Some Time Stories by Donald Bisset. P.1

Дата публикации: Mar 07, 2016 1:1:18 PM

The Useful Dragon

Once upon a time there lived a dragon whose name was Komodo. .

He could breathe fire. And all the people who lived nearby were afraid of him. Whenever they heard him coming, they ran away and hid.

They could always hear him because Komodo had six feet, and wore three pairs of shoes at a time and every shoe creaked. So wherever Komodo went the people were sure to know.

One day he met a little girl who wasn’t a bit afraid of him.

“Why are you so fierce?” she said. “Why do you breathe fire when you see anyone coming?”

“Well,” said Komodo, “I-er-um-well-um I duniio.2 I never really thought about it. Shall I stop being fierce?”

“Yes, please,” said the little girl, whose name was Susie. “All right,” said Komodo, “I’ll try.”

They said good-bye to each other, and Susie went home. By then it was beginning to get dark and Susie found that everyone was in an awful state, because the lamplighter, whose name was Charlie, hadn’t lit any of the street lamps.

He was still in bed. He had stayed out3 so late after lighting the lamps4 the night before that he was still tired. So he just stayed in bed and had a lovely sleep. And ate bread and butter under the bedclothes.

The Mayor, whose name was William, was furious. What was to be done about the lamps? 5

Then Susie had an idea. She ran all the way to Komodo’s cave and took him to the town and then all round the streets, and he breathed fire on each lamp and lit it.

How the people cheered! They were not afraid of the dragon any more. They could see he was a friendly beast. And after that Komodo came and lit the lamps every year when Charlie went on his holiday.

Starry Eagle

Once upon a time an eagle, whose name was David, lived on the top of a mountain in Wales.6

He liked flying7 high up in the air. One day he flew

so high that he came to a star.

There was a little house on the star. Mary and her little lamb lived there. David knocked on the door. “I’ve come

to tea,” he said. So Mary laid the table and they all sat down.

“Would you like some toast, Eagle, dear?” said Mary. “Mm-no, thank you,” said David, “I’d like to eat a little lamb.”

“My! you haven’t washed your claws,” said Mary, and she picked David up and took him to the kitchen to wash. While he was drying his claws, she came back and whispered in the little lamb’s ear.

David came back and sat down. “Would you like some more toast, little lamb?” said Mary. “No, thank you,” said the little lamb, remembering what Mary had whispered to him. “I think I’d like to eat an eagle.”

David was surprised, and felt a bit nervous.1 So when Mary asked him again what he would like, he said, “I think I’d like some toast, please.” So Mary gave him some. And after tea he said good-bye to Mary and her little lamb, and flew all the way home again.

Before he went to sleep that night, he looked up and

saw the star shining high above him.

Nelson’s Egg

One warm summer day Lord Nelson1 was standing on the top of his tall column when a little cloud came sailing2 by. - :

“Please wash my face,” said Lord Nelson.

“Certainly,” said the cloud, and it rained on Lord Nelson till his face was clean.

“Thank you,” said Nelson, “I suppose you are a magic cloud, aren’t you?”

“Well, my lord, I suppose I am,” said the cloud.

“Of course you are,” said Lord Nelson, “only magic clouds can talk and that proves it. But, you know, little cloud, I’m rather lonely up here, just being a statue, with no one to talk to.”3

“You just look through your telescope,” said the cloud, “and if vou see someone you’d like to talk to, I’ll go and tell him/’

So Lord Nelson pul his telescope to his good eye 4 and looked all round Trafalgar Square and along St. Marlin’s Lane5 and there, in St. Martin’s Lane, he saw a chicken crossing the road.

“Why does a chicken cross the road?” said Lord Nelson to the cloud. “I don’t know,” said the little cloud, “shall I fetch her?” “Yes, please!” said Lord Nelson.

So the little cloud went and said to the chicken. ‘Lord Nelson would like to talk to you.”

The chicken was very pleased and went over to Nelson’s Column and Lord Nelson let down a piece of string and the chicken climbed and climbed until she got to the top. N.elson was pleased to see her. “What is your name?”, he said.

“Martha,1 my lord,” said the chicken.

“Now,” said Lord Nelson,

“why do you cross the road?”

“Well, my lord,” said

Martha, “when I lay an egg2

on one side of the road — so that3 someone on that side can have an egg for breakfast, I

cross the road and lay tHe next egg there — so that

someone on the other side can have an egg for breakfast

too.”

“An egg for breakfast!” said Lord Nelson, dreamily. He gave a big sigh4 and a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Don’t cry, my lord,” said Martha. “I’ll stay with you and lay you an egg for breakfast every morning.”

And so she did.

Sometimes the little cloud passes and rains so that they can wash their faces, and sometimes they have a little talk.

Lord Nelson isn’t lonely any longer and he always has an egg for breakfast.

The Quacking Pillarbox

Once upon a lime there was a pillarbox. He was very beautiful and held the letters safely inside him till the postman came to collect*them.

Very close to the pillarbox there stood a lamp. They were great friends.

The lamp shone in the dark so that people could see their way home, and could see where to post their letters.

One night the lamp said to the pillarbox, “I believe I’ve caught a cold, I’m going to sneeze.”

And he sneezed so hard that his light went out.5

Now nobody could see where to post their letters. What were they to do?

Just then a duck was walking by.

Her name was Miranda. She thought, “Dear me! the lamp has gone out; how will people know where the pillarbox is, so as to post their letters?”

She climbed on the top of the pillarbox and started quacking. She quacked and quacked, and all the people who were coming to post their letters, and couldn’t find the pillarbox because the lamp was out, thought, “Whatever is all that quacking for?”1

They went to where the noise was and saw Miranda quacking, and there, underneath Miranda, was the pillarbox. So they posted their letters in it and went home.

The Thoughtful Beetle

Uncle Fred lived at No. 8 Weshvind Road, Whitechapel.2 On one side of his picture in the front room there stood a rose in a little glass and on the other a clock whose name was Tyma.

“What a useless thing a clock is,” said the rose to itself. “It doesn’t smell at all. Only things that smell nice are really beautiful.”

Just then a black beetle walked by, and he looked at the rose, and at the clock. “Hmm! they are not very black, are they?” he thought. “Poor things!” and he walked on.

He was going to see his grandmother, it was her birthday.

Then a sparrow looked in at the window, saw the clock and the rose. “Huh! what’s the good of1 ticking and smelling if you can’t fly? What is more beautiful than flying?

“Swimming,” said a goldfish, who was in a bowl of water at the other side of the room.

“Miaowing,” said a cat, jumping out of the window into the garden.

“Eating,” said a pig who lived in the garden next door.

“Making the trees wave,” said the wind, as it rushed down the garden path.

“Making the wind blow,” said the trees, as they waved at the bottom of1 the garden.

The rose and the clock were still arguing when Uncle Fred came in with his wife. “And what are you good for?” they said to him. “Well,” said Uncle Fred, “it all depends on how you look at it,2 I suppose!”

“Of course it does,” said his wife. “I think you are good to kiss,”3 and she kissed him.