This is one of my most favourite stories, my kids loved these Cinderella type things

Have I ever put this wonderful story on as a small blog for you to read,
I somehow don't think I did. So here I am reminding you that it is here, at "Something New" at http://diddilydeedotsdreamland.zoomshare.com/

THE TWELVE MONTHS.
By Aleksander Borejko Chodźko

There was once a widow who had two daughters, Helen, her
own child by her dead husband, and Marouckla, his daughter by his first wife.
She loved Helen, but hated the poor orphan because she was far prettier than her
own daughter.

Marouckla did not think about her good looks, and could not
understand why her stepmother should be angry at the sight of her. The hardest
work fell to her share. She cleaned out the rooms, cooked, washed, sewed, spun,
wove, brought in the hay, milked the cow, and all this without any
help.

Helen, meanwhile, did nothing but dress herself in her best clothes
and go to one amusement after another.

But Marouckla never complained.
She bore the scoldings and bad temper of mother and sister with a smile on her
lips, and the patience of a lamb. But this angelic behavior did not soften them.
They became even more tyrannical and grumpy, for Marouckla grew daily more
beautiful, while Helen's ugliness increased. So the stepmother determined to get
rid of Marouckla, for she knew that while she remained, her own daughter would
have no suitors. Hunger, every kind of privation, abuse, every means was used to
make the girl's life miserable. But in spite of it all Marouckla grew ever
sweeter and more charming.

One day in the middle of winter Helen wanted
some wood-violets.
"Listen," cried she to Marouckla, "you must go up the
mountain and find me violets. I want some to put in my gown. They must be fresh
and sweet-scented-do you hear?"
"But, my dear sister, whoever heard of
violets blooming in the snow?" said the poor orphan.
"You wretched
creature! Do you dare to disobey me?'' said Helen. "Not another word. Off with
you! If you do not bring me some violets from the mountain forest I will kill
you."

The stepmother also added her threats to those of Helen, and with
vigorous blows they pushed Marouckla outside and shut the door upon her. The
weeping girl made her way to the mountain. The snow lay deep, and there was no
trace of any human being. Long she wandered hither and thither, and lost herself
in the wood. She was hungry, and shivered with cold, and prayed to
die.

Find this wonderful witchy story at seligorscastle also.

THE WITCHES OF LLANDDONA

Anglesey, Llanddona, St Dona's Church - August 2008

There is a quaint story that is told of the village of Llanddona, that relates to three witches from Ireland, who had been outcast
in a boat full of holes, yet managed to come ashore at Llanddona, and settled there.

by Ross Davies
(Pentraeth)

People believed in the malevolent powers of witches right up to the 18th century and, probably beyond that as well.
Witches were so feared and hated that they were blamed for everything going
wrong in the lives of villagers, from various maladies to the deaths of
valuable farm animals or even human beings.
An ancient law also advocated the death by hanging of any witch found guilty of such deeds.
However, in 1736, this old law was repealed because Parliament became concerned
that too many charges against such women were based on very unsafe
evidence, so from that year on, no woman paid with her life just for
being a so-called witch.

"When That I Was and a Little Tiny Boy, Brilliant and so very, very old,

Here is a little song but it isn't about a Jack, but it is about a boy and it was written by a William. I wonder if you can guess who wrote it?.

When That I Was and a Little Tiny Boy.

When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

For when I came to man's estate,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
For the rain it raineth every day.

MAKE WAY FOR THE WORM THAT TURNED. WELCOME

Diddilydeedot has beenlooking at different kinds of wormery's on google, wow some of them are so expensive, You stick to the cheap one for your experiment.

