," continued the Tin Woodman, "you ought to be glad,
for it proves you have a heart. For my part, I have no heart; so I
cannot have heart disease."

"Perhaps," said the Lion thoughtfully, "if I had no heart I should
not be a coward."

"Have you brains?" asked the Scarecrow.

"I suppose so. I've never looked to see," replied the Lion.

"I am going to the Great Oz to ask him to give me some,"
remarked the Scarecrow, "for my head is stuffed with straw."

"And I am going to ask him to give me a heart," said the Woodman.

"And I am going to ask him to send Toto and me back to Kansas,"
added Dorothy.

"Do you think Oz could give me courage?" asked the Cowardly Lion.

"Just as easily as he could give me brains," said the Scarecrow.

"Or give me a heart," said the Tin Woodman.

"Or send me back to Kansas," said Dorothy.

"Then, if you don't mind, I'll go with you," said the Lion,
"for my life is simply unbearable without a bit of courage."

"You will be very welcome," answered Dorothy, "for you will help
to keep away the other wild beasts. It seems to me they must be more
cowardly than you are if they allow you to scare them so easily."

"They really are," said the Lion, "but that doesn't make me any braver,
and as long as I know myself to be a coward I shall be unhappy."

So once more the little company set off upon the journey, the
Lion walking with stately strides at Dorothy's side. Toto did not
approve this new comrade at first, for he could not forget how
nearly he had been crushed between the Lion's great jaws. But
after a time he became more at ease, and presently Toto and the
Cowardly Lion had grown to be good friends.

During the rest of that day there was no other adventure to
mar the peace of their journey. Once, indeed, the Tin Woodman
stepped upon a beetle that was crawling along the road, and killed
the poor little thing. This made the Tin Woodman very unhappy,
for he was always careful not to hurt any living creature; and as
he walked along he wept several tears of sorrow and regret. These
tears ran slowly down his face and over the hinges of his jaw, and
there they rusted. When Dorothy presently asked him a question
the Tin Woodman could not open his mouth, for his jaws were
tightly rusted together. He became greatly frightened at this and
made many motions to Dorothy to relieve him, but she could not
understand. The Lion was also puzzled to know what was wrong.
But the Scarecrow seized the oil-can from Dorothy's basket and
oiled the Woodman's jaws, so that after a few moments he could
talk as well as before.

"This will serve me a lesson," said he, "to look where I step.
For if I should kill another bug or beetle I should surely cry again,
and crying rusts my jaws so that I cannot speak."

Thereafter he walked very carefully, with his eyes on the road,
and when he saw a tiny ant toiling by he would step over it, so as
not to harm it. The Tin Woodman knew very well he had no heart, and
therefore he took great care never to be cruel or unkind to anything.

"You people with hearts," he said, "have something to guide you, and
need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful.
When Oz gives me a heart of course I needn't mind so much."

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 5.

2008-03-11T20:04:00.000-07:00

5. The Rescue of the Tin Woodman.

When Dorothy awoke the sun was shining through the trees and
Toto had long been out chasing birds around him and squirrels.
She sat up and looked around her. Scarecrow, still standing
patiently in his corner, waiting for her.

"We must go and search for water," she said to him.

"Why do you want water?" he asked.

"To wash my face clean after the dust of the road, and to
drink, so the dry bread will not stick in my throat."

"It must be inconvenient to be made of flesh," said the
Scarecrow thoughtfully, "for you must sleep, and eat and drink.
However, you have brains, and it is worth a lot of bother to be
able to think properly."

They left the cottage and walked through the trees until they
found a little spring of clear water, where Dorothy drank and
bathed and ate her breakfast. She saw there was not much bread
left in the basket, and the girl was thankful the Scarecrow did
not have to eat anything, for there was scarcely enough for
herself and Toto for the day.

When she had finished her meal, and was about to go back to the
road of yellow brick, she was startled to hear a deep groan near by.

"What was that?" she asked timidly.

"I cannot imagine," replied the Scarecrow; "but we can go and see."

Just then another groan reached their ears, and the sound
seemed to come from behind them. They turned and walked through
the forest a few steps, when Dorothy discovered something shining
in a ray of sunshine that fell between the trees. She ran to the
place and then stopped short, with a little cry of surprise.

One of the big trees had been partly chopped through, and
standing beside it, with an uplifted axe in his hands, was a man
made entirely of tin. His head and arms and legs were jointed
upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could
not stir at all.

Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow,
while Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which
hurt his teeth.

"Did you groan?" asked Dorothy.

"Yes," answered the tin man, "I did. I've been groaning for more
than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me."

"What can I do for you?" she inquired softly, for she was
moved by the sad voice in which the man spoke.

"Get an oil-can and oil my joints," he answered. "They are
rusted so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled
I shall soon be all right again. You will find an oil-can on a
shelf in my cottage."

Dorothy at once ran back to the cottage and found the oil-can,
and then she returned and asked anxiously, "Where are your joints?"

"Oil my neck, first," replied the Tin Woodman. So she oiled it,
and as it was quite badly rusted the Scarecrow took hold of the tin
head and moved it gently from side to side until it worked freely,
and then the man could turn it himself.

"Now oil the joints in my arms," he said. And Dorothy oiled
them and the Scarecrow bent them carefully until they were quite
free from rust and as good as new.

The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his
axe, which he leaned against the tree.

"This is a great comfort," he said. "I have been holding that
axe in the air ever since I rusted, and I'm glad to be able to put
it down at last. Now, if you will oil the joints of my legs, I
shall be all right once more."

So they oiled his legs until he could move them freely; and he
thanked them again and again for his release, for he seemed a very
polite creature, and very grateful.

"I might have stood there always if you had not come along," he said;
"so you have certainly saved my life. How did you happen to be here?"

"We are on our way to the Emerald City to see the Great Oz,"
she answered, "and we stopped at your cottage to pass the night."

"Why do you wish to see Oz?" he asked.

"I want him to send me back to Kansas, and the Scarecrow wants
him to put a few brains into his head," she replied.

The Tin Woodman appeared to think deeply for a moment. Then he said:

"Do you suppose Oz could give me a heart?"

"Why, I guess so," Dorothy answered. "It would be as easy as
to give the Scarecrow brains."

"True," the Tin Woodman returned. "So, if you will allow me
to join your party, I will also go to the Emerald City and ask Oz
to help me."

"Come along," said the Scarecrow heartily, and Dorothy added
that she would be pleased to have his company. So the Tin Woodman
shouldered his axe and they all passed through the forest until
they came to the road that was paved with yellow brick.

The Tin Woodman had asked Dorothy to put the oil-can in her basket.
"For," he said, "if I should get caught in the rain, and rust again,
I would need the oil-can badly."

It was a bit of good luck to have their new comrade join the
party, for soon after they had begun their journey again they came
to a place where the trees and branches grew so thick over the
road that the travelers could not pass. But the Tin Woodman set
to work with his axe and chopped so well that soon he cleared a
passage for the entire party.

Dorothy was thinking so earnestly as they walked along that
she did not notice when the Scarecrow stumbled into a hole and
rolled over to the side of the road. Indeed he was obliged to
call to her to help him up again.

"Why didn't you walk around the hole?" asked the Tin Woodman.

"I don't know enough," replied the Scarecrow cheerfully.
"My head is stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am
going to Oz to ask him for some brains."

"Oh, I see," said the Tin Woodman. "But, after all, brains
are not the best things in the world."

"Have you any?" inquired the Scarecrow.

"No, my head is quite empty," answered the Woodman.
"But once I had brains, and a heart also; so, having tried
them both, I should much rather have a heart."

"And why is that?" asked the Scarecrow.

"I will tell you my story, and then you will know."

So, while they were walking through the forest, the Tin Woodman
told the following story:

"I was born the son of a woodman who chopped down trees in the
forest and sold the wood for a living. When I grew up, I too became
a woodchopper, and after my father died I took care of my old mother
as long as she lived. Then I made up my mind that instead of living
alone I would marry, so that I might not become lonely.

