- Published on
The Kilkenny Cats
There were once two cats of Kilkenny.
Each thought there was one cat too many;
So they fought and they fit,
And they scratched and they bit,
Till, excepting their nails,
And the tips of their tails,
Instead of two cats, there weren’t any.
By Author Unknown
Moral of the story: Those who fight bring about their own end.
There were once two cats of Kilkenny.
Each thought there was one cat too many;
So they fought and they fit,
And they scratched and they bit,
Till, excepting their nails,
And the tips of their tails,
Instead of two cats, there weren’t any.
By Author Unknown
Moral of the story: Those who fight bring about their own end.
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- Published on
Sylvester Snake
A young garter snake, Sylvester, lived with his mother on the edge of a lake. Every day he learned something new as he climbed on the rocks following his mother.
One day Sylvester felt very grown up. He asked if he could go sun himself on the shore of the lake.
“Yes, you may go alone. But be careful, Sylvester, and don’t stay away too long.”
Sylvester slowly climbed up the rocks along the shore looking for just the right place. When he had found a comfortable spot he stopped and curled up.
A few minutes later he heard voices. “May we go down and wade in the shallow water, Mother?” Sylvester knew these were children. Even though he had never seen any before, his mother had told him about them.
“Yes, you may go down by the water. But be careful and don’t stay too long.”
Sylvester didn’t know what to do. The children were heading right toward him. He wanted to act brave but he was beginning to be frightened. They were making so much noise. He lay very still until the children came close.
“Oh, let’s hurry,” said one. “The water looks great.”
Suddenly Sylvester heard a terrible noise. A boy’s scream. “Let’s get out of here. There’s a snake!” The children ran back to where their mother was waiting.
Sylvester was frightened. He quickly slithered along the rocks, hurrying home to his mother.
“Oh, Mother,” said the little snake, “something awful happened.” And he told her about the children.
“Sylvester, I’m sorry it frightened you. But the children ran, too. They were just as afraid of you as you were of them. I will go with you tomorrow and we’ll see what happens.”
Sylvester reluctantly returned to the rocks the next day. His mother stayed a few feet away. “What shall I do if they come back, Mother?”
“Don’t do anything. I’ll be right here if anything happens.”
Sure enough, the same children were on the shore. “Mother, what if that snake is there?”
“Don’t bother him and he won’t bother you.”
The children slowly walked to the rocks. “There he is,” whispered the little girl. “Let’s see what he does.”
“Oh, Mother, whispered Sylvester, “here come those children. What shall I do?”
“Just stay where you are and see what happens.”
The children gingerly moved closer to the rocks where Sylvester lay. They didn’t scream. Instead, they just looked at him.
Sylvester lay very still and looked back at the children. Now that they weren’t screaming they didn’t seem so bad.
“He’s not a very big snake. He’s just a little fellow.” They began playing and didn’t bother Sylvester.
Sylvester lay still and suddenly realized he wasn’t afraid.
Later, when the children had gone, his mother said, “Well, Son, I hope you have learned something today. We can all live happily in this world if we just treat others as we would like them to treat us. We are all different, but when we respect others and treat them kindly they will usually do the same for us.”
“You’re right, Mother. Let’s go home now. I’m hungry.”
by Diane Primm McClellan
Diane Primm McClellan was born on 17 July 1935 in Springfield, Missouri, United States of America. She became a school teacher and a writer of children’s stories. Diane Primm McClellan passed on at 78 years of age on 6 October 2013.
A young garter snake, Sylvester, lived with his mother on the edge of a lake. Every day he learned something new as he climbed on the rocks following his mother.
One day Sylvester felt very grown up. He asked if he could go sun himself on the shore of the lake.
“Yes, you may go alone. But be careful, Sylvester, and don’t stay away too long.”
Sylvester slowly climbed up the rocks along the shore looking for just the right place. When he had found a comfortable spot he stopped and curled up.
A few minutes later he heard voices. “May we go down and wade in the shallow water, Mother?” Sylvester knew these were children. Even though he had never seen any before, his mother had told him about them.
“Yes, you may go down by the water. But be careful and don’t stay too long.”
Sylvester didn’t know what to do. The children were heading right toward him. He wanted to act brave but he was beginning to be frightened. They were making so much noise. He lay very still until the children came close.
“Oh, let’s hurry,” said one. “The water looks great.”
Suddenly Sylvester heard a terrible noise. A boy’s scream. “Let’s get out of here. There’s a snake!” The children ran back to where their mother was waiting.
Sylvester was frightened. He quickly slithered along the rocks, hurrying home to his mother.
