Old Mother West Wind came down from the Purple Hills in the golden light of the early morning. Over her shoulders was slung a bag—a great big bag—and in the bag were all of Old Mo
Delightfully told tale recounts, in large easy-to-read type, the escapades of an amiable bear who comes to live in the Green Forest, where he playfully annoys Little Joe Otter and other occupants. Ge
Blacky the Crow is always watching for things not intended for his sharp eyes. The result is that he gets into no end of trouble which he could avoid. In this respect he is just like his cousin, Samm
Snow covered the Green Meadows and the Green Forest, and ice bound the Smiling Pool and the Laughing Brook. Reddy and Granny Fox were hungry most of the time. It was not easy to find enough to eat th
To the cause of love, mercy and protection for our little friends of the air and the wild-wood, and to a better understanding of them, the Wishing-Stone Stories are dedicated.
IN TENDER, LOVING, REVERENT MEMORY OF MY MOTHER,WHO LOVED LITTLE CHILDREN AND WAS BELOVEDOF THEM, AND TO WHOM I OWE A DEBT OF AFFECTION AND OF GRATITUDE BEYOND MY POWER TO PAY.
Little Joe Otter is a playful, but shy fellow. He loves to romp and swim and slide on the banks of the Smiling Pool Even though he plays and swims with abandon, he is extremely aware of his surroundi
"Listen," whispered Jimmy Skunk to Peter Rabbit as the strange howling sound echoed through the Green Forest. But Peter was listening. He had never heard anything like it. The sound
To those who have read the preceding volumes in this series, "The Boy Scouts of Woodcraft Camp," "The Boy Scouts on Swift River," and "The Boy Scouts on L
Sammy Jay doesn't mind the cold of winter. Indeed, he rather likes it. Under his handsome coat of blue, trimmed with white, he wears a warm silky suit of underwear, and he laughs at rough Brother Nor
To the beautiful faith of childhood, the perpetuation of a charming fable, and to a world made better by the Christmas spirit, this little volume is dedicated.
DREAMS are such queer things, so very real when all the time they are unreal, that sometimes I think they must be the work of fairies,—happy dreams the work of good fairies and bad dreams t
