Flying Above The Storm

Flying Above The Storm

Did you know that an eagle knows when a storm is approaching long before it breaks?

The eagle will fly to some high spot and wait for the winds to come.

When the storm hits, it sets its wings so that the wind will pick it up and lift it high above the storm.

While the storm rages below, the eagle is soaring high above it, gliding with ease.

The eagle does not escape the storm, it just simply uses the storm to lift it higher.

It rises on the winds that bring the storm into its world.

When the storms of life come upon us -- and all of us will experience them -- we can rise above them by setting our minds and faith toward God!!!

The storms do not have to overcome us.

We can allow God to lift us above them. God enables us to ride the winds of the storm that brings sickness, pain, tragedy, failure and disappointments in our lives, and make something good come from it.

We can soar above the storm.

Remember, it is not the burdens of life which weigh us down, but it is how we handle them that counts.

The Sky Is Falling

The Sky is Falling

Helena looked up at the sky and wondered how it had become so blue. It matched her mood perfectly. To Helena, being in a blue mood meant sadness.

Helena had been having days of sadness and trial for many months and today, when she looked up at the sky, she suddenly felt the urge to find an answer. She looked up at the sky and demanded to know, "Why me? Why does it all happen to me?"

No answer. Helena decided that maybe what she needed more than a reason was assistance. She had struggled alone for so long. She had never asked anyone to help her. People were always offering to help, but always doing things that she thought only made matters worse. She was stubbornly certain that only her way of doing things could make things right. Also, she had been sure she could manage all alone. Now she was rethinking.

On an impulse, Helena cried out to the heavens, "Help me. Please. I need help."
As she shouted the last word she saw a crack appear in the blue above her. The crack began to twist and turn and spread until it formed an odd shape. Then the shape shook and wriggled until it freed itself from the rest of the heavens. Then the piece of sky fell. It did not plummet. It simply drifted down end over end until it landed in Helena's lap and let out a small sigh.
Helena let out a yelp of shock and looked up to see a black hole where the little blue piece had once been. Helena gazed at the little blue piece. It was soft, thin and slippery as a piece of the finest silk.

"Oh no!" Helena said aloud. She was sure that her life had just gone from bad to worse. Then she looked up and shouted, "What is happening? Help me."

In her hands the little silky swatch sighed again. Then it seemed to melt through her fingers and attach to her skirt like a patch. In a panic, Helena tried to tug the little patch free, but failed.
This was the last straw for Helena. She had suffered failure and loss and defeat in the past months. Every single thing she had touched had come to ruin and she was in despair. Now, when she asked for help from above, the result was to have the very sky fall down on her. Helena looked up and shouted, "I know you are there! You, who made me and the sky and all things. I asked you for help and you have made the sky fall on me. Why? Why are you doing this to me?"
In answer, there came another crack in the heavens, and another piece of the sky detached itself and began to float downward. This time, Helena jumped up, gathered her skirts and ran as fast as she could to keep the patch from landing on her. But try as she might, the wind carried the piece of sky and it soon found a resting place on her shoulder, where it attached itself.
Helena stamped her foot in frustration. "Get off," she shouted as she tugged at the patch.

Looking up at the sky, she saw the growing blackness. There were no stars in the black part of the sky. It looked like a piece of black velvet stitched onto the blue satin of the heavens.
With each request she cried out, a new patch fell, and Helena fought against it, tearing at herself. She did this over and over until she was too exhausted to fight and sat down, staring at the patches on her clothing. Then she laid her hand on one broad piece of blue. It didn't feel like fabric. It felt softer and it sent a shivery feeling through her hand as her fingers slid across it.
Her mind began to wander. She thought of all the times she had found joy beneath a blue sky. She remembered smiles and sun. Helena began to stroke the patch on her skirt. It felt lovely and soft. Before she knew what was happening, she had a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

But because this was not the kind of help Helena expected to get, she forced herself to stop smiling. She stopped stroking the patch of sky she wore and began to shout up again, "This is not helping my problems! I need help."

To her horror, huge new cracks began to form and two large sections of the blue released themselves and began to come down to her at a faster rate. Instead of floating, these seemed to form into large wings and they came down in a swift glide.

