The Turquoise Story Book: Stories and Legends of Summer and Nature (2024)

The beauty of the world gradually revealsitself to the child who forms the habit of observation.Through companionship with Nature,supplemented by the reading of bookswhich foster an interest in the ever-varyingcharm of the seasons, the young reader enricheshis experience by learning to interpret"the open pages of the world about him."

Some of the stories, legends, and poems inthe present volume point out facts in Nature;others stimulate interest because they appealto the young reader's fancy, quicken his senseof humour, or attract his attention to somespiritual significance. Also, large use hasbeen made of myths and wonder stories. Theyevolved in the childhood of the race when themystery of the physical world made a deepand serious impression upon primitive men.viiIn terms of their own experiences, they explainedand symbolized the beauty, order, andpower which they beheld.

"The Turquoise Story Book" is the thirdvolume in a series of nature books, each ofwhich emphasizes the interest and beautycharacteristic of a particular season. The centraltheme of this volume is the loveliness ofsummer and its manifold blessings.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The editors' thanks are due to the followingauthors and publishers who have permittedthe publication of their works in this volume—toMr. Albert Bigelow Paine for permissionto include "How the Rose BecameQueen," and "A Legend of the Lily-of-the-Valley,"from a "Little Garden Calendar,"published by the Henry Altemus Company; toHelen Gray Cone for her two poems, "AnEvening Primrose" and "A Yellow Pansy";to Frances Gillespy Wickes for "MotherSpider"; to Edward Bliss Reed and the YaleUniversity Press for the poem "Flowers,"from "Sea Moods"; to Frank A. Waughviiiand the Woman's Home Companion for "TheFriendly Summer Trees"; to Miss M. L.Cook for her translation of "Why the Lady-BugIs Called Beloved of God"; to LucilleCorbett for "The Story of the Dewdrop"; toGeorge Allen and Unwin Ltd., for permissionto retell "The Sun Princess" and "PrincessFire-fly" from "Old World Japan Legends";to the Outlook Company for "The Tale ofTwo Tails," and to Ernest Ingersoll and theOutlook Company for "Birds' Nests"; toGeorge H. Doran Company for "The DewMother," by May Byron; to the EducationalCompany for "The Boy Who Hated Trees";to Town Topics for "Hatto, the Hermit," bySelma Lagerlöf; to Charles Scribner's Sonsfor the selections from Eugene Field andHenry Van Dyke; to D. C. Heath and Companyfor "Legend of Tithonus" from "FavoriteGreek Myths," by Lillian S. Hyde; toFrederick A. Stokes Company for a selectionby Alfred Noyes; to E. P. Dutton and Companyfor "Robin Goodfellow," from "EnglishFairy Tales," by Ernest Rhys; to C. H.Barbeau for permission to retell "Legend ofixthe Sun and Moon," from "Memoirs";to S. E. Cassino Company for "The GrubbiestGrub" from Little Folks Magazine; to J. B.Lippincott Company for permission to retella legend from Skinner's "Legends of Flowers,Fruits and Trees"; to Small, Maynard andCompany for three poems from "CompleteWorks of Madison Cawein"; to Macmillanand Company Ltd., London, for a poem byMaud Keary; to John P. Morton and Companyfor "Morning Glories" from "Poet andNature," by Madison Cawein; to T. FisherUnwin Ltd. for "The Summer Princess" from"The Enchanted Garden," by Mrs. Molesworth;to the Macmillan Company for "Nature,"from "Preludes," by Madison Cawein,a selection from "The Everlasting Mercy,"by John Masefield, and "In the Cool of theEvening," from "Poems," by Alfred Noyes,and a selection from "Gitanjali," by RabindranathTagore; to Edward Abbott Parry for"Undine" from "The First Book of Krab";and to Lyman Abbott for "The Flower'sThanks."

The selections from John Burroughs,xEdith M. Thomas and John Townsend Trowbridgeare used by permission of and by specialarrangement with Houghton, MifflinCompany, the authorized publishers of theirworks.

Madison Cawein.

Once upon a time the Great Chief, Glooscap,who brought many blessings to the Red Men,made a journey far into the Northland. Fordays he traveled over frozen wastes of ice andsnow, where the keen wind blew withoutceasing.

At last he came to a lodge hollowed out ofthe icebergs, where Winter, the Giant of theNorthland, dwelt. Quietly, Glooscap stalkedinto the glittering lodge and sat down. Therewas silence for several moments, then the WinterManito laid aside his scepter of ice, filleda pipe, and, offering it to his guest, said, "Thouart welcome. Tell me, why comest thou tothe Northland?"

"To learn about the power of the WinterGiant," answered Glooscap.

4"Who can measure the strength of the WinterKing?" said the giant, shaking his whitelocks, on which rested a crown of icicles.

For a long while the King and his guest satsmoking in silence. Then the Winter Giantbegan the story of his mighty deeds.

"I cover the Northland with ice, and pileup great snowdrifts which look like mountains.I send forth the Storm Blast, which fillsthe air with sleet and snow, and makes thewhite bear creep into a cave for shelter. Ibuild the glittering icebergs, out of which mychieftains make their lodges."

The enchantment of the frost was in GiantWinter's words, and his guest sat spellbound.After Glooscap had listened to many works ofwonder, he nodded his head and fell into adeep sleep. Like an image of death he lay inWinter's lodge for six months.

Then one morning the charm of the frostspirit was broken, and Glooscap, who awokewith renewed vigor, left the Winter King'slodge and journeyed toward the Southland.After a few days of travel he was beyond thereach of the Storm Blast. The air grew wondrouslymild and warm; instead of frozen5wastes, he saw stretches of meadowlands andgreen forests, where the birds were nesting.He walked deep into the woodland until hecame to a dell, which was thick with flowersand bright butterflies. On soft green moss theSun-Fays, led by the Fairy Queen of Summer,were dancing gaily. For a few momentsGlooscap stood and marveled at the beauty ofthe scene.

Suddenly he sprang into the midst of thedancers, seized the Fairy Queen of Summer,and slipped her under his blanket. Thenaway he fled with her. As he ran, Glooscap,by magic power, dropped one end of a slendercord, made from a moose-hide, and let it trailbehind him. When the Sun-Fays saw whathad happened, they uttered a great cry, anddarted after the intruder. They seized theend of the cord, and tugged at it with all theirfairy might, hoping to hold fast Glooscap andrescue their Fairy Queen. But the magiccord had no end, and the Sun-Fays were leftin the valley, while Glooscap fled through theforest and retraced his steps to the frozenNorthland.

Again he silently entered the giant's lodge6hollowed out of the icebergs. The WinterManito laid aside his ice scepter, filled a pipe,and offered it to his guest, saying, "Thou artwelcome. Hast thou returned to the Northlandto hear more about the strength of theWinter Manito?"

"The Frost King's might is great," saidGlooscap, "but I have seen a power which isgreater than his!"

The Winter Giant looked scornfully at hisguest and said nothing.

"I have seen the wonder and beauty ofthe Summer Queen's land," said Glooscap."There the quickening dews and gentle showerssoften the brown earth, and the grass leapsforth. Myriad sunbeams touch the flowerbuds, and unfold them into full blossoms.Birds build their nests and rear their young inthe branches of the sheltering forests. Lightand warmth abound, and the earth is filledwith gladness."

By magic power Glooscap cast a spell overGiant Winter. He could neither speak normove. As the Great Chief talked, the iceberglodge grew warm and big ice drops ran down7the giant's cheeks. Gradually the air grewwarmer and warmer. Winter's icy figure andhis wigwam melted and, in a great flood,flowed away to the sea.

Then, from her hiding place under Glooscap'sblanket, stepped forth the SummerQueen. At her command the Sun Fairiesjoined her, and together they began the marvelouswork of making the grasses grow andthe flowers bloom. Brooks and rivers flowedthrough the green meadows. Birds hastenedback from the Southland and built their nestsin the forests. Soon the whole land was filledwith the joys and blessings of summer.

Long, long ago the great Byamee left theearth and went to dwell in the far-away landof rest, which was beyond the tops of the OobiOobi mountain. The earth became a dull anddesolate place after he left it, for all the flowersthat brightened the plains and hillsidesceased to bloom.

And since there were no blossoms the beescould no longer make honey for the earth children.In all the land there were but threetrees where the bees lived and worked; andno one ever touched these sacred trees, becausethey belonged to Byamee.

The children cried for honey, and the motherstook little bark baskets into the woods tosearch for the sweet food. But they returnedwith empty baskets and said, "There is no9honey except on the sacred trees. We willnever touch Byamee's honey."

This obedience pleased the Great Spiritvery much and he said, "I'll send the earthchildren a food as sweet as the honey for whichthey hunger. It shall flow from the Bilbiland Goolabah trees."

Soon were seen white, sugary specks on theshining leaves of these trees, and then camethe clear manna, which ran along the branchesand down the trunks, and hardened into sugar.The children were delighted with the sweetfood, and all the people were thankful forByamee's gift.

But they were not satisfied, for they stillwished to see the plains and hillsides coveredwith blossoms. So deeply did they long forthe beautiful flowers, which had left the earth,that the wise men finally said, "We will travelto the land of Byamee, and ask him to brightenthe earth again with flowers."

They kept the plan and purpose of theirjourney a secret from the tribes, and sped awayto the northeast. On and on they journeyeduntil they came to the foot of the great Oobi10Oobi mountain, whose summit was lost in theclouds of the sky. They walked along the baseof its rocky sides, wondering how they couldscale the steep ascent when suddenly they spieda foothold cut in a rock, and then they noticedanother step and still another. Looking carefullyupward, they saw a pathway of steps cutas far as they could see up the mountain side.Up this ladder of stone they determined toclimb. On and on they went, and when thefirst day's ascent was ended the top of themountain still seemed high above them. Theynoticed, too, that they were climbing a spiralpath, which wound round and round themountain. Not until the end of the fourthday's climb did they reach the summit of thismighty mountain.

And from a basin in the marble there bubbledforth a spring of clear, sweet water,which the wise men drank eagerly. Theirhard journey had almost exhausted them, butthe cooling draught filled them again with newlife. At a little distance from the spring theysaw a circle of piled-up stones. They walkedto the center of it, and a voice spoke to them.11It came from a fairy messenger of the GreatSpirit.