“Oh, Mother,” said the little snake, “something awful happened.” And he told her about the children.
“Sylvester, I’m sorry it frightened you. But the children ran, too. They were just as afraid of you as you were of them. I will go with you tomorrow and we’ll see what happens.”
Sylvester reluctantly returned to the rocks the next day. His mother stayed a few feet away. “What shall I do if they come back, Mother?”
“Don’t do anything. I’ll be right here if anything happens.”
Sure enough, the same children were on the shore. “Mother, what if that snake is there?”
“Don’t bother him and he won’t bother you.”
The children slowly walked to the rocks. “There he is,” whispered the little girl. “Let’s see what he does.”
“Oh, Mother, whispered Sylvester, “here come those children. What shall I do?”
“Just stay where you are and see what happens.”
The children gingerly moved closer to the rocks where Sylvester lay. They didn’t scream. Instead, they just looked at him.
Sylvester lay very still and looked back at the children. Now that they weren’t screaming they didn’t seem so bad.
“He’s not a very big snake. He’s just a little fellow.” They began playing and didn’t bother Sylvester.
Sylvester lay still and suddenly realized he wasn’t afraid.
Later, when the children had gone, his mother said, “Well, Son, I hope you have learned something today. We can all live happily in this world if we just treat others as we would like them to treat us. We are all different, but when we respect others and treat them kindly they will usually do the same for us.”
“You’re right, Mother. Let’s go home now. I’m hungry.”
by Diane Primm McClellan
Diane Primm McClellan was born on 17 July 1935 in Springfield, Missouri, United States of America. She became a school teacher and a writer of children’s stories. Diane Primm McClellan passed on at 78 years of age on 6 October 2013.
- Published on
The Old Man and His Grandson
There was once a very old man, whose eyes had become dim, his ears dull of hearing, his knees trembled, and when he sat at table he could hardly hold the spoon, and spilt the broth upon the table-cloth or let it run out of his mouth. His son and his son’s wife were disgusted at this, so the old grandfather at last had to sit in the corner behind the stove, and they gave him his food in an earthenware bowl, and not even enough of it. And he used to look towards the table with his eyes full of tears. Once, too, his trembling hands could not hold the bowl, and it fell to the ground and broke. The young wife scolded him, but he said nothing and only sighed. Then they brought him a wooden bowl for a few half-pence, out of which he had to eat. They were once sitting thus when the little grandson of four years old began to gather together some bits of wood upon the ground. “What are you doing there?” asked the father. “I am making a little trough,” answered the child, “for father and mother to eat out of when I am big.”
The man and his wife looked at each other for a while, and presently began to cry. Then they took the old grandfather to the table, and henceforth always let him eat with them, and likewise said nothing if he did spill a little of anything.
When the grandson helped his parents imagine switching places with the old man, the parents suddenly knew how their actions affected the grandfather. They were not willing to be treated so poorly in the same situation, so they began to treat him as they would consent to be treated when they grow old.
by the Brothers Grimm
Moral of the story: The fairy tale, “The Old Man and His Grandson,” is an illustration of the Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”
Image shown: Pen and ink artwork by Arthur Rackham (1867 - 1939).
There was once a very old man, whose eyes had become dim, his ears dull of hearing, his knees trembled, and when he sat at table he could hardly hold the spoon, and spilt the broth upon the table-cloth or let it run out of his mouth. His son and his son’s wife were disgusted at this, so the old grandfather at last had to sit in the corner behind the stove, and they gave him his food in an earthenware bowl, and not even enough of it. And he used to look towards the table with his eyes full of tears. Once, too, his trembling hands could not hold the bowl, and it fell to the ground and broke. The young wife scolded him, but he said nothing and only sighed. Then they brought him a wooden bowl for a few half-pence, out of which he had to eat. They were once sitting thus when the little grandson of four years old began to gather together some bits of wood upon the ground. “What are you doing there?” asked the father. “I am making a little trough,” answered the child, “for father and mother to eat out of when I am big.”
The man and his wife looked at each other for a while, and presently began to cry. Then they took the old grandfather to the table, and henceforth always let him eat with them, and likewise said nothing if he did spill a little of anything.
When the grandson helped his parents imagine switching places with the old man, the parents suddenly knew how their actions affected the grandfather. They were not willing to be treated so poorly in the same situation, so they began to treat him as they would consent to be treated when they grow old.
by the Brothers Grimm
Moral of the story: The fairy tale, “The Old Man and His Grandson,” is an illustration of the Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”
Image shown: Pen and ink artwork by Arthur Rackham (1867 - 1939).
