Little Dorrit
: Dickens Stories About Children Every Child Can ReadMANY years ago, when people could be put in prison for debt, a poor
gentleman, who was unfortunate enough to lose all his money, was brought
to the Marshalsea prison, which was the prison where debtors were kept.
As there seemed no prospect of being able to pay his debts, his wife and
their two little children came to live there with him. The elder child
was a boy of three; the younger a little girl of two years old, and not
in the courtyard, and on the whole were happy, for they were too young
to remember a happier state of things.
But the youngest child, who had never been outside the prison walls, was
a thoughtful little creature, and wondered what the outside world could
be like. Her great friend, the turnkey, who was also her godfather,
became very fond of her, and as soon as she could walk and talk he
brought a little arm-chair and stood it by his fire at the lodge, and
coaxed her with cheap toys to come and sit with him. In return the child
loved him dearly, and would often bring her doll to dress and undress
as she sat in the little arm-chair. She was still a very tiny creature
when she began to understand that everyone did not live locked up inside
high walls with spikes at the top, and though she and the rest of the
family might pass through the door that the great key opened, her father
could not; and she would look at him with a wondering pity in her tender
little heart.
One day, she was sitting in the lodge gazing wistfully up at the sky
through the barred window. The turnkey, after watching her some time,
said:
"Thinking of the fields, ain't you?"
"Where are they?" she asked.
"Why, they're--over there, my dear," said the turnkey, waving his key
vaguely, "just about there."
"Does anybody open them and shut them? Are they locked?"
"Well," said the turnkey, not knowing what to say, "not in general."
"Are they pretty, Bob?" She called him Bob, because he wished it.
"Lovely. Full of flowers. There's buttercups, and there's daisies, and
there's--" here he hesitated not knowing the names of many
flowers--"there's dandelions, and all manner of games."
"Is it very pleasant to be there, Bob?"
"Prime," said the turnkey.
"Was father ever there?"
"Hem!" coughed the turnkey. "O yes, he was there, sometimes."
"Is he sorry not to be there now?"
"N--not particular," said the turnkey.
"Nor any of the people?" she asked, glancing at the listless crowd
within. "O are you quite sure and certain, Bob?"
At this point, Bob gave in and changed the subject to candy. But after
this chat, the turnkey and little Amy would go out on his free Sunday
afternoons to some meadows or green lanes, and she would pick grass and
flowers to bring home, while he smoked his pipe; and then they would go
to some tea-gardens for shrimps and tea and other delicacies, and would
come back hand in hand, unless she was very tired and had fallen asleep
on his shoulder.
When Amy was only eight years old, her mother died; and the poor father
was more helpless and broken-down than ever, and as Fanny was a careless
child and Edward idle, the little one, who had the bravest and truest
heart, was led by her love and unselfishness to be the little mother of
the forlorn family, and struggled to get some little education for
herself and her brother and sister.
At first, such a baby could do little more than sit with her father,
deserting her livelier place by the high fender, and quietly watching
him. But this made her so far necessary to him that he became accustomed
to her, and began to be sensible of missing her when she was not there.
Through this little gate, she passed out of her childhood into the
care-laden world.
What her pitiful look saw, at that early time, in her father, in her
sister, in her brother, in the jail; how much or how little of the
wretched truth it pleased God to make plain to her, lies hidden with
many mysteries. It is enough that she was inspired to be something which
was not what the rest were, and to be that something, different and
laborious, for the sake of the rest. Inspired? Yes. Shall we speak of a
poet or a priest, and not of the heart impelled by love and
self-devotion to the lowliest work in the lowliest way of life?
The family stayed so long in the prison that the old man came to be
known as "The Father of the Marshalsea;" and little Amy, who had never
known any other home, as "The Child of the Marshalsea."
At thirteen she could read and keep accounts--that is, could put down in
words and figures how much the bare necessaries that they wanted would
cost, and how much less they had to buy them with. She had been, by
snatches of a few weeks at a time, to an evening school outside, and got
her sister and brother sent to day-schools from time to time during
three or four years. There was no teaching for any of them at home; but
she knew well--no one better--that a man so broken as to be the Father
of the Marshalsea, could be no father to his own children.
To these scanty means of improvement, she added another of her own
contriving. Once among the crowd of prisoners there appeared a
dancing-master. Her sister had a great desire to learn the
dancing-master's art, and seemed to have a taste that way. At thirteen
years old, the Child of the Marshalsea presented herself to the
dancing-master, with a little bag in her hand, and offered her humble
petition.
