LITMIR.BIZ

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chair? ‘Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sat the bottom of it out!’ said the little, small wee bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

      Then the three bears thought that they should look around the house more, so they went upstairs into their bedroom. Now Goldilocks had pulled the pillow of the great, huge bear out of its place.

      ‘SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!’ said the great, huge bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice. Goldilocks had pulled the bed cover of the middle bear out of its place.

      ‘Somebody has been lying in my bed!’ said the middle bear, in his middle voice.

      And when the small, wee bear came to look at his bed, there was the bed cover in its place, and the pillow in its place and the bolster. But on the pillow was a pool of golden curls, and the angelic face of a little girl snoring away, fast asleep.

      ‘Somebody has been lying in my bed, and here she is!’ Said the little, small wee bear, in his little, small wee voice.

      Goldilocks heard in her sleep the great rough gruff voice of the great huge bear, but she was so fast asleep that it was no more to her than the roaring of wind or the rumbling of thunder. She had heard the voice of the middle, but it was as if she had only heard someone speaking in a dream. But when she heard the little, small wee voice of the little, small wee bear, it was so sharp and so shrill that it wakened her at once.

      Up she started, and when she saw the three bears at one side of the bed she had the fright of her life. To tell you the truth, the bears were almost as alarmed by her as[4] she was by them.

      Goldilocks jumped off the bed and ran downstairs, out of the door and down the garden path. She ran and she ran until she reached the house of her grandmama. When she told her grandmama about the house of the three bears who lived in the wood, her granny said: ‘My my, what a wild imagination you have, child!’

      But Goldilocks knew that the story was true, and as for the three bears, whenever they went out of their wee house in the woods, they always locked the door in case Goldilocks came back and stole their porridge again. But they need not have worried about Goldilocks because, for as long as she lived she never took anything that didn’t belong to her – unless of course she had the permission of the owner.

      The Sly Fox and the Little Red Hen

      Once there was a little red hen. She lived in a little red henhouse, safe and sound, with a little blue door and windows all around. She was a happy hen. Every day she searched for grain with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck. But then a sly young fox and his mother moved into a nearby den. The sly fox was always hungry. He licked his lips when he grain with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck. And then the sly fox tried to catch the little red hen. He plotted and planned, again and again. But the little red hen was clever. She always got away, with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck. But then the sly fox thought up a very sly plan. ‘Mother, boil some water in a pan,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring home supper tonight.’ Then he crept over to the little red henhouse. And he waited until at last the little red hen came out to search for grain with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck. Quick as a flash, the sly fox slipped into the henhouse. And he waited until the little red hen came hurrying home. As soon as she saw the fox, she flew up to the rafters. ‘You can’t catch me now!’ she laughed, with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck. ‘All part of my plan,’ smiled the fox on the ground. And slowly he started to chase his tail, round and round and round and round, faster and faster… until the little red hen up in the rafters grew dizzy. ‘Oh!’ she clucked. ‘My poor head’s spinning. I’m all in a tizzy.’ And she dropped down – plop! – straight into the fox’s sack. ‘Ha!’ laughed the fox. And then the fox slung the sack over his shoulder and set off for home with the little red hen. After a while, he stopped for a rest. The sun was warm and soon he was snoozing. ‘Now’s my chance,’ whispered the little red hen, and out she crept without a peck, peck, peck or a cluck, cluck, cluck. Quickly she rolled some large stones into the sack and tied a knot at the top. Then she ran all the way home and didn’t stop till she was safe in her little red henhouse. The fox woke up and went on his way, hungry for his supper. ‘This hen is heavy!’ he said to himself, licking his lips. ‘She’ll make a good meal.’ ‘Is the pot boiling, Mother?’ he called at the den. ‘Look who I’ve got! It’s the little red hen.’ ‘Throw her in, son,’ said his mother. ‘She’ll make a nice snack.’ So the sly fox opened up the sack. Into the boiling water crashed the stones with a SPLASH! And that was the end of the sly fox and his mother. And the little red hen lived happily ever after in her little red henhouse, searching for grain with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck.

      A Stolen Horse

      It was in South America. A rich Spaniard was riding home when suddenly the horse fell lame.[5] As it happened far from his home, he did not know what to do, for he saw that his horse would not be able[6] to bring him home. A little later he met an Indian riding a fine horse and asked him to exchange the horses. The Indian refused to do this. But the Spaniard, being much stronger than the Indian, made him give up[7] his horse. And the Spaniard rode away, leaving his lame horse to the Indian who was soon left far behind. But the Indian followed him and came to the town where he found the Spaniard. He went to a judge and said that the Spaniard had stolen his horse.

      Then the Spaniard was asked to swear that the horse was his own and he had had it for many years. Then the Indian asked to send for the horse. This was done. And the Indian said: ‘This man swears that he has had this horse for many years; let him, therefore tell you in which of the eyes the horse is blind.’

      The Spaniard said at once: ‘In the right eye.’

      ‘You are wrong’, said the Indian. ‘Neither in the right nor in the left, it is not blind at all.’

      And so the horse was returned to the Indian.

      Dirty Boots

      Once Swift went on a journey, accompanied by his servant. They were both on horseback.[8] The journey was long, so when night came, they had to stop at an inn.

      In the morning Swift asked for his boots. The servant brought them, but the writer saw that they were as dirty as the night before. ‘Why haven’t you cleaned my boots?’ he asked his lazy servant.

      ‘Well, sir, as you are going to ride today, I thought that if I cleaned them, they would soon be dirty again’.

      ‘All right, get the horses ready,[9]’ Swift said, and went to have his breakfast. Then he paid his bill and left the inn. His servant was already in front of the inn with the horses.

      ‘Well, let’s go on.’

      ‘But, sir, I’m hungry, I haven’t had my breakfast yet.’

      ‘Never mind, if you had, you would soon be hungry again’, the author replied and rode away. The lazy servant had to follow his master, but he never forgot the lesson he had been taught.

      A Traveller’s Tale

      In the autumn of 1935, when I was a young man, I was traveling in the north-west of India. One evening, after hunting in the forest all day, I was returning alone to the place where I had put up my tent. It was getting dark,[10] and I was walking along a narrow path. On my right was a wide river; on my left, a thick, dark forest. Suddenly I saw two green eyes looking at me from among the trees. A man-eating tiger[11] was getting ready to jump on me.

      What could I do? Should I jump into the river and hope to save my life by swimming? I looked to the right. In the river there was an immense crocodile waiting to welcome me with its mouth wide open.

      I was so frightened that I shut my eyes. I heard branches moving as the tiger jumped. I opened my eyes.

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