"Why have the wise men of the earth venturedso near to the dwelling of Byamee?"asked the spirit voice.

And the men answered, "Since the greatByamee left the earth no flowers have bloomedthere. We have come to ask for the gift offlowers, because the earth is very dreary withouttheir gay colors."

Then the fairy messenger's voice said, "Attendantspirits of the mountain, lift the wisem*n into the abode of Byamee, where fadelessflowers never cease to bloom. Of these blossoms,wise men, you may gather as many asyou can hold in your hands. After you havegathered the flowers the attendant spirits willlift you back into the magic circle on the summitof Oobi Oobi. From this place you mustreturn as quickly as possible to your tribes."

As the voice stopped speaking, the men werelifted up through an opening in the sky andset down in a land of wondrous beauty.Everywhere brilliant flowers were blooming,and they were massed together in lines of exquisite12colors, which looked like hundreds ofrainbows lying on the grass. The wise menwere overcome by the marvelous sight, andthey wept tears of joy.

Remembering what they had come for, theystooped down and gathered quickly as manyblossoms as they could hold. The spirits thenlifted them down again into the magic circleon the top of Oobi Oobi.

There they heard again the voice of thefairy messenger who said, "Tell your peoplewhen you take them these flowers that neveragain shall the earth be bare and dreary. Allthrough the seasons certain blossoms shall bebrought by the different winds, but the eastwind shall bring them in abundance to thetrees and shrubs. Among the grasses, onplains and hillsides, flowers shall bloom asthick as hairs on an opossom's skin. When thesweet-breathed wind does not blow,—first tobring the showers and then the flowers,—thebees can make only enough honey for themselves.During this time manna shall againdrop from the trees, and it shall take the placeof honey until the east wind once more blows13the rain down the mountains and opens theblossoms for the bees. Then there will behoney enough for all. Now make haste andtake this promise and the fadeless flowers,which are a sign of it to your people."

The voice ceased and the wise men, carryingthe fadeless blossoms, began the journeyback to their people. Down the stone ladder,cut by the spirits of the mountain, they went,—acrossthe plains, over the moors,—back to thecamp of the tribes. Their people flockedaround them, gazing with wide-eyed wonderat the blossoms. The air was filled with a deliciousfragrance, and the flowers were asfresh as when they were plucked in the landof Byamee.

When the people had gazed for some timeat the beautiful flowers and had heard thepromise sent to them by Byamee, the wise menscattered their precious gift far and wide.Some of the lovely blossoms fell on the treetops,some on the plains and hillsides, andever since that far-off day the earth has beenblessed with the gift of flowers. (Adapted.)

James Russell Lowell.

Ama-Terasu, the sun-goddess, was seated inthe Blue Plain of Heaven. Her light came asa message of joy to the celestial deities. Theorchid and the iris, the cherry and the plumblossom, the rice and the hemp fields answeredto her smile. The Inland Sea wasveiled in soft, rich colors.

Susa-no-o, the brother of Ama-Terasu, whohad resigned his ocean scepter, and nowreigned as the moon-god, was jealous of hissister's glory and world-wide sway. TheHeaven Illuminating Spirit had but to whisperand she was heard throughout her kingdom,even in the depths of the clear pool inthe heart of the crystal. Her rice-fields,whether situated on hillside, in sheltered valleyor by running stream, yielded abundantharvests, and her groves were laden with fruit.16But the voice of Susa-no-o was not so clear,his smile was not so radiant. The undulatingfields which lay around his palace were nowflooded, now parched, and his rice crops wereoften destroyed. The wrath and jealousy ofthe moon-god knew no bounds, yet Ama-Terasuwas infinitely patient and forgave him allthings.

Once, as was her wont, the sun-goddess satin the central court of her flower home. Sheplied the shuttle. Celestial weaving maidenssurrounded a fountain whose waters werefragrant with the heavenly lotus-bloom; theysang softly of the clouds and the wind, and thelight of the sky. Suddenly, the body of a piebaldhorse fell through the vast dome at theirfeet; the "Beloved of the gods" had beenflayed with a backward flaying by the enviousSusa-no-o. Ama-Terasu, trembling at thesight, pricked her finger with the weavingshuttle and, profoundly indignant at thecruelty of her brother, withdrew into a cave,and closed behind her the door of the HeavenlyRich Dwelling.

The universe was plunged in darkness.17Joy and goodwill, serenity and peace, hope andlove waned with the waning light. Evil Spiritswho heretofore had crouched in dim cornerscame forth and roamed abroad. Thengrim laughter and discordant tones struckterror into all hearts.

Then it was that the gods, fearful for theirsafety and for the life of every beautiful thing,assembled on the bed of the tranquil River ofHeaven whose waters had been dried up.One and all knew that Ama-Terasu alonecould help them. But how allure the Heaven-IlluminatingSpirit to set foot in this world ofdarkness and strife. Each god was eager toaid and a plan was finally devised to enticeher from her hiding place.

Ame-no-ko uprooted the holy sakaki treeswhich grew on the mountain of Heaven, andplanted them around the entrance of the cave.High on the upper branches were hung theprecious string of curved jewels which Izanagihad bestowed upon the sun-goddess.From the middle branches drooped a mirrorwrought of the rare metals of the celestialmine. Its polished surface was as the dazzling18brilliancy of the sun. Other gods wovefine threads of hemp and paper mulberry onan imperial robe of white and blue which wasplaced as an offering to the goddess, on thelower branches of the Sakaki.

A palace was also built surrounded by agarden in which the blossom-god calledforth many delicate plants and flowers.

Now all was ready. Ame-no-ko steppedforward and in a loud voice entreated Ama-Terasuto show herself. His appeal was invain. The great festival began. Uzume, thegoddess of mirth, led the dance and song.Leaves of the spindle tree crowned her head;club moss from the heavenly mount of Kaguformed her sash; her flowing sleeves werebound with the creeper-vine; and in her handshe carried leaves of the wild bamboo andwaved a wand of sun-grass hung with tinymelodious bells. Uzume blew on a bambooflute while eight hundred myriad deities, accompaniedher on wooden clappers and instrumentsformed of bow-strings across whichwere rapidly drawn stalks of reed and grass.Great fires were lighted around the cave and19as these were reflected in the face of the mirrorthe long singing birds of eternal nightbegan to crow as if day had dawned. Themerriment increased. The dance grew wilderand wilder and the gods laughed until theheavens shook as if with thunder.

Ama-Terasu in her quiet retreat heard unmovedthe crowing of co*cks and the soundsof music and dancing; but when the heavensshook with the laughter of the gods shepeeped from her cave and said, "What meansthis? I thought heaven and earth were darkbut now there is light. Uzume dances and allthe gods laugh." Uzume answered, "It istrue that I dance and that the gods laugh becausein our midst is a goddess whose splendourequals your own!" Ama-Terasu gazed intothe mirror and wondered greatly when shesaw therein a goddess of exceeding beauty—herown lovely image. She stepped fromher cave and forthwith a cord of rice-strawwas drawn across the entrance. Darkness fledfrom the land and there was light. Then theeight hundred myriad deities cried, "O, maythe sun-goddess never leave us again."(Adapted slightly.)

Once upon a time the winter season lastedfor so many many months that the peoplebegan to wonder if the frozen rivers and deepsnows would ever melt. "Will the keen northwind never leave us?" they asked each otheranxiously. "What has become of the beautifulwarm summer?"

The only person who seemed happy duringthis long, cold season was Ojeeb, a mightyhunter. He enjoyed the adventure of searchingfor the big winter game and his eye wasso keen and his hand so steady that he neverfailed to bring abundance of food to his wigwam.

Ojeeb's little son liked to hunt with his fatherbut the lad suffered much from the bittercold. Often his fingers became so numb that21he could not speed his small arrow skilfullyand he would fail in his aim. This alwaysvexed him very much and he would wish forthe summer days to come.

One day, when Ojeeb and his son werehunting, the lad became so cold that he wasobliged to leave his father and return to thewigwam. When he was hurrying through thewoods he heard a squirrel chattering veryloud on a pine tree. He stopped for a momentand the squirrel said, "Don't shoot me.I'm going to tell you a secret. I've oftenheard you wish for summer. The mightyhunter, who is your father, knows how to bringsummer back to the earth. When he comeshome beg him to send away this bitter coldweather and bring us the warm sunny days."Off scampered the chattering squirrel, and thelad ran on to his wigwam.

In the evening Ojeeb came home with someexcellent game which he showed with pride,but his son took little interest in it. He beganto talk about the cruel cold weather. Finallyhe said, "Father, drive away the keen winds,the frost, and the snow, and bring summer22back to the earth. For many months the RedMen have borne the trials of winter. It ishard for some of them to get enough food,for few are as skilful with the bow and arrowas Ojeeb. Send away the cold days and bringus the bright, warm summer again."

"You are asking me to perform a mightytask," said Ojeeb, "but I'll do my best to grantyour request. It is true that I know the secretof bringing summer back to the earth."

The next morning Ojeeb prepared a feast,and invited a number of his animal friendsto dine with him. At the appointed time,Otter, Beaver, Lynx, Badger, and Wolverineall came to Ojeeb's lodge. There they feastedand listened with interest to the mightyhunter's plan to bring summer back to theearth.

"We shall have to take a long and dangerousjourney and perhaps we shall never return toour homes," he said. "Are you brave enoughto help me in this mighty task?"

The animals all said they were willing tofollow and help Ojeeb, and begged him to tellthem his plan. To their astonishment the23hunter said the only way to bring back thesummer was to break through the great domeof Sky-Land, and free the summer birds whichwere imprisoned there.

"But how shall we reach Sky-Land?" askedthe animals in one voice.

"I'll lead the way," said the hunter.

The next day they started on the journeyto Sky-Land. Ojeeb led the way up a steep,smooth mountain-side. For twenty days theytraveled and finally they came to a curiouslodge in a hollow. The Mountain Manitolived there. He gave Ojeeb and his animalfriends food, and sheltered them until theywere refreshed. The hunter told him the objectof their coming and the Manito pointedout to them a certain pathway which led tothe summit of the mountain. For twentydays more they traveled. They were now highup above the clouds. The blue dome of thesky seemed but a short distance above theirheads. They rested for awhile and gazed insilent wonder at the beautiful canopy whichseparated them from Sky-Land.