"There was one of the Munchkin girls who was so beautiful
that I soon grew to love her with all my heart. She, on her part,
promised to marry me as soon as I could earn enough money to
build a better house for her; so I set to work harder than ever.
But the girl lived with an old woman who did not want her to marry
anyone, for she was so lazy she wished the girl to remain with her
and do the cooking and the housework. So the old woman went to
the Wicked Witch of the East, and promised her two sheep and a cow
if she would prevent the marriage. Thereupon the Wicked Witch
enchanted my axe, and when I was chopping away at my best one day,
for I was anxious to get the new house and my wife as soon as
possible, the axe slipped all at once and cut off my left leg.

"This at first seemed a great misfortune, for I knew a
one-legged man could not do very well as a wood-chopper. So I
went to a tinsmith and had him make me a new leg out of tin. The
leg worked very well, once I was used to it. But my action
angered the Wicked Witch of the East, for she had promised the old
woman I should not marry the pretty Munchkin girl. When I began
chopping again, my axe slipped and cut off my right leg. Again I
went to the tinsmith, and again he made me a leg out of tin.
After this the enchanted axe cut off my arms, one after the
other; but, nothing daunted, I had them replaced with tin ones.
The Wicked Witch then made the axe slip and cut off my head, and
at first I thought that was the end of me. But the tinsmith
happened to come along, and he made me a new head out of tin.

"I thought I had beaten the Wicked Witch then, and I worked
harder than ever; but I little knew how cruel my enemy could be.
She thought of a new way to kill my love for the beautiful
Munchkin maiden, and made my axe slip again, so that it cut right
through my body, splitting me into two halves. Once more the
tinsmith came to my help and made me a body of tin, fastening my
tin arms and legs and head to it, by means of joints, so that I
could move around as well as ever. But, alas! I had now no
heart, so that I lost all my love for the Munchkin girl, and did
not care whether I married her or not. I suppose she is still
living with the old woman, waiting for me to come after her.

"My body shone so brightly in the sun that I felt very proud
of it and it did not matter now if my axe slipped, for it could
not cut me. There was only one danger--that my joints would
rust; but I kept an oil-can in my cottage and took care to oil
myself whenever I needed it. However, there came a day when I
forgot to do this, and, being caught in a rainstorm, before I
thought of the danger my joints had rusted, and I was left to
stand in the woods until you came to help me. It was a terrible
thing to undergo, but during the year I stood there I had time to
think that the greatest loss I had known was the loss of my heart.
While I was in love I was the happiest man on earth; but no one
can love who has not a heart, and so I am resolved to ask Oz to
give me one. If he does, I will go back to the Munchkin maiden
and marry her."

Both Dorothy and the Scarecrow had been greatly interested
in the story of the Tin Woodman, and now they knew why he was so
anxious to get a new heart.

"All the same," said the Scarecrow, "I shall ask for brains
instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a
heart if he had one."

"I shall take the heart," returned the Tin Woodman; "for
brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing
in the world."

Dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know
which of her two friends was right, and she decided if she could
only get back to Kansas and Aunt Em, it did not matter so much
whether the Woodman had no brains and the Scarecrow no heart,
or each got what he wanted.

What worried her most was that the bread was nearly gone, and
another meal for herself and Toto would empty the basket. To be sure
neither the Woodman nor the Scarecrow ever ate anything, but she was
not made of tin nor straw, and could not live unless she was fed.

Heidi: Chapter Two, Part 1.

2008-03-10T20:00:00.000-07:00

Heidi; Chapter Two, Part 1:

With the Grandfather.

After Deta had disappeared, the Uncle sat down again on the bench,
blowing big clouds of smoke out of his pipe. He did not speak, but
kept his eyes fastened on the ground. In the meantime Heidi looked
about her, and discovering the goat-shed, peeped in. Nothing could be
seen inside. Searching for some more interesting thing, she saw the
three old fir-trees behind the hut. Here the wind was roaring through
the branches and the tree-tops were swaying to and fro. Heidi stood
still to listen. After the wind had ceased somewhat, she walked round
the hut back to her grandfather. She found him in exactly the same
position, and planting herself in front of the old man, with arms
folded behind her back, she gazed at him. The grandfather, looking up,
saw the child standing motionless before him. "What do you want to do
now?" he asked her.

"I want to see what's in the hut," replied Heidi.

"Come then," and with that the grandfather got up and entered the
cottage.

"Take your things along," he commanded.

"I do not want them any more," answered Heidi.

The old man, turning about, threw a penetrating glance at her. The
child's black eyes were sparkling in expectation of all the things to
come. "She is not lacking in intelligence," he muttered to himself.
Aloud he added: "Why don't you need them any more?"

"I want to go about like the light-footed goats!"

"All right, you can; but fetch the things and we'll put them in the
cupboard." The child obeyed the command. The old man now opened the
door, and Heidi followed him into a fairly spacious room, which took
in the entire expanse of the hut. In one corner stood a table and a
chair, and in another the grandfather's bed. Across the room a large
kettle was suspended over the hearth, and opposite to it a large door
was sunk into the wall. This the grandfather opened. It was the
cupboard, in which all his clothes were kept. In one shelf were a few
shirts, socks and towels; on another a few plates, cups and glasses;
and on the top shelf Heidi could see a round loaf of bread, some bacon
and cheese. In this cupboard the grandfather kept everything that he
needed for his subsistence. When he opened it, Heidi pushed her things
as far behind the grandfather's clothes as she could reach. She did
not want them found again in a hurry. After looking around attentively
in the room, she asked, "Where am I going to sleep, grandfather?"

"Wherever you want to," he replied. That suited Heidi exactly. She
peeped into all the corners of the room and looked at every little
nook to find a cosy place to sleep. Beside the old man's bed she saw a
ladder. Climbing up, she arrived at a hayloft, which was filled with
fresh and fragrant hay. Through a tiny round window she could look far
down into the valley.

"I want to sleep up here," Heidi called down. "Oh, it is lovely here.
Please come up, grandfather, and see it for yourself."

"I know it," sounded from below.

"I am making the bed now," the little girl called out again, while she
ran busily to and fro. "Oh, do come up and bring a sheet, grandfather,
for every bed must have a sheet."

"Is that so?" said the old man. After a while he opened the cupboard
and rummaged around in it. At last he pulled out a long coarse cloth
from under the shirts. It somewhat resembled a sheet, and with this he
climbed up to the loft. Here a neat little bed was already prepared.
On top the hay was heaped up high so that the head of the occupant
would lie exactly opposite the window.

The grandfather was well pleased with the arrangement. To prevent the
hard floor from being felt, he made the couch twice as thick. Then he
and Heidi together put the heavy sheet on, tucking the ends in well.
Heidi looked thoughtfully at her fresh, new bed and said,
"Grandfather, we have forgotten something."

"What?" he asked.

"I have no cover. When I go to bed I always creep in between the sheet
and the cover."

"What shall we do if I haven't any?" asked the grandfather.

"Never mind, I'll just take some more hay to cover me," Heidi
reassured him, and was just going to the heap of hay when the old man
stopped her.

"Just wait one minute," he said, and went down to his own bed. From it
he took a large, heavy linen bag and brought it to the child.

"Isn't this better than hay?" he asked.

Heidi pulled the sack to and fro with all her might, but she could not
unfold it, for it was too heavy for her little arms. The grandfather
put the thick cover on the bed while Heidi watched him. After it was
all done, she said: "What a nice bed I have now, and what a splendid
cover! I only wish the evening was here, that I might go to sleep in
it."

"I think we might eat something first," said the grandfather. "Don't
you think so?"

Heidi had forgotten everything else in her interest for the bed; but
when she was reminded of her dinner, she noticed how terribly hungry
she really was. She had had only a piece of bread and a cup of thin
coffee very early in the morning, before her long journey. Heidi said
approvingly: "I think we might, grandfather!"

"Let's go down then, if we agree," said the old man, and followed
close behind her. Going up to the fireplace, he pushed the big kettle
aside and reached for a smaller one that was suspended on a chain.
Then sitting down on a three-legged stool, he kindled a bright fire.
When the kettle was boiling, the old man put a large piece of cheese
on a long iron fork, and held it over the fire, turning it to and fro,
till it was golden-brown on all sides. Heidi had watched him eagerly.
Suddenly she ran to the cupboard. When her grandfather brought a pot
and the toasted cheese to the table, he found it already nicely set
with two plates and two knives and the bread in the middle. Heidi had
seen the things in the cupboard and knew that they would be needed for
the meal.