"If you please, I was born here, sir."
"Oh! you are the young lady, are you?" said the dancing-master,
surveying the small figure and uplifted face.
"Yes, sir."
"And what can I do for you?" said the dancing-master.
"Nothing for me, sir, thank you," anxiously undrawing the strings of the
little bag; "but if, while you stay here, you could be so kind as to
teach my sister cheap--"
"My child, I'll teach her for nothing," said the dancing-master,
shutting up the bag. He was as good-natured a dancing-master as ever
danced to the Insolvent Court, and he kept his word. The sister was so
apt a pupil, and the dancing-master had such abundant time to give her,
that wonderful progress was made. Indeed, the dancing-master was so
proud of it, and so wishful to show it before he left, to a few select
friends among the collegians (the debtors in the prison were called
"collegians"), that at six o'clock on a certain fine morning, an
exhibition was held in the yard--the college-rooms being of too small
size for the purpose--in which so much ground was covered, and the steps
were so well executed, that the dancing-master, having to play his
fiddle besides, was thoroughly tired out.
The success of this beginning, which led to the dancing-master's
continuing his teaching after his release, led the poor child to try
again. She watched and waited months for a seamstress. In the fullness
of time a milliner came in, sent there like all the rest for a debt
which she could not pay; and to her she went to ask a favor for
herself.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am," she said, looking timidly round the door of
the milliner, whom she found in tears and in bed: "but I was born here."
Everybody seemed to hear of her as soon as they arrived; for the
milliner sat up in bed, drying her eyes, and said, just as the
dancing-master had said:
"Oh! you are the child, are you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I am sorry I haven't got anything for you," said the milliner, shaking
her head.
"It's not that, ma'am. If you please, I want to learn needlework."
"Why should you do that," returned the milliner, "with me before you? It
has not done me much good."
"Nothing--whatever it is--seems to have done anybody much good who comes
here," she returned in her simple way; "but I want to learn, just the
same."
"I am afraid you are so weak, you see," the milliner objected.
"I don't think I am weak, ma'am."
"And you are so very, very little, you see," the milliner objected.
"Yes, I am afraid I am very little indeed," returned the Child of the
Marshalsea; and so began to sob over that unfortunate smallness of
hers, which came so often in her way. The milliner--who was not unkind
or hardhearted, only badly in debt--was touched, took her in hand with
good-will, found her the most patient and earnest of pupils, and made
her a good workwoman.
In course of time, the Father of the Marshalsea gradually developed a
new trait of character. He was very greatly ashamed of having his two
daughters work for their living; and tried to make it appear that they
were only doing work for pleasure, not for pay. But at the same time he
would take money from any one who would give it to him, without any
sense of shame. With the same hand that had pocketed a fellow-prisoner's
half-crown half an hour ago, he would wipe away the tears that streamed
over his cheeks if anything was spoken of his daughters' earning their
bread. So, over and above her other daily cares, the Child of the
Marshalsea had always upon her the care of keeping up the make-believe
that they were all idle beggars together.
The sister became a dancer. There was a ruined uncle in the family
group--ruined by his brother, the Father of the Marshalsea, and knowing
no more how, than his ruiner did, but taking the fact as something that
could not be helped. Naturally a retired and simple man, he had shown no
particular sense of being ruined, at the time when that calamity fell
upon him, further than he left off washing himself when the shock was
announced, and never took to washing his face and hands any more. He had
been a rather poor musician in his better days; and when he fell with
his brother, supported himself in a poor way by playing a clarionet as
dirty as himself in a small theatre band. It was the theatre in which
his niece became a dancer; he had been a fixture there a long time when
she took her poor station in it; and he accepted the task of serving as
her guardian, just as he would have accepted an illness, a legacy, a
feast, starvation--anything but soap.
To enable this girl to earn her few weekly shillings, it was necessary
for the Child of the Marshalsea to go through a careful form with her
father.
"Fanny is not going to live with us, just now, father. She will be here
a good deal in the day, but she is going to live outside with uncle."
"You surprise me. Why?"
"I think uncle wants a companion, father. He should be attended to and
looked after."
"A companion? He passes much of his time here. And you attend and look
after him, Amy, a great deal more than ever your sister will. You all go
out so much; you all go out so much."
This was to keep up the form and pretense of his having no idea that Amy
herself went out by the day to work.
