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Selected Fairy Tales

In one of the large and rich cities of China, there once lived a tailor named Mustapha. He was very poor. He could hardly, by his daily labour, maintain himself and his family, which consisted only of his wife and a son. His son, who was called Aladdin, was a very careless and idle fellow. He was disobedient to his father and mother, and would go out early in the morning and stay out all day, playing in the streets and public places with idle children of his own age. When he was old enough to learn a trade, his father took him into his own shop, and taught him how to use his needle; but all his father's endeavours to keep him to his work were vain, for no sooner was his back turned, than he was gone for that day, Mustapha chastised him, but Aladdin was incorrigible, and his father, to his great grief, was forced to abandon him to his idleness; and was so much troubled about him, that he fell sick and died in a few months. Aladdin, who was now no longer restrained by the fear of a father,…

The Dance: Historic Illustrations of Dancing

An Antiquary

CHAPTER I Egyptian, Assyrian, Hebrew and Phoenician Dancing. CHAPTER II Dancing with the Greeks. CHAPTER III Etruscan-South Italian, Roman Dancing, etc. CHAPTER IV The "Early English" and "Mediaeval" dance to the fourteenth century. CHAPTER V Society dancing from the fifteenth century. CHAPTER VI The Modern Theatre Dance. In this work it is not necessary to worry the reader with speculations as to the origin of dancing. There are other authorities easily accessible who have written upon this theme. Dancing is probably one of the oldest arts. As soon as man was man he without doubt began to gesticulate with face, body, and limbs. How long it took to develop bodily gesticulation into an art no one can guess—perhaps a millennium.

Prince Lazybones and Other Stories

W. J. Hays

Of all the illustrious families who have shone like gems upon the earth's surface, none have been more distinguished in their way than the Lazybones family; and were I so disposed I might recount their virtues and trace their talents from a long-forgotten period. But interesting as the study might prove, it would be a difficult task, and the attention I crave for Prince Leo would be spent on his ancestors. THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE LAZY BONES PHIL'S FAIRIES FLORIO AND FLORELLA BOREAS BLUSTER'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT

The Wonders of the Jungle, Book 2

Prince Ghosh

An elephant herd is a kind of republic, something like the United States of America, only much smaller and much simpler. So its leader is a sort of president. He is usually the wisest elephant in the herd. You may like to know how the elephants choose their president. I shall tell you how they do that. But you must first consider how the people of the United States choose their President. Contents: I. THE ELEPHANT HERD A REPUBLIC II. WAR AND NEUTRALITY IN THE JUNGLE III. The Policemen of the Elephant Herd IV. THE POLICEMEN OF THE ELEPHANT HERD V. FLESH-EATING ANIMALS: THE FELINES, OR THE CAT TRIBE VI. THE TIGER VII. THE TIGER CUBS' LESSONS VIII. THE TIGRESS MOTHER'S SPECIAL DUTIES IX. THE SPECIAL QUALITIES OF TIGER AND TIGRESS X. THE LION XI. THE LION"S DAILY LIFE XII. THE LION A NOBLE ANIMAL XIII. THE LEOPARD XIV. THE LEOPARD"S HABIT XV. AMERICAN LEOPARD: THE JAGUAR XVI. THE DOG TRIBE

The Wonders of the Jungle, Book 1

Prince Ghosh

I have just told you that, after drinking, the elephants jump into the water and have a bath and a swim. That is, all the grown-up elephants do that, while the little ones stay on the bank and play about. But, you may ask, why does not the tiger try to grab one of the little ones then? Because even when the Mammas go into the water they keep their eyes on the babies, who play quite near by, so that the Mammas can come to them any minute. And the Mammas can smell a tiger a little before he gets there, so that they have enough time to climb out of the water. Besides, the babies themselves can smell the tiger when he is coming; then they call out to their Mammas by making a queer rumbling sound in their throats, and the Mammas come to them at once, before the tiger can get there. So all the grown-up elephants can go into the water, without any worry. And at first they have a regular shower bath. How do they do that? Why, each elephant fills his trunk with water;.....

Do and Dare: A Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune

Horatio Jr. Alger Jr.

