Slovenly Kate and Other Stories
Author: Adolph Glassbrenner
Date: 1874-12-31T15:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Children’s Literature; Children’s Picture Books; Poetry; Cautionary Tales
Description: From Adolf Glassbrenner, a collection of cautionary tales set in verse. Slovenly Kate is a “Struwwelpetriade”, an example of the multitude of that sub-genre that grew out of the success of Heinrich Hoffmann’s “Struwwelpeter” / “Slovenly Peter”. ~ ~ ~ ~ These little poems, while demonstrating the bad results of children’s misbehavior, are not so violent or extreme as those in Hoffmann’s “Der Struwwelpeter”, so they are probably a wee bit more “politically correct” for modern children’s reading.~ ~ ~ ~ 40 illustions by Theodor Hosemann.
Publisher: MobileRead.com
Rights: Public domain worldwide

ABOUT

SLOVENLY KATE
and Other Stories

From Adolf Glassbrenner, a collection of cautionary tales set in verse. Slovenly Kate is a “Struwwelpetriade”, an example of the multitude of that sub-genre that grew out of the success of Heinrich Hoffmann’s Struwwelpeter / Slovenly Peter.

These little poems, while demonstrating the bad results of children’s misbehavior, are not so violent or extreme as those in Hoffmann’s Der Struwwelpeter, so they are probably a wee bit more “politically correct” for modern children’s reading.

Adolf Glassbrenner (27 March 1810 – 25 September 1876) was a German humorist and satirist, considered part of the Young Germany Movement.
Under the pseudonym Adolf Brennglas, he published series of pictures and articles about Berlin life, and thus became the founder of a popular satirical literature associated with modern Berlin.

This ebook of Slovenly Kate was created by E.C.M. for MobileRead.com, March 2019, and may be freely distributed for non-commercial purposes.

The original German stories by Adolf Glassbrenner (1810–1876) were published ca. 1850.
40 illustrations by Theodor Hosemann (1807–1875), German genre painter and illustrator.
The translator is not identified. Owner’s inscription on flyleaf indicates publication of this English translation to be 1875 or earlier.

This book is assumed to be in the public domain worldwide.

CONTENTS

… Cover
… Early Edition Cover
… Titlepage
… About

SLOVENLY KATE
and Other Stories:

- Slovenly Kate
- Envious Tom
- Tell-Tale Jenny
- Untidy Tom
- Headstrong Nancy
- Charley, the Story-Teller
- Screaming Annie
- Sammy Sweet-Tooth
- Frank, the Liar
- Envious Minny
- The Little Jacob

SLOVENLY KATE
and Other Stories

Slovenly Kate

Oh fie on Kate! untidy girl,

With dirty face, hair out of curl,

Who soils each dress, however neat,

First with the pudding, then with meat.

More like a little pig is she,

Than what a tidy girl should be!

Quite tired, at length, of all this waste,

One day Mamma runs down in haste,

And brings three piggies straight upstairs,

And round the table sets their chairs;

And Kate must needs to sit and dine,

Not with her playmates, but with swine.

And, truth to say, less clean was she

Than either of the piggies three,

Who with good manners eat their meal,

While down Kate’s cheeks the tear-drops steal.

The children laugh when Kate they see,

In such untidy company.

Envious Tom

Tom was an envious little lad,

And wanted all his sister had;

He valued nothing of his own,

But for other’s things would fret and moan.

Their uncle once a visit paid,

When to them both he kindly said;

“I’ve brought two presents all alive,

And one to each I mean to give.

“Now see this cat so snowy white,

With skin as soft as eiderdown;

And see this dog – he’ll never bite –

Whose little snout has spots of brown.

To Tom, the dog a gift I make;

And you, dear Jane, the cat may take.”

So pleased is Jane on hearing this,

She thanks her uncle with a kiss;

But Tommy in a rage doth cry:

“I won’t have doggy – no, not I;

So pussy I will take instead;”

And up he jumps as soon as said;

Straight by the tail he seizes her,

And roughly handles pussy’s fur.

But Tom soon found he was no match

For frightened puss who ’gan to scratch;

And with such rage his cheeks she tore,

The blood ran trickling on the floor.

And much I wish that pussy’s marks

May Tommy to his senses bring.

