The Story Hour: A Book for the Home and the Kindergarten

by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin

  WHEN I WAS A LITTLE GIRL.

  OUR FROGGERY.

  "Turn back observantly into your own youth, and awaken, warm, and vivifythe eternal youth of your mind."--FROEBEL.

  When I was a little girl my sister and I lived in the country. She wasyounger than I, and the dearest, fattest little toddlekins of a sisteryou ever knew. She always wanted to do exactly as I did, so that I hadto be very careful and do the right things; for if I had been naughtyshe would surely have been naughty too, and that would have made me verysad.

  As we lived in the country we had none of the things to amuse us thatcity children have. We couldn't walk in crowded streets and see peopleand look in at beautiful shop-windows, or hear the street-organs playand see the monkeys do tricks; we couldn't go to dancing school, nor tochildren's parties, nor to the circus to see the animals.

  But we had lovely plays, after all.

  In the spring we hunted for mayflowers, and sailed boats in the brooks,and gathered fluffy pussy-willows. We watched the yellow dandelionscome, one by one, in the short green grass, and we stood under themaple-trees and watched the sap trickle from their trunks into the greatwooden buckets; for that maple sap was to be boiled into maple sugarand syrup, and we liked to think about it. In the summer we wentstrawberrying and blueberrying, and played "hide and coop" behind thetall yellow haycocks, and rode on the top of the full haycarts. In thefall we went nutting, and pressed red and yellow autumn leaves betweenthe pages of our great Webster's Dictionary; we gathered apples, andwatched the men at work at the cider-presses, and the farmers as theythreshed their wheat and husked their corn. And in the winter we madesnow men, and slid downhill from morning till night when there was anysnow to slide upon, and went sleighing behind our dear old horse Jack,and roasted apples in the ashes of the great open fire.

  But one of the things we cared for most was our froggery, and we used toplay there for hours together in the long summer days.

  Perhaps you don't know what a froggery is; but you do know what a frogis, and so you can guess that a froggery is a place where frogs live.My little sister and I used at first to catch the frogs and keep them intin cans filled with water; but when we thought about it we saw that thepoor froggies couldn't enjoy this, and that it was cruel to take themaway from their homes and make them live in unfurnished tin houses. Soone day I asked my father if he would give us a part of the garden brookfor our very own. He laughed, and said, "Yes," if we wouldn't carry itaway.

  Our garden was as large as four or five city blocks, and a beautifulsilver-clear brook flowed through it, turning here and there, and hereand there breaking into tinkling little waterfalls, and dropping gentlyinto clear, still pools.

  It was one of these deep, quiet pools that we chose for our froggery. Itwas almost hidden on two sides by thick green alder-bushes, so that itwas always cool and pleasant there, even on the hottest days.

  My father put pieces of fine wire netting into the water on each of thefour sides of the pool, and so arranged them that we could slip thoseon the banks up and down as we pleased. Whenever we went there we alwaystook away the side fences, and sat flat down upon the smooth stones atthe edges of the brook and played with the frogs.

  Here we used to watch our gay young polliwogs grow into frogs, one legat a time coming out at each "corner" of their fat wriggling bodies. Wekept two great bull-frogs,--splendid bass singers both of them,--thathad been stoned by naughty small boys, and left for dead by theroadside. We found them there, bound up their broken legs and bruisedbacks, and nursed them quite well again in one corner of the froggerythat we called the hospital. In another corner was the nursery, and herewe kept all the tiniest frogs; though we always let them out once aday to play with the older ones, for fear that they never would learnanything if they were kept entirely to themselves. One of our greatbull-frogs grew so strong and well, after being in the hospital for awhile, that he jumped over the highest of the wire fences, which wastwo feet higher than any frog ever was known to jump, so our hired mansaid,--jumped over and ran away. We called him the "General," because hewas the largest of our frogs and the oldest, we thought. (He hadn't anygray hairs, but he was very much wrinkled.) We were sorry to lose theGeneral, and couldn't think why he should run away, when we gave himsuch good things to eat and tried to make him so happy. My father saidthat perhaps his home was in a large pond, some distance off, wherethere were so many hundred frogs that it was quite a gay city life forthem, while the froggery was in a quiet brook in our quiet old garden.(If I were a frog, it seems to me I should like such a home better thana great noisy stagnant pond near the road, where I should be frightenedto death half a dozen times a day; but there is no accounting fortastes!)

  {Illustration: "We were sorry to lose the General."}

  But what do you think? After staying away for three days and nightsthe General came back safe and sound! We knew it was our own belovedGeneral, and not any common stranger-frog, because there was the scaron his back where the boys had stoned him. My little sister thought thatperhaps the General was born in Lily Pad Pond, on the other side of thevillage, and only went back to get a sight of the pond lilies, whichwere just in full bloom. If that was so, I cannot blame the General; forsnow-white pond lilies, with their golden hearts and the green frillsround their necks, are the loveliest things in the world, as they floatamong their shiny pads on the surface of the pond. Did you ever seethem?