"I am glad to see that you can think for yourself," said the
grandfather, while he put the cheese on top of the bread, "but
something is missing yet."

Heidi saw the steaming pot and ran back to the cupboard in all haste.
A single little bowl was on the shelf. That did not perplex Heidi
though, for she saw two glasses standing behind. With those three
things she returned to the table.

"You certainly can help yourself! Where shall you sit, though?" asked
the grandfather, who occupied the only chair himself, Heidi flew to
the hearth, and bringing back the little stool, sat down on it.

"Now you have a seat, but it is much too low. In fact, you are too
little to reach the table from my chair. Now you shall have something
to eat at last!" and with that the grandfather filled the little bowl
with milk. Putting it on his chair, he pushed it as near to the stool
as was possible, and in that way Heidi had a table before her. He
commanded her to eat the large piece of bread and the slice of golden
cheese. He sat down himself on a corner of the table and started his
own dinner. Heidi drank without stopping, for she felt exceedingly
thirsty after her long journey. Taking a long breath, she put down her
little bowl.

"How do you like the milk?" the grandfather asked her.

"I never tasted better," answered Heidi.

"Then you shall have more," and with that the grandfather filled the
little bowl again. The little girl ate and drank with the greatest
enjoyment. After she was through, both went out into the goat-shed.
Here the old man busied himself, and Heidi watched him attentively
while he was sweeping and putting down fresh straw for the goats to
sleep on. Then he went to the little shop alongside and fashioned a
high chair for Heidi, to the little girl's greatest amazement.

"What is this?" asked the grandfather.

"This is a chair for me. I am sure of it because it is so high. How
quickly it was made!" said the child, full of admiration and wonder.

"She knows what is what and has her eyes on the right place," the
grandfather said to himself, while he walked around the hut, fastening
a nail or a loose board here and there. He wandered about with his
hammer and nails, repairing whatever was in need of fixing. Heidi
followed him at every step and watched the performance with great
enjoyment and attention.

Talking Books: Heidi; Chapter One, Part 3:

2008-03-09T08:19:00.000-07:00

Heidi: Chapter One, Part 3.

Deta waited about ten minutes to see if the children were coming up
behind with the goats. As she could not find them anywhere, she
climbed up a little higher to get a better view down the valley from
there, and peered from side to side with marks of great impatience on
her countenance.

The children in the meantime were ascending slowly in a zigzag way,
Peter always knowing where to find all sorts of good grazing places
for his goats where they could nibble. Thus they strayed from side to
side. The poor little girl had followed the boy only with the greatest
effort and she was panting in her heavy clothes. She was so hot and
uncomfortable that she only climbed by exerting all her strength. She
did not say anything but looked enviously at Peter, who jumped about
so easily in his light trousers and bare feet. She envied even more
the goats that climbed over bushes, stones, and steep inclines with
their slender legs. Suddenly sitting down on the ground the child
swiftly took off her shoes and stockings. Getting up she undid the
heavy shawl and the two little dresses. Out she slipped without more
ado and stood up in only a light petticoat. In sheer delight at the
relief, she threw up her dimpled arms, that were bare up to her short
sleeves. To save the trouble of carrying them, her aunt had dressed
her in her Sunday clothes over her workday garments. Heidi arranged
her dresses neatly in a heap and joined Peter and the goats. She was
now as light-footed as any of them. When Peter, who had not paid much
attention, saw her suddenly in her light attire, he grinned. Looking
back, he saw the little heap of dresses on the ground and then he
grinned yet more, till his mouth seemed to reach from ear to ear; but
he said never a word.

The child, feeling free and comfortable, started to converse with
Peter, and he had to answer many questions. She asked him how many
goats he had, and where he led them, what he did with them when he got
there, and so forth.

At last the children reached the summit in front of the hut. When Deta
saw the little party of climbers she cried out shrilly: "Heidi, what
have you done? What a sight you are! Where are your dresses and your
shawl? Are the new shoes gone that I just bought for you, and the new
stockings that I made myself? Where are they all, Heidi?"

The child quietly pointed down and said "There."

The aunt followed the direction of her finger and descried a little
heap with a small red dot in the middle, which she recognized as the
shawl.

"Unlucky child!" Deta said excitedly. "What does all this mean? Why
have you taken your things all off?"

"Because I do not need them," said the child, not seeming in the least
repentant of her deed.

"How can you be so stupid, Heidi? Have you lost your senses?" the aunt
went on, in a tone of mingled vexation and reproach. "Who do you think
will go way down there to fetch those things up again? It is
half-an-hour's walk. Please, Peter, run down and get them. Do not
stand and stare at me as if you were glued to the spot."

"I am late already," replied Peter, and stood without moving from the
place where, with his hands in his trousers' pockets, he had witnessed
the violent outbreak of Heidi's aunt.

"There you are, standing and staring, but that won't get you further,"
said Deta. "I'll give you this if you go down." With that she held a
five-penny-piece under his eyes. That made Peter start and in a great
hurry he ran down the straightest path. He arrived again in so short a
time that Deta had to praise him and gave him her little coin without
delay. He did not often get such a treasure, and therefore his face
was beaming and he laughingly dropped the money deep into his pocket.

"If you are going up to the uncle, as we are, you can carry the pack
till we get there," said Deta. They still had to climb a steep ascent
that lay behind Peter's hut. The boy readily took the things and
followed Deta, his left arm holding the bundle and his right swinging
the stick. Heidi jumped along gaily by his side with the goats.

After three quarters of an hour they reached the height where the hut
of the old man stood on a prominent rock, exposed to every wind, but
bathed in the full sunlight. From there you could gaze far down into
the valley. Behind the hut stood three old fir-trees with great shaggy
branches. Further back the old grey rocks rose high and sheer. Above
them you could see green and fertile pastures, till at last the stony
boulders reached the bare, steep cliffs.

Overlooking the valley the uncle had made himself a bench, by the side
of the hut. Here he sat, with his pipe between his teeth and both
hands resting on his knees. He quietly watched the children climbing
up with the goats and Aunt Deta behind them, for the children had
caught up to her long ago. Heidi reached the top first, and
approaching the old man she held out her hand to him and said: "Good
evening, grandfather!"

"Well, well, what does that mean?" replied the old man in a rough
voice. Giving her his hand for only a moment, he watched her with a
long and penetrating look from under his bushy brows. Heidi gazed back
at him with an unwinking glance and examined him with much curiosity,
for he was strange to look at, with his thick, grey beard and shaggy
eyebrows, that met in the middle like a thicket.

Heidi's aunt had arrived in the meantime with Peter, who was eager to
see what was going to happen.

"Good-day to you, uncle," said Deta as she approached. "This is
Tobias's and Adelheid's child. You won't be able to remember her,
because last time you saw her she was scarcely a year old."

"Why do you bring her here?" asked the uncle, and turning to Peter he
said: "Get away and bring my goats. How late you are already!"

Peter obeyed and disappeared on the spot; the uncle had looked at him
in such a manner that he was glad to go.

"Uncle, I have brought the little girl for you to keep," said Deta. "I
have done my share these last four years and now it is your turn to
provide for her."

The old man's eyes flamed with anger. "Indeed!" he said. "What on
earth shall I do, when she begins to whine and cry for you? Small
children always do, and then I'll be helpless."

"You'll have to look out for that!" Deta retorted. "When the little
baby was left in my hands a few years ago, I had to find out how to
care for the little innocent myself and nobody told me anything. I
already had mother on my hands and there was plenty for me to do. You
can't blame me if I want to earn some money now. If you can't keep the
child, you can do with her whatever you please. If she comes to harm
you are responsible and I am sure you do not want to burden your
conscience any further."

Deta had said more in her excitement than she had intended, just
because her conscience was not quite clear. The uncle had risen during
her last words and now he gave her such a look that she retreated a
few steps. Stretching out his arm in a commanding gesture, he said to
her: "Away with you! Begone! Stay wherever you came from and don't
venture soon again into my sight!"