Meanwhile the doggy stands and barks:

“See! Envy is a nasty thing!”

Tell-Tale Jenny

So curious was Jenny, and fond of eaves-dropping,

Not a keyhole was safe from her meddlesome ear –

But by turns at each door she was constantly stopping,

To catch up the words she was not meant to hear.

Then quickly abroad would she hasten to prattle,

And tell all she’d heard to whomever she met;

Till the mischief she made by her pert tittle-tattle

By the ears half the neighbours together had set.

Her mother said: “Jenny, your tongue you must bridle,

For the Man of the Rock I saw prowling today,

Who seizes on listeners and tale-tellers idle,

And eats up the children he carries away!”

But Jenny was not to be stopt – such her folly!

Near doors still she loitered, and lost not a word,

And again did she repeat to Kit and to Dolly

Each secret or each foolish trifle she heard.

But now he comes for her – that tall, grim old fellow!

Picks Jenny up, and alas! Oh then, Oh then,

Although she began to kick and to bellow,

He carries her off to his dark, dismal den.

As soon in his cave as they’re out of all hearing,

He bores three great holes thro’ her ears and her lips –

And then a huge padlock – oh, think what an earring! –

Thro’ each of the apertures quickly he slips.

Now stopt is her eaves-dropping, stopt is her clack!

Oh, haste, mother, haste – she’ll be lost in a crack; –

For, unless you come quickly, and snatch the child up,

The ogre, I’m certain, on Jenny will sup.

Untidy Tom

Tom was a most untidy boy,

Who took no care of book or toy;

Nor were his clothes e’er neatly laid

Beside him when he went to bed.

No, nothing in its place was found,

But all his things were strewed around:

His socks at random off he toss’d,

As though he cared not both were lost.

Beside the stove was seen a shoe,

His trousers there were lying too;

The fellow shoe was near the door,

Flung with the coat upon the floor.

But, children, mark what happened next,

And think how sorely Tom was vexed!

At early morn his father rose,

And dressed up doggy in his clothes!

He dressed him in the coat so warm,

And put a book beneath his arm;

While Tom was forced to stand and look,

Though in his shirt with cold he shook.

What think you next his father did?

Why, little Tom he straightway bid

With doggy thus to school to go,

That doggy might his learning show!

And Tom most foolish looked, I trow,

As forth he went amid the snow;

While proudly stalked the dog, you see,

As though he’d taken his degree!

Headstrong Nancy

Miss Nancy was a headstrong child;

And, let Mamma say what she would,

She never listened nor was good,

But stamped and raved like one half wild,

Nor minded anything that she was told,

And would e’en her little playmates scold.

Now, Nancy she had dollies three,

And pretty ones, as you may see!

Who stood one night before her bed,

And, with uplifted fingers, said:

“Beware! take care!

Your temper mend;

Or naughty Nan

Shall, like a man,

A mustache wear;

And we will bend

Our steps afar,

And go where better children are!”

But headstrong Nan their warning spurned,

And so, next night, the dolls returned,

And o’er her lip, in frolic whim,

They fastened on a mustache grim,

Which gave her just as fierce an air

As any robber bold might wear;

And then they laughed: “Ho ho! ho ho!

We told you so,

You naughty Nan!

Take off the mustache, if you can!”

And then, Nan’s tears and rage despite,

All three took flight,

And went afar,

Where better children are,

Now think, next morn, how Nan’s ashamed,

And how she fears Mamma will scold,

And how she feels she must be blamed,

Soon as the secret dire is told!

Oh! what a bother!

Father, mother,

Aunt and cousins,

By the dozens,

Call her “Whiskered Nan!”

And haste as fast as haste they can,

And leave the town to go afar,

To be where better children are! .

And when away they all had gone,

Unruly Nan was quite alone;

And, let her roar, and cry her fill,

A mustache can’t be doffed at will;

So, though for grief her hands she wrung

It ever after to her clung.

Charley, the Story-Teller

Charles was a very wayward youth,

Who to his parents ne’er spoke truth,

It matters not, thought he, forsooth,

When no one knows; if I tell lies

They are not written in my eyes!

His mother once some questions asked,

And artful Charles his cunning tasked,

When loud the parrot chuckling cried:

“You little rogue! may woe betide!

For, Charley, you’ve been fibbing!”