Finally Ojeeb said, "Our difficult task is24only half done. We must leap up and breakthrough the dome of the Sky and set free thesummer birds. This is a mighty task I assureyou. The Mountain Manito directed me tosay that you, Otter, are to make the first trial."

Otter was delighted to be chosen first.Without taking due consideration of the greatheight, he immediately made a bound upward.But, alas! He fell headlong through the airto the mountain-side and rolled down, downto the plain below. The Beaver made thenext effort, but he too missed the sky domeand fell with a thud to the earth. Lynx madea great leap and so did Badger but each failedto touch the great dome of the sky.

Ojeeb was growing very anxious, indeed."Wolverine," he said, "measure the heightcarefully. You have great skill in leaping.Do not fail me."

Wolverine made a wonderful leap. Hisears grazed the dome. Again he sprang upwardwith a mighty bound and lo! he madea dent in the sky. A third time he tried andsuch a prodigious leap he made that a greatrent was torn in the blue dome. And Wolverine25passed through into Sky-Land. Ojeebimmediately sprang after him.

They found themselves in a land of wondrousbeauty. The air was soft and warm anda delicious fragrance rose from rich, greenmeadows thick with brilliant flowers. Ojeeband Wolverine walked toward a group oftepees which stood near a lake of crystal-clearwater bordered by cool stretches of woodland.Evidently the people were away on a huntingadventure for the tepees were vacant. PresentlyOjeeb saw a great cage made from thefinest of willow withes and enclosed thereinwere the beautiful summer birds. Robins,orioles, bluebirds, thrushes, jays, swallows,woodpeckers, veeries, and redbirds, all wereflitting silently about in their prison.

"Let us free the summer birds quickly,"whispered the hunter.

With Wolverine's help the cage was brokenin a very short time. Out flew the bright-featheredprisoners. As soon as they werefree they began to sing rapturous songs ofhappiness. Away they darted toward theopening in the sky-dome and many of them26passed through, carrying with them the warm,summer air.

But alas! the sweet singing reached the earsof the Sky-People who were in the neighbouringforests. They hurried toward their tepeesto see what had happened. They soondiscovered that the summer birds had beenfreed and were flying toward the earth througha great rent in the sky-dome. Many of theSky-People, shouting at the top of their voices,rushed to the opening and prevented some ofthe birds from escaping. Others searched forthe intruders who had caused the confusion.

Wolverine's quick ears heard the Sky-Peoplerunning from the forest and with greatleaps he reached the hole in the sky-dome andplunged through. Ojeeb followed as quicklyas he could but before he reached the openingit was surrounded by some of the Sky-People.He turned and fled in another direction,but there was no other way of escapingto the earth. On and on he ran until finallyhe came to the land of the stars and he hasdwelt there ever since.

Among the Earth-People there was great27rejoicing. The warm air from Sky-Landmelted the frost and snow which had coveredthe land for many, many months. In thebrown meadows the grass sprang forth andflowers bloomed. The summer birds builttheir nests in the leafy branches of the forestand cheered the Earth-People with happysongs.

The mighty hunter is not forgotten. Oftenthe Indians point to Sky-Land and say:

"It was brave Ojeeb who journeyed to Sky-Landand freed the summer birds. He gaveus the precious gift of summer and that iswhy we call him 'The Summer Maker.'"

SUMMER

Edmund Spenser.

One—two—three—four—five; five neatly-rakedkitchen-garden beds, four of them sideby side, with a pathway between; the fifth anarrow slip, heading the others, and close tothe gravel walk, as it was for succession-cropsof mustard and cress, which are often wantedin a hurry for breakfast or tea.

Most people have stood by such beds intheir own kitchen-garden on soft spring morningsand evenings, and looked for the comingup of the seed which either they or the gardenerhad sown.

Radishes in one, for instance, and of allthree sorts—white-turnip, red-turnip, andlong-tailed. Carrots in another; and this bedhad been dug very deep indeed that the rootsmight strike freely down. Onions in another.29Beets in the fourth, both the golden and redvarieties, while the narrow slip was half mustardand half cress.

Such was the plan here, at least, and here,for a time, all the seeds lay sleeping, as itseemed. For, as the long smooth-raked bedsstretched out dark and bare under the stars,they betrayed no symptoms of anything goingon within.

Nevertheless, there was no sleeping in thecase. The little seed-grains were fulfillingthe law of their being, each after its kind; thegrains, all but their inner germs, decaying;the germs swelling and growing, till they roseout of their cradles, and made their way,through their earthen coverlid, to the light ofday.

They did not all come up quite together, ofcourse, nor all quite alike. But as to the time,the gardener had made his arrangements socleverly, that none was very far behind hisneighbour. And as to the difference of shapein the first young leaves, what could it signify?It is true the young Mustards wereround and thick; the Cresses oval and pointed;the Carrots mere green threads; the Onions30sharp little blades, while the Beets had anodd, stainy look. But they all woke up to thesame life and enjoyment, and were all greetedwith friendly welcome as they appeared, bythe dew and light, and sunshine, and breezes.

"I find I get deeper and deeper into thesoil every day," remarked the Carrot. "Ishall be I don't know how long, at last.I have been going down regularly, quitestraight, for weeks. Then I am tapering offto a long point at the end, in the most beautifulproportions possible. A traveller toldme, the other day, this was perfection, and Ibelieve he was right."

"I knew what it was to live near the surfacein my young days," the Carrot went on;"but never felt solid enjoyment till I struckdeeply down, where all is so rich and warm.Pray tell me, neighbours," added he, good-naturedlyenough, "I should like to know thatyour roots are as long, and slim, and orange-colouredas mine; doing as well, in fact, andsinking as far down. I wish us to be all perfectalike. Perfection is the great thing totry for."

31"When you are sure you are trying in theright way," sneered a voice from the neighbouringradish bed. "But if the long, slim,orange-roots striking deep into the earth areyour idea of perfection, I advise you to beginlife over again. Dear me! I wish you hadconsulted us before. Why, we stopped goingdown long ago, and have been spreading outsideways and all ways, into stout, round solidballs ever since, close white flesh throughout,inside; and not orange but red, without."

"White, he means," shouted another.

"Red, I call it," repeated the first.

"But no matter; certainly not orange!"

And "certainly not orange!" cried they all.

"So," continued the Radish, "we are quiteconcerned to hear you ramble on about growinglonger and longer, and strongly advise youto keep your own counsel, and not mention itto any one else. We are friendly, you know,and can be trusted; but you really must leaveoff wasting your powers and energy in thedark inside of the ground, out of everybody'ssight and knowledge. Come to the surface,and make the most of it, as we do, and then32you'll be a credit to your friends. Never mindwhat travellers say. They've nothing else todo but to walk about and talk, and they tellus we are perfection, too. Don't trust to them,but to what we tell you now, and alter yourcourse at once. Roll yourself up into a firmround ball as fast as you can. You won't findit hard if you once begin. You have only to——"

"Let me put in a word first," interruptedone of the long-tailed Radishes in the samebed; "for it is of no use to go out of one extremeinto another, which you are on the highroad to do if you are disposed to take Mr.Roundhead's advice; who, by the way, oughtto be ashamed of forcing his very peculiarviews upon his neighbours. Just look at us.We always strike moderately down, so weknow it's the right thing to do. Solid roundballs are the most unnatural and useless thingsin the world. But, on the other hand, mydear friend, we have learnt where to stop, anda great secret it is, but one I fear you knownothing about at present; and as to the soil'sbeing better so very far down, nobody can33believe it, for why should it be? The greatart is to make the most of what is at hand, aswe do. Time enough to go into the depthswhen you have used up what is so mucheasier got at. The man who gathered someof us yesterday, called out, 'These are justright.' So I leave you to judge whether someother people we know of must not be wrong."

"You rather overwhelm me," mused theCarrot, "though it's remarkable you counsellorsshould not agree among yourselves. Isit possible, however, that I have been makinga great mistake all my life? What losttime to look back upon! Yet a ball;—no, no,not a ball! I don't think I could grow into asolid round ball were I to try forever!"

"Not having tried, how can you tell?"whispered the Turnip-Radish persuasively.

"But you never will, if you listen to ourold-fashioned friend next door, who has beenhalting between two opinions all his life;—willneither make an honest fat lump of it, asI do, nor plunge down and taper with you.But nothing can be done without an effort."

"That is true," murmured the Carrot, rather34sadly; "but I am too old for further effortsmyself. Mistake or no mistake, my fate isfixed. I am too far down to get up again,that's certain; but some of the young ones maytry. Do you hear, dears? Some of you stopshort, if you can, and grow out sideways andall ways, into stout, round, solid balls."

"Oh, nonsense about round balls!" cried thelong-tailed Radish in disgust; "what will theworld come to, if this folly goes on! Listento me, youngsters, I beg. Go to a moderatedepth, and be content; and if you want somethingto do, throw out a few fibres for amusem*nt.You're firm enough without them, Iknow, but the employment will pass awaytime."

"There are strange delusions abroad justnow," remarked the Onions to each other;"do you hear all this talk about shape andway of growth? and everybody in the dark onthe subject, though they seem to be quite unconsciousof the fact themselves. That fellowchattered about solid balls, as if there wasno such thing as bulbs, growing layer uponlayer, and coat over coat. Of course the very35long orange gentleman, with his tapering root,is the most wrong of the whole party; but Idoubt if Mr. Roundhead is much wiser whenhe speaks of close, white flesh inside, andred (of all ridiculous nonsense!) without.Where are their flaky skins, I should like toknow? Who is ever to peel them, I wonder?Poor things! I can't think how they got intosuch ways. How tough and obstinate theymust be! I wish we lived nearer. We wouldteach them a little better than that, and showthem what to do."

"I have lived near you long enough," grumbleda deep-red Beet in the next bed; "andyou have never taught me; neither shall you,if I can help it. A pretty instructor youwould be, who think it ridiculous to be red! Isuppose you can't grow red yourself, and soabuse the colour out of spite. Now I flattermyself I am red inside as well as out, so Isuppose I am more ridiculous than yourfriend who contrives to keep himself whitewithin, according to his own account; but Idoubt the fact. There, there! it is a folly to beangry, so I say no more, except this! get red36as fast as you can. You live in the same soilas I do, and ought to be able to do so."

