All About Johnnie Jones by Carolyn Verhoeff
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6 All About Johnnie Jones
[Illustration: Johnnie Jones]
_All About_ JOHNNIE JONES
BY
Carolyn Verhoeff
ILLUSTRATED BY
Diantha W. Horne
SEVENTH EDITION
* * * * *
_Published by_
Milton Bradley Company
SPRINGFIELD :: MASSACHUSETTS
Copyright, 1907, by
MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY
SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
In Loving Memory
_of_
_The_ Beautiful Life _of One_ Little Child
=Meldrum Adams Hartwell=
(1891-1896)
These Stories are Dedicated
_to_
All Little Children
* * * * *
These stories have been written with but one object, to give
pleasure to little children, while helping them to realize,
in so far as they are able, the highest ideals of childhood.
CAROLYN VERHOEFF
* * * * *
INTRODUCTION
It gives me sincere pleasure to introduce to mothers and kindergartners
a pioneer writer in the unexplored field of simple, realistic stories
for little children.
Miss Verhoeff is a trained kindergartner who has brought to her
profession a college training as well as a true devotion to children.
It was in one of the free kindergartens situated in the less fortunate
localities of Louisville that the stories of Johnnie Jones came into
being, and grew in response to the demand of the little ones for
stories about real children.
In the beautiful world of fairy-lore we have a rich and splendidly
exploited field of immortal literature. The old, old stories of
fairies and elves, of giants and dwarfs, of genii, princes, and knights
with their wonder-working wands, rings and swords, will never grow
threadbare; while the spiritual, artistic and literary value of these
stories in the life of child-imagination can never be overestimated.
Enchanting and valuable as they are, however, they should not blind us
to the need for standard realistic stories of equal literary and poetic
merit.
A child needs not only the touch of the wonder-working wand which
transports him to a land of fascinating unrealities, but also the
artistic story which reflects the every-day experiences of real life;
artistic in that it touches these daily experiences with an idealism
revealing the significance and beauty of that which the jaded taste of
the adult designates as "commonplace." That all children crave the story
which is, or might be, true is evidenced by the expression of their
faces when their inevitable question, "is it really true?" or "did it
really happen?" is answered in the affirmative.
Perhaps some of us can recall the pleasure derived from old-fashioned
school readers of an earlier day. With all their faults they at least
did not overlook the value of standard realistic stories. In these
readers was found the very moral story of the boy who won the day
because of his forethought in providing an extra piece of whipcord.
There was also "Meddlesome Matty," and the honest office-boy, the heroic
lad of Holland, and the story of the newly liberated prisoner who bought
a cage full of captive birds and set them free. These and many others
still persist in memory, and point with unerring aim to standards of
human behavior under conditions which are both possible and probable.
In spite of their imperfections and stern morality these stories were
valuable because they recited the fundamental events of human and animal
existence, in relations which revealed the inevitable law of cause and
effect, and the ethical and poetic significance of man's relation to
all life.
As soon as children begin to realize the distinction between the
world of make-believe and the world of actuality, or, as one small boy
expressed it, "what I can see with my eyes shut, and what I can see when
I open them," they are fascinated with stories of real life, of "when
Father was a little boy," or "when Mother was a little girl," or "when
you were a tiny baby." This demand of the child for realistic stories
is the expression of a real want which should be satisfied with good
literature.
Before children are enabled by their experience to discriminate between
the imaginary and the actual world, they make no distinction between the
story of real life and the fairy tale. During this early period a story
relating the most ordinary events of every-day life is accepted in the
same spirit, and may provoke as much or as little wonder, as the story
dealing with the most marvelous happenings of the supernatural world.