Again, Helena got up and ran as fast as she could. Again the sky caught up with her and this time, it wrapped her like a blanket. Helena had the strangest feeling of being given an enormous blue, shiny, soft hug. She closed her eyes and felt herself being propelled backward. She toppled over and landed on her back in the grass. Helena fought, but the feeling of love and peace that now surrounded her stopped her struggles. It took a few moments before Helena opened her eyes. She was covered from head to foot in a flowing robe of the finest, heavenly blue. Though it was thin and there was now quite a strong wind coming from the black hole in the sky, Helena felt warm and comfortable. She felt loved and happy and safe.

Helena smiled and looked up at the sky. Softly she called up, "I don't understand what just happened."

Then there came a voice like no other she had ever heard. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. It sang through the trees, and rumbled through the earth and sighed in the long grass." You prayed for help and help has come," said the voice. "You have been given back what you lost. Piece by piece I have patched you up."

The voice continued, "You cloaked yourself in anger, fear and sadness. Now you have been given something far better to wear. You have been given love and peace. Wear them well."
Helena wrinkled her brow and shook her head. "I asked for help and the sky fell," she said. "I was overwhelmed and knocked down." The voice came to her from all around and said, "Sometimes having the sky fall on you is the greatest of gifts. You have learned that you can survive and find peace even after all seemed lost. You learned that even though the very heavens may come to rest on your shoulders, the burden could be as light as air."

Helena smiled. As she gazed at the sky the hole began to mend itself, getting smaller and smaller until all was blue and clear again. She stretched out her arm to wave to the sky and found that her clothes were just as they had always been. The blue robes had vanished. "Don't leave me," she cried out in fear.

The voice that was everywhere and nowhere came to her and said, "I surround you as the veil that is the sky covers the Earth. Like the blue of the sky, I may not always be seen. The clouds of worry or sadness may hide me. At times you may run from me or be in darkness as black as night. But I am, and always will be, with you."

For the first time in her life, Helena felt true peace and calm. She knew these words were the truest she had ever heard. She lay back in the grass under the blue sky and fell asleep. She slept for the day and the night.

The next morning when she woke she found that her family and friends had become worried over her being gone so long and had come to find her. Helena hugged each one and smiled as she had not smiled in a very long time. "What has happened to change you so," a friend asked. Helena grinned and looked up, "I just learned how much I am loved and how good it feels to know I am not alone."

From that day to this, Helena spent her days and nights knowing that no matter what happened, there was a little piece of heaven sitting on her shoulder.

Heaven and Hell

  

Heaven and Hell

A man spoke with the Lord about heaven and hell. The Lord said to the man "come, I will show you hell." They entered a room where a group of hungry people sat around a huge pot of cooking stew. Everyone in the room was starving. Each person held a spoon that reached the pot but each spoon had a handle so much longer than their own arms that it could not be used to get the stew into their own mouths. The suffering was terrible. "Come now, I will show you heaven" the Lord said.

They entered a room identical to the first, the big pot of stew, the group of people and the same long-handled spoons. But here everyone was happy and well nourished. "I don't understand" said the man. "Why is everyone happy here and miserable in the other room? Everything is the same."

"Here, said the Lord, they have learned to SERVE each other."

The Stone in the Road

The Stone in the Road

There is a story told of a king who lived long ago in a country across the sea. He was a very wise king, and spared no effort to teach his people good habits. Often he did things which seemed to them strange and useless; but all that he did, he did to teach his people to be industrious and careful.

“Nothing good can come to a nation,” he said, “whose people complain and expect others to fix their problems for them. God gives the good things of life to those who take matters into their own hands.”

One night, while everyone else slept, he placed a large stone in the road that led past his palace. Then he hid behind a hedge, and waited to see what would happen.

First came a farmer with his wagon heavily loaded with grain, which he was taking to the mill to be ground.

“Well, whoever saw such carelessness?” he said crossly, as he turned his team and drove around the stone. “Why don’t these lazy people have that rock taken from the road?” And so he went on complaining of the uselessness of others, but not touching the stone himself.

Soon afterward, a young soldier came singing along the road. The long plume of his cap waved in the breeze, and a bright sword hung at his side. He was thinking of the wonderful bravery he would show in the war.