- Published on
The Daffodil
A rich man had two sons. Just before he died he gave his house and lands to his elder son. To his younger son he gave only one small rocky field, but he had his reason for doing so, as was later learned.
The elder brother made a great feast, and began to spend his substance, and soon had nothing left.
The younger brother went into a far country. Poor and sad, he wandered about without a home. One day he lay down to rest near a singing brook. All around him the hillside was yellow with the bloom of daffodils.
In his dreams a water fairy stood before him. “Take up the plants that bloom around you,” she said. “Carry them to your own country and plant them in your rocky field. A charm shall be upon the plants, and he who works and waits shall reap a golden harvest.”
The young man awoke. No fairy was in sight. But the yellow flowers nodded to him as if to say, “Take us; we will help you.”
All day long he worked, digging up the bulbs of the daffodils. Then he walked the long, long way that led back to his home. There he planted the bulbs in his own rocky field. Soon little green blades sprang up between the rocks. Week after week the young man cared for the plants until he came to love them.
After awhile buds grew on the plants, and then they blossomed out in beautiful yellow blooms. The people came from far and near to see the wonderful golden flowers. To everyone who came the young man gave a flower, and soon they came to buy more.
In a few years the young man had saved a goodly sum of money from this field of daffodils, and he went and bought his old home, which his older brother had lost because of spending his money foolishly.
And now, when the daffodil story is told in that far-off land, the people say: “Work is the fairy charm that brings the golden harvest.”
by Author Unknown: as published in “Brook’s Reader”
A rich man had two sons. Just before he died he gave his house and lands to his elder son. To his younger son he gave only one small rocky field, but he had his reason for doing so, as was later learned.
The elder brother made a great feast, and began to spend his substance, and soon had nothing left.
The younger brother went into a far country. Poor and sad, he wandered about without a home. One day he lay down to rest near a singing brook. All around him the hillside was yellow with the bloom of daffodils.
In his dreams a water fairy stood before him. “Take up the plants that bloom around you,” she said. “Carry them to your own country and plant them in your rocky field. A charm shall be upon the plants, and he who works and waits shall reap a golden harvest.”
The young man awoke. No fairy was in sight. But the yellow flowers nodded to him as if to say, “Take us; we will help you.”
All day long he worked, digging up the bulbs of the daffodils. Then he walked the long, long way that led back to his home. There he planted the bulbs in his own rocky field. Soon little green blades sprang up between the rocks. Week after week the young man cared for the plants until he came to love them.
After awhile buds grew on the plants, and then they blossomed out in beautiful yellow blooms. The people came from far and near to see the wonderful golden flowers. To everyone who came the young man gave a flower, and soon they came to buy more.
In a few years the young man had saved a goodly sum of money from this field of daffodils, and he went and bought his old home, which his older brother had lost because of spending his money foolishly.
And now, when the daffodil story is told in that far-off land, the people say: “Work is the fairy charm that brings the golden harvest.”
by Author Unknown: as published in “Brook’s Reader”
- Published on
Lazy Ned
“’Tis royal fun,” cried lazy Ned,
“To coast, upon my fine, new sled,
And beat the other boys;
But then, I can not bear to climb
The tiresome hill, for every time
It more and more annoys.”
So, while his schoolmates glided by,
And gladly tugged uphill, to try
Another merry race,
Too indolent to share their plays,
Ned was compelled to stand and gaze,
While shivering in his place.
Thus, he would never take the pains
To seek the prize that labor gains,
Until the time had passed;
For, all his life, he dreaded still
The silly bugbear of uphill,
And lived life a dunce to the last.
by Author Unknown
What is the moral, or lesson, of the story?
“’Tis royal fun,” cried lazy Ned,
“To coast, upon my fine, new sled,
And beat the other boys;
But then, I can not bear to climb
The tiresome hill, for every time
It more and more annoys.”
So, while his schoolmates glided by,
And gladly tugged uphill, to try
Another merry race,
Too indolent to share their plays,
Ned was compelled to stand and gaze,
While shivering in his place.
Thus, he would never take the pains
To seek the prize that labor gains,
Until the time had passed;
For, all his life, he dreaded still
The silly bugbear of uphill,
And lived life a dunce to the last.
by Author Unknown
What is the moral, or lesson, of the story?
- Published on
The Perfect Story
There was once a perfect little girl. She wore perfect little dresses that fit her perfectly and perfect little shoes to match. She had a perfect smile with perfect teeth. She wore her hair in perfect curls and had perfect bangs. She lived in a perfect house with perfect parents and a perfect little brother. Her room was perfect, too, with a perfectly-made bed and a perfect view. Every morning she woke up and ate a perfect breakfast of perfect toast and perfect orange juice. Her parents’ friends were always commenting on how perfect she was. In school, she always got perfect grades and had a perfectly neat desk. She only made friends with the other perfect little children. While eating her perfect lunch, she would eat with her perfect friends.
