Buttercup Gold | Page 3

Ellen Robena Field
clearly readable, and does *not* contain characters other than those intended by the author of the work, although tilde (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may be used to convey punctuation intended by the author, and additional characters may be used to indicate hypertext links; OR
[*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent form by the program that displays the etext (as is the case, for instance, with most word processors); OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this "Small Print!" statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the net profits you derive calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon University" within the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg Association / Carnegie-Mellon University".
*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*

Etext scanned by Dianne Bean of Phoenix, Arizona.

BUTTERCUP GOLD AND OTHER STORIES
by Ellen Robena Field

Copyrighted, 1894, by the Bangor (Maine) Kindergarten Association
This book is lovingly dedicated to the dear kindergarten children, and particularly to my little friend, Alice Caro Wing.

"Children are God's apostles, day by day sent forth preach of love and hope and peace."--Lowell.

"Come to me, O, ye children! And whisper in my ear What the birds and winds are singing In your sunny atmosphere.
Ye are better than all the ballads That were ever sung or said; For ye are living poems And all the rest are dead."--Longfellow.

"And Nature, the old nurse, took The child upon her knee, Saying: 'Here is a story-book Thy Father has written for thee."--Longfellow.

The Little New Year
One cold morning Maurice awoke from his dreams and sat up in bed and listened. He thought he heard a knock at his window; but though the moon was shining brightly, Jack Frost had been so busily at work that Maurice could not see through the thickly painted panes. So he crept sleepily out of bed, and opened the window, and whispered: "Who is there?"
"I am," replied a tinkling voice. "I am the little New Year, ho! ho! And I've promised to bring a blessing to everyone. But I am such a little fellow I need somebody to help me distribute them. Won't you please come out and help?"
"Oh, it's so cold!" said Maurice; "I'd rather go back to my warm bed; " and he shivered as Jack Frost, who was passing, tickled him under the chin with one of the frosty paint brushes.
"Never mind the cold," urged the New Year; "please help me."
So Maurice hurried into his clothes, and was soon out in the yard. There he found a rosy-cheeked boy a little smaller than himself, pulling a large cart which seemed to be loaded with good things. On one side of this cart was painted the word "Love," and on the other "Kindness." As soon as the New Year saw Maurice he said, "Now please take hold and help me pull;" and down the driveway and up the hill they travelled until they came to an old shanty.
"Here is where I make my first call," said the New Year. Maurice looked wonderingly at him. "Why, nobody lives here but an old colored man who works for us; and he hasn't any children!" "He needs my help," said the New Year; "for grown people like to be thought of just as much as children do. You shovel out a path to his door, while I unload some of my blessings; and the little hands went busily at work, piling up warm clothing, wood, and a new year's dinner, the New Year singing as he worked:-
"Oh, I am the little New Year; ho! ho! Here I come tripping it over the snow, Shaking my bells with a merry din; So open your door and let me in."
Old Joe, hearing some noise outside, came to the door, and when he saw all the nice gifts the tears ran down his cheeks for gladness; and as he carried them into the house, he whispered: "The dear Lord has been here to-night."
"Where am we going now?" asked Maurice, as they ran down the hill. "To take some
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code

 / 12
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.