Deta did not have to be told twice. She said "Good-bye" to Heidi and
"Farewell" to the uncle, and started down the mountain. Like steam her
excitement seemed to drive her forward, and she ran down at a
tremendous rate. The people in the village called to her now more than
they had on her way up, because they all were wondering where she had
left the child. They were well acquainted with both and knew their
history. When she heard from door and windows: "Where is the child?"
"Where have you left her, Deta?" and so forth, she answered more and
more reluctantly: "Up with the Alm-Uncle,--with the Alm-Uncle!" She
became much provoked because the women called to her from every side:
"How could you do it?" "The poor little creature!" "The idea of
leaving such a helpless child up there!" and, over and over again:
"The poor little dear!" Deta ran as quickly as she could and was glad
when she heard no more calls, because, to tell the truth, she herself
was uneasy. Her mother had asked her on her deathbed to care for
Heidi. But she consoled herself with the thought that she would be
able to do more for the child if she could earn some money. She was
very glad to go away from people who interfered in her affairs, and
looked forward with great delight to her new place.
(End of Chapter 1)

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 4.

2008-03-08T19:55:00.000-08:00

4. The Road Through the Forest.

After a few hours the road began to be rough, and the walking
grew so difficult that the Scarecrow often stumbled over the
yellow bricks, which were here very uneven. Sometimes, indeed,
they were broken or missing altogether, leaving holes that Toto
jumped across and Dorothy walked around. As for the Scarecrow,
having no brains, he walked straight ahead, and so stepped into
the holes and fell at full length on the hard bricks. It never hurt
him, however, and Dorothy would pick him up and set him upon his
feet again, while he joined her in laughing merrily at his own mishap.

The farms were not nearly so well cared for here as they were
farther back. There were fewer houses and fewer fruit trees, and
the farther they went the more dismal and lonesome the country became.

At noon they sat down by the roadside, near a little brook,
and Dorothy opened her basket and got out some bread. She offered
a piece to the Scarecrow, but he refused.

"I am never hungry," he said, "and it is a lucky thing I am not,
for my mouth is only painted, and if I should cut a hole in it so
I could eat, the straw I am stuffed with would come out, and that
would spoil the shape of my head."

Dorothy saw at once that this was true, so she only nodded and
went on eating her bread.

"Tell me something about yourself and the country you came from,"
said the Scarecrow, when she had finished her dinner. So she told him
all about Kansas, and how gray everything was there, and how the cyclone
had carried her to this queer Land of Oz.

The Scarecrow listened carefully, and said, "I cannot
understand why you should wish to leave this beautiful country and
go back to the dry, gray place you call Kansas."

"That is because you have no brains" answered the girl.
"No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of
flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country,
be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home."

The Scarecrow sighed.

"Of course I cannot understand it," he said. "If your heads
were stuffed with straw, like mine, you would probably all live in
the beautiful places, and then Kansas would have no people at all.
It is fortunate for Kansas that you have brains."

"Won't you tell me a story, while we are resting?" asked the child.

The Scarecrow looked at her reproachfully, and answered:

"My life has been so short that I really know nothing whatever.
I was only made day before yesterday. What happened in the world
before that time is all unknown to me. Luckily, when the farmer
made my head, one of the first things he did was to paint my ears,
so that I heard what was going on. There was another Munchkin with him,
and the first thing I heard was the farmer saying, `How do you like
those ears?'

"`They aren't straight,'" answered the other.

"`Never mind,'" said the farmer. "`They are ears just the same,'"
which was true enough.

"`Now I'll make the eyes,'" said the farmer. So he painted my
right eye, and as soon as it was finished I found myself looking
at him and at everything around me with a great deal of curiosity,
for this was my first glimpse of the world.

"`That's a rather pretty eye,'" remarked the Munchkin who was
watching the farmer. "`Blue paint is just the color for eyes.'

"`I think I'll make the other a little bigger,'" said the
farmer. And when the second eye was done I could see much better
than before. Then he made my nose and my mouth. But I did not
speak, because at that time I didn't know what a mouth was for.
I had the fun of watching them make my body and my arms and legs;
and when they fastened on my head, at last, I felt very proud,
for I thought I was just as good a man as anyone.

"`This fellow will scare the crows fast enough,' said the
farmer. `He looks just like a man.'

"`Why, he is a man,' said the other, and I quite agreed with him.
The farmer carried me under his arm to the cornfield, and set me up
on a tall stick, where you found me. He and his friend soon after
walked away and left me alone.

"I did not like to be deserted this way. So I tried to walk
after them. But my feet would not touch the ground, and I was
forced to stay on that pole. It was a lonely life to lead, for I
had nothing to think of, having been made such a little while before.
Many crows and other birds flew into the cornfield, but as soon as
they saw me they flew away again, thinking I was a Munchkin; and this
pleased me and made me feel that I was quite an important person.
By and by an old crow flew near me, and after looking at me carefully
he perched upon my shoulder and said:

"`I wonder if that farmer thought to fool me in this clumsy
manner. Any crow of sense could see that you are only stuffed
with straw.' Then he hopped down at my feet and ate all the corn
he wanted. The other birds, seeing he was not harmed by me, came
to eat the corn too, so in a short time there was a great flock of
them about me.

"I felt sad at this, for it showed I was not such a good
Scarecrow after all; but the old crow comforted me, saying,
`If you only had brains in your head you would be as good a man
as any of them, and a better man than some of them. Brains are
the only things worth having in this world, no matter whether one
is a crow or a man.'

"After the crows had gone I thought this over, and decided I
would try hard to get some brains. By good luck you came along
and pulled me off the stake, and from what you say I am sure the
Great Oz will give me brains as soon as we get to the Emerald City."

"I hope so," said Dorothy earnestly, "since you seem anxious
to have them."

"Oh, yes; I am anxious," returned the Scarecrow. "It is such
an uncomfortable feeling to know one is a fool."

"Well," said the girl, "let us go." And she handed the basket
to the Scarecrow.

There were no fences at all by the roadside now, and the land
was rough and untilled. Toward evening they came to a great
forest, where the trees grew so big and close together that their
branches met over the road of yellow brick. It was almost dark
under the trees, for the branches shut out the daylight; but the
travelers did not stop, and went on into the forest.

"If this road goes in, it must come out," said the Scarecrow,
"and as the Emerald City is at the other end of the road, we must
go wherever it leads us."

"Anyone would know that," said Dorothy.

"Certainly; that is why I know it," returned the Scarecrow.
"If it required brains to figure it out, I never should have said it."

After an hour or so the light faded away, and they found
themselves stumbling along in the darkness. Dorothy could not see
at all, but Toto could, for some dogs see very well in the dark;
and the Scarecrow declared he could see as well as by day. So she
took hold of his arm and managed to get along fairly well.

"If you see any house, or any place where we can pass the
night," she said, "you must tell me; for it is very uncomfortable
walking in the dark."

Soon after the Scarecrow stopped.

"I see a little cottage at the right of us," he said,
"built of logs and branches. Shall we go there?"

"Yes, indeed," answered the child. "I am all tired out."

So the Scarecrow led her through the trees until they reached
the cottage, and Dorothy entered and found a bed of dried leaves
in one corner. She lay down at once, and with Toto beside her
soon fell into a sound sleep. The Scarecrow, who was never tired,
stood up in another corner and waited patiently until morning came.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 3:

2008-03-06T08:00:00.000-08:00

3. How Dorothy Saved the Scarecrow :

When Dorothy was left alone she began to feel hungry. So she
went to the cupboard and cut herself some bread, which she spread
with butter. She gave some to Toto, and taking a pail from the
shelf she carried it down to the little brook and filled it with
clear, sparkling water. Toto ran over to the trees and began to
bark at the birds sitting there. Dorothy went to get him, and saw
such delicious fruit hanging from the branches that she gathered
some of it, finding it just what she wanted to help out her breakfast.

Then she went back to the house, and having helped herself and
Toto to a good drink of the cool, clear water, she set about
making ready for the journey to the City of Emeralds.