"But we are always very glad to come home father; now, are we not? And
as to Fanny, perhaps besides keeping uncle company and taking care of
him, it may be as well for her not quite to live here always. She was
not born here as I was you know, father."
"Well, Amy, well. I don't quite follow you, but it's natural I suppose
that Fanny should prefer to be outside, and even that you often should,
too. So, you and Fanny and your uncle, my dear, shall have your own way.
Good, good. I'll not meddle; don't mind me."
To get her brother out of the prison; out of the low work of running
errands for the prisoners outside, and out of the bad company into which
he had fallen, was her hardest task. At eighteen years of age her
brother Edward would have dragged on from hand to mouth, from hour to
hour, from penny to penny, until eighty. Nobody got into the prison from
whom he gained anything useful or good, and she could find no patron
for him but her old friend and godfather, the turnkey.
"Dear Bob," said she, "what is to become of poor Tip?" His name was
Edward, and Ted had been changed into Tip, within the walls.
The turnkey had strong opinions of his own as to what would become of
poor Tip, and had even gone so far with the view of preventing their
fulfilment, as to talk to Tip in urging him to run away and serve his
country as a soldier. But Tip had thanked him, and said he didn't seem
to care for his country.
"Well, my dear," said the turnkey, "something ought to be done with him.
Suppose I try and get him into the law?"
"That would be so good of you, Bob!"
The turnkey now began to speak to the lawyers as they passed in and out
of the prison. He spoke so perseveringly that a stool and twelve
shillings a week were at last found for Tip in the office of a lawyer at
Clifford's Inn, in the Palace Court.
Tip idled in Clifford's Inn for six months, and at the end of that term
sauntered back one evening with his hands in his pockets, and remarked
to his sister that he was not going back again.
"Not going back again?" said the poor little anxious Child of the
Marshalsea, always calculating and planning for Tip, in the front rank
of her charges.
"I am so tired of it," said Tip, "that I have cut it."
Tip tired of everything. With intervals of Marshalsea lounging, and
errand-running, his small second mother, aided by her trusty friend, got
him into a warehouse, into a market garden, into the hop trade, into the
law again, into an auctioneer's, into a brewery, into a stockbroker's,
into the law again, into a coach office, into a wagon office, into the
law again, into a general dealer's, into a distillery, into the law
again, into a wool house, into a dry goods house, into the fish-market,
into the foreign fruit trade, and into the docks. But whatever Tip went
into he came out of tired, announcing that he had cut it. Wherever he
went, this useless Tip appeared to take the prison walls with him, and
to set them up in such trade or calling; and to prowl about within their
narrow limits in the old slipshod, purposeless, down-at-heel way; until
the real immovable Marshalsea walls asserted their power over him and
brought him back.
Nevertheless, the brave little creature did so fix her heart on her
brother's rescue that, while he was ringing out these doleful changes,
she pinched and scraped enough together to ship him for Canada. When he
was tired of nothing to do, and disposed in its turn to cut even that,
he graciously consented to go to Canada. And there was grief in her
bosom over parting with him, and joy in the hope of his being put in a
straight course at last.
"God bless you, dear Tip. Don't be too proud to come and see us, when
you have made your fortune."
"All right!" said Tip, and went.
But not all the way to Canada; in fact, not further than Liverpool.
After making the voyage to that port from London, he found himself so
strongly impelled to cut the vessel, that he resolved to walk back
again. Carrying out which intention, he presented himself before her at
the expiration of a month, in rags, without shoes, and much more tired
than ever.
At length, after another period of running errands, he found a pursuit
for himself, and announced it.
"Amy, I have got a situation."
"Have you really and truly, Tip?"
"All right. I shall do now. You needn't look anxious about me any more,
old girl."
"What is it, Tip?"
"Why, you know Slingo by sight?"
"Not the man they call the dealer?"
"That's the chap. He'll be out on Monday, and he's going to give me a
berth."
"What is he a dealer in, Tip?"
"Horses. All right! I shall do now, Amy."
She lost sight of him for months afterwards, and only heard from him
once. A whisper passed among the elder prisoners that he had been seen
at a mock auction in Moorfields, pretending to buy plated articles for
real silver, and paying for them with the greatest liberality in
bank-notes; but it never reached her ears. One evening she was alone at
work--standing up at the window, to save the twilight lingering above
the wall--when he opened the door and walked in.
She kissed and welcomed him; but was afraid to ask him any question. He
saw how anxious and timid she was, and appeared sorry.
