Monday, April 30, 2007

Spooky Stories...

Sometimes spring brings with it wonderful opportunities and experiences.
Take for instance, last week. It was garden week here in Virginia, so we took the opportunity to travel to some places and check out gardens. Actually, we didn’t do much of that at all… Jacobite just took some time off to relax with family.
But that was not all…
A beautiful, warm spring day, morphed into a nice, balmy evening. We ate on our newly relocated patio, and lit a citronella candle.
By candlelight, we told ‘spooky stories’… much to the delight of the children, who gasped and gaped in horror, awe… and then laughed at the ‘not so scary’ endings. The following days were often re-enactments of stories or re-telling of them in their own words. Sometimes they were awkward questions… but narration really came alive for them both.
Here are some story telling pictures!

Monday, April 23, 2007


A Roman soldier who protected the Christians and was eventually martyred for his faith, St. George is also the Patron saint of England, who use his own cross emblem as their state flag!
We use the symbol of the dragon in the mythological story of St. George, as a representation of the "dragons" who attack our faith and cause us to stumble along the way. Boys are called to be like St. George, who makes a great heroic figure for them to emulate!
Wear a red rose today if you are English and enjoy your day!

You can also catch my Nature Study Fridays post over at the Garden Blog.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Catch You up...

I know, I promised some photos a while back.

Here are the Hot Cross Buns I made for Good Friday. They were delicious… I made a sticky caramel topping and a paste cross for them. Next time I plan to find another topping to mimic the sticky buns from home :)

And there is my Easter flower. OK so it was too cold for her to actually wear this on Easter Sunday. Instead, she wore her Christmas dress, but I had hoped she could wear this outfit her Nana (my Mum) sent her. By the way, she LOVES hats and is rarely outside without one. This has become quite a favourite with her!

Later, I will post about my Nature Study Friday!

Sharing some more..

And there is the wonderful Toddler Carnival over at Sweetness and Light. Check it out for ideas of things to do with your toddlers and wee ones!

And a couple of wonderful links I tripped over going through various blogs on my ever expanding blogroll... but they fit the criteria of helping with Toddlers. Guess what my biggest hurdle during school the last week or so has been... ;) Fantastic resources with ideas, downloads and in the first case, a store!

Montessori for Everyone

Montessori by Hand

When was the last time you... meme

Just for fun ;) Thanks to Dawn!

When was the last time I ...

1. kissed someone? Hmm… a little bit ago when I was hugging M’Lady, I kissed her. When someone kissed back… lunchtime when Jacobite left to go back to work J

2. drank coffee? This morning, when I got up. I think I had two cups but I am not sure because I was being rushed for our field trip day out!!

3. read a book? Erm… well I read Secret Garden aloud to the kids, and I have been reading Beatrix Potter: A Life in Nature to myself. I did just finish The Birth House recently.

4. cursed? Like Dawn, I don’t tend to curse, but I do mutter under my breath occasionally (often at the news… I really should give it up!!).

5. had a nightmare? I don’t remember. I know I had a terrible nightmare the other day about the kids getting hurt… I couldn’t sleep for a while after that!

6. checked your email? Ditto Dawn: Just a few minutes ago.

7. had a crush? I will just quote Dawn here because we obviously think the same ;) “You mean other than my husband, of course? I'd have to say, Mr. Darcy. ;)”

8. drove a car? That would be about 10 years ago when I learned to drive. I never passed a test so I don’t do it now. I really should learn...

9. rode a roller coaster? Sheesh… maybe 18 years ago? I loved it, don’t get me wrong, but Jacobite doesn’t care for amusement parks, and I haven’t been to one for ages!

10. took a nap? Yesterday. I could do with one today after our morning!

11. went to the movies? Two years ago to see Wallace and Gromit with the kids. We usually just get the DVDs and watch them at home when the kids are in bed. It’s much cheaper, and we can pause the film for toilet breaks, eat whatever we like and refill our drinks without missing anything. That being said, I do want to take the kids to some more movies :)

12. drank alcohol? Wine with dinner a few weeks back… or maybe a drink of whiskey and coke when we were sick a couple of months back… I don’t recall which.

13. went to a party? I don’t remember!

14. said “I love you"? Earlier at lunch as DH left.