For to the child at this stage of development it is no more wonderful
that trees and animals should converse in the language of men than that
a little boy should do so. Until children learn that, as a matter of
fact, plants and animals do not participate in all of the human
activities, they regard as perfectly natural stories in which such
participation is taken for granted. On the other hand a realistic story
representing some of the most universal aspects of human existence may
provoke surprise as the child discovers that his own experiences are
common to many other lives and homes. This was evidenced by the remark
of a small boy who, at the end of a story relating the necessary
sequence of activities common to the countless thousands of heroic
mothers, washing and ironing the family linen, waggishly shook his
finger at the narrator, and with a beaming smile, said: "Now you know
that it is _my_ Ma and Tootsie you are telling about!" John had not
discovered the fact that the story which reflected the daily service of
his beloved mother reflected equally well the service of thousands of
other mothers. He saw only the personal experience in the common reality
and recognized it with joy. When through similar stories of daily life a
child learns to know that his experiences constitute the common lot, his
first feeling of surprise gives place to a greater joy, and sympathy is
born.
The stories of Johnnie Jones were not premeditated but grew in response
to daily requests for "more about Johnnie Jones." They are the record of
a most ordinary little boy, good as can be to-day, forgetting to obey
to-morrow; a life history in which many other little lives are reflected
in the old, old process of helping the child to adapt himself to the
standards of society.
The ideal has been to deal with the ordinary events of daily life in a
manner which will reveal their normal values to the child. There is the
friendly policeman who finds the lost boy; the heroic fireman who comes
to the rescue of the burning home; the little neighbor who would not
play "fair;" the little boy who had to learn to roll his hoop, and to
care for the typical baby brother who pulled his hair; there are the
animals who entered into the joys and sorrows of the Jones
family,--altogether, very real animals, children, and "grown-ups,"
learning in common the lessons of social life.
The moral throughout is very pointed, and may be considered too obvious
by many kindergartners, who do not feel the need of such insistence in
their work. Mothers, however, with normal four-year-old boys who are
likely to follow the music down the street and get lost, or who are
equally liable to fall in the pond because they forget to obey Father,
will find a strange necessity for pointing the moral in no uncertain
tone.
The stories are so arranged that they may be read singly or as a serial.
I am sure the author will feel more than repaid if this little
collection paves the way for more and better standard stories of
reality, that our little children may not only revel in the events of a
delightfully impossible world, but may also feel the thrill of heroism
and poetry bound up in the common service of mother and father, of
servants and neighbors, and find the threads of gold which may be woven
into the warp and woof of daily intercourse with other little children
who possess a common stock of privileges and duties, joys and sorrows.
PATTY SMITH HILL.
Louisville, Kentucky.
* * * * *
CONTENTS
Page
Johnnie Jones and the Cookie 21
When Johnnie Jones Was Lost 26
Mother's Story of the Princess and Her Pigeon 33
Johnnie Jones and the Squirrel 43
Johnnie Jones and the Peach Preserves 49
How the Children Helped Tom and Sarah 56
Johnnie Jones's Story of the Stars 63
Johnnie Jones and Jack 67
Stiggins 82
When Johnnie Jones Was a Santa Claus 87
An Original Valentine 97
When Johnnie Jones Was a Cry-Baby 105
Johnnie Jones and the Man Who Cried "Wolf" Too Often 113
Johnnie Jones's Birthday Party 119
Mother's Story of the Spring: The Sleeping Beauty 127
Johnnie Jones and the Butterfly 134
Mr. and Mrs. Bird and the Baby Birds 142
The Coming of Little Brother 151
Little Brother and Johnnie Jones 156
Elizabeth With the Children 161
Johnnie Jones and the Hoop-Rolling Club 168
The Fire at Johnnie Jones's House 175
Johnnie Jones and Fanny 182
Fanny and Little Brother 188
When Johnnie Jones Learned to Swim 193
* * * * *
INDEX OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Johnnie Jones
Max wagged his tail and began to trot home--
Such a merry time as the children had!
Each child came up and shook Jack's paw--
When he spread his wings and flew away--
Then Johnnie Jones was the proudest, happiest little boy--
The little brown pony would eat out of their hands
* * * * *
Johnnie Jones and the Cookie
One day, when Johnnie Jones was a wee little boy, only three years old,
Mother came home from down town. Johnnie Jones ran to meet her. "Mother
dear, didn't you bring me something?" he asked.