  All our frogs had names of their own, of course, and we knew them allapart, although they looked just alike to other people. There was PrincePouter, Brownie, and Goldilegs; Bright-Eye, Chirp, and Gray Friar;Hop-o'-my-Thumb, Croaker, Baby Mine, Nimblefoot, Tiny Tim, and manyothers.

  We were so afraid that our frogs wouldn't like the froggery better thanany other place in the brook that we gave them all the pleasures wecould think of. They always had plenty of fat juicy flies and water-bugsfor their dinners, and after a while we put some silver shiners and tinyminnows into the pool, so that they would have fishes to play with aswell as other frogs. You know you do not always like to play with otherchildren; sometimes you like kittens and dogs and birds better.

  Then we gave our frogs little vacations once in a while. We tied a longsoft woolen string very gently round one of their hind legs, fastened itto a twig of one of the alderbushes, and let them take a long swim andmake calls on all their friends.

  We had a singing-school for them once a week. It was very troublesome,for they didn't like to stand in line a bit, and it is quite useless totry and teach a class in singing unless the scholars will stand in a rowor keep in some sort of order. We used to put a nice little board acrossthe pool, and then try to get the frogs to sit quietly in line duringtheir lesson. The General behaved quite nicely, and really got into thespirit of the thing, so that he was a splendid example for the head ofthe class. Then we used to put Myron W. Whitney next in line, on accountof his beautiful bass voice. We named him after a gentleman who had oncesung in our church, and I hope if he ever heard of it he didn't mind,for the frog was really a credit to him. Myron W. Whitney behaved nearlyas well as the General, but we could never get him to sing unless weheld the class just before bedtime, and then the little frogs were sosleepy that they kept tumbling out of the singing-school into the pool.That was the trouble with them all; they never could quite see thedifference between school and pool. It seems to me they must have knownit was very slight after all.

  Towards the end of the summer we had trained them so well that once in along while we could actually get them all still at once, and all facingthe right way as they sat upon that board. Oh! it was a beautiful sight,and worth any amount of trouble and work! Twenty-one frogs in a row, allin fresh green suits, with clean white shirt fronts, washed every day.The General and Myron W. Whitney always looked as if they were burstingwith pride, and as they were too fat and lazy to move, we couldgenerally count upon their good behavior.

  We thought that if we could only get them to look down into the pool,which made such a lovely looking-glass,
and just see for once what abeautiful picture they made,--sitting so straight and still, and all sonicely graded as to size,--they would like it better and do it a littlemore willingly.

  We thought, too, the baby frogs would be ashamed, when they looked inthe glass, to see that while the big frogs stayed still of their ownfree will, THEY had to be held down with forked sticks. But we couldnever discover that they were ashamed.

  So when everything was complete my little sister used to "let go" ofthe baby frogs (for, as I said, she had to hold them down while we wereforming the line), and I would begin the lesson. Sometimes they wouldlisten a minute, and then they would begin their pranks. They wouldinsist on playing leap-frog, which is a very nice game, but notappropriate for school. Tiny Tim would jump from the foot of the classstraight over all the others on to Myron W. Whitney's back. Baby Minewould try to get between Croaker and Goldilegs, where there wasn't anyroom. Nimblefoot would twist round on the board and turn his back to me,which was very impolite, as I was the teacher. Finally, Hop-o'-my-Thumbwould go splash into the pool, and all the rest, save the good oldGeneral, would follow him, and the lesson would end. I suppose you haveheard frogs singing just after sunset, when you were going to bed? Somepeople think the big bull-frogs say, "JUGO'RUM! JUGO'RUM! JUGO'RUM!" ButI don't think this is at all likely, as the frogs never drink anythingbut water in their whole lives.

  We used to think that some of the frogs said, "KERCHUG! KERCHUG!" andthat the largest one said, "GOTACRUMB! GOTACRUMB! GOTACRUMB!" Perhapsyou can't make it sound right, but if you listen to the frogs you canvery soon do it.

  We thought the frogs in our froggery the very best singers in all thecountry round. After our mother had tucked us in our little beds andkissed us good-night, she used to open the window, that we might hearthe chirping and humming and kerchugging of our frogs down in the dearold garden.

  As we wandered dreamily off into Sandman's Land, the very last sound weheard was the cheerful chorus of our baby frogs, and the deep bass notesof Myron W. Whitney and the old General.

  FROEBEL'S BIRTHDAY.

  "The whole future efficiency of man is seen in the child as a germ."--FROEBEL.

  On this day, children, the twenty-first of April, we always remember ourdear Froebel; for it was his birthday.

  We bring flowers and vines to hang about his picture, we sing the songsand play the games he loved the best, and we remember the story of hislife. We thank him all day long; for he made the kindergarten for us, heinvented these pretty things that children love to do, he thought aboutall the pleasant work and pleasant play that make the kindergarten sucha happy place.

  On this very day, more than a hundred years ago, the baby Froebel cameto his happy father and mother. He was a little German baby, like Elsa'sbrother and Fritz's little sister, and when he began to talk his firstwords were German ones.