15. cooked a meal? Wednesday night. We ate out last night because we were trying to get the grocery shopping done fast enough to get everyone home early for bed. I ran into an old friend at the store so it didn’t work out the way I’d hoped!

16. exercised? This morning. I hiked around a nature trail with two kids, chased them around the park, then had to carry them inside later (one was protesting, the other sleeping). Is that exercise enough?

Thursday, April 12, 2007


I have to agree with Julie over at Happy Catholic, because I too found the first story VERY inspirational… and the second, WOW!

Church of the Nazarene Conversion

Coffee Klatch Conversion

For those who are curious, the booklists on both are good places to start with your questions :)

ETA: Check out these kiddie funnies here.

A Thoughtful Piece

There is some debate amongst the scholars out there; that the piece of poetry but Christina Rossetti called Goblin Market is full of symbolism and allusions to the political state of things at the time she was writing.

“It’s a piece on feminism and the place of women in society,” they say… “It’s a message about commercialism running rampant,” others argue. Some have suggested that it is a religious allegory, for it is well known that Miss Rossetti herself was an Anglo- Catholic… that is to say, very high Church Anglican. She refused two offers of marriage because of her religious affiliation, and her love interest’s lack thereof.

Miss Rossetti herself stated merely that it was a poem for children, and nothing more.

I wonder if the scholars are really reading more into it than was intended!

See… what I saw when I read this poem, by a beloved children’s poet, was a warning. It was a typical Victorian moral tale… a style that had been around for centuries.

What I read was a warning to young women, to not fall for the lovely lies a man might tell them, that they must keep themselves pure for marriage, that they might rely on their sisters to help them, and indeed must aid their own sisters. A tale of sacrifice for others.

Of course, there are some aspects that are deeper… there are definitely religious themes (hardly surprising for someone religious!), and one or two references that might be considered sexual. I have to wonder myself, if Miss Rossetti might have known someone who had ‘fallen from grace’ as the saying goes… for it was not long after that she began to work in a home for prostitutes.

The poem itself is lovely… and the original book was illustrated by her brother Dante Gabriel Rossetti, a renowned artist (one of my favourites) and poet in his own right.

There are so many questions, reflections and suggestions on this poem; that it is worth reading just to see what the fuss is about :). Considering that Miss Rossetti was popular during her lifetime, and then she was almost forgotten until the feminism of the 1960’s came into play, one has to wonder if people are not trying to see meanings in her work, to justify the lauding of her in the eyes of the feminists.

And now... for the poem.. Warning... it is LONG!

Goblin Market

By Christina Rossetti

MORNING and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries-
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries--
All ripe together
In summer weather--
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy;
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye,
Come buy, come buy."

Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bowed her head to hear,
Lizzie veiled her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger-tips.
"Lie close," Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?"
"Come buy," call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
"O! cried Lizzie, Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men."
Lizzie covered up her eyes
Covered close lest they should look;
Laura reared her glossy head,
And whispered like the restless brook:
"Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
Down the glen tramp little men.
One hauls a basket,
One bears a plate,
One lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds' weight.
How fair the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious;
How warm the wind must blow
Through those fruit bushes."
"No," said Lizzie, "no, no, no;
Their offers should not charm us,
Their evil gifts would harm us."
She thrust a dimpled finger
In each ear, shut eyes and ran:
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man.
One had a cat's face,
One whisked a tail,
One tramped at a rat's pace,
One crawled like a snail,
One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,
One like a ratel tumbled hurry-scurry.
Lizzie heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather.

Laura stretched her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.

Backwards up the mossy glen
Turned and trooped the goblin men,
With their shrill repeated cry,
"Come buy, come buy."
When they reached where Laura was
They stood stock still upon the moss,
Leering at each other,
Brother with queer brother;
Signalling each other,
Brother with sly brother.
One set his basket down,
One reared his plate;
One began to weave a crown
Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown
(Men sell not such in any town);
One heaved the golden weight
Of dish and fruit to offer her:
"Come buy, come buy," was still their cry.
Laura stared but did not stir,
Longed but had no money:
The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey,
The cat-faced purr'd,
The rat-paced spoke a word
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
One parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried "Pretty Goblin" still for "Pretty Polly";
One whistled like a bird.