The soldier did not see the stone, but struck his foot against it and went sprawling in the dust. He rose to his feet, shook the dust from his clothes, picked up his sword, and stormed angrily about the lazy people who had no more sense than to leave such a huge rock in the road. Then he, too, walked away, not once thinking that he might move it himself.

So the day passed. Everyone who came by complained and whined because the stone lay in the road, but no one touched it.

At last, just at nightfall, the miller’s daughter came past. She was a hard-working girl, and was very tired, because she had been busy since early morning at the mill.

But she said to herself, “It is almost dark. Somebody may fall over this stone in the night, and perhaps he could be badly hurt. I will move it out of the way.”

So she tugged at the heavy stone. It was hard to move, but she pulled and pulled, and pushed, and lifted until at last she moved it from its place. To her surprise, she found a box underneath.

She lifted the box. It was heavy, for it was filled with something. Upon it was written: "This box belongs to the one who moved the stone."

She opened the lid, and found it was full of gold!

The miller’s daughter went home with a happy heart. When the farmer and the soldier and all the others heard what had happened, they gathered around the spot in the road where the stone had been. They scratched at the dust with their feet, hoping to turn up a piece of gold.

“My friends,” said the king, “we often find obstacles and burdens in our way. We may complain out loud while we walk around them if we choose, or we can lift them and find out what they mean. Disappointment is usually the price of laziness.”

Then the wise king mounted his horse and, with a polite “Good evening,” rode away.

The Scholar's Four Questions

There was once a great scholar. Everybody in the kingdom appreciated him because he was so learned. Unfortunately, in spite of his great learning he had great pride.

One day this scholar put on a gold necklace and went to the palace of another king. He said, "Whoever can defeat me in wisdom will get this necklace. I challenge everybody!"

All the scholars in that particular kingdom had heard about this scholar and they were afraid that they would lose. So they would not accept his challenge. The king was very sad that nobody would accept the challenge.

Finally, the court jester said, I accept your challenge."



The king had almost surrendered to the scholar but thought it would be amusing to see his jester compete. He believed he was only a joker and would not be able to win the necklace.

The court jester said, “I will ask you four questions. if you answer any of my questions correctly, then you will lose, but if all your answers are incorrect, then I will accept defeat and the king will give you anything you want."

Then the court jester asked his first question: "Where do you come from?"

The scholar said, I live here." This was incorrect, since he came from another kingdom. So by giving the wrong answer the scholar passed the first test.

The jester's second question was, "How long have you been here?"

"Three years," the scholar said, which was also incorrect. Still the court jester was unable to trick him.

The third time the jester asked, "Our king is good, kind and generous. Do you agree?"

The scholar said, "Your king? What you are saying is totally wrong. Your king is undivine and very unkind." So again the scholar passed the test.

The court jester said, "It seems that I can't defeat you. How many questions have I asked so far?"

The scholar said, "You have asked me three questions; you have one more. If I do not answer it correctly you will lose. "

The court jester cried out, "Look! The scholar has lost. He has answered this question correctly."

So the scholar gave his necklace to the court jester, and the jester immediately gave it to the king. The scholar's pride was totally smashed. He said, "I will never come to your kingdom to challenge anybody again."

All the scholars were very impressed by the court jester's cleverness. They knew that they would not have been able to defeat the great scholar. The jester said, "You see, when great scholars are not alert, they lose. Had he been alert, he could have saved himself."

The King and The Sage

  


The King and the Sage

Once there was a king who was always fighting. One day he was badly wounded in a battle. A sage passed by and touched him, and the king was cured. He wanted to give the sage a reward for saving him, but the sage didn't want anything.

The king said, "I don't want to be indebted to you."

The sage said, "In the future I'll ask for something. I don't need anything now, but one day I'll come."

Months passed and the sage was praying to God one day for peace, light and bliss, when a desire entered his mind. For the past few months his cow had not been producing milk. "She's old," he said. "I'll ask the king for a new cow."

He went to see the king and found him in a temple. He was praying for more wealth and more fame.

The sage said to himself, "I won't ask him for a cow. He's a beggar like me." And he turned to leave.

The king stopped him and said, "Sage, you saved my life. Please tell me what you want. I'll give you anything."