Then from the corner comes the cat,

And gives Mamma a gentle pat:

“Good lady, he’s deceiving you,”

She purrs aloud; “mew, mew, mew, mew –

For Charley has been fibbing!”

Downstairs now frightened Charley steals,

As though ten cats were at his heels;

When by his coat Tray seizes him,

And cries: “Bow, wow,” in accents grim,

“Fie, Charley, you’ve been fibbing!”

Now both with shame and anger red,

That e’en the cock and hens upbraid,

He seeks the garden’s safe retreat;

But twitt’ring birds there cry: “Tweet, tweet!

Fie, Charley, you’ve been fibbing!”

He runs at last from out the town,

And near a village sits him down;

But even there a fly soon comes,

Who buzzes round his nose and hums:

“Fie, Charley, you’ve been fibbing!”

He now the blessed world runs round,

But rest for him was nowhere found;

Go where he would his ears still greet:

“Mew, mew – bow, wow – buzz, buzz – tweet, tweet!

Fie, Charley, you’ve been fibbing!”

Screaming Annie

Now listen, children, while I tell

What naughty Annie once befell,

Who always used to cry and rave

So oft as Ma the house would leave.

Said Mamma, once: “Now, Annie, dear,

Be good while I’m away from here.”

But Annie began to storm and flout,

And cried: “I will be taken out!”

Flip, flap, flip, flap – what’s all this din?

Why, ’tis a stork comes striding in,

A stork with legs both red and thin!

But Annie ceases not to flout,

And e’en begins afresh to shout:

“I will – I will be taken out!”

With open beak the solemn stork

Now takes her up as on a fork.

“Flip, flap! nay, do not scream and pout,”

Says he: “you shall be taken out!”

Flip, flap, flip, flap, away he hies,

Up, up with Annie now he flies;

Within his beak he holds her tight,

Until upon his nest they light.

Instead of cakes, or dainty meat,

She now with storks frog’s flesh must eat;

And, willy nilly, on: the-roof

She sadly sits, from all aloof:

For ne’er again might she come down.

And when the summer months had flown,

The stork picked up the child once more,

And through the air his burden bore.

Yes, far away o’er land and sea,

The stork with Annie now doth flee.

Look! high above you see him flying –

That comes of naughty children’s crying!

Sammy Sweet-Tooth

That greedy little fellow Sam,

His parents once had left alone –

But warned him well he should not cram

His throat with sweets while they were gone.

But scarcely had they both gone out,

When Sammy rummaged all about,

’Mongst pans and bottles in a trice,

In hopes of finding something nice.

A dish beside the oven stood –

This sure contains some dainty food!

He lifts the lid, and finds a cake

Of dough, well-kneaded, fit to bake.

Then straight his fingers in he dips,

And greedily he licks their tips;

And O! it tastes so very sweet,

He smacks his lips at such a treat.

A second piece he can’t resist,

Nor will a third he thinks be missed.

And then three pieces lead to four;

For much will always crave for more.

He lingers, loth to leave his prize,

When lo! the yeast begins to rise,

And not within the dish alone –

In Sammy’s paunch it up has blown.

Now mark how bloated is his face,

And how his body swells apace!

And how he glares with goggle eyes

To see his body such a size!

“Oh dear!” he roars, “I’m like a drum.”

And when his mother home has come,

So big is grown her little son,

He cannot waddle – much less run.

Still like a bubble filled with air,

He swells enough to make one stare, –

And, should the worst come to the worst

Tomorrow he will surely burst!

Frank, the Liar

Come listen while I tell you now,

About a certain youth,

Who had one dreadful, dreadful fault,

He never told the truth.

And while he uttered lies, he was

So handy and so bold,

That he appeared as innocent

As if the truth he told.

One morning, faithful Tray was found

Upon the pavement dead,

And Frank had killed him with a stone,

His little comrades said.

“’Twas you who killed the dog,” cried Frank,

“What stories you do tell;”

But soon the fact was proved on him,

And his father whipped him well.

One day into the room he rushed, –

His eyes were glowing, cheeks were flushed;

“Oh! mother, father, dear,” he said,

“My little sisters both are dead!

Emma fell down and broke her back,

And little Fan her skull did crack!”