Herbert did not look forward with very joyful anticipations to the new engagement he had formed. He knew very well that he should not like Ebenezer Graham as an employer, but it was necessary that he should earn something, for the income was now but two dollars a week. He was sorry, too, to displace Tom Tripp, but upon this point his uneasiness was soon removed, for Tom dropped in just after Mr. Graham had left the house, and informed Herbert that he was to go to work the next day for a farmer in the neighborhood, at a dollar and a half per week, and board besides. "I am glad to hear it, Tom," said Herbert, heartily. "I didn't want to feel that I was depriving you of employment." "You are welcome to my place in the store," said Tom. "I'm glad to give it up. Mr. Graham seemed to think I was made of iron, and I could work like a machine, without getting tired. I hope he pays you more than a dollar and a half a week." "He has agreed to pay me three dollars," said Herbert.

Chitra: A Play in One Act

Rabindranath Tagore

THIS lyrical drama was written about twenty-five years ago. It is based on the following story from the Mahabharata. In the course of his wanderings, in fulfilment of a vow of penance, Arjuna came to Manipur. There he saw Chitrangada, the beautiful daughter of Chitravahana, the king of the country. Smitten with her charms, he asked the king for the hand of his daughter in marriage. Chitravahana asked him who he was, and learning that he was Arjuna the Pandara, told him that Prabhanjana, one of his ancestors in the kingly line of Manipur, had long been childless. In order to obtain an heir, he performed severe penances. Pleased with these austerities, the god Shiva gave him this boon, that he and his successors should each have one child. It so happened that the promised child had invariably been a son. He, Chitravahana, was the first to have only a daughter Chitrangada to perpetuate the race. He had, therefore, always treated her as a son and had made her his heir.

Creative Unity

Rabindranath Tagore

Civility is beauty of behaviour. It requires for its perfection patience, self-control, and an environment of leisure. For genuine courtesy is a creation, like pictures, like music. It is a harmonious blending of voice, gesture and movement, words and action, in which generosity of conduct is expressed. It reveals the man himself and has no ulterior purpose. Our needs are always in a hurry. They rush and hustle, they are rude and unceremonious; they have no surplus of leisure, no patience for anything else but fulfilment of purpose. We frequently see in our country at the present day men utilising empty kerosene cans for carrying water. These cans are emblems of discourtesy; they are curt and abrupt, they have not the least shame for their unmannerliness, they do not care to be ever so slightly more than useful.

The Fugitive

Rabindranath Tagore

Darkly you sweep on, Eternal Fugitive, round whose bodiless rush stagnant space frets into eddying bubbles of light. Is your heart lost to the Lover calling you across his immeasurable loneliness? Is the aching urgency of your haste the sole reason why your tangled tresses break into stormy riot and pearls of fire roll along your path as from a broken necklace? Your fleeting steps kiss the dust of this world into sweetness, sweeping aside all waste; the storm centred with your dancing limbs shakes the sacred shower of death over life and freshens her growth. Should you in sudden weariness stop for a moment, the world would rumble into a heap, an encumbrance, barring its own progress, and even the least speck of dust would pierce the sky throughout its infinity with an unbearable pressure. My thoughts are quickened by this rhythm of unseen feet round which the anklets of light are shaken. They echo in the pulse of my heart, and through my blood surges the psalm of the ancient sea.

The Cycle of Spring

Rabindranath Tagore

Song of the Bamboo O South Wind, the Wanderer, come and rock me, Rouse me into the rapture of new leaves. I am the wayside bamboo tree, waiting for your breath To tingle life into my branches. O South Wind, the Wanderer, my dwelling is in the end of the lane. I know your wayfaring, and the language of your footsteps. Your least touch thrills me out of my slumber, Your whisper gleans my secrets. (Enter a troop of girls, dancing, representing birds.) Song of the Bird The sky pours its light into our hearts, We fill the sky with songs in answer. We pelt the air with our notes When the air stirs our wings with its madness. O Flame of the Forest, All your flower-torches are ablaze; You have kissed our songs red with the passion of your youth. In the spring breeze the mango-blossoms launch their messages to the unknown And the new leaves dream aloud all day.

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