The sage said, "I pray to God and meditate. He is all I need. I don't want to take anything from anyone in need. You told me you took an oath that you would not be indebted to anyone. I, too, have taken an oath. My oath is that if anyone is in need, then I won't take anything from that person. That's why I won't take anything from you. You're praying to God for material things. You're begging for God to give you wealth and fame. So how can I ask anything of you? God has shown me that everyone is a beggar. So if I need something, I'll get it from Him."

The Golden Touch

Once upon a time there lived a very rich king whose name was Midas. He had more gold than anyone in the whole world, but for all that, he thought it was not enough. He was never so happy as when he happened to get more gold to add to his treasure. He stored it away in great vaults underneath his palace, and many hours of each day were spent counting it over.

Now King Midas had a little daughter named Marygold. He loved her devotedly, and said: “She shall be the richest princess in all the world!”

But little Marygold cared nothing about it all. She loved her garden, her flowers and the golden sunshine more than all her father’s riches. She was a lonely little girl most of the time, for her father was so busy planning new ways to get more gold, and counting what he had, that he seldom told her stories or went for walks with her, as all fathers should do.

One day King Midas was down in his treasure room. He had locked the heavy doors and had opened up his great chests of gold. He piled it on the table and handled it as if he loved the touch of it. He let it slip through his fingers and smiled at the clink of it as if it had been sweet music. Suddenly a shadow fell over the heap of gold. Looking up, he saw a stranger dressed in shining white smiling down at him. King Midas started up in surprise. Surely he had not failed to lock the door! His treasure was not safe! But the stranger continued to smile.

“You have much gold, King Midas,” he said.“Yes,” said the king, “but think how little this is to all the gold there is in the world!”

“What! Are you not satisfied?” asked the stranger.“Satisfied?” said the king. “Of course I’m not. I often lie awake through the long night planning new ways to get more gold. I wish that everything I touch would turn to gold.”

“ Do you really wish for that, King Midas?”

“Of course I wish it. Nothing could make me so happy.”“Then you shall have your wish. Tomorrow morning when the first rays of the sun fall through your window you shall have the golden touch.”

When he had finished speaking, the stranger vanished. King Midas rubbed his eyes. “I must have dreamed it,” he said, “but how happy I should be if it were only true!”The next morning King Midas woke when the first faint light came into his room. He put out his hand and touched the covers of his bed. Nothing happened. “I knew it could not be true,” he sighed. Just at that moment the first rays of the sun came through the window. The covers on which King Midas’s hand lay became pure gold. “It’s true, it’s true!” he cried joyfully.

He sprang out of bed and ran about the room touching everything. His dressing gown, his slippers, the furniture, all became gold. He looked out of the window through Marygold’s garden. “I’ll give her a nice surprise,” he said. He went down into the garden touching all of Marygold’s flowers, and changing them to gold. “She will be so pleased,” he thought.

He went back into his room to wait for his breakfast; and took up his book which he had been reading the night before, but the minute he touched it, it was solid gold. “I can’t read it now,” he said, “but of course it is far better to have it gold.”

Just then a servant came through the door with the king’s breakfast. “How good it looks,” he said. “I’ll have the ripe, red peach first of all.”

He took the peach in his hand, but before he could taste it, it became a lump of gold. King Midas put it back on the plate. “It’s very beautiful, but I can’t eat it!” he said. He took a roll from the plate, but that, too, became gold. He took a glass of water in his hand, but that, too, became gold. “What shall I do?” he cried. “I am hungry and thirsty, I can’t eat or drink gold!”

At that moment the door was opened and in came little Marygold. She was crying bitterly, and in her hand was one of her roses.

“What’s the matter, little daughter?” said the king.“Oh, Father! See what has happened to all my roses! They are stiff, ugly things!”

“Why, they are golden roses, child. Do you not think they are more beautiful than they were?”

“No,” she sobbed, “they do not smell sweet. They won’t grow anymore. I like roses that are alive.”“Never mind,” said the king, “eat your breakfast now.”But Marygold noticed that her father did not eat, and that he looked very sad. “What is the matter, Father dear?” she said, and she ran over to him. She threw her arms around him, and he kissed her. But he suddenly cried out in terror and anguish. When he touched her, her lovely little face became glittering gold, her eyes could not see, her lips could not kiss him back again, her little arms could not hold him close. She was no longer a loving, laughing little girl; she was changed to a little golden statue.