"Yes, indeed," answered Mother, and she gave him something tied up in a
paper bag. "Be careful," she told him, "or it will break."
So Johnnie Jones was careful as he untied the string and opened the bag.
When he saw what was inside he was glad he had not broken it, for it was
a round yellow cookie with a hole in the centre.
"Thank you, Mother," said Johnnie Jones, and he rolled on his back and
kicked up his heels, which meant that he was happy. Then he sat up and
began to eat his cookie. It was very good, and tasted as if it had
molasses in it, Johnnie Jones said. But by and by, after he had been
taking a great many bites, there wasn't any of the cookie left in his
hand, because he had eaten it, every bit. Johnnie Jones looked at his
hand where the cookie had been, and then he began to cry.
"Oh, dear me," exclaimed Mother, "what is troubling my little boy?"
"I want my cookie," cried Johnnie Jones.
"Where is your cookie?" asked Mother.
"I ate it," said Johnnie Jones.
"If you have eaten it, then it is all gone," Mother told him.
"But I want it! I want my cookie!" wailed Johnnie Jones.
"To-morrow I'll buy you another just like it," Mother promised.
"I don't want another just like it, I want my own cookie with a hole in
the middle," and the tears came faster and faster.
"But, little boy," Mother said, "nobody in all the world, nor Father nor
Mother nor Johnnie Jones, can eat a cookie and yet have it."
Johnnie Jones continued to cry, so Mother brought him some brown paper,
a pair of scissors, and a pencil.
"See here, dear," she said, "I can't give you the cookie you ate, but
you may make a picture that will look very much like it."
Then Johnnie Jones ceased crying, and Mother showed him how to fold and
cut the paper until it was like the cookie, with a hole in the centre.
They pasted it on cardboard and placed it upon the mantel.
"Thank you, Mother," said Johnnie Jones, "but I don't like it so well as
my real cookie because I can't eat it."
"If you could eat it," Mother answered, "it would soon be gone, so the
picture is better unless you are hungry."
And Johnnie Jones thought so too.
After that day he never again cried for a cookie when he had eaten it,
nor for a toy when he had destroyed it, because he had discovered that
crying could never bring back what was gone.
* * * * *
When Johnnie Jones Was Lost
Johnnie Jones was lost, completely lost. He looked up the street, he
looked down the street, and then he looked across the street, but not
one of the houses was his home. Johnnie Jones did not like being lost.
He had not seen his mother for a very long time, not since she had left
him in the yard at play after they had returned from market. He had been
swinging on the front gate, when, suddenly, he heard the sound of music,
and saw several people running down the street.
"Everyone must have forgotten to tell me that there was a circus," he
said to himself. "I think I had better go see."
Now Johnnie Jones was never allowed to leave the yard unless an older
person was with him, but he did not think of that, as he opened the gate
and ran out on the street to follow the gathering crowd.
When he reached the first corner everyone was hurrying on to the next,
and Johnnie Jones hurried on, too. Of course, however, he could not run
as fast as older people, and very soon he was passed by the crowd. Then,
when he could no longer hear the music, he looked about him and knew
that he was lost.
He was sorry that he had gone away from home. He thought it must be
about lunch time and he was very hungry. Then he remembered that this
was the day Mother had promised to take him to the park. He would have
cried, had he not been a brave little lad, and had he not known that a
boy almost four is too old to cry, unless he is actually hurt.
He sat down on the curbstone, and wished and wished that some one would
come to find him.
After a while he saw a policeman coming towards him from across the
street. He was a very tall policeman, but Johnnie Jones decided to speak
to him. His mother had often told him that policemen always take care of
people, and help them whenever they can. So he tipped his hat politely,
and said, "Please, Mr. Policeman, will you find me? Because I'm lost."
The policeman smiled down at Johnnie Jones until Johnnie Jones smiled up
at the policeman and forgot what a little boy he was. Then the officer
lifted him up in his strong arms, and asked him his name. Johnnie Jones
could tell him his name, but he could not tell him which way he had come
from home, so they decided to go to the nearest drug-store and find the
number of the house.