But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
"Good folk, I have no coin;
To take were to purloin:
I have no copper in my purse,
I have no silver either,
And all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy weather
Above the rusty heather."
"You have much gold upon your head,"
They answered altogether:
"Buy from us with a golden curl."
She clipped a precious golden lock,
She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,
Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flowed that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use?
She sucked and sucked and sucked the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore,
She sucked until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away,
But gathered up one kernel stone,
And knew not was it night or day
As she turned home alone.

Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings:
"Dear, you should not stay so late,
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie,
How she met them in the moonlight,
Took their gifts both choice and many,
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Plucked from bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours?
But ever in the moonlight
She pined and pined away;
Sought them by night and day,
Found them no more, but dwindled and grew gray;
Then fell with the first snow,
While to this day no grass will grow
Where she lies low:
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so."
"Nay hush," said Laura.
"Nay hush, my sister:
I ate and ate my fill,
Yet my mouth waters still;
To-morrow night I will
Buy more," and kissed her.
"Have done with sorrow;
I'll bring you plums to-morrow
Fresh on their mother twigs,
Cherries worth getting;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in,
What melons, icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too huge for me to hold,
What peaches with a velvet nap,
Pellucid grapes without one seed:
Odorous indeed must be the mead
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink,
With lilies at the brink,
And sugar-sweet their sap."

Golden head by golden head,
Like two pigeons in one nest
Folded in each other's wings,
They lay down, in their curtained bed:
Like two blossoms on one stem,
Like two flakes of new-fallen snow,
Like two wands of ivory
Tipped with gold for awful kings.
Moon and stars beamed in at them,
Wind sang to them lullaby,
Lumbering owls forbore to fly,
Not a bat flapped to and fro
Round their rest:
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
Locked together in one nest.

Early in the morning
When the first cock crowed his warning,
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,
Laura rose with Lizzie:
Fetched in honey, milked the cows,
Aired and set to rights the house,
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
Next churned butter, whipped up cream,
Fed their poultry, sat and sewed;
Talked as modest maidens should
Lizzie with an open heart,
Laura in an absent dream,
One content, one sick in part;
One warbling for the mere bright day's delight,
One longing for the night.

At length slow evening came--
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;
Lizzie most placid in her look,
Laura most like a leaping flame.
They drew the gurgling water from its deep
Lizzie plucked purple and rich golden flags,
Then turning homeward said: "The sunset flushes
Those furthest loftiest crags;
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags,
No wilful squirrel wags,
The beasts and birds are fast asleep."
But Laura loitered still among the rushes
And said the bank was steep.

And said the hour was early still,
The dew not fallen, the wind not chill:
Listening ever, but not catching
The customary cry,
"Come buy, come buy,"
With its iterated jingle
Of sugar-baited words:
Not for all her watching
Once discerning even one goblin
Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;
Let alone the herds
That used to tramp along the glen,
In groups or single,
Of brisk fruit-merchant men.

Till Lizzie urged, "O Laura, come,
I hear the fruit-call, but I dare not look:
You should not loiter longer at this brook:
Come with me home.
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
Each glow-worm winks her spark,
Let us get home before the night grows dark;
For clouds may gather even
Though this is summer weather,
Put out the lights and drench us through;
Then if we lost our way what should we do?"

Laura turned cold as stone
To find her sister heard that cry alone,
That goblin cry,
"Come buy our fruits, come buy."
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?
Must she no more such succous pasture find,
Gone deaf and blind?
Her tree of life drooped from the root:
She said not one word in her heart's sore ache;
But peering thro' the dimness, naught discerning,
Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way;
So crept to bed, and lay
Silent 'til Lizzie slept;
Then sat up in a passionate yearning,
And gnashed her teeth for balked desire, and wept
As if her heart would break

Day after day, night after night,
Laura kept watch in vain,
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never caught again the goblin cry:
"Come buy, come buy,"
She never spied the goblin men
Hawking their fruits along the glen:
But when the noon waxed bright
Her hair grew thin and gray;
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
To swift decay, and burn
Her fire away.

One day remembering her kernel-stone
She set it by a wall that faced the south;
Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root,
Watched for a waxing shoot,
But there came none;
It never saw the sun,
It never felt the trickling moisture run:
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees
False waves in desert drouth
With shade of leaf-crowned trees,
And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.