Dorothy had only one other dress, but that happened to be
clean and was hanging on a peg beside her bed. It was gingham,
with checks of white and blue; and although the blue was somewhat
faded with many washings, it was still a pretty frock. The girl
washed herself carefully, dressed herself in the clean gingham,
and tied her pink sunbonnet on her head. She took a little basket
and filled it with bread from the cupboard, laying a white cloth
over the top. Then she looked down at her feet and noticed how
old and worn her shoes were.

"They surely will never do for a long journey, Toto," she said.
And Toto looked up into her face with his little black eyes and wagged
his tail to show he knew what she meant.

At that moment Dorothy saw lying on the table the silver shoes
that had belonged to the Witch of the East.

"I wonder if they will fit me," she said to Toto. "They would be
just the thing to take a long walk in, for they could not wear out."

She took off her old leather shoes and tried on the silver
ones, which fitted her as well as if they had been made for her.

Finally she picked up her basket.

"Come along, Toto," she said. "We will go to the Emerald City
and ask the Great Oz how to get back to Kansas again."

She closed the door, locked it, and put the key carefully in
the pocket of her dress. And so, with Toto trotting along soberly
behind her, she started on her journey.

There were several roads near by, but it did not take her long
to find the one paved with yellow bricks. Within a short time she
was walking briskly toward the Emerald City, her silver shoes
tinkling merrily on the hard, yellow road-bed. The sun shone
bright and the birds sang sweetly, and Dorothy did not feel
nearly so bad as you might think a little girl would who had
been suddenly whisked away from her own country and set down
in the midst of a strange land.

She was surprised, as she walked along, to see how pretty the
country was about her. There were neat fences at the sides of the
road, painted a dainty blue color, and beyond them were fields of
grain and vegetables in abundance. Evidently the Munchkins were
good farmers and able to raise large crops. Once in a while she
would pass a house, and the people came out to look at her and bow
low as she went by; for everyone knew she had been the means of
destroying the Wicked Witch and setting them free from bondage.
The houses of the Munchkins were odd-looking dwellings, for each
was round, with a big dome for a roof. All were painted blue,
for in this country of the East blue was the favorite color.

Toward evening, when Dorothy was tired with her long walk and
began to wonder where she should pass the night, she came to a
house rather larger than the rest. On the green lawn before it
many men and women were dancing. Five little fiddlers played as
loudly as possible, and the people were laughing and singing,
while a big table near by was loaded with delicious fruits and
nuts, pies and cakes, and many other good things to eat.

The people greeted Dorothy kindly, and invited her to supper and
to pass the night with them; for this was the home of one of the
richest Munchkins in the land, and his friends were gathered with
him to celebrate their freedom from the bondage of the Wicked Witch.

Dorothy ate a hearty supper and was waited upon by the rich
Munchkin himself, whose name was Boq. Then she sat upon a settee
and watched the people dance.

When Boq saw her silver shoes he said, "You must be a great sorceress."

"Why?" asked the girl.

"Because you wear silver shoes and have killed the Wicked Witch.
Besides, you have white in your frock, and only witches and sorceresses
wear white."

"My dress is blue and white checked," said Dorothy, smoothing
out the wrinkles in it.

"It is kind of you to wear that," said Boq. "Blue is the
color of the Munchkins, and white is the witch color. So we know
you are a friendly witch."

Dorothy did not know what to say to this, for all the people
seemed to think her a witch, and she knew very well she was only
an ordinary little girl who had come by the chance of a cyclone
into a strange land.

When she had tired watching the dancing, Boq led her into
the house, where he gave her a room with a pretty bed in it.
The sheets were made of blue cloth, and Dorothy slept soundly in
them till morning, with Toto curled up on the blue rug beside her.

She ate a hearty breakfast, and watched a wee Munchkin baby,
who played with Toto and pulled his tail and crowed and laughed in
a way that greatly amused Dorothy. Toto was a fine curiosity to
all the people, for they had never seen a dog before.

"How far is it to the Emerald City?" the girl asked.

"I do not know," answered Boq gravely, "for I have never been
there. It is better for people to keep away from Oz, unless they
have business with him. But it is a long way to the Emerald City,
and it will take you many days. The country here is rich and
pleasant, but you must pass through rough and dangerous places
before you reach the end of your journey."

This worried Dorothy a little, but she knew that only the
Great Oz could help her get to Kansas again, so she bravely
resolved not to turn back.

She bade her friends good-bye, and again started along the road
of yellow brick. When she had gone several miles she thought she
would stop to rest, and so climbed to the top of the fence beside
the road and sat down. There was a great cornfield beyond the fence,
and not far away she saw a Scarecrow, placed high on a pole to keep
the birds from the ripe corn.

Dorothy leaned her chin upon her hand and gazed thoughtfully
at the Scarecrow. Its head was a small sack stuffed with straw,
with eyes, nose, and mouth painted on it to represent a face.
An old, pointed blue hat, that had belonged to some Munchkin,
was perched on his head, and the rest of the figure was a blue suit
of clothes, worn and faded, which had also been stuffed with straw.
On the feet were some old boots with blue tops, such as every man
wore in this country, and the figure was raised above the stalks
of corn by means of the pole stuck up its back.

While Dorothy was looking earnestly into the queer, painted
face of the Scarecrow, she was surprised to see one of the eyes
slowly wink at her. She thought she must have been mistaken at first,
for none of the scarecrows in Kansas ever wink; but presently the
figure nodded its head to her in a friendly way. Then she climbed
down from the fence and walked up to it, while Toto ran around the
pole and barked.

"Good day," said the Scarecrow, in a rather husky voice.

"Did you speak?" asked the girl, in wonder.

"Certainly," answered the Scarecrow. "How do you do?"

"I'm pretty well, thank you," replied Dorothy politely.
"How do you do?"

"I'm not feeling well," said the Scarecrow, with a smile,
"for it is very tedious being perched up here night and day to
scare away crows."

"Can't you get down?" asked Dorothy.

"No, for this pole is stuck up my back. If you will please
take away the pole I shall be greatly obliged to you."

Dorothy reached up both arms and lifted the figure off the pole,
for, being stuffed with straw, it was quite light.

"Thank you very much," said the Scarecrow, when he had been
set down on the ground. "I feel like a new man."

Dorothy was puzzled at this, for it sounded queer to hear a
stuffed man speak, and to see him bow and walk along beside her.

"Who are you?" asked the Scarecrow when he had stretched
himself and yawned. "And where are you going?"

"My name is Dorothy," said the girl, "and I am going to the
Emerald City, to ask the Great Oz to send me back to Kansas."

"Where is the Emerald City?" he inquired. "And who is Oz?"

"Why, don't you know?" she returned, in surprise.

"No, indeed. I don't know anything. You see, I am stuffed,
so I have no brains at all," he answered sadly.

"Oh," said Dorothy, "I'm awfully sorry for you."

"Do you think," he asked, "if I go to the Emerald City with you,
that Oz would give me some brains?"

"I cannot tell," she returned, "but you may come with me,
if you like. If Oz will not give you any brains you will be
no worse off than you are now."

"That is true," said the Scarecrow. "You see," he continued
confidentially, "I don't mind my legs and arms and body being
stuffed, because I cannot get hurt. If anyone treads on my toes
or sticks a pin into me, it doesn't matter, for I can't feel it.
But I do not want people to call me a fool, and if my head stays
stuffed with straw instead of with brains, as yours is, how am I
ever to know anything?"

"I understand how you feel," said the little girl, who was
truly sorry for him. "If you will come with me I'll ask Oz to
do all he can for you."

"Thank you," he answered gratefully.

They walked back to the road. Dorothy helped him over the
fence, and they started along the path of yellow brick for the
Emerald City.

Toto did not like this addition to the party at first.
He smelled around the stuffed man as if he suspected there
might be a nest of rats in the straw, and he often growled
in an unfriendly way at the Scarecrow.

"Don't mind Toto," said Dorothy to her new friend.
"He never bites."

"Oh, I'm not afraid," replied the Scarecrow. "He can't hurt
the straw. Do let me carry that basket for you. I shall not mind
it, for I can't get tired. I'll tell you a secret," he continued,
as he walked along. "There is only one thing in the world I am
afraid of."