"Oh, don't call it red!" exclaimed a goldenBeet, who was of a gentle turn of mind; "it isbut a pale tint after all, and surely ratheramber than red; and perhaps that was whatthe long-tailed orange gentleman meant."

"Perhaps it was; for perhaps he calls redorange, as you call it amber," answered theredder Beet; "anyhow he has rather moresense than our neighbor here, with his layerupon layer, and coat over coat, and flaky skinover all. Think of wasting time in such fiddle-faddleproceedings! Grow a good honestfleshy substance, and have done with it, andlet people see you know what life is capableof. I always look at results. It is somethingto get such a body as I do out of the surroundingsoil. That is living to some purpose, Iconsider. Nobody makes more of opportunitiesthan I do."

"Do you hear them? oh! do you hear them?"whispered the Cress to her neighbour theMustard. "Do you hear how they all talk togetherof their growth, and their roots, and37their bulbs, and size, and colour, and shape?It makes me quite unhappy, for I am doingnothing like that myself—nothing, nothing,though I live in the same soil! What is to bedone? What do you do? Do you grow greatwhite solid balls, or long orange taperingroots, or thick red flesh, or bulbs with layerupon layer, and coat over coat? Some of themtalked of just throwing out a few fibres as amere amusem*nt to pass away time; and thisis all I ever do for business. Do speak to me,but whisper what you say, for I shame to beheard or thought of."

"I grow only fibres too," groaned the Mustardin reply; "but I would spread every wayand all ways if I could—downwards and upwards,and sideways and all ways, like therest. I wish I had never been sown. Betternever be sown and grown, than sown andgrown to such trifling purpose! The soil mustgive them what it refuses to us."

"Or we are weak and helpless, and cannottake in what it offers," suggested the Cress."Alas! that we should have been sown onlyto be useless and unhappy!"

38And they wept the evening through. Butthey alone were not unhappy. The Carrot hadbecome uneasy, and could follow his naturaltastes no longer in comfort, for thinking thathe ought to be a solid round ball, white inside,and red without. The Onion had sore misgivingsthat the Beet might be right after all,and a good honest mass of red flesh be moreworth labouring for, than the pale coat-within-coatgrowth in which he had indulged. Itdid seem a waste of trouble, a fiddle-faddleplan of life, he feared. Perhaps he had notgone down far enough in soil. Some onetalked of growing fibres for amusem*nt—hehad certainly not come to that; they were necessaryto his support; he couldn't hold fastwithout them. Other people were more independentthan he was, then; perhaps wiser,—alas!

And yet the Beet himself was not quiteeasy; for talk as he would, what he had calledfiddle-faddle seemed ingenious when hethought it over, and he would like to havepersuaded himself that he grew layer uponlayer, too. But it wouldn't do.

39Perhaps, in fact, the bold little Turnip-Radishesalone, were the only ones free frommisgivings, and believed that everybody oughtto do as they did themselves.

What a disturbance there was, to be sure!And it got worse and worse, and they calledon the winds and fleeting clouds, the sun, andmoon, and stars above their heads, to stay theircourse awhile, and declare who was right andwho was wrong.

But they called and asked in vain; till oneevening, the clouds which had been gatheringover the garden for days began to comedown in rain, and sank swiftly into the ground,where it had been needed for long. Whereuponthere was a general cry, "Here comes amessenger; now we shall hear!"

So out came the old inquiries again:—whowas right—who was wrong—who had gothold of the true secret? But the Cress madeno inquiry at all, only shook with fright underthe rain; "for," thought she, "the hour of myshame and degradation is come: poor uselesscreature that I am, I shall never more hold upmy head."

40As to the Carrot, into whose well-dug bedthe rain found easiest entrance, and sankdeepest, he held forth in most eloquent styleupon the whole affair; how it was started, andwhat he had said; how much he had oncehoped; how much he now feared.

Now, the Rain-drops did not care to answerin a hurry; but as they came dropping down,they murmured, "Peace, peace, peace!" allover the beds. And truly they seemed to bringpeace with them as they fell, so that a calmsank all around, and then the murmur proceeded:—"Poorlittle atoms in a boundlesskingdom,—each one of you good after its kind—howcame these cruel misgivings and heart-burningsamong you? Are the tops of themountains wrong because they cannot growcorn like the valleys? Are the valleys wrongbecause they cannot soar into the sky? Doesthe brook flow in vain because it cannot spreadout like the sea? Each is good after its kind.Peace, peace, peace. Upon one, then, uponall—each wanted, each useful, each good afterits kind—peace, peace, peace, peace, peace!"

The murmur subsided to a whisper, the41whisper into silence; and by the time themoon-shadows lay upon the garden there waspeace everywhere.

Nor was it broken again; for hencefortheven the Cress held up her head—she, also,was good after her kind.

Only once or twice, that year, when the Carrotswere gathered, there came up the strangestgrowths—thick, distorted lumps, that hadnever struck properly down.

The gardener wondered, and was vexed, forhe prided himself on the digging of the carrot-bed."Anything that had had any sense mighthave gone down into it, I am sure," he said.And he was not far wrong; but you see theCarrot had had no sense when he began tospeculate, and tried to be something he wasnot intended to be.

Yet the poor clumsy thing was not quiteuseless after all. For, just as the gardenerwas about to fling it angrily away, he recollectedthat the cook might use it for soup,though it could not be served up at table—sucha shape as it was!

And this was exactly what she did.(Abridged.)

W. Graham Robertson.

Used by permission of John Lane Company.

Once upon a time, in a country far to thenorth of the world, lived a King and a Queenwho had everything they could wish for exceptan heir to their throne. That does notmean that they had no troubles at all. TheQueen thought she had a good many and theKing had one which was more real than anyof her fancied ones. His Queen was a terriblegrumbler. She was a grumbler by nature,and besides this she had been a spoiledchild.

As she was very beautiful and could be verysweet and charming when in a contented mood,the King had fallen deeply in love with herwhen he was on his travels round the world,and had persuaded her to leave her own home45in the sunny South to accompany him to hisnorthern kingdom.

There she had much to make her happy.While the first summer lasted she almost forgotto grumble, but when the winter camefierce and boisterous as it always is in thoselands, she grew very miserable. She shiveredwith cold and, instead of bracing herself tobear it, she wrapped herself in her furs andsat from morning till night cowering over ahuge fire. Although she brightened up aseach summer came around, with the return ofeach winter it was again the same sad story.

However, one day late in the autumn sheactually forgot her terror of the cold so faras to remain out walking in the grounds ofthe palace, though the snow clouds were gatheringthick and heavy overhead.

She was alone. For sometimes in her saddestmoods she could bear no one, not eventhe most faithful of her ladies, near her.

"If only I had a child of my own I wouldnever complain of anything again."

As the Queen uttered her wish, she raisedher eyes upwards and was startled to see some46snowflakes already falling; she turned tohasten indoors, exclaiming as she went, "Tothink that winter is upon us already; I shallno longer have even the small pleasure of astroll in the garden. But if I had a childto play with and care for, even the drearywinter would not seem so long. Everythingwould be bright and sunshiny to me."

"Are you sure of that?" said a voice besideher, and, glancing up, the Queen saw a lovelyfigure. It was that of a beautiful woman withgolden hair wreathed with flowers. But herface was somewhat pale and she drew roundher a mantle of russet brown as if to protecther from the cold.

"I am the Spirit of the Summer," she said."I knew you well in your childhood in theSouth and here, too, I have watched you,though you did not know it. Your wish shallbe fulfilled. I will bring you the child youare longing for. But remember, the gift willlead to no lasting happiness unless you overcomeyour heart of discontent. For I can doonly my part. My brother, the powerfulSpirit of Winter is stern and severe. He has47heard your murmurings already, and if, whenyour wish is granted you still continue them,I tremble for the fate of your child."

"Thank you, oh, thank you, sweet Spirit,"said the Queen. "I will indeed take heed forthe future and never murmur again."

"I trust so," said the fairy, "for listen whatwill happen if you forget your resolution.The slightest touch of snow would, in thatcase, put the child into my stern brother'spower and you would find yourself terriblypunished. Beware, therefore. I must hastenaway."

As she said this the gracious figure seemedto disappear in a rosy haze and almost at thesame moment a cold blast driving the snowflakesbefore it, came with a rush from behindwhere the young Queen stood, almost liftingher from her feet.

"That must surely be the Spirit of the Winterhimself," she thought as she hurried indoors.

The Summer Spirit was true to her promise.On the loveliest morning of all that year48was born a baby Princess, the prettiest babythat ever was seen.

"A true child of the summer," said thehappy Queen.

"And strong to brave and enjoy the winter,too, I trust," added the King. "She must bea true Princess of the North, as her mother isfast becoming, I hope," he went on with asmile.

But his words did not please the Queen,though they were so kindly meant.

With the possession of the child, thoughshe was so overjoyed to have her, the youngQueen's wayward and dissatisfied spirit beganto return. She seemed to think the Princesswas to be only hers, that the nation and eventhe King, must give way, in everything thatconcerned the child, to its mother's will. Shewas even displeased one day when she overheardsome of her ladies admiring the beautifulcolor of the child's hair and saying thatit showed her a true daughter of the North.

"No such thing," said the Queen. "Itshows her a child of the sunshine and the49summer. My sweet Rose!" for so, to pleasethe Queen, the baby had been named.

On the whole, however, while the summerlasted, the Queen was too happy with the childto give way to any real murmurings and onceor twice, when she might perhaps have doneso, there was wafted to her by the breeze thesound of a gentle, "Beware!" and she knewthe Summer Fairy was near.

So for the first winter of the child's life theQueen was on her guard and nothing wentwrong, except now and then when the Kingreproached his wife with overcare of thechild when the weather was at all severe.

"I wish to make her brave and hardy," saidthe King.

In some strange way, however, the princess,child though she was, seemed to understandwhat her father felt about her. It was noticedthat before she could speak at all, she woulddance in her nurse's arms and stretch out herlittle hands with glee at the sight of the snowflakesfalling steadily. And once or twicewhen a draught of frosty air blew upon her50she laughed with delight instead of shrinkingor shivering.

But so well were the Queen's feelings understoodthat no one ventured to tell her ofthese clear signs that Rose felt herself at homein the land of snow.