King Midas bowed his head and great sobs shook him.“Are you happy, King Midas?” he heard a voice say. Looking up he saw the stranger standing near him.“Happy! How can you ask? I am the most miserable man living!” said the king.

“You have the golden touch,” said the stranger. “Is that not enough?”

King Midas did not look up or answer.“Which would you rather have, food and a cup of cold water or these lumps of gold?” said the stranger.King Midas could not answer.“Which would you rather have, O King—that little golden statue, or a little girl would could run, and laugh, and love you?”

“Oh, give me back my little Marygold and I’ll give up all the gold I have!” said the king. “I’ve lost all that was worth having.”

“You are wiser than you were, King Midas,” said the stranger. “Go plunge in the river which runs at the foot of your garden, then take some of its water and sprinkle whatever you wish to change back as it was.” The stranger vanished.

King Midas sprang up and ran to the river. He plunged into it, and then he dipped up a pitcher of its water and hurried back to the palace. He sprinkled it over Marygold, and the color came back into her cheeks. She opened her blue eyes again. “Why, Father!” she said. “What happened?”With a cry of joy King Midas took her into his arms.Never after that did King Midas care for any gold except the gold of sunshine, and the gold of little Marygold’s hair.

William Tell

  


William Tell

The people of Switzerland were not always free and happy as they are today. Many years ago a proud tyrant, whose name was Gessler, ruled over them, and made their lot a bitter one indeed.One day this tyrant set up a tall pole in the public square, and put his own cap on the top of it; and then he gave orders that every man who came into the town should bow down before it.
But there was one man, William Tell, who would not do this. He stood up straight with folded arms, and laughed at the swinging cap. He would not bow down to Gessler himself.When Gessler heard of this, he was very angry. He was afraid that other men would disobey, and that soon the whole country would rebel against him. So he made up his mind to punish the bold man.William Tell’s home was among the mountains, and he was a famous hunter. No one is all the land could shoot with bow and arrow as well as he. Gessler knew this, and so he thought of a cruel plan to make the hunter’s own skill bring him to grief. He ordered that Tell’s little boy should be made to stand up in the public square with an apple on his head; and then he bade Tell shoot the apple with one of his arrows.Tell begged the tyrant not to have him make this test of his skill. What if the boy should move? What if the bowman’s hand should tremble? What if the arrow should not carry true?“Will you make me kill my boy?” he said.“Say no more,” said Gessler. “You must hit the apple with your one arrow. If you fail, my soldiers shall kill the boy before your eyes.”
Then, without another word, Tell fitted the arrow to his bow. He took aim, and let it fly. The boy stood firm and still. He was not afraid, for he had all faith in his father’s skill.The arrow whistled through the air. It struck the apple fairly in the center, and carried it away. The people who saw it shouted with joy.As Tell was turning away from the place, an arrow which he had hidden under his coat dropped to the ground.“Fellow!” cried Gessler, “what mean you with this second arrow?”“Tyrant!” was Tell’s proud answer, “this arrow was for your heart if I had hurt my child.”
And there is an old story, that not long after this, Tell did shoot the tyrant with one of his arrows, and thus he set his country free.

The Bear and the Travelers

Two Travelers were on the road together, when a Bear suddenly appeared on the scene. Before he observed them, one made for a tree at the side of the road, and climbed up into the branches and his there. The other was not so nimble as his companion; and, as he could not escape, he threw himself on the ground and pretended to be dead. The Bear came up and sniffed all around him, but he kept perfectly still and held his breath; for they say that a bear will not touch a dead body. The Bear took him for a corpse, and went away.
When the coast was clear, the Traveler in the tree came down, and asked the other what it was the Bear had whispered to him when he put his mouth to his ear. The other replied, “He told me never again to travel with a friend who deserts you at the first sign of danger.”
Misfortune tests the sincerity of friendship.