"What is that?" asked Dorothy; "the Munchkin farmer who made you?"

"No," answered the Scarecrow; "it's a lighted match."

Talking Books: Heidi: Chapter 1, Part 2

2008-03-04T16:00:00.000-08:00

Heidi, Chapter One, Part 2:

Barbara had long been anxious to know something about the old uncle and why he lived apart from everybody. Nobody had a good word for him, and when people talked about him, they did not speak openly but as if they were afraid. She could not even explain to herself why he was called the Alm-Uncle. He could not possibly be the uncle of all the people in the village, but since everybody spoke of him so, she did the same. Barbara, who had only lived in the village since her marriage, was glad to get some information from her friend. Deta had been bred there, but since her mother's death had gone away to earn her livelihood.
She confidentially seized Deta's arm and said: "I wish you would tell me the truth about him, Deta; you know it all--people only gossip.Tell me, what has happened to the old man to turn everybody against him so? Did he always hate his fellow-creatures?"
"I cannot tell you whether he always did, and that for a very good reason. He being sixty years old, and I only twenty-six, you can't expect me to give you an account of his early youth. But if you'll promise to keep it to yourself and not set all the people in Prätiggan talking, I can tell you a good deal. My mother and he both came from Domleschg."
"How can you talk like that, Deta?" replied Barbara in an offended tone. "People do not gossip much in Prätiggan, and I always can keep things to myself, if I have to. You won't repent of having told me, I assure you!"
"All right, but keep your word!" said Deta warningly. Then she looked around to see that the child was not so close to them as to overhearwhat might be said; but the little girl was nowhere to be seen. While the two young women had talked at such a rate, they had not noticed her absence; quite a while must have elapsed since the little girl had given up following her companions. Deta, standing still, looked about her everywhere, but no one was on the path, which--except for a few curves--was visible as far down as the village.
"There she is! Can't you see her there?" exclaimed Barbara, pointing to a spot a good distance from the path. "She is climbing up with the goatherd Peter and his goats. I wonder why he is so late to-day. I must say, it suits us well enough; he can look after the child while you tell me everything without being interrupted."
"It will be very easy for Peter to watch her," remarked Deta; "she is bright for her five years and keeps her eyes wide open. I have often noticed that and I am glad for her, for it will be useful with the uncle. He has nothing left in the whole wide world, but his cottage and two goats!" "Did he once have more?" asked Barbara.
"I should say so. He was heir to a large farm in Domleschg. But setting up to play the fine gentleman, he soon lost everything with drink and play. His parents died with grief and he himself disappeared from these parts. After many years he came back with a half-grown boy, his son, Tobias, that was his name, became a carpenter and turned out to be a quiet, steady fellow. Many strange rumors went round about the uncle and I think that was why he left Domleschg for Dörfli. We acknowledged relationship, my mother's grandmother being a cousin of his. We called him uncle, and because we are related on my father's side to nearly all the people in the hamlet they too all called him uncle. He was named 'Alm-Uncle' when he moved up to the Alm."
"But what happened to Tobias?" asked Barbara eagerly.
"Just wait. How can I tell you everything at once?" exclaimed Deta."Tobias was an apprentice in Mels, and when he was made master, hecame home to the village and married my sister Adelheid. They always had been fond of each other and they lived very happily as man and wife. But their joy was short. Two years afterwards, when Tobias was helping to build a house, a beam fell on him and killed him. Adelheid was thrown into a violent fever with grief and fright, and never recovered from it. She had never been strong and had often suffered from queer spells, when we did not know whether she was awake or asleep. Only a few weeks after Tobias's death they buried poor Adelheid.
"People said that heaven had punished the uncle for his misdeeds.After the death of his son he never spoke to a living soul. Suddenlyhe moved up to the Alp, to live there at enmity with God and man.
"My mother and I took Adelheid's little year-old baby, Heidi, to live with us. When I went to Ragatz I took her with me; but in the spring the family whose work I had done last year came from Frankfurt and resolved to take me to their town-house. I am very glad to get such a good position."
"And now you want to hand over the child to this terrible old man. I really wonder how you can do it, Deta!" said Barbara with reproach in her voice.
"It seems to me I have really done enough for the child. I do not know where else to take her, as she is too young to come with me to Frankfurt. By the way, Barbara, where are you going? We are half-way up the Alm already."
Deta shook hands with her companion and stood still while Barbara approached the tiny, dark-brown mountain hut, which lay in a hollow af ew steps away from the path.
Situated half-way up the Alm, the cottage was luckily protected from the mighty winds. Had it been exposed to the tempests, it would have been a doubtful habitation in the state of decay it was in. Even as it was, the doors and windows rattled and the old rafters shook when the south wind swept the mountain side. If the hut had stood on the Almtop, the wind would have blown it down the valley without much ado when the storm season came.
Here lived Peter the goatherd, a boy eleven years old, who daily fetched the goats from the village and drove them up the mountain tothe short and luscious grasses of the pastures. Peter raced down inthe evening with the light-footed little goats. When he whistled sharply through his fingers, every owner would come and get his or her goat. These owners were mostly small boys and girls and, as the goats were friendly, they did not fear them. That was the only time Peter spent with other children, the rest of the day the animals were his sole companions. At home lived his mother and an old blind grandmother, but he only spent enough time in the hut to swallow his bread and milk for breakfast and the same repast for supper. After that he sought his bed to sleep. He always left early in the morningand at night he came home late, so that he could be with his friends as long as possible. His father had met with an accident some years ago; he also had been called Peter the goatherd. His mother, whose name was Brigida, was called "Goatherd Peter's wife" and his blind grandmother was called by young and old from many miles about just"grandmother."

Talking Books: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Chapter 2

2008-03-02T14:00:00.000-08:00

Chapter 2. The Council with the Munchkins.

She was awakened by a shock, so sudden and severe that if Dorothy had not been lying on the soft bed she might have been hurt. As it was, the jar made her catch her breath and wonder what had happened; and Toto put his cold little nose into her face and whined dismally. Dorothy sat up and noticed that the house was not moving; nor was it dark,for the bright sunshine came in at the window, flooding the little room.She sprang from her bed and with Toto at her heels ran and opened the door.
The little girl gave a cry of amazement and looked about her, her eyes growing bigger and bigger at the wonderful sights she saw.
The cyclone had set the house down very gently for a cyclone in the midst of a country of marvelous beauty.