The Worm that Turned

There was once a worm that turned.... into an explorer! His lifelong home, which was a field by a brook, had once been perfect. The soil had been full of little holes which allowed air and moisture to come through, without making the soil too wet. It had been warm, and there had been plenty of vegetable mould, which is good worm food.
Then the owner of the land had moved away. The ditches filled with rainwater, the land became flooded and many worms were drowned. In winter the whole field was frozen into a solid block of ice; only a few worms lived through this terrible time.
But one of the worms that did live was a pioneer. he left his birth-place and moved to higher ground. Since he didn't want to be eaten for breakfast by an early bird, he had to burrow down and be well out of sight before dawn.
The top of his new home was a mixture of sand, clay and fine gravel. Nothing had grown there for years. The earth had been soaked by the rain in winter and baked by the sun in summer and it was nearly as hard as concrete, but the worm had to get in or die.
So he pushed out his nose until its needle like point found an entrance between the hard packed grains of sand. He kept on pushing till he had gone down half an inch. Still the ground was so hard that he had to eat his way down.

What has changed in the human race that makes young childen become killers.

Why is it that children as young as 10 and 11 are becoming murderers?

I don't know the answer to this question, and inside me my heart hurts and my temper rages.

There are many questions I would like answers to.

Why is it that the age of murderers has now sunk as low as 10 and 11 years old in the united kingdom?

What made these children want to kill?

We are now going to see two young boys once again making headline news. They are charged with:

a) attempted murder.

b) with robbery.

Standing in the dock, charged with the same crimes as the children.... should be the mother and father or their adult carers.

Both the mother and father are as guilty of the attempted murder of both these children.

When we bring our children into this world we are given the responsibility of bringing them up to know what is right and what is wrong.

If the parents, be it mother, father or guardian fail in this duty. Then the parent is as responsible as the child.

We can't keep them out of every bit of trouble, but murder, is that the way of every child of ten and eleven. Of course it's not, it is lack of proper upbringing by the parents.

I feel so sorry for the children who were harmed BUT I feel sorry for the two young children who committed the crimes, having to stand in a dock on their own, while the parents stand by doing nothing like they have obviously done for all the time that the children have been born.

The press will crucify the kids, they always do, I hope they will also do the same to the parents for the lack of commitment in bringing the two brother into this world. I dread tomorrows newspapers.

This wonderful story is on the page Dry your Eyes at Seligor's Castle

For the rest of this story, go to http://seligorscastle.zoomshare.com/

THIS LITTLE PIG... When I was a child living on my father's farm, one of our sows had a litter of thirteen piglets. All but one were strong and healthy. The thirteenth, being smaller and weaker, was always pushed aside by the others when it came to feeding time. Father brought the scrawny little thing into the house. It was unable to stand on its spindly legs, so he laid on Mother's lap. "Weakling," Father said. "I thought you might like to bring him up indoors." FATTEN HIM UP Mother put an old apron on a chair and placed the little pig on top of it. Then she warmed some milk, dipped a finger in and let the little creature suck the milk off it. She went on doing this until it was satisfied and warmed, then fell asleep. Soon the fingers were replaced by a bottle. In a week Little Pig was well on the way to becoming a healthy, normal piglet. He was given a box in the kitchen to sleep in, and it became my duty to look after him.

थे दोर्मौसे, अन अ. अ. मिलने Classic

The Dormouse and the Doctor


There
once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and
geraniums (red),
And all the day long he'd a wonderful view
Of geraniums
(red) and delphiniums (blue).
A Doctor came hurrying round, and
he said:
"Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed.
Just say
'Ninety-nine,' while I look at your chest. . . .
Don't you find that
chrysanthemums answer the best?"
The Dormouse looked round at
the view and replied
(When he'd said "Ninety-nine") that he'd tried and
he'd tried.

And much the most answering things that he knew
Were
geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).
The Doctor stood frowning and
shaking his head,
And he took up his shiny silk hat as he said:
"What the
patient requires is a change," and he went
To see some chrysanthemum
people in Kent.
The Dormouse lay there, and he gazed at the view
Of
geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue),
And he knew there was nothing he
wanted instead
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).