The Angel of the Battlefield

When the agonizing pain receded a bit, Jack Gibbs was able to think again. “I’ll never make it home,” he groaned. “Not in one piece, anyway.”He sighed and tried to shift his body to a more comfortable position on the cold, rocky ground. But the movement caused another warm gush, and he knew that if he were to live at all, he must lie still.“By the time they cart me back to the hospital behind the lines,” he thought, “I’ll either have bled to death or I’ll be in such rotten shape they’ll have to take my leg off. And what kind of husband would I be for Sue? A man with one leg!”

A black cloud swept over him, and he lay unconscious.When he opened his eyes again, Jack was sure he had died and gone to heaven. A woman was bending over him. That just couldn’t happen on a battlefield of the Civil War. No woman ever came on the field. No woman would want to! No woman would be allowed to!But there was a woman on the battlefield. Her name was Clara Barton.With the help of two soldiers, she lifted Jack onto a cot that the men removed from a horse-drawn van. She took some bandages out of her kit and bound up his leg. Then she gave him a pain-killing draft. Jack weakly sipped it down, and the men put him in a crude-looking ambulance.

Clara Barton had been doing this kind of work all day long. She had succored hundreds of the wounded, allayed their fears, relieved their pain, cleansed their wounds.Ever since the dreadful war had begun, Clara Barton had been worried about the men fighting at the front. She knew that wounded men were left lying on the field until the battle was over. She knew that only then were they collected and taken to hospitals—hospitals far behind the lines. She knew that if they survived this delay, the rough jolting of the wagons might well cause their unbound wounds to open. She knew that they often bled to death before they reached the hospital.Heartsick at this state of affairs, she determined to bring aid to the men right on the field.

First, she procured a van. Then she equipped it with medicine and first-aid supplies. And then she went to see the general.She was a slender little woman. To the commanding officer, she didn’t look exactly like battlefield material. In fact, her pet idea horrified him.“Miss Barton,” he said, “What you are asking is absolutely impossible.”“But General,” she insisted, “Why is it impossible? I myself will drive the van and give the soldiers what relief I can.”The general shook his head. “The battlefield is no place for a woman. You couldn’t stand the rough life. Anyway, we are now doing everything that can be done for our soldiers. No one could do more.”“I could,” Clara Barton declared. And then, as if she had just entered the room for the first time, she described all over again to the general her plans for first aid on the field.This interview was repeated again and again, but constant refusal did not deter her. Finally, the commanding officer gave in. Clara Barton received a pass that would let her through the lines.

During the entire course of the Civil War, she ministered to all she could reach. She labored unceasingly. Once she worked with scant rest for five days and nights in a row. Her name became a byword in the army, spoken with love and gratitude.As the government saw what she was actually accomplishing, it gradually afforded her more and more cooperation. The army supplied more vans and more men to drive them. More medical supplies were made available. But it was nevertheless an uphill battle all the way for the courageous Miss Barton.

When the war ended, Clara Barton might have been expected to take a well-earned rest. Instead, she was haunted by the thought of the agony of those unfortunate folks who did not know for sure what had happened to their husbands, their fathers, their brothers. She determined to learn the fates of these missing soldiers, and to send the information to their families. She worked at this task for a long time.Now she knew war first-hand. She knew what it did to men on the battlefield, and she knew what it did to the families they left behind.

When she heard that there was a man in Switzerland, by the name of Jean Henry Dunant, who had a plan to help soldiers in wartime, she immediately went to Switzerland to lend her aid. Dunant formed an organization called the Red Cross. Workers of this organization were to wear a red cross on a white background so that they could easily be identified. They were to be allowed free access to battlefields, so that they might help all soldiers, no matter what their nationality, race, or religion.Here was an idea that fired Clara Barton.

She came back to America and convinced the United States Government that it should join with the twenty-two other member nations to give money and supplies to an International Red Cross, organized to help soldiers in wartime.But Clara Barton added another idea to this great Red Cross plan. It was called “The American Amendment.”“There are many other calamities that befall mankind,” she said. “Earthquakes, floods, forest fires, epidemics, tornadoes. These disasters strike suddenly, killing and wounding many, leaving others homeless and starving. The Red Cross should stretch out a hand of help to all such victims, no matter where such disasters befall.”Today, the International Red Cross brings succor to millions of people all over the world. This was Clara Barton’s wonderful idea. Her great courage, great love, and great charity will ever be revered.