The winter passed and the summer cameagain—the second summer of the child's life.

She had grown like the flowers and was ashappy as the butterflies. Never was a sweeteror merrier child. The Queen idolized herand the King loved her quite as dearly, thoughin a wiser way. And that summer passed veryhappily.

Unfortunately, however, the warm fine dayscame to an end unusually early that year.Many of the birds took flight for the Southsooner than was their wont, and the flowersdrooped and withered as if afraid of what wascoming.

The Queen noticed these signs with a sinkingheart. Standing one chilly morning atthe palace windows she watched the grayautumn sky and sighed deeply.

51"Alas, alas!" she said. "All the beauty andbrightness are going again."

She did not know that the King had enteredthe room and was standing behind her.

"Nay," he said cheerfully. "You have noreason to feel so sad. If you have no otherflower you have our Rose, blooming asbrightly in the winter as in the warmth."

He meant it well, but it would have beenwiser if he had said nothing. The Queenturned toward him impatiently.

"It is so," she said angrily. "Rose is likeme. She loves the summer and the sunshine.I do not believe she would live through yourwretched northern winters but for my care.And the anxiety is too much for me. The lifein this country is but half a life. Would thatI had known it before I ever came hither."

The King was deeply hurt and disappointedand he left the room without speaking. Hewas generally so kind and patient that thisstartled her, and brought her to her senses.

"How wrong of me to grieve him so by mywild words," she thought penitently."And——" A sudden horror came over her.

52The Princess's nurse picked up some fircones and gave them to the little girl, whothrew them about with glee and called out formore. They were all so busy playing withher that they did not notice how, above theheads of the tall fir-trees, the sky was growingdark and overcast, till suddenly a strange chillblast made the Queen gather her mantle roundher and gaze up in alarm.

"We must hasten home," she said: "it isgrowing cold."

"Yes, indeed," said one of the ladies; "it almostlooks like——" But the Queen interruptedher. She could not bear even the mentionof the fatal word.

"Wrap up the Princess!" she exclaimed."Cover her over, face and all! Never mindif she cries! My darling, we shall be homedirectly. The cold wind would hurt you," sheadded.

Then they hurried back to the palace asquickly as the goats could be persuaded to go,even the Queen herself running fast to keepup with the little carriage.

They were within a short distance of the53palace before any snow fell, though it wasclear to be seen that it was not far off; andthe Queen was beginning to breathe againmore freely when suddenly Princess Rose,with a cry of baby mischief, pushed away theshawl that was over her face, shouting withglee. At that moment the first fluttering snowflakesbegan to fall. The little Princessopened wide her eyes as she caught sight ofthem, and smiled as if in greeting; and alas!before the terrified Queen had time to replacethe covering the child had thrown off, onesolitary flake alighted on her cheek, meltingthere into a tiny drop which looked like atear, though still the little Princess smiled.

The Queen seized the child in her arms,rushed up the long flight of steps, all throughthe great halls and corridors like a mad creature,nor stopped even to draw breath till shehad reached the Princess's apartments, andhad her safe in the rooms specially preparedfor her during the winter.

But was she safe? Was it not already toolate? With trembling dread the Queen drewaway the furs and shawls wrapped round the54baby, almost expecting to find her changed insome strange way; and it was with thankfulnessshe saw that little Rose was still herself—sweetand smiling in her sleep. For she wasfast asleep.

"The darling, the precious angel," thoughtthe poor mother as she laid her in her littlecot just as the ladies and nurses and attendantscame trooping into the room.

"She is only asleep," said the Queen in awhisper. "Nothing has happened to her. Sheis sleeping sweetly."

The ladies stared. The Queen's behaviorhad been so strange that they could not understandher.

"It is a pity to be so anxious about thechild," they said to one another. "It will bringno blessing," for they thought it all came fromthe Queen's foolish terror lest the little Princessshould catch cold, and they shook theirheads.

But the Queen seemed full of thankfulness.She was very gentle and subdued. Manytimes that afternoon she came back to see iflittle Rose was well, but she was still sleeping.

55"The fresh keen air has made her drowsy,I suppose," said the head nurse, late in theevening when the Queen returned again.

"And she has had nothing to eat since themiddle of the day," said the mother anxiously."I almost think if she does not wake herselfin an hour or so you will have to rouse her."

To this the nurse agreed. But two hourslater in the Queen's next visit to the nursery,there was a strange report to give her. Thenurse had tried to wake the baby, but it wasall in vain. Little Rose just smiled sweetlyand rolled over on her other side, without attemptingin the least to open her eyes. Itseemed cruel to disturb her. She seemed sovery sleepy.

"I think we must let the Princess have hersleep out—children are like that sometimes,"said the nurse.

And the Queen was forced to agree to it,though she had a strange sinking at the heart,and even the King when he came to look athis little daughter felt uneasy, though he triedto speak cheerfully.

"No doubt she will wake in the morning56quite bright and merry," he said, "all thebrighter and merrier for sleeping a goodround and a half of the clock."

The morning dawned—the slow comingwinter daylight of the North found its wayinto the Princess's nursery—a tiny gleam ofruddy sunshine even managed to creep in tokiss her dimpled cheek, but still the baby sleptas soundly as if the night was only beginning.And matters grew serious.

It was no use trying to wake her. They alldid their best—King, Queen, ladies, nurses;and after them the great court physicians andlearned men of every kind. All were summonedand all consulted and, as the days wenton, a hundred different things were tried—butall to no purpose. "She is bewitched," saidthe cleverest of all the doctors, and as timewent on, everybody began to agree with him.Even the King himself was obliged to thinksomething of the kind was at the bottom of it,and at last one day the Queen, unable to endureher remorse any longer, told him thewhole story, entreating him to forgive her for57having by her discontent and murmuringbrought upon him so great a sorrow.

The King was very kind but very grave.

"I understand it now," he said. "The SummerFairy told you true. Our northern WinterSpirit is indeed stern; we must submit.If we are patient and resigned it is possiblethat in the future even his cold heart may bemelted by the sight of our suffering."

"It is only I who deserve it," wept the poorQueen. "The worst part of it all is to knowthat I have brought this sorrow upon you, mydear husband."

And so repentant she was that she almostforgot to think of herself. Never had shebeen so sweet and loving a wife. She dideverything she possibly could to please andcheer the King, concealing from him the manybitter tears she shed as she sat for hours togetherbeside the sleeping child.

The winter was terribly severe—never hadthe snow lain so thickly, never had the wind-blastsraged and howled more furiously.Often did the Queen think to herself58that the spirit must be infuriated at her verypresence, in his special domain.

"They might pity me now—now that I amso punished." She bore all the winter coldand terrors uncomplainingly, nay, even cheerfully,nerving herself to go out alone in thebitterest weather with a sort of hope of pleasingthe Winter Fairy; possibly, if she couldbut see him, of making an appeal to him. Butfor many months he held his icy sway. Oftenindeed it seemed as if gentler times were neverto return.

Then suddenly one night the frost went; amild, soft breeze replaced the fierce blast;spring had come. And wonderful to relate,the very next morning the Queen was rousedby loud knocking and voices at her door;trembling, she knew not why, she opened it,and the head nurse fell at her feet laughingand crying at once. The Princess had awakened.

Yes; there she was, chattering in her babyway, smiling and rosy as if nothing had beenthe matter. Oh, the joy of her parents andthe jubilation all through the palace!

59And all through the summer little Rose waswide awake in the daytime just like otherchildren. She was as well and strong andhappy as a baby could be. But—the summerwill not last for ever; again returned theautumn, bringing with it the signs of the approachingwinter and one morning when hernurse went to awaken the Princess, she foundit was no use—Rose was sleeping again, witha smile on her face, calm and content, butalas! not to be awakened! And then it wasremembered that the first snow had fallen inthe night.

Gradually the child's distressed parentsresigned themselves to the sad truth: theirdaughter was to be theirs only for half herlife; for full six months out of every twelve,she was to be in a sense as far away from themas if the Winter Monarch had carried her offto his palace of ice altogether.

But no; it was not quite so bad as that wouldhave been. And the Queen, who was fastlearning to count her blessings instead of hertroubles, smiled through her tears as she saidto the King, what a mercy it was that they60were still able to watch beside their preciouschild—to kiss her soft warm cheek everynight.

And so it went on. In the spring thePrincess woke up again, bright and well andlively, and in every way six months older thanwhen she had fallen asleep; so that, to see herin the summer time no one could have guessedthe strange spell that was over her. She becamethe sweetest and most charming girl inthe world; only one thing ever saddened her,and that was any mention of winter, especiallysnow.

"What does it mean?" she would ask sometimes."What are they talking of? Showme this wonderful thing! Where does itgrow? I want to see it."

But no one could make her understand;and at these times a very strange look wouldcome into her blue eyes.

"I must see it," she said. "Some day I shallgo away and travel far, far, till I find it."

These words used to distress her mothermore than she could say; and she wouldshower presents on her daughter, of flowers,61and singing birds—all to make her think ofthe sunshine and the summer. And for a timethey would please the girl, till again she shookher head and murmured, "I want the snow."

So the years followed each other till thePrincess was sixteen. Every winter the Queenhad a faint hope, which, however, grew evenfainter and fainter, that the spell was perhapsto be broken. But it was not so. And strangestories got about concerning the Princess—somesaying she was a witch in disguise; others,that she had no heart or understanding;others, that she turned into a bird or someanimal during half her life—so that theneighboring Princes, in spite of her beautyand sweetness, were afraid to ask her in marriage,and this brought new sorrow to herparents. "What will become of her after weare dead and gone?" they said. "Who willcare for and protect our darling? Who willhelp her to rule over our nation? No peoplewill remain faithful to a sovereign who is onlyawake half of the year. There will be revoltsand rebellion, and our angel Princess may perhapsbe put to death, or driven away."

62And they fretted so over this that the hairof both the King and Queen grew white longbefore its time. But Rose only loved them themore on this account for she had heard someone say that white hair was like snow; thoughshe kept the fancy to herself, for she knew ittroubled the Queen if ever she mentioned thestrange, mysterious word.

