Story Hour Readers — Book Three

								

When the little man had finished telling the story of the lilies, he
jumped into the water and disappeared.
"I shall always love the water lilies," said the Indian girl as she
paddled away.

WHERE GO THE BOATS?

Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand,
It flows along forever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating--
Where will all come home?
On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill;
Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more;
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

WHY THE SEA IS SALT

Long ago, there were two brothers, one rich and one poor. The Rich
Brother was stingy.
It was winter. The wind howled down the chimney, and the snow almost
covered the hut in which the Poor Brother lived.
"We cannot starve," said the Poor Brother to his wife. "I will ask my
brother to help us."
Now it annoyed the Rich Brother to have the Poor Brother ask for help.
When the Poor Brother asked for bread, the Rich Brother said angrily,
"Here, take this ham and go to the dwarfs. They will boil it for you."
So the Poor Brother started out, with the ham under his arm, to find the
home of the dwarfs. He trudged on through the snow until he saw seven
queer little dwarfs rolling a huge snowball, at the foot of a hill.
The dwarfs paid no attention to the Poor Brother, but kept on rolling
the snowball, which grew larger and larger each moment, as they sang,


"Behind the door

     The Mill you'll find,

   But snow, the Mill

     Will never grind.



   We'll gather snow,

     And still more snow,

   Then roll it down

     To cool Below."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the Chief Dwarf. "We have snow enough here to put
out a dozen fires. Come, brothers, let us roll the snowball Below!"
"Heave ho! Heave ho!" cried the other six dwarfs.
In the twinkling of an eye, the seven little dwarfs had rolled the
snowball through an entrance in the side of the hill.
Down, down, the snowball rolled, until it reached the place where the
fires burned.
Then sizzle, sizzle, came the hot steam pouring out of the entrance.
All this time the Poor Brother had stood watching the seven dwarfs, and
saying not a word. But suddenly he thought, "If I do not go Below at
once, there will be no fire left to boil my ham."
So the Poor Brother groped his way through the steam and the smoke, and
at last he found his way into the home of the seven dwarfs.
It certainly was a very queer place! There were great fires burning on
every side. Although the huge snowball had cooled the air, it had not
quenched the fires.
The Chief Dwarf was stirring some fat that was boiling in a kettle. When
he saw the Poor Brother standing before him with the ham under his arm,
he cried, "Ho, ho! Who comes here?"