She no more swept the house,
Tended the fowls or cows,
Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
Brought water from the brook:
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook
And would not eat.

Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her sister's cankerous care,
Yet not to share.
She night and morning
Caught the goblins' cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy."
Beside the brook, along the glen
She heard the tramp of goblin men,
The voice and stir
Poor Laura could not hear;
Longed to buy fruit to comfort her,
But feared to pay too dear.

She thought of Jeanie in her grave,
Who should have been a bride;
But who for joys brides hope to have
Fell sick and died
In her gay prime,
In earliest winter-time,
With the first glazing rime,
With the first snow-fall of crisp winter-time.

Till Laura, dwindling,
Seemed knocking at Death's door:
Then Lizzie weighed no more
Better and worse,
But put a silver penny in her purse,
Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze
At twilight, halted by the brook,
And for the first time in her life
Began to listen and look.

Laughed every goblin
When they spied her peeping:
Came towards her hobbling,
Flying, running, leaping,
Puffing and blowing,
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
Clucking and gobbling,
Mopping and mowing,
Full of airs and graces,
Pulling wry faces,
Demure grimaces,
Cat-like and rat-like,
Ratel and wombat-like,
Snail-paced in a hurry,
Parrot-voiced and whistler,
Helter-skelter, hurry-skurry,
Chattering like magpies,
Fluttering like pigeons,
Gliding like fishes, --
Hugged her and kissed her;
Squeezed and caressed her;
Stretched up their dishes,
Panniers and plates:
"Look at our apples
Russet and dun,
Bob at our cherries
Bite at our peaches,
Citrons and dates,
Grapes for the asking,
Pears red with basking
Out in the sun,
Plums on their twigs;
Pluck them and suck them,
Pomegranates, figs."

"Good folk," said Lizzie,
Mindful of Jeanie,
"Give me much and many"; --
Held out her apron,
Tossed them her penny.
"Nay, take a seat with us,
Honor and eat with us,"
They answered grinning;
"Our feast is but beginning.
Night yet is early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry;
Half their bloom would fly,
Half their dew would dry,
Half their flavor would pass by.
Sit down and feast with us,
Be welcome guest with us,
Cheer you and rest with us."
"Thank you," said Lizzie; "but one waits
At home alone for me:
So, without further parleying,
If you will not sell me any
Of your fruits though much and many,
Give me back my silver penny
I tossed you for a fee."
They began to scratch their pates,
No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One called her proud,
Cross-grained, uncivil;
Their tones waxed loud,
Their looks were evil.
Lashing their tails
They trod and hustled her,
Elbowed and jostled her,
Clawed with their nails,
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soiled her stocking,
Twitched her hair out by the roots,
Stamped upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeezed their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.

White and golden Lizzie stood,
Like a lily in a flood,
Like a rock of blue-veined stone
Lashed by tides obstreperously, --
Like a beacon left alone
In a hoary roaring sea,
Sending up a golden fire, --
Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree
White with blossoms honey-sweet
Sore beset by wasp and bee, --
Like a royal virgin town
Topped with gilded dome and spire
Close beleaguered by a fleet
Mad to tear her standard down.

One may lead a horse to water,
Twenty cannot make him drink.
Though the goblins cuffed and caught her,
Coaxed and fought her,
Bullied and besought her,
Scratched her, pinched her black as ink,
Kicked and knocked her,
Mauled and mocked her,
Lizzie uttered not a word;
Would not open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful in;
But laughed in heart to feel the drip
Of juice that syruped all her face,
And lodged in dimples of her chin,
And streaked her neck which quaked like curd.
At last the evil people,
Worn out by her resistance,
Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit
Along whichever road they took,
Not leaving root or stone or shoot.
Some writhed into the ground,
Some dived into the brook
With ring and ripple.
Some scudded on the gale without a sound,
Some vanished in the distance.

In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie went her way;
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang up the bank, tore through the furze,
Threaded copse and dingle,
And heard her penny jingle
Bouncing in her purse, --
Its bounce was music to her ear.
She ran and ran
As if she feared some goblin man
Dogged her with gibe or curse
Or something worse:
But not one goblin skurried after,
Nor was she pricked by fear;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with haste
And inward laughter.