She was so lovely that painters came frommany countries just to see her face, and, ifpossible, be allowed to make a picture of her.And one of these portraits made its way to thecourt of a King who was a distant cousin ofher father, and who had heard the strangethings said of the Princess. He was very angryabout it for he had two sons, and he was afraidof their falling in love with the beautiful face.So he ordered the picture to be destroyed beforethe elder Prince, who was away on a visit,came home.

But the servant who was to burn the picturethought it such a pity to do so, that he onlyhid it away in a lumber-room; and thither, asfate would have it, came the younger Princeone day in search of a pet kitten belonging to63his sister, which had strayed away; for he wasa Prince of a most kind and amiable nature.

The moment he saw the picture he fell inlove with it. He made inquiry, and heardall there was to tell, then he arranged himselffor a journey and came to bid his father farewell.

"I go," he said, "to woo the Princess Rosefor my bride." And in spite of all the Kingcould say he kept firm.

"If she is a witch," he said, "I would ratherperish by her hands than live with any other."

And amidst tears and lamentations he setout.

He was received with great delight at thecourt of Princess Rose's parents—though hecame without any pomp or display; for helost no time in telling the King and Queenthe reason of his visit. Knowing him to be aPrince of most estimable character they wereoverjoyed to hear of his resolve.

"I only trust," said the Queen, "that all maybe well. But, as you have doubtless heard,our darling child, despite her beauty andgoodness, is under a spell."

64She then proceeded to tell him the wholematter of which he had already heard garbledaccounts.

He was relieved to find that the enchantmentwas of no worse a nature, and declaredthat it made no difference in his intentions, butrather increased his love for the Princess.

And when he first set eyes on her (morebeautiful by far than even the beautiful portrait)he felt that his whole life would not betoo much to devote to her even consideringher strange affliction.

"And who knows," he said to himself, "butthat such love as mine may find out a way torelease her from the spell?"

The Princess quickly learned to like him.She had never before had a companion so nearher own age and the last days of the summerpassed most happily till the time came whenthe Prince thought he might venture to askher to be his wife.

They were walking in the terrace in frontof the castle when he did so. It had been alovely day, but the afternoon had grownchilly, and as the Princess listened to his65words a cold breath of wind passed near them.

The Princess started; and, aware of theQueen's anxiety about her, the Prince hastilyproposed that they should return to the house;but Rose looked at him with a light in hereyes which he had never before seen and astrange smile broke over her face.

"It is a new life to me," she said. "Can younot understand, you who are yourself a childof the North? Yes, Prince, I will marry youon one condition, that you will show me thesnow—but on no other."

Then she turned and without another wordwalked slowly back to the palace.

Prince Orso, for so he was called, felt terriblydistressed.

"The spell is upon her," he thought to himself."She asks me to do what would probablykill her or separate her forever from all wholove her."

And the King and Queen when they heardthis story were nearly as disappointed as he.

But that very night the Prince had a strangedream. He thought he was walking in thewood near the castle, when again a chill blast66but still more icy swept past him, and he hearda voice speaking to him. It sounded hoarseand stern.

"Orso," it said, "you're as foolish as therest. Have you no trust? See what came ofrebellion against me, who, after all, love mychildren as does my sister of the summer.Leave the Princess to the leadings of her ownheart."

Then with a crash of thunder the spirit wenton its way. And the Prince awoke to find thatthe window of his room had been dashed inby the force of a sudden gale which hadarisen.

But the next morning all was again calm.It almost seemed as if milder weather was returningagain; and the Queen looked brighter;but it was not so with the Princess, who wassilent and almost sad. And so things continuedfor some days.

At last the Prince could bear it no longer.One afternoon when he found himself alonewith the Princess, he turned to her suddenly.

"Princess," he said, "can you not give meanother answer? You must know that I would67fain promise anything you wish; but I darenot bind myself to what might perhaps do yousome injury."

Rose turned toward him impatiently.

"That is just it," she said. "I am alwaysmet by excuses when I ask for the one thingI really desire. What is there about me reallydifferent from others? Why should I so oftenhear of what others seem to understand, andnot have it explained to me? I am no longera child; in my dreams I see things I cannotput in words; and beautiful as the world is Ifeel that I only half know it. I long for whatthey call the winter, and what they call thesnow and they never come. Only the coldwind, which I have felt once or twice, bringsnew life to me, and fills me with strange joy."

The Prince hesitated. He understood herperfectly for he was of the same brave andhardy race. Yet the Queen's forebodingsmade him tremble. The Princess's words remindedhim of his own dream; and again hefelt as if he heard the voice of the stern WinterSpirit. And as if in answer to his uncertainty,at that moment the howl of the cold68blast sounded near them among the trees andlurid clouds began to gather overhead.

The Princess's face lighted up.

"Oh," she exclaimed, "it is coming again!"

"I fear so, indeed," said Orso; and in histerror for her he caught her hand and wouldhave hurried her back to the palace.

But at that moment a shrill little cry washeard overhead not far from where they stood,and, glancing up, they saw a bird of preyclutching a smaller one in his claws. With aterrible effort the captive managed to freehimself, but he was sadly wounded; and asRose gazed upwards in great concern she sawhim fall fluttering feebly to the ground. Allelse was forgotten in the sight.

"Poor bird!" she cried. "Let me go, Prince.I must find him where he has fallen, or acruel death of slow suffering will be his."

The Prince let her go; he dared not holdher back, though he could have done so.

"Leave her to the guidings of her ownheart," resounded in his ears.

Almost at once she was lost to his sightamong the trees which grew very closely; almost69at the same moment, to his horror, somethingcold and soft touched his face, and snowflakeswere falling thickly. If harm was tobetide, it was too late to save her; but hepressed forward in unspeakable anxiety.

It was some little time before he found her;and no reply came to his calls; but at last hecaught sight of something blue on the ground.It was the Princess's robe; and there, indeed,she lay, motionless, her eyes closed, a sweetsmile on her face, the little wounded birdtenderly clasped in her hands.

Orso threw himself on the ground beside thePrincess.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, "My carelessness haskilled her. How can I ever dare to face theKing and Queen? Oh, Winter Spirit! youhave indeed deceived me."

But as he said the words the Princessopened her eyes.

"No, Prince," she said, "I am not dead; Iam not even asleep. It was the strange gladnessthat seemed to take away my breath for amoment, and I must have sunk down withoutknowing. But now I feel stronger and happier70than ever in my life before, now that Ihave seen and felt the beautiful snow of myown country; now that I have breathed thewinter air I have been longing for always."And she sprang to her feet, her blue eyes sparklingwith delight, looking lovelier than hehad ever seen her.

"Orso," she went on half shyly, "you havedone what I asked you; through you I haveseen the snow," and she held out her hand,which, white though it was, looked pink incomparison with the little flakes which werefluttering down on it.

The Prince was overjoyed but he hesitated.

"I fear," he said, "that in reality you shouldrather thank the poor little bird, or most ofall your own kind heart."

"Poor little bird," she replied, looking at itas it lay in her other hand.

"It is not dead. I will do all I can for it.Let us hasten home, Prince, so that I may bindup its poor wing. My father and mother willbe too anxious about me."

And together they returned to the palace.One glance at the Princess as she came in71sprinkled over with snow showed the Queenthat the spell was at last broken and her joywas past all words.

The little bird spent all the winter in thepalace, tenderly cared for by the PrincessRose, only flying away when the warm sunnydays returned. He pays them a visit still everysummer to show his gratitude, and in all histravels he seldom sees a happier family thanhis friends in the old palace away up in thefar, far, northern land.

John Townsend Trowbridge.

Rabindranath Tagore.

Robert Browning.

Once upon a time there lived a little Indianboy who was very proud of his beautiful coat.His sister had made it for him out of the skinsof ten snow-birds. Carefully she had driedthese skins, stretched them, and pieced theminto a soft, warm garment. The lad was sofond of his coat that he wore it whenever heleft the wigwam, no matter how warm thesun shone.

One morning the Indian lad took a longwalk and becoming very tired he threw himselfdown on a grassy hillside to rest, and fellsound asleep.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the Sun when hesaw the boy wrapped in a bird-skin coat insummer time. "I must give this lad a hint that76the snow and ice are gone and it is time tolay aside winter coverings."

With all his warm might the Sun shone onthe sleeping lad. Gradually the feathers ofhis coat curled up and became singed andbrown, and the garment shrank to a very smallsize.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the Sun.

When the Indian lad awoke he wonderedwhat had happened to him for he felt as if hewere caught in a trap. He sprang to his feetand discovered that his beautiful coat hadshrunk until it was entirely too small for him.

"It is ruined," he cried aloud. "Ruined bythat monster Sun. He shall not play suchtricks on me and escape without punishment."Then, shaking his fist in the Sun's face, heshouted, "I'll make you pay for ruining mybeautiful bird-skin coat."

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the Sun.

The Indian lad ran back to the wigwam asfast as he could, carrying the garment in hishands.

"See what has happened!" he cried to hissister. "That vicious Sun shrank my beautiful77coat while I was asleep on the hillside. I cannever wear it again."

"Perhaps I can stretch it for you," said hissister.

"No, no! See, the feathers are singed andbrown. It is ruined!"

He was so sorely vexed that he could neithereat nor sleep. For twenty days he fasted inthe wigwam and wondered how he could callthe mischievous Sun to account for spoilingthe bird-skin coat.

One morning he sprang up and said to hissister, "I have thought out a way to punishthe Sun. In his high path across the sky hethinks he is safe from a little lad like me, butI'll show him what I can do if you will helpme."

"Tell me your plan," said the sister, wonderinghow any mortal could punish themighty Sun.

"I'll set a snare for him and catch him!"cried her brother excitedly. "I want thestrongest cord you can find."

"I've plenty of dried moose-hide; will thatbe strong enough?" she asked.

78"No, no! That would never hold the Sun,"said the boy.

His sister thought a while and then said,"I have dried sinew of deer."

But still her brother shook his head. "TheSun is a mighty quarry. I must have somethingstronger than the sinew of the deer."

"Then I must search in the deep woods,"said his sister.

She left the wigwam and for nine days shesearched through the forest. At last she returnedwith a twisted cord which she hadmade from the strongest wood fiber. As soonas her brother saw it he knew what to do.He drew the twisted fiber through his lips andimmediately it became so fine and strong thathe believed nothing could break it. Roundand round his body the lad wound this cord; atone end of it he fashioned a noose.