There were lovely patches of greensward all about, with stately trees bearing rich and luscious fruits. Banks of gorgeous flowers were on every hand, and birds with rare and brilliant plumage sang and fluttered in the trees and bushes. A little way off was a small brook, rushing and sparkling along between green banks, and murmuring in a voice very grateful to a little girl who had lived so long on the dry, gray prairies.
While she stood looking eagerly at the strange and beautiful sights, she noticed coming toward her a group of the queerest people she had ever seen. They were not as big as the grownfolk she had always been used to; but neither were they very small. In fact, they seemed about as tall as Dorothy, who was a well-grown child for her age, although they were, so far as looks go, many years older.
Three were men and one a woman, and all were oddly dressed.They wore round hats that rose to a small point a foot above their heads, with little bells around the brims that tinkled sweetly as they moved. The hats of the men were blue; the little woman's hat was white, and she wore a white gown that hung in pleats from her shoulders. Over it were sprinkled little stars that glistened in the sun like diamonds. The men were dressed in blue, of the same shade as their hats, and wore well-polished boots with a deep roll of blue at the tops. The men, Dorothy thought, were about as old as Uncle Henry, for two of them had beards. But the little woman was doubtless much older. Her face was covered with wrinkles, her hair was nearly white, and she walked rather stiffly.
When these people drew near the house where Dorothy was standing in the doorway, they paused and whispered among themselves,as if afraid to come farther. But the little old woman walked up to Dorothy, made a low bow and said, in a sweet voice:
"You are welcome, most noble Sorceress, to the land of the Munchkins. We are so grateful to you for having killed the Wicked Witch of the East, and for setting our people free from bondage."
Dorothy listened to this speech with wonder. What could the little woman possibly mean by calling her a sorceress, and sayingshe had killed the Wicked Witch of the East? Dorothy was an innocent, harmless little girl, who had been carried by a cyclone many miles from home; and she had never killed anything in all her life.
But the little woman evidently expected her to answer; so Dorothy said,with hesitation, "You are very kind, but there must be some mistake.I have not killed anything."
"Your house did, anyway," replied the little old woman, with a laugh, "and that is the same thing. See!" she continued, pointing to the corner of the house. "There are her two feet, still sticking out from under a block of wood."
Dorothy looked, and gave a little cry of fright. There, indeed, just under the corner of the great beam the house rested on, two feet were sticking out, shod in silver shoes with pointed toes.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried Dorothy, clasping her hands togetherin dismay. "The house must have fallen on her. Whatever shall we do?"
"There is nothing to be done," said the little woman calmly.
"But who was she?" asked Dorothy.
"She was the Wicked Witch of the East, as I said," answered the little woman. "She has held all the Munchkins in bondage for many years, making them slave for her night and day. Now they are all set free, and are grateful to you for the favor."
"Who are the Munchkins?" inquired Dorothy.
"They are the people who live in this land of the East where the Wicked Witch ruled."
"Are you a Munchkin?" asked Dorothy.
"No, but I am their friend, although I live in the land of theNorth. When they saw the Witch of the East was dead the Munchkins sent a swift messenger to me, and I came at once. I am the Witch of the North."
"Oh, gracious!" cried Dorothy. "Are you a real witch?"
"Yes, indeed," answered the little woman. "But I am a good witch, and the people love me. I am not as powerful as the Wicked Witch was who ruled here, or I should have set the people free myself."
"But I thought all witches were wicked," said the girl, who was half frightened at facing a real witch. "Oh, no, that is agreat mistake. There were only four witches in all the Land of Oz, and two of them, those who live in the North and the South,are good witches. I know this is true, for I am one of them myself, and cannot be mistaken. Those who dwelt in the East and the West were, indeed, wicked witches; but now that you have killed one of them, there is but one Wicked Witch in all the Land of Oz--the one who lives in the West."
"But," said Dorothy, after a moment's thought, "Aunt Em has told me that the witches were all dead--years and years ago."
"Who is Aunt Em?" inquired the little old woman.
"She is my aunt who lives in Kansas, where I came from."
The Witch of the North seemed to think for a time, with her head bowed and her eyes upon the ground. Then she looked up and said, "I do not know where Kansas is, for I have never heard that country mentioned before. But tell me, is it a civilized country?"
"Oh, yes," replied Dorothy.
"Then that accounts for it. In the civilized countries I believe there are no witches left, nor wizards, nor sorceresses, nor magicians. But, you see, the Land of Oz has never been civilized, for we are cut off from all the rest of the world. Therefore we still have witches and wizards amongst us."
"Who are the wizards?" asked Dorothy.
"Oz himself is the Great Wizard," answered the Witch, sinking her voice to a whisper. "He is more powerful than all the rest of us together. He lives in the City of Emeralds."
Dorothy was going to ask another question, but just then theMunchkins, who had been standing silently by, gave a loud shout and pointed to the corner of the house where the Wicked Witch had been lying.
"What is it?" asked the little old woman, and looked, and began to laugh. The feet of the dead Witch had disappeared entirely, and nothing was left but the silver shoes.
"She was so old," explained the Witch of the North, "that she dried up quickly in the sun. That is the end of her. But the silver shoes are yours, and you shall have them to wear." She reached down and picked up the shoes, and after shaking the dust out of them handed them to Dorothy.
"The Witch of the East was proud of those silver shoes," said one of the Munchkins, "and there is some charm connected with them; but what it is we never knew."
Dorothy carried the shoes into the house and placed them on the table. Then she came out again to the Munchkins and said:
"I am anxious to get back to my aunt and uncle, for I am sure they will worry about me. Can you help me find my way?"
The Munchkins and the Witch first looked at one another, and then at Dorothy, and then shook their heads.
"At the East, not far from here," said one, "there is a great desert, and none could live to cross it."
"It is the same at the South," said another, "for I have been there and seen it. The South is the country of the Quadlings."
"I am told," said the third man, "that it is the same at the West. And that country, where the Winkies live, is ruled by the Wicked Witch of the West, who would make you her slave if you passed her way."
"The North is my home," said the old lady, "and at its edge is the same great desert that surrounds this Land of Oz. I'm afraid, my dear, you will have to live with us."
Dorothy began to sob at this, for she felt lonely among all these strange people. Her tears seemed to grieve the kind-hearted Munchkins, for they immediately took out their handkerchiefs and began to weep also. As for the little old woman, she took off her cap and balanced the point on the end of her nose, while she counted "One, two, three" in a solemn voice. At once the cap changed to a slate, on which was written in big, white chalk marks:
"LET DOROTHY GO TO THE CITY OF EMERALDS"
The little old woman took the slate from her nose, and having read the words on it, asked, "Is your name Dorothy, my dear?"
"Yes," answered the child, looking up and drying her tears.
"Then you must go to the City of Emeralds. Perhaps Oz will help you."
"Where is this city?" asked Dorothy.
"It is exactly in the center of the country, and is ruled by Oz, the Great Wizard I told you of."
"Is he a good man?" inquired the girl anxiously.
"He is a good Wizard. Whether he is a man or not I cannot tell, for I have never seen him."
"How can I get there?" asked Dorothy.
"You must walk. It is a long journey, through a country that is sometimes pleasant and sometimes dark and terrible. However, I will use all the magic arts I know of to keep you from harm."
"Won't you go with me?" pleaded the girl, who had begun to look upon the little old woman as her only friend.
"No, I cannot do that," she replied, "but I will give you my kiss, and no one will dare injure a person who has been kissed by the Witch of the North."
She came close to Dorothy and kissed her gently on the forehead. Where her lips touched the girl they left a round, shining mark, as Dorothy found out soon after.
"The road to the City of Emeralds is paved with yellow brick,"said the Witch, "so you cannot miss it. When you get to Oz do not be afraid of him, but tell your story and ask him to help you.Good-bye, my dear."
The three Munchkins bowed low to her and wished her a pleasant journey, after which they walked away through the trees. The Witch gave Dorothy a friendly little nod, whirled around on her left heel three times, and straightway disappeared, much to the surprise of little Toto, who barked after her loudly enough when she had gone, because he had been afraid even to growl while she stood by.
But Dorothy, knowing her to be a witch, had expected her to disappear in just that way, and was not surprised in the least.

Recipe For A Spring Mud-Pie

2008-02-29T09:26:00.000-08:00

Recipe for a Spring Mud Pie

Take some water and some dirt,
Stir it, squish it, mix it good.
Shape the mound and rub it smooth,
Make a pie like mama would.

Top the pie with bluebell-blue,
Yellow daffodil so bright.
Lilac's purple adds its hue,
Decorations dress it right.

Let it dry, then gently lift,
all the glory spring has made,
molded by two little hands,
washed and then, in thanks have prayed.

Talking Books: Heidi; Chapter One, Part 1

2008-02-28T00:47:00.000-08:00

Heidi,
By Johanna Spyri.

Chapter I: Part 1.
GOING UP TO THE ALM-UNCLE.