"I am afraid, Amy, you'll be vexed this time. Upon my life I am!"
"I am very sorry to hear you say so, Tip. Have you come back?"
"Why--yes."
"Not expecting this time that what you had found would answer very well,
I am less surprised and sorry than I might have been, Tip."
"Ah! But that's not the worst of it."
"Not the worst of it?"
"Don't look so startled. No, Amy, not the worst of it. I have come back,
you see; but--don't look so startled--I have come back in what I may
call a new way. I am off the volunteer list altogether. I am in now, as
one of the regulars. I'm here in prison for debt, like everybody else."
"Oh! Don't say that you are a prisoner, Tip! Don't, don't!"
"Well, I don't want to say it," he returned in unwilling tone; "but if
you can't understand me without my saying it, what am I to do? I am in
for forty pound odd."
For the first time in all those years, she sunk under her cares. She
cried, with her clasped hands lifted above her head, that it would kill
their father if he ever knew it; and fell down at Tip's worthless feet.
It was easier for Tip to bring her to her senses than for her to bring
him to understand that the Father of the Marshalsea would be beside
himself if he knew the truth. Tip thought that there was nothing strange
in being there a prisoner, but he agreed that his father should not be
told about it. There were plenty of reasons that could be given for his
return; it was accounted for to the father in the usual way; and the
collegians, with a better understanding of the kind fraud than Tip,
stood by it faithfully.
This was the life, and this the history, of the Child of the Marshalsea,
at twenty-two. With a still abiding interest in the one miserable yard
and block of houses as her birthplace and home, she passed to and fro in
it shrinking now, with a womanly consciousness that she was pointed out
to everyone. Since she had begun to work beyond the walls, she had found
it necessary to hide where she lived, and to come and go secretly as she
could, between the free city and the iron gates, outside of which she
had never slept in her life. Her original timidity had grown with this
concealment, and her light step and her little figure shunned the
thronged streets while they passed along them.
Worldly wise in hard and poor necessities, she was innocent in all
things else. Innocent, in the mist through which she saw her father, and
the prison, and the dark living river that flowed through it and flowed
on.
This was the life, and this the history, of Little Dorrit, until the son
of a lady, Mrs. Clennam, to whose house Amy went to do needlework,
became interested in the pale, patient little creature. He followed
her to her home one day and when he found that it was the debtor's
prison, he walked in. Learning her sad history from her father, Arthur
Clennam resolved to do his best to try to get him released and to help
them all.
One day when he was walking home with Amy to try to find out the names
of some of the people her father owed money to, a voice was heard
calling, "Little mother, little mother," and a strange figure came
bouncing up to them and fell down, scattering her basketful of potatoes
on the ground. "Oh Maggie," said Amy, "what a clumsy child you are!"
She was about eight and twenty, with large bones, large features, large
hands and feet, large eyes, and no hair. Amy told Mr. Clennam that
Maggie was the granddaughter of her old nurse, who had been dead a long
time, and that her grandmother had been very unkind to her and beat her.
"When Maggie was ten years old she had a fever, and she has never grown
older since."
"Ten years old," said Maggie. "But what a nice hospital! So comfortable,
wasn't it? Such a 'e'v'nly place! Such beds there is there! Such
lemonades! Such oranges! Such delicious broth and wine! Such chicking!
Oh, AIN'T it a delightful place to stop at!"
"Poor Maggie thought that a hospital was the nicest place in all the
world, because she had never seen another home as good. For years and
years she looked back to the hospital as a sort of heaven on earth."
"Then when she came out, her grandmother did not know what to do with
her, and was very unkind. But after some time Maggie tried to improve,
and was very attentive and industrious and now she can earn her own
living entirely, sir!"
Amy did not say who had taken pains to teach and encourage the poor
half-witted creature, but Mr. Clennam guessed from the name "little
mother" and the fondness of the poor creature for Amy.
One cold, wet evening, Amy and Maggie went to Mr. Clennam's house to
thank him for having freed Edward from the prison, and on coming out
found it was too late to get home, as the gate was locked. They tried to
get in at Maggie's lodgings, but, though they knocked twice, the people
were asleep. As Amy did not wish to disturb them, they wandered about
all night, sometimes sitting at the gate of the prison, Maggie shivering
and whimpering.
"It will soon be over, dear," said patient Amy.
"Oh, it's all very well for you, mother," said Maggie, "but I'm a poor
thing, only ten years old."
