Saturday, November 30, 2013

Children's Corner; Poetry

What Will You Be?

When you grow up what will you be?
Will you be tall like Dad or short like me?
Will your hair be dark like it is right now?
Or will it turn amber, or auburn, or brown?

Will you run fast with agility and grace?
Or fall behind in a slower pace?
Will words come quickly to your mouth and hand?
Or will mathematics and numbers be your plan?

Whatever you choose and wherever you go,
May you always understand and know,
That you are loved, not for what you do,
But because you're special - because you're you.
 Author: unknown

Friday, November 29, 2013

Children's Corner; Short Stories

The Astrologer

by Aesop


An illustration for the story The Astrologer by the author Aesop
A man who lived a long time ago believed that he could read the future in the stars. He called himself an Astrologer, and spent his time at night gazing at the sky.
One evening he was walking along the open road outside the village. His eyes were fixed on the stars. He thought he saw there that the end of the world was at hand, when all at once, down he went into a hole full of mud and water.
There he stood up to his ears, in the muddy water, and madly clawing at the slippery sides of the hole in his effort to climb out.
His cries for help soon brought the villagers running. As they pulled him out of the mud, one of them said:
"You pretend to read the future in the stars, and yet you fail to see what is at your feet! This may teach you to pay more attention to what is right in front of you, and let the future take care of itself."
"What use is it," said another, "to read the stars, when you can't see what's right here on the earth?"
Take care of the little things and the big things will take care of themselves.


The End

Thursday, November 28, 2013

Children's Corner; Short Stories

The Origin of Thanksgiving

pilgrim girlcornacopia

After landing in Plymouth, the Pilgrims had to struggle to survive through their first wretched and miserable winter in Massachusetts. When spring and summer came it was a welcome relief. They learned so many things that first year. They had planted and cared for their first fields of corn. They had found wild strawberries in the meadows, raspberries on the hillsides, and wild grapes in the woods.In the forest just back of the village wild turkeys and deer were easily shot. In the shallow waters of the bay there was plenty of fish, clams, and lobsters.The summer had been warm, with a good deal of rain and much sunshine; and so when autumn came there was a fine crop of corn.They wanted to celebrate and give thanks to God for all he had provided for them.
"Let us gather the fruits of our first labors and rejoice together," said Governor Bradford.
"Yes," said Elder Brewster, "let us take a day upon which we may thank God for all our blessings, and invite our Indian friends who have been so kind to us."
The great Indian chief, Massasoit, came with ninety of his bravest warriors, all dressed in deerskin's, feathers, and fox tails, with their faces smeared with red, white, and yellow paint.

indian boy

Now there were only eleven buildings in the whole village, four log storehouses and seven little log houses; so the Indian guests ate and slept outside. This was no problem though, for it was one of those warm weeks in the season we call Indian summer.
To supply meat for the occasion four men had already been sent out to hunt wild turkeys. They killed enough in one day to last the whole company almost a week.Massasoit helped the feast along by sending some of his best hunters into the woods. They killed five deer, which they gave to their paleface friends, that all might have enough to eat.
Under the trees were built long, simple tables on which were piled baked clams, broiled fish, roast turkey, and deer meat.The young Pilgrim women helped serve the food to the hungry Indians. One was Mary Chilton, who leaped from the boat at Plymouth Rock; the other was Mary Allerton. She lived for seventy-eight years after this first Thanksgiving, and of those who came over in the Mayflower she was the last to die.
What a merry time everybody had during that week! Young John Howland was there. While they were sailing in mid ocean, he fell overboard but was quick enough to catch hold of a trailing rope. Perhaps after dinner he invited Elizabeth Tilley, whom he afterward married, to sail over to Clarke's Island and return by moonlight.
With them, it may be, went John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, whose love story is so sweetly told by Longfellow.
One proud mother, we may be sure, showed her bright-eyed boy, Peregrine White, who was the first baby born in Plymouth.
And so the fun went on. In the daytime the young men ran races, played games, and had a shooting match. Every night the Indians sang and danced for their friends; and to make things still more lively they gave every now and then a shrill war whoop that made the woods echo in the still night air.

Thanksgiving Dinner


The Indians had already learned to love and fear Captain Miles Standish. Some of them called him "Boiling Water" because he was easily made angry. Others called him "Captain Shrimp," on account of his small size.
During this week of fun and frolic it was a wonder if young Jack Billington did not play some prank on the Indians. He was the boy who fired off his father's gun one day, close to a keg of gunpowder, in the crowded cabin of the Mayflower.
After the third day, the Indian king and his warriors said farewell to their English friends and began their long tramp through the woods to their wigwams on Mount Hope Bay.
On the last day of this Thanksgiving party the Pilgrims had a service of prayer and praise. Elder Brewster preached the first Thanksgiving sermon. After thanking God for all his goodness, he did not forget the many loved ones buried on the hillside.
He spoke of noble John Carver, the first governor, who had died of worry and overwork.
Nor was Rose Standish forgotten, the lovely young wife of Captain Miles Standish, whose death was caused by cold and lack of good food.
And then there was gentle Dorothy, wife of Governor Bradford, who had fallen overboard from the Mayflower in Provincetown harbor.
The first Thanksgiving took place nearly three hundred years ago. Since that time in 1621, almost without interruption, Thanksgiving has been kept as a day to be thankful for all God has given us whether in good times or bad. At this time children and grandchildren return home, the long table is spread, and brothers and sisters, separated often by many miles, again sit side by side.
Today Thanksgiving is observed in the United States as a season of sweet and blessed memories of that first thanksgiving.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Children's Corner; Poetry

A Thanksgiving Fable


Thanksgiving Mouse, It was a hungry pussy cat, 
upon Thanksgiving morn,
And she watched a thankful little mouse, 
that ate an ear of corn.
"If I ate that thankful little mouse, 
how thankful he should be,
When he has made a meal himself, 
to make a meal for me!

"Then with his thanks for having fed, 
and his thanks for feeding me,
With all his thankfulness inside, 
how thankful I shall be!"
Thus mused the hungry pussy cat, 
upon Thanksgiving Day;
But the little mouse had overheard
and declined (with thanks) to stay.


by Oliver Herford

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Children's Corner; Poetry

Thanksgiving Time



When all the leaves are off the boughs,

And nuts and apples gathered in,

And cornstalks waiting for the cows,

And pumpkins safe in barn and bin,

Then Mother says, "My children dear,

The fields are brown, and autumn flies;

Thanksgiving Day is very near,

And we must make thanksgiving pies!"



Author: Unknown

Children's Corner; Poetry

Father, We Thank Thee


Father, we thank Thee for the night,
And for the pleasant morning light,
For rest and food and loving care,
And all that makes the world so fair.

Help us to do the things we should,
To be to others kind and good,
In all we do, in all we say,
To grow more loving every day.


(Author Unknown)

Monday, November 25, 2013

Children's Corner; Poetry