One day, she was out walking when she saw the most perfect little puppy on the other side of the street. She thought, “I must have that perfect little puppy. It will match my perfect dress that fits me perfectly, my perfect shoes, my perfect smile, my perfect teeth, my perfect curls, and my perfect bangs. That puppy would be perfect in my perfect room with my perfect bed and my perfect view. It can eat my perfect toast with me in the morning, and drink perfect orange juice. My parents’ friends will say how perfect my puppy is. It can come to my school and sit by my perfect desk, and my perfect friends will pet it.”
The perfect little girl ran across the street to get the perfect puppy, got hit by a car, and was taken by ambulance to a hospital to be treated for a broken leg and a broken arm and a head concussion.
The moral of the story is: Always look both ways before crossing a street.
by Author Unknown
There was once a perfect little girl. She wore perfect little dresses that fit her perfectly and perfect little shoes to match. She had a perfect smile with perfect teeth. She wore her hair in perfect curls and had perfect bangs. She lived in a perfect house with perfect parents and a perfect little brother. Her room was perfect, too, with a perfectly-made bed and a perfect view. Every morning she woke up and ate a perfect breakfast of perfect toast and perfect orange juice. Her parents’ friends were always commenting on how perfect she was. In school, she always got perfect grades and had a perfectly neat desk. She only made friends with the other perfect little children. While eating her perfect lunch, she would eat with her perfect friends.
One day, she was out walking when she saw the most perfect little puppy on the other side of the street. She thought, “I must have that perfect little puppy. It will match my perfect dress that fits me perfectly, my perfect shoes, my perfect smile, my perfect teeth, my perfect curls, and my perfect bangs. That puppy would be perfect in my perfect room with my perfect bed and my perfect view. It can eat my perfect toast with me in the morning, and drink perfect orange juice. My parents’ friends will say how perfect my puppy is. It can come to my school and sit by my perfect desk, and my perfect friends will pet it.”
The perfect little girl ran across the street to get the perfect puppy, got hit by a car, and was taken by ambulance to a hospital to be treated for a broken leg and a broken arm and a head concussion.
The moral of the story is: Always look both ways before crossing a street.
by Author Unknown
- Published on
The Very Old Lady Story
A very old lady looked in the mirror one morning. She had three remaining hairs on her head, and being a positive soul, she said, “I think I’ll braid my hair today.” So she braided her three hairs, and she had a great day.
Some days later, looking in the mirror one morning, preparing for her day, she saw that she had only two hairs remaining. “Hmm, two hairs. I fancy a center parting today.” She duly parted her two hairs, and as ever, she had a great day.
A week or so later, she saw that she had just one hair left on her head. “One hair, huh?” she mused, “I know, a pony-tail will be perfect.” And again she had a great day.
The next morning she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn’t a single hair on her head. She was completely bald. “Yes!” she exclaimed, “I don’t have to fix my hair today!”
The moral, or lesson of the story, is that good exists in any conditions when we have the state of mind to find it.
by Author Unknown
A very old lady looked in the mirror one morning. She had three remaining hairs on her head, and being a positive soul, she said, “I think I’ll braid my hair today.” So she braided her three hairs, and she had a great day.
Some days later, looking in the mirror one morning, preparing for her day, she saw that she had only two hairs remaining. “Hmm, two hairs. I fancy a center parting today.” She duly parted her two hairs, and as ever, she had a great day.
A week or so later, she saw that she had just one hair left on her head. “One hair, huh?” she mused, “I know, a pony-tail will be perfect.” And again she had a great day.
The next morning she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn’t a single hair on her head. She was completely bald. “Yes!” she exclaimed, “I don’t have to fix my hair today!”
The moral, or lesson of the story, is that good exists in any conditions when we have the state of mind to find it.
by Author Unknown
- Published on
How the Little Kite Learned to Fly
“I never can do it,” the little kite said,
As he looked at the others high over his head;
“I know I should fall if I tried to fly.”
“Try,” said the big kite; “only try!
Or I fear you never will learn at all.”
But the little kite said, “I’m afraid I’ll fall.”
The big kite nodded: “Ah well, goodbye;
I’m off;” and he rose toward the tranquil sky.
Then the little kite’s paper stirred at the sight,
And trembling he shook himself free for flight.