  But the dear mother did not stay long with her little Friedrich, for shedied when he was not a year old, and he was left a very sad and lonelybaby. His father was a busy minister, who had sermons to write, and sickpeople to see, and unhappy people to comfort, from one end of theweek to the other, and he had no time to attend to his little son; soFriedrich was left to the housemaid, who was too busy herself to carefor him properly. She was often so hurried that she was obliged to shuthim up in a room alone, to keep him out of her way, and then it was veryhard work for the child to amuse himself.

  The only window in this room looked out on a church that workmen wererepairing, and Friedrich often watched these men, and tried to do justas they did. He took all the small pieces of furniture, and piled oneon top of the other to make a big, big church, like the one outside;but the chairs and stools did not fit each other very well, and soonthe church would come tumbling about his head. When Froebel grew to be aman, he remembered this, and made the building blocks for us, so that wemight make fine, tall churches and houses as often as we liked.

  Rebel's home was surrounded by other buildings, and was close to thegreat church I told you about. There were fences and hedges all aroundthe house, and at the back there were sloping fields, stretching up ahigh hill.

  When the little boy grew old enough to walk, he played in the gardenalone, a great deal of the time; but he was not allowed to go outsideat all, and never could get even a glimpse of the world beyond. He couldonly see the blue sky overhead, and feel the fresh wind blowing from thehills.

  His father had no time for him, his mother was dead, and I think perhapshe would have died himself, for very sadness and lonesomeness, if it hadnot been for his older brothers. Now and then, when they were at home,they played and talked with him, and he grew to love them very dearlyindeed.

  When Friedrich was four years old, his father brought the children anew mother, and for a time the little boy was very happy. The mother wasquite kind at first; and now Froebel had some one to walk with in thegarden, some one to talk with in the daytime and to tuck him in hislittle bed at night. But by and by, when a baby boy came to the newmother, she had no more room in her heart for poor Friedrich, and he wasmore miserable than ever. He tried to be a good boy, but no one seemedto understand him, and he was often blamed for naughty things he had notdone, and was never praised or loved.

  When he had learned to read he was sent to school, though not with otherboys, for his father thought it better for him to be with girls. Theschool was pleasant and quiet, and Friedrich liked the teacher verymuch. Every morning the children read from the Bible, and learned sweetsongs and hymns which the little boy remembered all his days.

  The life at home grew no happier, as Friedrich grew older; indeed, heseemed to be more in the way and to get into trouble more often.

  When he was ten years old his uncle came to visit them, and seeingFriedrich so unhappy, and fearing he would not grow up a good boy unlesssome one cared for him, the good uncle asked to be allowed to take thechild home with him to live.

  Now, at last, Friedrich had five happy years!

  His uncle lived in a pretty town on the banks of a sparkling littleriver. Everything was pleasant in the house, and Friedrich went toschool with forty boys of his own age. He jumped and ran with them inthe playgrounds, he learned to play all kinds of games, and he was happyeverywhere,--at school, at home, at church, playing or working.

  When these five pleasant years had gone by, Froebel had finished school,and now he must decide what he would do to earn his living. He hadalways loved flowers, since the days when he played all alone in hisfather's garden, and he liked to be out-of-doors and to see thingsgrowing; so he made up his mind to be a surveyor, like our GeorgeWashington, you know, and to learn, besides, how to take care of treesand forests.

  He studied and worked very hard at these things, and gained a great dealof knowledge about flowers and plants and trees and rocks.

  By and by he left this work and went to college, where he studied a longtime and grew to be very wise indeed. There were numbers of things hehad learned to do: he could measure land, take care of woods, and drawmaps; he could make plans of houses, and show men how to build them;he knew all about fine stones and minerals, and could sort and arrangethem; but he found, at last, that there was nothing in the world heliked so well as teaching, for he loved children very much, and he likedto be with them. When Froebel was a grown man, thirty years old, a greatwar broke out in Germany, and he went away to fight for his country;like our George Washington again, you see. He marched away with thesoldiers, and fought bravely for a year; and then the war was over, andhe went back to his quiet work again.

  For the rest of his life Froebel went on teaching all kinds ofpeople,--boys and men, and young girls and grown-up women; but he neverwas quite happy or satisfied till he thought of teaching tiny children,just like you.

  He remembered very well how sad and miserable he was when a little boy,with no one to love him, nobody to play with, and nothing to do; so hethought of the kindergarten, where there are pleasant playmates, prettywork, happy play for everybody, and teachers who love little chil
dren.

  He was an old man when he thought of the kindergarten; but he was nevertoo old to play with children, and people who went to his country homeused to see him, with the little ones about him, playing the PigeonHouse, or the Wheel, or the Farmer, or some of the games he made for us.

  He was often very poor, and he worked very hard all his life; but hedid not care for this at all, if he could help other people and makechildren happy. And when, at last, it was time for him to die, and to goback to God, who sent him to us, he was quiet and happy through all hissickness, and almost the last words he said were about the flowers heloved so well, and about God who had been so good to him.

  So this is the reason, little ones, that we keep Rebel's birthday everyyear,--because we want you to remember all he did for little children,and to learn to love him just as he loved you.

  "Come, let us live with our children; so shall their lives bring peaceand joy to us; so shall we begin to be, and to become wise."-- FROEBEL.