The policeman began to tell him stories about his own little boy whose
name was Johnnie Green, and Johnnie Jones was so interested that he
forgot to be tired. Just before they reached the drug-store Johnnie
Jones heard a dog barking. He looked around, and there was the very
dog that lived next door to him and played with him every day.
"Oh!" he said, "I know that dog! He is Max, and he can find the way
home." "You'll take me home, won't you, Max?" he asked the dog, who was
so glad to see his little neighbor that he was trying his best to kiss
him on the face.
"All right," the big policeman said, "but I'll come too, so I shall know
where you live if you are ever lost again."
[Illustration: Max wagged his tail and began to trot home--]
Max wagged his tail and began to trot home. Johnnie Jones trotted after
Max, and the policeman after Johnnie Jones. It was not very long before
they could see the house, and there was Mother standing at the gate,
looking up the street, and down the street, and across the street, for
her little boy. When she saw him she ran to meet him and clasped him in
her arms.
"Mother dear," said Johnnie Jones, "I was lost, and the policeman found
me, and then Max found us both, and I shall never again go to see a
circus by myself."
Mother told him that the band of music he had heard did not belong to
a circus, but was the Citizen's Band on its way to the park, and that,
since so much time had passed while Johnnie Jones was lost, it was too
late for him to go to the park that day. Of course the little boy was
sorry to miss the treat, but he was very glad to be at home once more.
Mother shook hands with the policeman, and thanked him for being kind
to her boy. As soon as he had gone, she and Johnnie Jones went into
the house for their lunch, and, afterwards, the little fellow was so
tired that he fell asleep in Mother's lap and dreamed that he was a
tall policeman finding lost boys.
* * * * *
Mother's Story of the Princess and Her Pigeon
"Mother," asked Johnnie Jones, "what is a carrier pigeon?"
"A pigeon which is trained to carry messages from one place to another,"
Mother answered. "In the olden times, as there were no trains, or
steamboats, or postmen, or telegraph offices, people would very often
take pigeons with them when they started off on a long journey. As soon
as they reached their journey's end they would write a letter to the
family so far away, tie it to a pigeon, and release him. Then the pigeon
would fly away home with the message."
"Once, in that olden time, there lived a beautiful princess whom her
father and mother, the king and queen, decided to send away on a visit
to her grandmother. They gave her a milk-white pony to ride, and sent
many servants to take care of her. Now this princess had a pet pigeon
which she loved very dearly, and which she insisted upon taking with
her, though the queen was afraid it might prove troublesome on so long
a journey. The princess knew it would be a comfort to her, however, so
she was allowed to tie it to her saddle before she bade her parents
good-by, and started off.
"The princess had never been away from home before, and was very much
interested in everything she saw. She and her companions had to travel
through a great forest, and only the guides knew the way. One night
everyone was lying fast asleep on the ground in the thick woods, except
the princess, who was wide awake in her tent. At last she wearied of
lying there alone, so she rose, dressed herself, and went out into the
woods, carrying the pigeon in her arms.
"The moon was shining as bright as day, and the little girl went for
a walk. She was thinking of the father and mother at home, and did not
notice very carefully the direction in which she was wandering. After
a while she grew tired and turned back. Then she became frightened
because she could not see her tent, and could not remember which way
she had come. She called for her servants, but could make no one hear
her. She ran this way and that in the forest, but seemed only to go
further and further away from the camp. At last, very tired, she lay
down on the ground and cried herself to sleep.
"Next morning when the servants awoke they were very much alarmed to
discover that the princess had left her tent. They spent several days
seeking her in the forest, but not a trace of her could they find. Then
they went back to inform the king and queen, who were sad indeed to
hear such news. The king himself rode off to search in the forest, but
even he could not find the little maid.