She cried "Laura," up the garden,
"Did you miss me ?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
Squeezed from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make much of me:
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men."

Laura started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutched her hair:
"Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted,
Undone in mine undoing,
And ruined in my ruin;
Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?"
She clung about her sister,
Kissed and kissed and kissed her:
Tears once again
Refreshed her shrunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.

Her lips began to scorch,
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
She loathed the feast:
Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks streamed like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.

Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked at her heart,
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame,
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense failed in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topped water-spout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life ?

Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watched by her,
Counted her pulse's flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to her lips, and cooled her face
With tears and fanning leaves:
But when the first birds chirped about their eaves,
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves,
And dew-wet grass
Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new day
Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura awoke as from a dream,
Laughed in the innocent old way,
Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of gray,
Her breath was sweet as May,
And light danced in her eyes.

Days, weeks, months,years
Afterwards, when both were wives
With children of their own;
Their mother-hearts beset with fears,
Their lives bound up in tender lives;
Laura would call the little ones
And tell them of her early prime,
Those pleasant days long gone
Of not-returning time:
Would talk about the haunted glen,
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,
Their fruits like honey to the throat,
But poison in the blood;
(Men sell not such in any town;)
Would tell them how her sister stood
In deadly peril to do her good,
And win the fiery antidote:
Then joining hands to little hands
Would bid them cling together,
"For there is no friend like a sister,
In calm or stormy weather,
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands."


Wednesday, April 11, 2007

The Things I Planned to do...

Don't always happen!! I have some photos… somewhere… and a gazillion blogs composed in my mind and never written.

There was the blog about Good Friday… complete with photos of the Hot Cross Buns I made… they are still in the camera.
There are the pictures of this year’s Easter Garden… made at the beginning of Lent. It came in quite handy during egg hunting time ;)
Then there was the blog about Christina Rossetti’s poem Goblin Market. That one was quite deep and thoughtful.
There was the blog about our week (terrible) and the Beatrix Potter study we are doing right now (fun).
The notice about how slow my internet has been (the main reason the photos are still on the camera) and the work being done on our house (window frames rotted, so we replaced them).
There was an unwritten blog about snow in April, and how it affected some of my plants (but not the very hardy veggies I planted thank Goodness)… and a few about books I read along the way.

Somehow, the time just seemed to get away from me, so instead, I will tell you about a great deal I got.

You may remember me telling you about The Mother’s Book and my enthusiastic response to it’s wisdom. Then you might also recall my discovery of the books referenced by the Mother’s book, and my telling you that they were part of The Young Folks’ treasury and how hard it was to find it.

The other day, on my weekly trip to the library, I did my usual perusal of the books for sale. Our Library sells hardbacks for 50 cents and paperbacks for 25 cent, so you can get really good deals!

Anyway, I noticed a set of books on the lower shelf… they were volumes 2-10 of The Bookshelf for Boys and Girls… and I didn’t think too much of it, until a couple of the titles caught my eye. Why, they looked an awful lot like the titles of my Young Folks’ treasury!!

So I looked inside the cover… sure enough, they were printed by the University Society and even mentioned The Young Folks Treasury and The Mother’s Book in the frontispiece. At 50 cents apiece, I could hardly pass it up!

Admittedly, they are not the collectibles from the 1912 printing… but rather a 1979 version (almost as old as me!)… but they maintain much of the original content.

The final book, Volume 10, is a guide for parents… basically about parenting. It is rather fun to read the very sensible advice it gives out. I wonder how often it was updated!

The much, much newer versions are quite plentiful and reasonably priced… so here are the names of the volumes if you are interested. There are numerous other children’s ‘Encyclopedia’ sets out there, and a quick browse of Ebay will net you the names of them :)

The Bookshelf for Boys and Girls:

Volume 1: Nursery Favorites Old and New
Volume 2: Happy Hours in Storyland
Volume 3: Folk and Fairytales
Volume 4: Favorite Stories and Songs
Volume 5: Things to Make and Do
Volume 6: Story of Art and Music
Volume 7: Nature and the Universe
Volume 8: Best Children’s Classics
Volume 9: Heroes and Heroines

Volume 10: Infants and Children