Confident that he was now prepared tosnare the Sun, the lad left the wigwam longbefore daybreak. He walked to the spotwhere the Sun first peeps over the rim of theearth, and there he securely fixed the noose.Then as he walked back to the lodge he unwound79from his body the cord, and held fastto the end of it.

The Sun was caught in this snare! Hisshining head was held tight in the noose andhe could not travel across his Sky-Path. Astrange dull light filled the air.

In his wigwam the Indian lad was delighted.He danced about joyously and said,"The mighty Sun will learn that he cannotplay a trick on me and escape without punishment."

But while the Indian lad laughed and sangbecause he had caught the Sun in his noosethe Animals were in deep trouble for therewas no daylight in the world. They walkedcautiously about, filled with fear and wonder.

"What has happened to the Sun? Has hestrayed from his Sky-Path?" they whisperedto each other.

After a while they discovered that the Sunwas caught in a great noose and they called aCouncil in order to decide what to do.

"Of course we must free the Sun," said allthe Animals, but when one of them asked howthis could be done there was silence in the80Council for a long time, because all the Animalsknew about the Sun's great heat andfeared to go near enough to break the cord.

At last the mole said, "I'll free the Sun.I'm not afraid. My teeth are very sharp andI'm sure they can gnaw through the cord ofthe noose."

Accordingly she crept near to the edge ofthe earth where the Sun was held fast. Theheat was intense but the mole was determinednot to give up her undertaking. She gnawedand gnawed, until the cord was cut in two.Then up into the sky sprang the Sun with amighty bound. Before the Mole could runaway, however, the Sun's white light shonefull in her eyes, and from that day she has notbeen able to see very well. Her eyes are extremelysmall and are almost hidden by fur.That is why she lives in dark places and seldomcomes out into the sunlight. But theAnimals are all grateful to her and they oftensay, "It was the brave Mole who cut theIndian boy's noose which held the Sun."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Once upon a time there lived in sunny Greecea lad named Phaeton. He was a son of Clymene,an ocean nymph, and Apollo, the godof the sun.

One morning when the lad was playing withsome of his companions he said, "It is myfather who drives the glorious sun-car acrossthe sky, and brings daylight into the world.I am the son of bright Apollo."

Now this was by no means the first timethat Phaeton had boasted about his high lineage,for he was indeed very proud of hisfather. He was much surprised, however, tohear his playmates laugh. One of themlooked scornfully at him and said, "You aretelling us an idle tale. We do not believe thatyou are a child of the mighty Sun."

83Another added quickly, "Why don't youprove your boast? If you are the son ofApollo give some sign of your heavenly birth."

Indignant at these taunts Phaeton soughthis mother and told her about the jeeringinsults he had been obliged to bear.

"They refuse to believe what I say until Ioffer proof," he cried. "Let me go to the palaceof the sun and speak to my father. Hewill advise me how to prove my claim."

Clymene hesitated to grant this request becauseshe knew the proposed journey was attendedby many dangers; but finally she gaveconsent and carefully directed Phaeton to theabode of Apollo.

In the far east stood the shining sun palacewrought from burnished gold, bright silver,and polished ivory. The walls, marvellouslydesigned, were thickly set in emeralds, rubies,sapphires and diamonds; the slender jewelledpinnacles shone with dazzling light.

Phaeton was awed by the splendour whichhe saw but he entered the palace and approachedthe sun god who sat on a glitteringthrone. Immediately Apollo greeted his son84and asked what favour he sought. Encouragedby the question Phaeton lost all trace of fearand said, "O, Light of the World, the childrenof men declare that I am not the son of Apollo.They sneer at me and say that my claim isnothing but an idle boast. Grant me somemeans of proving to them that I am indeed achild of the mighty Sun."

Apollo laid aside the beams that shone onhis brow, bade Phaeton come nearer to him,and said, "Thou art indeed my son. By themighty river Styx I promise to grant thee anyboon thou shalt ask."

Eagerly Phaeton replied, "For one day letme drive the sun-chariot across the sky. Noone will ever again deny my high lineage ifApollo grant me this boon."

The sun-god immediately saw what a rashpromise he had made. Three times he shookhis bright head and then replied, "I beg thee,Phaeton, choose another boon for none butPhoebus Apollo can drive the horses of thesun-chariot. The path through high heavenis beset with dangers. First the steeds mustclimb the steep ascent of the eastern sky; then85they must be guided through the middle waywhich is a dizzy height above earth and sea;and last of all, their path lies down the dangerousslope of the west. Also frightful monstersmust be passed on the road through the sky.I beg thee choose another boon. This onemay bring thee punishment instead of glory."

But Phaeton was not dissuaded, and finallyApollo led the headstrong youth to the placewhere the fire-breathing horses and brilliantchariot stood. The axle-tree, poles, and wheel-rimswere gold; the spokes, silver. The bodyof the car was thickly set with chrysolitesand diamonds which reflected the sun's brilliance.While Phaeton gazed admiringly atall this beauty, Aurora the goddess of theDawn threw open the purple doors of the Eastand pointed to the pathway strewn with roses.The Stars quickly withdrew and when the sungod saw the Moon make ready to depart heswiftly ordered the Hours to harness up thehorses. Then Apollo quickly bound the Sun'srays on the impatient lad's brow and anointedhis face with a cooling essence to protect hisskin from the burning flames.

86Phaeton leaped into the car, seized thereins, stood erect, and thanked Apollo for thegreat privilege of driving the chariot. In hiseager haste to start the youth failed to note hisfather's words of warning. "Hold the reinsfirmly and be sparing of the whip. The steedsneed no urging; the labour is to hold them incheck. Do not drive too high for fear of burningthe heavens; nor too low, or the earthwill be set on fire. Keep in the well-worn rutsof the middle path. The time to start hascome, for Night is passing out of the Westerngates. Heed carefully my words in this hazardousjourney."

With an impatient bound the fire-breathingsteeds sprang forth. They dashed lightly overthe clouds and outran the morning breezes intheir eagerness to mount the eastern slope ofthe sky. In a little while they discovered thatthe car was lighter than usual, and that thesun-god was not holding the reins. Thenthey plunged madly forward and turned asidefrom the middle track. This headlong speedof the horses filled Phaeton's heart with terror,especially when he realized he had no87power to guide them. He forgot the names ofthe horses; in despair he was obliged to letthem take their own course. Nearer andnearer to the earth's broad plains dashed thechariot of the sun. The fountains and riverswere dried up by the scorching heat; the foresttrees became withered and burned; thegrassy hillsides, parched and brown; the harvestfields were set on fire, even the people ofthe land over which the sun chariot passedwere blackened by the extreme heat, andto this day their descendants have dark skins.

In a loud cry of agony the people called onJupiter, king of the gods, to save them fromdestruction. The all-powerful one arousedhimself from a deep sleep and saw, at a glance,the cause of this terrible suffering. Angeredat the thought that a youth should dare drivethe horses of the sun, Jupiter hurled one of hisdeadliest thunderbolts at the unfortunatePhaeton, who fell from the chariot like ashooting star and sank into the depths of theriver Eradinus.

Clymene deeply mourned her son's death,and Phaeton's three sisters bewailed his loss88for many days. Finally the gods, in pity,changed them into poplar trees, in order thatthey might always be near the river into whichPhaeton fell.

SONG

William Shakespeare.

Robert Louis Stevenson.

One hot summer morning a little cloud roseout of the sea, and floated playfully across theblue sky. The dreary brown earth, parchedwith a long drouth, lay far below. The littlecloud looked down and saw the poor peopletoiling away with heavy hearts, while she,carefree and happy, floated along on the freshmorning breeze.

She said to herself, "Oh, how much I wishI could help the poor people down there. IfI could but lighten their work, or refreshthem with food and drink!"

As the day passed and the cloud grew larger,the wish to help the suffering people filled herheart.

On earth it grew hotter and hotter, and thepeople were fainting with heat, but they could91not stop their work, for they were very poor.Sometimes they looked pleadingly up into thesky. It seemed as if they were saying to thecloud: "Oh, if you could but help us!"

"I will help you! I will, indeed!" said thecloud, and she began immediately to sinksoftly toward the earth.

As she floated down she suddenly rememberedsomething which she had heard whenshe was a tiny child, rocked in the lap ofMother Ocean. Someone had told her thatclouds die if they float too near the earth.

For a moment she wavered in her thoughtand drifted to and fro. But at last she stoodstill and spoke bravely and cheerfully, "Menof the earth, I will help you, come what may."

Suddenly she grew large, and strong andpowerful. Never before had she dreamedherself capable of such strength. Like anangel of blessing she stood above the earth,lifted her head, and spread her wings far overthe broad fields.

So great and mighty she appeared that menand beasts marvelled at the sight; the trees,grass, and flowers bowed their heads before92her, but in their hearts they knew she wouldhelp them.

"Yes, I will help you," cried the cloud oncemore. "Take me to yourselves! I die foryou!"

A mighty purpose filled the cloud's heart,and a holy light shone from her face. Shesank nearer to the earth. The next moment ablessed shower of rain refreshed the hills andvalleys.

The rain was the cloud's deed; the rain wasthe cloud's death; but through her death shewas glorified.

After the shower was over, a lovely rainbow,made of the purest rays of heavenlylight, arched across the sky. It was the lastgreeting of a love so great that it could serve.

Soon the rainbow, too, disappeared, but thememory of the blessing which the shower hadbrought to the earth was kept in the hearts ofmen for many years to come.

Once upon a time there was a child wavenamed Undine. "Undine the Beautiful,"they called her, because, when she was quitea little ripple, she sparkled more brilliantlythan any of her thousand brothers and sisters,and not one of them was so crystal clear ordressed in such wonderful shades of sapphireblue and emerald green. She was born at themouth of a white limestone rock cave on thecoast of Devonshire. The fourteenth of Augustwas her birthday. Never had therebeen such a lovely little ripple as Undine.The old Tide let her run up and down on hisback when he came into the bay where shelived. She kept close by the cave for a time,and grew big and strong, and became first abillow and then a wavelet; but when a month94had passed she was a full-grown wave—onlya small one, of course, but still a wave.

Her father was a well known Devonshirecoast wave, a jolly compact old sea salt roller,with a great thatch of creamy foam on hishead. He ran up and down the coast and outto sea in a lazy, aimless kind of way, playingwith the fishing smacks and rolling over theporpoises.