Little Thumbelina

Once upon a time there was a little girl no bigger than her Mother’s thumb, and so they called her “Thumbelina.”

Thumbelina did not sleep in a little white bed, as you do; her bed was half of a walnut shell. Her Mother covered her with pink rose leaves for blankets when she curled up for a cozy nap.

By and by, when Thumbelina had grown large enough to run about wherever she wished to go, she started for a walk one beautiful sunshiny morning. She had not gone very far when she heard something coming hoppity-skip, hoppity-skip behind her. She turned around, and there she saw a great big green Grasshopper.

“How do you do, Thumbelina?” he said. “Wouldn’t you like to go for a ride this morning?”

“I should like it very much,” said Thumbelina.

“Very well, hop up on my back,” said the Grasshopper. So Thumbelina hopped up on his back, and away they went, hoppity-skip, hoppity-skip, through the grass. Thumbelina thought it was the finest ride she had ever had. After a while the Grasshopper stopped and let her get down off his back.

“Thank you, Mr. Grasshopper,” said Thumbelina. “It was very good of you to take me for a ride.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” said the Grasshopper. “You may go again some day. Goodbye.” And away he went, hoppity-skip, hoppity-skip, through the grass, while Thumbelina went on her walk.

She walked on and on until she came to a river, and as she stood on the bank, looking down into the shining water, a Fish came swimming up.

“How do you do, Thumbelina?” he said.

“How do you do, Mr. Fish?” said Thumbelina.

“Wouldn’t you like to go for a sail this morning?” asked the Fish.

“Yes, indeed,” said Thumbelina, “but there is no boat.”

“Wait a moment,” said the Fish, and he flirted his tail, and darted away through the water. Presently he came swimming back to the bank, and in his mouth he held the stem of a lily leaf.

“Step down on this; it will make a fine boat.”

Thumbelina stepped down on the lily leaf and sat carefully in the middle of it. The Fish kept the stem in his mouth, and swam away down the stream. Overhead the birds were singing, along the bank the flowers were blooming, and over the edge of the leaf Thumbelina could see the fishes darting here and there through the water.

So they sailed and sailed down the river. But at last the Fish took her back to the bank again.

“Thank you for the sail, Mr. Fish,” Thumbelina said as she stepped off onto the bank. “I never had such a good time in all my life.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Thumbelina. Goodbye for today.”

The Fish darted away through the water, and Thumbelina turned to go home. Just then Mrs. Mouse came running up.

“How do you do, Thumbelina?” she said. “Won’t you come home with me and see my babies?”

“I’d love to,” said Thumbelina, and she clapped her hands in glee.

Mrs. Mouse’s home was quite a way down under the ground. Thumbelina crept through the long dark passageway to the cozy room in which Mrs. Mouse and her three babies lived. They all ran races up and down the long passageway, and Thumbelina tasted the dried peas which Mrs. Mouse had brought home with her.

“I think I must go home now,” Thumbelina said at last. “My Mother will be wondering where I am.” So she said goodbye to them all and started off home.

She had not walked very far along the path through the field when she heard something saying, “Peep, peep” in a weak, sick little voice. Thumbelina looked, and there close beside her in the grass she saw a little Bird. His eyes were shut, and he looked very sick.

“Why, what’s the matter, little Bird?” said Thumbelina.

“Oh, I have a thorn in my foot, and it does hurt so.”

“Let me see,” said Thumbelina. “Perhaps I can help you.”

She looked carefully, and there she saw the thorn sticking in the poor Bird’s foot. She took her little fingers and pulled it out, as gently as she could. Then she fetched some clear, cold water and bathed the wounded foot. The Bird felt so much better that he opened his eyes.

“Why, it is Thumbelina!” he said.

“How did you know my name?” said Thumbelina, in surprise.

“That’s easy to explain,” said the Bird. “My nest is up in a tree, close beside your window. I often hear your Mother calling you. But are you not a long way from home?”

“Yes, I am,” said Thumbelina. “I was hurrying home when I found you.”

“Well,” said the Bird, “if you climb up on my back, I’ll take you there, far more quickly than you can run.” So Thumbelina climbed up on the Birdie’s back.

