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A Little Book of Profitable Tales By: Eugene Field (1850-1895) |
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THE WRITINGS IN PROSE AND VERSE OF EUGENE FIELD
A LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES NEW YORK 1901 By EUGENE FIELD. TO MY SEVEREST CRITIC, MY MOST LOYAL ADMIRER, AND MY ONLY DAUGHTER, MARY
FRENCH FIELD, THIS LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES IS AFFECTIONATELY
DEDICATED. E.F.
INTRODUCTION
I have never read a poem by Mr. Field without feeling personally drawn to
the author. Long after I had known him as a poet, I found that he had
written in prose little scraps or long essays, which had attracted me in
just the same way, when I had met with them in the newspapers, although I
had not known who the author was. All that he writes indeed is quite free from the conventionalisms to which
authorship as a profession is sadly liable. Because he is free from them,
you read his poems or you read his prose, and are affected as if you met
him. If you were riding in a Pullman car with him, or if you were talking
with him at breakfast over your coffee, he would say just such things in
just this way. If he had any art, it was the art of concealing art. But I
do not think that he thought much of art. I do not think that he cared
much for what people say about criticism or style. He wrote as he felt, or
as he thought, without troubling himself much about method. It is this
simplicity, or what it is the fashion of the day to call frankness, which
gives a singular charm to his writing. EDWARD E. HALE. The Tales in this Little Book
THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE THE SYMBOL AND THE SAINT THE COMING OF THE PRINCE THE MOUSE AND THE MOONBEAM THE DIVELL'S CHRYSTMASS THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SEA THE ROBIN AND THE VIOLET THE OAK TREE AND THE IVY MARGARET: A PEARL THE SPRINGTIME RODOLPH AND HIS KING THE HAMPSHIRE HILLS EZRA'S THANKSGIVIN' OUT WEST LUDWIG AND ELOISE FIDO'S LITTLE FRIEND THE OLD MAN BILL, THE LOKIL EDITOR THE LITTLE YALLER BABY THE CYCLOPEEDY DOCK STEBBINS THE FAIRIES OF PESTH
THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE
THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE
Once upon a time the forest was in a great commotion. Early in the evening
the wise old cedars had shaken their heads ominously and predicted strange
things. They had lived in the forest many, many years; but never had they
seen such marvellous sights as were to be seen now in the sky, and upon
the hills, and in the distant village. "Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little vine; "we who are not as
tall as you can behold none of these wonderful things. Describe them to
us, that we may enjoy them with you." "I am filled with such amazement," said one of the cedars, "that I can
hardly speak. The whole sky seems to be aflame, and the stars appear to be
dancing among the clouds; angels walk down from heaven to the earth, and
enter the village or talk with the shepherds upon the hills." The vine listened in mute astonishment. Such things never before had
happened. The vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was a
tiny tree, so small it scarcely ever was noticed; yet it was a very
beautiful little tree, and the vines and ferns and mosses and other humble
residents of the forest loved it dearly. "How I should like to see the angels!" sighed the little tree, "and how I
should like to see the stars dancing among the clouds! It must be very
beautiful." As the vine and the little tree talked of these things, the cedars watched
with increasing interest the wonderful scenes over and beyond the confines
of the forest. Presently they thought they heard music, and they were not
mistaken, for soon the whole air was full of the sweetest harmonies ever
heard upon earth. "What beautiful music!" cried the little tree. "I wonder whence it comes." "The angels are singing," said a cedar; "for none but angels could make
such sweet music." "But the stars are singing, too," said another cedar; "yes, and the
shepherds on the hills join in the song, and what a strangely glorious
song it is!" The trees listened to the singing, but they did not understand its
meaning: it seemed to be an anthem, and it was of a Child that had been
born; but further than this they did not understand... Continue reading book >>
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Literature |
Short stories |
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