First whirling and frightened, then braver grown,
Up, up he rose through the air alone,
Till the big kite looking down could see
The little one rising steadily.
Then how the little kite thrilled with pride,
As he sailed with the big kite side by side!
While far below he could see the ground,
And the boys like small spots moving round.
They rested high in the quiet air,
And only the birds and the clouds were there.
“Oh, how happy I am!” the little kite cried,
“And all because I was brave, and tried.”
by Author Unknown
What is the moral, or lesson, of the story?
“I never can do it,” the little kite said,
As he looked at the others high over his head;
“I know I should fall if I tried to fly.”
“Try,” said the big kite; “only try!
Or I fear you never will learn at all.”
But the little kite said, “I’m afraid I’ll fall.”
The big kite nodded: “Ah well, goodbye;
I’m off;” and he rose toward the tranquil sky.
Then the little kite’s paper stirred at the sight,
And trembling he shook himself free for flight.
First whirling and frightened, then braver grown,
Up, up he rose through the air alone,
Till the big kite looking down could see
The little one rising steadily.
Then how the little kite thrilled with pride,
As he sailed with the big kite side by side!
While far below he could see the ground,
And the boys like small spots moving round.
They rested high in the quiet air,
And only the birds and the clouds were there.
“Oh, how happy I am!” the little kite cried,
“And all because I was brave, and tried.”
by Author Unknown
What is the moral, or lesson, of the story?
- Published on
Planting Seeds
If given a choice, which would you rather have, an apple, or the apple seeds? Quite likely, most of us would choose the apple.
A long time ago, there was a guy who would have taken the seeds. He was a fanatic about apple seeds, so much so that people called him ‘Johnny Appleseed.’ For many years, he walked across hundreds of miles of our American country, back when most of it was frontier land, and everywhere he went he planted apple seeds. The trees from those seeds fed thousands and thousands of people in later generations. That is genuine long-range planning!
Many of us are interested mainly in the present. We do not think ahead as Johnny Appleseed did.
Maybe you do not wish to travel about planting apple seeds like he did. But there is another kind of seed you can plant every day, the seed of good feelings between you and your fellow human beings.
You can do it by living the motto, “Do a Daily Good Deed.” Every time you do good, you are planting a seed of good feeling. That seed may start the growth of a tree of Good Turns in each person you help. So that one Good Turn may lead to many other Good Turns through the years, affecting the lives of thousands of people.
Be a Johnny Good Deeds or a Jenny Good Deeds, and you will plant good feelings, for people of today and for generations to come.
by Author Unknown
If given a choice, which would you rather have, an apple, or the apple seeds? Quite likely, most of us would choose the apple.
A long time ago, there was a guy who would have taken the seeds. He was a fanatic about apple seeds, so much so that people called him ‘Johnny Appleseed.’ For many years, he walked across hundreds of miles of our American country, back when most of it was frontier land, and everywhere he went he planted apple seeds. The trees from those seeds fed thousands and thousands of people in later generations. That is genuine long-range planning!
Many of us are interested mainly in the present. We do not think ahead as Johnny Appleseed did.
Maybe you do not wish to travel about planting apple seeds like he did. But there is another kind of seed you can plant every day, the seed of good feelings between you and your fellow human beings.
You can do it by living the motto, “Do a Daily Good Deed.” Every time you do good, you are planting a seed of good feeling. That seed may start the growth of a tree of Good Turns in each person you help. So that one Good Turn may lead to many other Good Turns through the years, affecting the lives of thousands of people.
Be a Johnny Good Deeds or a Jenny Good Deeds, and you will plant good feelings, for people of today and for generations to come.
by Author Unknown
- Published on
The Trouble Tree
The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farmhouse had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start.
While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence. On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family.
As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands. After opening the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.
Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
“Oh, that’s my trouble tree,” he replied. “I know I can’t help having troubles on the job, but one thing’s for sure, troubles don’t belong in the house with my wife and the children, so I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them up again.”
“Funny thing is,” he smiled, “when I come out in the morning to pick ’em up, there aren’t nearly as many there as I remember hanging up the night before.”
by Author Unknown
What is the moral, or lesson, of the story?
The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farmhouse had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start.
While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence. On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family.
As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands. After opening the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.
Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
“Oh, that’s my trouble tree,” he replied. “I know I can’t help having troubles on the job, but one thing’s for sure, troubles don’t belong in the house with my wife and the children, so I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them up again.”
“Funny thing is,” he smiled, “when I come out in the morning to pick ’em up, there aren’t nearly as many there as I remember hanging up the night before.”
by Author Unknown
What is the moral, or lesson, of the story?