Thanks to Mr. Clennam, a great change took place in the fortunes of the
family, and not long after this wretched night it was discovered that
Mr. Dorrit was owner of a large property, and they became very rich.
But Little Dorrit never forgot, as, sad to say, the rest of the family
did, the friends who had been kind to them in their poverty; and when,
in his turn, Mr. Clennam became a prisoner in the Marshalsea, Little
Dorrit came to comfort and console him, and after many changes of
fortune she became his wife, and they lived happy ever after.
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When Charley awoke one morning, he looked from the window, and saw the ground deeply covered with snow. On the side of the house nearest the kitchen, the snow was piled higher than Charley's head. "We must have a path through this snow," said h... Little David Copperfield
I, little David Copperfield, lived with my mother in a pretty house in the village of Blunderstone in Suffolk. I had never known my father, who died before I could remember anything, and I had neither brothers nor sisters. I was fondly loved by my... Little Dorrit
MANY years ago, when people could be put in prison for debt, a poor gentleman, who was unfortunate enough to lose all his money, was brought to the Marshalsea prison, which was the prison where debtors were kept. As there seemed no prospect of bei... Little Fat Boy
What a bonny little fellow is this fat boy of mine! He makes people die of joy! What a fine little fellow is this fat boy of mine! Now whose is this loving little boy? Do you want to buy a beauty? Do you ... Little Girls Wiser Than Old People
It was an early Easter. They had just quit using sleighs. In the yards lay snow, and rills ran down the village. A large puddle had run down from a manure pile into a lane between two farms. And at this puddle two girls, one older than the other, ... Little Ida's Flowers
"MY POOR flowers are quite faded!" said little Ida. "Only yesterday evening they were so pretty, and now all the leaves are drooping. Why do they do that?" she asked of the student, who sat on the sofa. He was a great favorite with her, because he... Little Lasse
There was once a little boy whose name was Lars, and because he was so little he was called Little Lasse; he was a brave little man, for he sailed round the world in a pea-shell boat. It was summer time, when the pea shells grew long and gre... Little Moccasin's Ride On The Thunder-horse
BY COLONEL GUIDO ILGES "Little Moccasin" was, at the time we speak of, fourteen years old, and about as mischievous a boy as could be found anywhere in the Big Horn mountains. Unlike his comrades of the same age, who had already killed buffaloe... Little Nell
THE house where little Nell and her grandfather lived was one of those places where old and curious things were kept, one of those old houses which seem to crouch in odd corners of the town, and to hide their musty treasures from the public eye in... Little Never-upset
Little Never-upset was a roly-poly fellow, with weights in his little body so placed that no matter how he was treated or tumbled about he always bobbed up smiling. His face was a jolly little round one, with a smile that could not be rubbed o... Little One Eye Little Two Eyes And Little Three Eyes
There was a woman who had three daughters, the eldest of whom was called Little One Eye, because she had only one eye in the middle of her forehead; the second, Little Two Eyes, because she had two eyes like other people; and the youngest, Little ... Little One-eye Little Two-eyes And Little Three-eyes
There was once a woman who had three daughters, of whom the eldest was called Little One-eye, because she had only one eye in the middle of her forehead; and the second, Little Two-eyes, because she had two eyes like other people; and the younge... Little Pitcher-man
On a pantry shelf there once lived a funny squatty-looking pitcher-man. His cap was brown and that was the top of the pitcher. His coat was yellow and his vest green. He was round and fat, as well as squatty, and his legs were short. He wore... Little Red Riding Hood
Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little country girl, the prettiest creature was ever seen. Her mother was excessively fond of her; and her grandmother doted on her still more. This good woman had made for her a little red ridi... Little Red Riding-hood
Once upon a time there lived a little girl, who was so sweet and pretty and good that everybody loved her. Her old grandmother, who was very fond of her, made her a little red cloak and hood, which suited her so well that everyone called her "L... Little Red Riding-hood
RETOLD FROM GRIMM There was once a sweet little girl, who had gained the love of every one, even those who had only seen her once. She had an old grandmother, who knew not how to do enough for her, she loved her so much. Once she sent her a littl... Little Red Riding-hood
Once upon a time there was a little girl who was called little Red Riding-Hood, because she was quite small and because she always wore a red cloak with a big red hood to it, which her grandmother had made for her. Now one day her mother, who h... Little Red-cap [little Red Riding Hood]