The parents were distracted nearly,

They loved their little girls so dearly;

But scarce the words had from him slipped,

When in the little sisters tripped.

The parents’ joy now who can tell?

And Frank again they punished well.

One night, when all had gone to bed,

Frank took it in his little head

That he the people would affright,

By crying “fire” with all his might.

“Fire! fire!” he screamed. Oh, then ’twas fun

For him to see the people run.

“Fire! fire! turn out! where is it – where?”

They cried; he answered, “There! there! there!”

Till, finding they had been deceived,

And feeling very much aggrieved,

They poured upon the little liar

The water destined for the fire.

When to his home he came again,

He tried to speak, but ’twas in vain;

Dreadful to tell, he had become

Through cold and fright quite deaf and dumb.

For a whole year he spoke no word;

No sound in this long time he heard;

When suddenly one day he tried

To speak, and found his tongue untied.

With joy his voice again he hears,

He scarcely can believe his ears;

But greater was the parents’ joy

To find their son a truthful boy;

For from that time he never spoke

An untrue word, or played a joke.

Envious Minny

Now Minny was a pretty girl,

Her hair so gracefully did curl;

She had a slender figure, too,

And rosy cheeks and eyes of blue.

And yet, with all those beauties rare,

Those angel eyes and curly hair,

Oh! many, many faults had she,

The worst of which was jealousy.

When on the shining Christmas tree

St. Nicholas hung his gifts so free,

The envious Minny could not bear

With any one these gifts to share.

And when her sisters’ birthdays came

Minny, (it must be told with shame,)

Would envy every pretty thing

Which dear mamma to them would bring.

Sometimes great tears rolled from her eyes,

Sometimes she pierced the air with cries;

For days together she would fret

Because their toys she could not get.

Ah, then! how changed this pretty child,

No longer amiable and mild,

That fairy form and smiling face

Lost all their sprightliness and grace.

Her tender mother often sighed,

And to reform her daughter tried;

“Oh! Minny, Minny,” she would say,

“Quite yellow you will turn some day.”

Now came the merry Christmas feast:

St. Nicholas brought to e’en the least

Such pretty presents, rich and rare,

But all the best for Minny were.

But Minny was not satisfied,

She pouted, fretted, sulked, and cried;

Sisters and brothers had no rest, –

She vowed their presents were the best.

Now, to her little sister, Bess,

St. Nicholas brought a pretty dress;

This Minny longed for (envious child)

And snatched it from her sister mild.

Then all in tears did Bessy run

To tell her mother what was done,

While Minny ran triumphantly

To try the dress on, as you see.

And springing quickly to the glass,

What saw she there? alas! alas!

Oh! what a sad, a deep disgrace!

She found she had a yellow face!

“Ah, me!” she cried, now in despair,

“Where are my rosy cheeks, oh, where?”

“Ho!” screamed the parrot, “now you see

The punishment of jealousy!”

The Little Jacob

The little Jacob was so small,

He could not smaller be;

When he took off his little coat,

Just like a stick looked he.

His parents, therefore, anxious were

About their little Jake,

And said, “Oh, dear! what can we do

Our Jacob fat to make?

All sorts of nice things we must get

For our dear boy to eat;

Meats boiled and roasted, baked and fried,

And pies and puddings sweet.

And then, besides, we’ll let him drink

Plenty of wine and beer;

And if this does not make him fat,

Why nothing will, we fear.”

This diet, then, they put him on,

And soon, to their great joy,

They found that fat and fatter grew

Their darling little boy.

When six months passed, and he had grown

Fat as you see him here,

His parents said, “You need not now

Eat quite so much, my dear;

For, oh! if you become too fat,

We then may try in vain,

Unless we give you bitter pills,

To make you thin again.”

But Jacob would not then obey,

He only ate the more,

Until, at length, he grew as fat

As he was thin before.

One day a hearty meal he made,

But still was not content;

Cake, wine, and beer, he slyly took.

And to the fields he went.

There, for a while, like any pig,

He ate and drank alone,

But suddenly his mother heard

Her little Jacob moan.

Out of the house, off to the fields

Swift as a flash she flew;

Alas! alas! what saw she there?

Her Jacob broke in two.

I’ll say this much to boys and girls

If they be thick or thin,

That, be this story true or false,

Sure, gluttony’s a sin.