“Hold on tight,” he said, as he spread his wings and flew swiftly up about the treetops.

He went so high that sometimes they skimmed along through the clouds, and so fast that Thumbelina could hardly get her breath; but still she thought it was very wonderful, and she was not a bit afraid. Soon the Bird lit right in the window of Thumbelina’s own room. She climbed down off his back, and thanked him for bringing her home. Then she ran away to find her Mother, and tell her all about the wonderful things which had been happening to her that day.

Friendship

  


Damon and Pythias

Damon and Pythias had been the best of friends since childhood. Each trusted the other like a brother, and each knew in his heart there was nothing he would not do for his friend. Eventually the time came for them to prove the depth of their devotion. It happened this way.
Dionysius, the ruler of Syracuse, grew annoyed when he heard about the kind of speeches Pythias was giving. The young scholar was telling the public that no man should have unlimited power over another, and that absolute tyrants were unjust kings. In a fit of rage, Dionysius summoned Pythias and his friend.
“Who do you think you are, spreading unrest among the people?” he demanded.
“I spread only the truth,” Pythias answered. “There can be nothing wrong with that.”
“And does your truth hold that kings have too much power and that their laws are not good for their subjects?”
“If a king has seized power without permission of the people, then that is what I say.”
“This kind of talk is treason,” Dionysius shouted. “You are conspiring to overthrow me. Retract what you’ve said, or face the consequences.”
“I will retract nothing,” Pythias answered.
“Then you will die. Do you have any last requests?”
“Yes. Let me go home just long enough to say goodbye to my wife and children and to put my household in order.”
“I see you not only think I’m unjust, you think I’m stupid as well,” Dionysius laughed scornfully. “If I let you leave Syracuse, I have no doubt I will never see you again.”
“I will give you a pledge,” Pythias said.
“What kind of pledge could you possibly give to make me think you will ever return?” Dionysius demanded.
At that instant Damon, who had stood quietly beside his friend, stepped forward.
“I will be his pledge,” he said. “Keep me here in Syracuse, as your prisoner, until Pythias returns. Our friendship is well known to you. You can be sure Pythias will return so long as you hold me.”
Dionysius studied the two friends silently. “Very well,” he said at last. “But if you are willing to take the place of your friend, you must be willing to accept his sentence if he breaks his promise. If Pythias does not return to Syracuse, you will die in his place.”
“He will keep his word,” Damon replied. “I have no doubt of that.”
Pythias was allowed to go free for a time, and Damon was thrown into prison. After several days, when Pythias failed to reappear, Dionysius’s curiosity got the better of him, and he went to the prison to see if Damon was yet sorry he had made such a bargain.
“Your time is almost up,” the ruler of Syracuse sneered. “It will be useless to beg for mercy. You were a fool to rely on your friend’s promise. Did you really think he would sacrifice his life for you or anyone else?”
“He has merely been delayed,” Damon answered steadily. “The winds have kept him from sailing, or perhaps he has met with some accident on the road. But if it is humanly possible, he will be here on time. I am as confident of his virtue as I am of my own existence.”
Dionysius was startled at the prisoner’s confidence. “We shall soon see,” he said, and left Damon in his cell.
The fatal day arrived. Damon was brought from prison and led before the executioner. Dionysius greeted him with a smug smile.
“It seems your friend has not turned up,” he laughed. “What do you think of him now?”
“He is my friend,” Damon answered. “I trust him.”
Even as he spoke, the doors flew open, and Pythias staggered into the room. He was pale and bruised and half speechless from exhaustion. He rushed to the arms of his friend.
“You are safe, praise the gods,” he gasped. “It seemed as though the fates were conspiring against us. My ship was wrecked in a storm, and then bandits attacked me on the road. But I refused to give up hope, and at last I’ve made it back in time. I am ready to receive my sentence of death.”
Dionysius heard his words with astonishment. His eyes and his heart were opened. It was impossible for him to resist the power of such constancy.
“The sentence is revoked,” he declared. “I never believed that such faith and loyalty could exist in friendship. You have shown me how wrong I was, and it is only right that you be rewarded with your freedom. But I ask that in return you do me one great service.”
“What service do you mean?” the friends asked.
“Teach me how to be part of so worthy a friendship.”