"Meanwhile the princess had been wandering further and further away into
the great forest, with the pigeon tied to her arm. Fortunately, she had
brought with her a small basket full of lunch, which had been left by
her bed in case she should be hungry during the night. That was soon
gone, however, and then she had a hard time finding enough to eat. But
here and there she discovered wild berries, she drank water from the
clear, cold springs, and at night she found a comfortable, fragrant bed
under the pine trees, or in places where the grass was long and soft.
Sometimes wild animals came out, and looked at the little girl, but they
did not harm her.
"At last, the third day, she came to a large palace in the woods. Oh!
how happy she was. A prince met her at the door, invited her in, and
gave her delicious food and beautiful clothes. When she was rested after
her long journey, she told the prince who she was, and the reason for
her being alone in the forest, and begged him to send her home. The
prince was sorry for the little princess, but he was lonely in such a
large palace, so he asked her to live there with him. He was very kind
to her, but the princess wanted only to go home to be with her father
and mother.
"'Your palace is larger and more beautiful than my father's house,' she
told him, 'but I love my own home best, and I want to go back this very
day.'
"The prince was sorrowful when he heard what the little girl said; but,
hoping she might learn to care for his palace after a while, he gave her
a beautiful room filled with lovely things, and did everything he could
think of to make her happy.
"The little princess did try to be happy, but it was not possible. Every
evening she watched the birds fly back to their nests and she wished
that she, too, had wings and could fly away home. The pigeon was as
homesick as she. He would not eat, and pulled at the cord all the time,
trying to free himself. Finally the little princess decided to let him
fly away. 'Perhaps he can find his way home,' she thought; 'anyway I
shall let him try.'
"She wrote a letter to her father and mother, telling them where she
was, tied it under the pigeon's wing, and set him free. He flapped his
wings joyfully and flew out of the window high up in the air. Round and
round he circled, until in his own way he learned that the west was to
the right of him, the east to the left, the north was back of him, and
the south straight ahead. Then he started off like an arrow shot from a
bow, for home was there in the south.
"The little princess was more homesick than ever, left all alone.
"Meantime the pigeon flew very swiftly, sometimes as fast as a train can
go. No one can tell you how he knew the way, but he flew straight back
through the woods, and after a while reached the pigeon house just
outside the palace gate. Some of the servants who saw him fly in with
the note, caught him and carried him to the king. The king and queen
read the letter with great joy when they saw it had been written by
their little daughter, and all the people in the palace were happy to
know that the princess was safe and well.
"The pigeon flew back to the pigeon house. 'Coo, coo, coo,' he said to
all the other pigeons, 'home is the best place in the world.'
"The king ordered the fastest horses in the land, and he and the queen
rode off at once to find their little daughter. One day she saw them
coming. She clapped her hands with joy and ran to meet them. The king
and queen were as happy as she, and after they had greeted her, and bade
the prince good-by, they all three rode away home. The princess sat in
front of her father on his horse, because he could not bear to have her
out of his arms. After travelling back through the forest they reached
the palace at last.
"'Home is the best place in the world,' said the happy little princess.
"'Home is the best place in the world,' cooed the happy little pigeon."
Johnnie Jones lay back in Mother's arms. "I think so too," he said,
"I like Grandma's house and Auntie's house, but home is best of all."
* * * * *
Johnnie Jones and the Squirrel
"Come," said Mother, "leave your toys now, and bathe your face and
hands, for it is time to go down town to buy your winter coat."
"Oh! Mother, I don't want to go down town," answered Johnnie Jones,
"because I think Sammy Smith is coming over to play with my new engine
this afternoon."
"But what will you do when the weather grows cold and you have no warm
coat to wear? I shall be too busy to go with you to-morrow."
"It's so warm to-day, Mother, I don't think it will grow cold very soon,
and anyway, I don't want to go down town."
Mother answered: "I know it will be cold soon, perhaps to-morrow, for
the wind is beginning to blow from the north. Come as soon as you can,
I have much to do and can't wait for you very long."
Then Johnnie Jones behaved like a silly little boy, although he was four
years old, quite old enough to know better. He fussed and fumed until
Mother said: "I am sorry, but I can't wait any longer." She went on down
town and left Johnnie Jones.
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