Once upon a time there was a dear little girl who was loved by everyone who looked at her, but most of all by her grandmother, and there was nothing that she would not have given to the child. Once she gave her a little cap of red velvet, which suit... Little Red-riding-hood
Once there was a little village maiden, the prettiest ever seen. Her mother was foolishly fond of her, and her grandmother likewise. The old woman made for her a little hood, which became the damsel so well, that ever after she went by the name of... Little Red-riding-hood
Once there was a little village maiden, the prettiest ever seen. Her mother was foolishly fond of her, and her grandmother likewise. The old woman made for her a little hood, which became the damsel so well that ever after she went by the name of ... Little Robin Redbreast
Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree, Up went the Pussy-Cat, and down went he! Down came Pussy-Cat, away Robin ran, Says little Robin Redbreast--catch me if you can. Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a spade, Pus... Little Snow-white
Once upon a time in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the clouds, a Queen sat at her palace window, which had an ebony black frame, stitching her husband's shirts. While she was thus engaged and look... Little Snowdrop
Once upon a time, in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow fell like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window set in an ebony frame, and sewed. While she was sewing and watching the snow fall, she pricked her finger with her needle, ... Little Snowdrop
Once upon a time, in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow fell like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window set in an ebony frame, and sewed. While she was sewing and watching the snow fall, she pricked her finger with her needle, ... Little Thumb
There was, once upon a time, a man and his wife fagot-makers by trade, who had several children, all boys. The eldest was but ten years old, and the youngest only seven. They were very poor, and their seven children incommoded them greatly, be... Little Thumbelina
THERE was once a woman who wished very much to have a little child. She went to a fairy and said: "I should so very much like to have a little child. Can you tell me where I can find one?" "Oh, that can be easily managed," said the fairy. "Here ... Little Tommy Tucker
"Little Tommy Tucker, Sing for your supper." "What shall I sing?" "White bread and butter." "How shall I cut it Without any knife? How shall I marry Without any wife?" ... Little Tommy's Monday Morning
(In a meter neither new nor difficult) BY TUDOR JENKS All was well on Sunday morning, All was quiet Sunday evening; But, behold, quite early Monday Came a queer, surprising Weakness-- Weakness seizing little Tomm... Little Tuk
LITTLE TUK! An odd name, to be sure! However, it was not the little boy's real name. His real name was Carl; but when he was so young that he could not speak plainly, he used to call himself Tuk. It would be hard to say why, for it is not at all l... Little Wee Pumpkin's Thanksgiving
BY MADGE A. BINGHAM It was the night before Thanksgiving in Peter Pumpkin-eater's garden. Great Big Pumpkin, Middle-Sized Pumpkin, and Little Wee Pumpkin were speaking together. "All here?" asked Great Big Pumpkin. "I'm here," answered Mid... Little Wild-rose
Once upon a time something extraordinary happened. If it had not happened it would not be told. It was when the wolves lay down to rest with the sheep, and the shepherds feasted in the green fields with emperors and kings, when one sun rose and anoth... Little Wildrose
Once upon a time the things in this story happened, and if they had not happened then the story would never have been told. But that was the time when wolves and lambs lay peacefully together in one stall, and shepherds dined on grassy banks with ki... London Bridge
London bridge is broken down, Dance over my Lady Lee, London bridge is broken down, With a gay ladye. How shall we build it up again? Dance over my Lady Lee, How shall we build it up again? ... Long Ago
When the fairies used to live here, Long ago, There was never any dark, Or any snow; But the great big sun kept shining All the night, And the roses just kept blooming, Oh, so bright! Then the lit... Long Broad And Quickeye
Once upon a time there lived a king who had an only son whom he loved dearly. Now one day the king sent for his son and said to him: ‘My dearest child, my hair is grey and I am old, and soon I shall feel no more the warmth of the sun, or... Long Time Ago
BY ELIZABETH PRENTISS Once there was a little Kitty, White as the snow; In a barn she used to frolic, Long time ago. In the barn a little mousie Ran to and fro, For she heard the little Kitty, ... Longshanks Girth And Keen
There was once an aged king who had an only son. One day he called the prince to him and said: "My dear son, you know that ripe fruit falls in order to make room for other fruit. This my old head is like ripe fruit and soon the sun will no longer sh... Lord And Master
There was once a young shepherd, an honest industrious fellow, who passed most of his time in the hills looking after his master's flocks. One afternoon he happened upon a bush which some gipsies had set a-fire. As he stopped to watch it he heard ...