The little old town of Mayenfeld is charmingly situated. From it a footpath leads through green, well-wooded stretches to the foot of the heights which look down imposingly upon the valley. Where the footpath begins to go steeply and abruptly up the Alps, the heath, with its short grass and pungent herbage, at once sends out its soft perfume to meet the wayfarer.
One bright sunny morning in June, a tall, vigorous maiden of the mountain region climbed up the narrow path, leading a little girl by the hand. The youngster's cheeks were in such a glow that it showed even through her sun-browned skin. Small wonder though! for in spite of the heat, the little one, who was scarcely five years old, was bundled up as if she had to brave a bitter frost. Her shape was difficult to distinguish, for she wore two dresses, if not three, and around her shoulders a large red cotton shawl. With her feet encased in heavy hob-nailed boots, this hot and shapeless little person toiled up the mountain.
The pair had been climbing for about an hour when they reached a hamlet half-way up the great mountain named the Alm. This hamlet was called "Im Dörfli" or "The Little Village." It was the elder girl's home town, and therefore she was greeted from nearly every house; people called to her from windows and doors, and very often from the road. But, answering questions and calls as she went by, the girl did not loiter on her way and only stood still when she reached the end of the hamlet. There a few cottages lay scattered about, from the furthest of which a voice called out to her through an open door:"Deta, please wait one moment! I am coming with you, if you are going further up."
When the girl stood still to wait, the child instantly let go her hand and promptly sat down on the ground.
"Are you tired, Heidi?" Deta asked the child.
"No, but hot," she replied.
"We shall be up in an hour, if you take big steps and climb with all your little might!" Thus the elder girl tried to encourage her small companion.
A stout, pleasant-looking woman stepped out of the house and joined the two. The child had risen and wandered behind the old acquaintances, who immediately started gossiping about their friends in the neighborhood and the people of the hamlet generally.
"Where are you taking the child, Deta?" asked the newcomer. "Is she the child your sister left?"
"Yes," Deta assured her; "I am taking her up to the Alm-Uncle and there I want her to remain."
"You can't really mean to take her there Deta. You must have lost your senses, to go to him. I am sure the old man will show you the door and won't even listen to what you say."
"Why not? As he's her grandfather, it is high time he should do something for the child. I have taken care of her until this summer and now a good place has been offered to me. The child shall not hinder me from accepting it, I tell you that!"
"It would not be so hard, if he were like other mortals. But you know him yourself. How could he look after a child, especially such a little one? She'll never get along with him, I am sure of that!But tell me of your prospects."
"I am going to a splendid house in Frankfurt. Last summer some peoplewent off to the baths and I took care of their rooms. As they got to like me, they wanted to take me along, but I could not leave. They have come back now and have persuaded me to go with them."
"I am glad I am not the child!" exclaimed Barbara with a shudder."Nobody knows anything about the old man's life up there. He doesn't speak to a living soul, and from one year's end to the other he keeps away from church. People get out of his way when he appears once in a twelve-month down here among us. We all fear him and he is really just like a heathen or an old Indian, with those thick grey eyebrows and that huge uncanny beard. When he wanders along the road with his twisted stick we are all afraid to meet him alone."
"That is not my fault," said Deta stubbornly. "He won't do her anyharm; and if he should, he is responsible, not I."
"I wish I knew what weighs on the old man's conscience. Why are his eyes so fierce and why does he live up there all alone? Nobody ever sees him and we hear many strange things about him. Didn't your sister tell you anything, Deta?"
"Of course she did, but I shall hold my tongue. He would make me pay for it if I didn't."

Talking Books:The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Chapter 1:

2008-02-28T00:06:00.000-08:00

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum.

Chapter 1. The Cyclone.
Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife. Their house was small, for the lumber to build it had to be carried by wagon many miles. There were four walls, a floor and a roof, which made one room; and this room contained a rusty looking cookstove, a cupboard for the dishes, a table, three or four chairs, and the beds. Uncle Henry and Aunt Em had a big bed in one corner, and Dorothy a little bed in another corner. There was no garret at all, and no cellar—except a small hole dug in the ground, called a cyclone cellar, where the family could go in case one of those great whirlwinds arose, mighty enough to crush any building in its path. It was reached by a trap door in the middle of the floor, from which a ladder led down into the small, dark hole.

When Dorothy stood in the doorway and looked around, she could see nothing but the great gray prairie on every side. Not a tree nor a house broke the broad sweep of flat country that reached to the edge of the sky in all directions. The sun had baked the plowed land into a gray mass, with little cracks running through it. Even the grass was not green, for the sun had burned the tops of the long blades until they were the same gray color to be seen everywhere. Once the house had been painted, but the sun blistered the paint and the rains washed it away, and now the house was as dull and gray as everything else.

When Aunt Em came there to live she was a young, pretty wife. The sun and wind had changed her, too. They had taken the sparkle from her eyes and left them a sober gray; they had taken the red from her cheeks and lips, and they were gray also. She was thin and gaunt, and never smiled now. When Dorothy, who was an orphan, first came to her, Aunt Em had been so startled by the child's laughter that she would scream and press her hand upon her heart whenever Dorothy's merry voice reached her ears; and she still looked at the little girl with wonder that she could find anything to laugh at.

Uncle Henry never laughed. He worked hard from morning till night and did not know what joy was. He was gray also, from his long beard to his rough boots, and he looked stern and solemn, and rarely spoke.

It was Toto that made Dorothy laugh, and saved her from growing as gray as her other surroundings. Toto was not gray; he was a little black dog, with long silky hair and small black eyes that twinkled merrily on either side of his funny, wee nose. Toto played all day long, and Dorothy played with him, and loved him dearly.

Today, however, they were not playing. Uncle Henry sat upon the doorstep and looked anxiously at the sky, which was even grayer than usual. Dorothy stood in the door with Toto in her arms, and looked at the sky too. Aunt Em was washing the dishes.

From the far north they heard a low wail of the wind, and Uncle Henry and Dorothy could see where the long grass bowed in waves before the coming storm. There now came a sharp whistling in the air from the south, and as they turned their eyes that way they saw ripples in the grass coming from that direction also.

Suddenly Uncle Henry stood up.

"There's a cyclone coming, Em," he called to his wife. "I'll go look after the stock." Then he ran toward the sheds where the cows and horses were kept.

Aunt Em dropped her work and came to the door. One glance told her of the danger close at hand.

"Quick, Dorothy!" she screamed. "Run for the cellar!"

Toto jumped out of Dorothy's arms and hid under the bed, and the girl started to get him. Aunt Em, badly frightened, threw open the trap door in the floor and climbed down the ladder into the small, dark hole. Dorothy caught Toto at last and started to follow her aunt. When she was halfway across the room there came a great shriek from the wind, and the house shook so hard that she lost her footing and sat down suddenly upon the floor.

Then a strange thing happened.

The house whirled around two or three times and rose slowly through the air. Dorothy felt as if she were going up in a balloon.

The north and south winds met where the house stood, and made it the exact center of the cyclone. In the middle of a cyclone the air is generally still, but the great pressure of the wind on every side of the house raised it up higher and higher, until it was at the very top of the cyclone; and there it remained and was carried miles and miles away as easily as you could carry a feather.

It was very dark, and the wind howled horribly around her, but Dorothy found she was riding quite easily. After the first few whirls around, and one other time when the house tipped badly, she felt as if she were being rocked gently, like a baby in a cradle.

Toto did not like it. He ran about the room, now here, now there, barking loudly; but Dorothy sat quite still on the floor and waited to see what would happen.

Once Toto got too near the open trap door, and fell in; and at first the little girl thought she had lost him. But soon she saw one of his ears sticking up through the hole, for the strong pressure of the air was keeping him up so that he could not fall. She crept to the hole, caught Toto by the ear, and dragged him into the room again, afterward closing the trap door so that no more accidents could happen.

Hour after hour passed away, and slowly Dorothy got over her fright; but she felt quite lonely, and the wind shrieked so loudly all about her that she nearly became deaf. At first she had wondered if she would be dashed to pieces when the house fell again; but as the hours passed and nothing terrible happened, she stopped worrying and resolved to wait calmly and see what the future would bring. At last she crawled over the swaying floor to her bed, and lay down upon it; and Toto followed and lay down beside her.

In spite of the swaying of the house and the wailing of the wind, Dorothy soon closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.

Take a Tiny Seed

2008-02-25T11:53:00.000-08:00

Take a tiny seed.

Put it in the ground.

Add some water,

Add some sun,

Soon a plant is found!

Peter Pumpkin

2008-02-25T11:32:00.001-08:00

Peter, Peter, Pumpkin eater

had a wife and couldn't keep her.

Put her in a pumpkin shell,

and there he kept her very well.

Jack and Jill

2008-02-25T11:29:00.001-08:00

Jack and Jill

went up the hill

to fetch a pail of water.

Jack fell down

and broke his crown

and Jill came tumbling after.

Pat-A-Cake

2008-02-25T08:18:00.000-08:00

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake,Baker's man!
So I do, master,As fast as I can.
Pat it, and prick it,
And mark it with T,
Put it in the oven
For Tommy and me.