He had a kindly look and was a friendlyfellow as a rule, but could be as cruel andfierce as the worst of them, when he wasroused. Old Lobster-Pot they called him, becausehe loved, when he could, to dive downand wash the lobsters out of their baskets, andthen come and dance round the fishermen'sboats in the morning when they pulled themup, and laugh at them when they found alltheir hard work had been for nothing.

Undine's mother was a tall, graceful wavewith a beautiful green breast, on which sherested her white surge head proudly like aroyal swan. Her name was Mora. Shethought it vulgar to play with the lobster-pots,and when her children were old enough95she took them across the sea to stay at theFrench seaside towns for the bathing season.She liked to hear the people on the pier cryout, "Oh! look at that lovely wave!" as sheheld back her glorious head and rushedthrough the girders of the pier, splashing andsparkling in the sun, and followed by hermerry family tumbling headlong after her.

Little Undine saw nothing of her motherand father during the first months of her life.She never went outside the bay, but rippledup and down in front of a large cave, divingunder the ruddy golden seaweed to look at thequiet sea anemones. They were wonderfulfellows, she thought. Even the youngest ofthem could sit still for hours. You never sawsea anemones fidgeting about, and as for turninghead over heels, they do not even think ofit. But Undine was a restless young thing,full of life and spirits, never still for a moment;and the sea anemones loved her, forshe was always gentle and kind to them. Ah!those were happy times!

The old waves like to go voyaging aboutand to see something of the wide world, so96they are sensible enough to pack their childrenoff to school as soon as they are born.The ripples have a class to themselves. Theyare taught to walk in rows, and each onelearns to keep his place. You cannot teacha ripple much more than that, but that issomething. There was a wave school in thebay in which Undine lived. The Zephyrtaught the ripple class. They went everymorning at sunrise, and had drill in a poolbehind the rocks. It was a pretty sight. Thesea anemones, red and white, opened out onthe rocks to look on, lazy star-fishes stretchedthemselves upon the sands and laughed whenthe little ripples tried to move them higher upthe beach, even those snarly little periwinklespeeped out of their black shells to see whatwas going on, and the old hermit crab, grumblingall the while at being roused up soearly, sat at the door of his shell, and beattime to the marching with one of hisclaws.

"One, two, three, four," said the gentleZephyr. "Heads up! Keep your place! Letthe little ripples have plenty of room. Now,97Undine, dear, throw your shadow well forward."

When the morning drill was done, theZephyr used to say to the ripples, "Now youshall have a holiday; go and play together.Love one another. Be as good as you can.Be kind to all the world, and you will behappy." Then she kissed them all lightly,and flew away across the yellow sand and theheather-covered rocks, and they saw her nomore until next morning. But they couldhear her singing on the cliff one of those songsabout the waves she loved so well, and whenthe chorus came they would join in, for shehad taught it to them in the class, and it wentthis way:

98Ah! the Zephyr was a kind teacher, andtook such pains with the little ripples in herclass, that in a week they were ready to gointo the Upper School.

They had good playtimes, too. The oldTide let them play sea-horses on his back.Then there was "Hide and Seek" round therocks, "Hunt the co*ckle," and "Ripple-Chivy."It is no use telling you how to playthose games, for children cannot play them.

One of their favourite sports was to race upthe sand and see who could get farthest; Undinewas very clever at that game. One daywhen they were doing this, a little boy and hiselder sister were paddling in the water, sailinga boat. He was a bonny, little fellow,about four years old, and when Undine camerunning up the sand, rocking his toy boat andsplashing the sails, he clapped his hands andcried out, "Look at that great, big, lovelywave!"

Undine could not help laughing at the littlefellow's glee, but she liked to be called abig wave.

At that moment a nasty, rough ripple who99was quite big enough for the billow class—camerushing along, and the little boy gotin his way and spoiled his run up the sand.

"Knock him over!" shouted a lot of the biggerripples. "He is spoiling the game!"

"Leave him alone," cried Undine, as shefloated gracefully back again.

But several of the bigger ripples rushedup at the same time, and, knocking over thelittle fellow, rolled him in the wet.

"Undine! Undine!" he called out in histerror, as they tumbled over him.

Undine rushed back to help him, but shewas not strong enough. He knew nothing ofUndine, the ripple. It was his sister, whowas also named Undine, for whom he wascalling; and she had run into the water at hisfirst cry, and, picking him up in her arms,had carried him out onto the dry sand. Butthe nasty, little ripples had now caught holdof his boat, and were pushing it out to sea.

"Undine, Undine," sobbed the little chap;"I want my boat, I want my boat!"

His sister could not reach it, and the twostood, hand-in-hand, helpless on the beach,100while the little boat drifted away. Bravelydid our Undine, when she heard the call, dashforward to do battle with the naughty littleripples, who called out angrily, "Shut up!Wash it out to sea! Swamp it! He wasspoiling our game."

They were too strong for poor Undine, andwould have destroyed the little boat, orwashed it away, had not the kind Zephyr,hearing all the noise, swept down from thecliffs, filled the sails of the toy boat andwafted it to shore. After this she blew thenaughty little ripples away, and they wentinto rock pools and sulked by themselves.

When the Zephyr had returned to the cliffsthe big, rough ripple who had knocked overthe little boy cried out fiercely: "When I ama wave I shall kill all the boys I can andswamp their boats. That is what my bigbrother is taught to do, and he is a wave andgoes out to sea."

The Zephyr often heard this sort of talkamong the ripples, and when Undine askedher why they said these things, she kissed hergently and told her not to be angry even with101the ripples, who did not know what they weresaying, and begged her when she grew up tobe kind and good to everyone, for then shewould be happy.

However, she was not altogether happy justat first, for the other ripples were not at allpleased with her, and would not speak to her.The little boy was carried off the beach by hissister, so Undine was left all alone, and hidherself under some dark brown seaweed inthe cleft of a rock and cried herself to sleep,when she dreamed that the pretty little boywas a beautiful wave, and was dancing withher, hand-in-hand, over the wide ocean.

The next day she was moved into the billowclass. The Master was the South Wind. Hehad just come home from college. He taughtthem cresting and breaking on rocks. He wasa bright, clever fellow, but he told them nothingabout being good and kind as the Zephyrhad done. After a week in the billow class,Undine and several of her young friends weremoved up into the wavelet class. This wastaught by a young wave, and here theylearned rushing, leaping, rolling, and marching102in open order. The young wave told themexciting stories of wrecks and drowning men,and repeated to them all that nonsense aboutBritannia wanting to rule the waves, and insistedon the duty of all good waves to goabout fighting men, and killing as many aspossible. This he called "Patriotism," andUndine listened to his eloquent stories untilshe had nearly forgotten all that the kindZephyr had tried to teach her. But the fierceyoung wave could not change Undine's realnature, and she remained, at heart, a kind andgentle wave. Outwardly she grew tall andstrong, and her mother and father and all herbrothers and sisters still called her "UndineThe Beautiful."

At the end of a month she passed all herexaminations, and was a first-class wave readyto go to sea. That was a great day when theyall left school. Old Lobster Pot and his goodwife Mora came to fetch them away. TheSouth Wind made an oration in Latin aboutthe duty of waves to fight for their country.

It began, Anna virumque cano, and oldLobster Pot said it was very original and103clever. The Zephyr sighed to see all theseyoung waves, full of bright hope and eagerfancies, passing out of the quiet bay into theopen Channel and the wide world.

They sailed along in open order among thefishing boats, and yachts, and steamers. Thenasty, rough ripple that had knocked down thelittle boy, and tried to steal his boat, hadgrown into a handsome big wave. Surger,they called him, because of his handsome headand fine flowing surge when he broke overthe sand banks. He was very fond of Undinenow, and kept close to her, as they sailed upthe channel. It was a glorious day. The sunshone brightly, the gulls swooped down andfloated for a few moments on Undine's shoulders,and then soared away down the breeze.The boats leaped merrily in front of them.

"Shall we see any wrecks to-day?" askedUndine.

"I hope so," shouted Surger; and he shookhis curly white head, and shot in front of Undine,who could not help admiring his handsomepresence.

"Wrecks! Nonsense!" growled out old104Lobster Pot from behind. "These are theholidays, and we are going to picnic up theriver."

Then they turned aside from the channeland went past a castle on a high rock, underneathsteep cliffs, across wide mudbanks, liftingup the boats which were lying asleepamong the damp seaweed. Some of the waves—lazyold fellows these—went off into theharbour for a quiet snooze, others ran up theriver into long creeks, forcing their wayroughly among the quiet country streams.Old Lobster Pot and his wife went straightalong the big river. There Undine saw manystrange sights. Trees and flowers, horses andcarts, men, women, and children; but not oneamong them so beautiful, to her thinking, asthe little blue-eyed boy she had tried to rescuefrom the naughty ripples. There, too,along the banks of the river, she saw wide,waving fields of green turning to gold, whichrustled in the breeze, and she shouted to themto join her; for she felt so happy herself shewanted everyone else to be happy, too. Butthey did not understand her language, so they105made no answer; for they were only wheatfields.

At last they came to a big city, and ran betweenhigh walls of white stone, and saw tallbuildings and the big towers of the cathedral,and here and there were crowds of people."Oh! oh!" cried Undine and Surger together,"this is beautiful." The cathedral clockchimed four. Old Lobster Pot shook his headand called out the order for return.

"Time is up," he said; "we must be movingdown again now, or the river will be on tous."

Surger laughed and cried out, "I will runanother mile before I return, anyhow;" andhe rushed up through the city with new force.

Undine followed him, but now she felt afaint, weary feeling coming over her. Herbeauty was going, and her lovely colourschanging to a gray, inky hue. The river wasforcing its way down against them, and sheand Surger were soon glad to follow old LobsterPot down the river again. Back theywent, past the fields, and soon they felt thepure sea breeze, and lent a hand to swing the106huge ships round at their moorings under thecliffs. They were glad enough to escape fromthe dull, cold river that was rushing afterthem, and sweep round the headland into thegood salt sea, where they could feel aliveagain, free and joyous, and afraid of no onein their own country.

Many a time did they run up rivers likethat, and Undine looked out for the little blue-eyedboy; but she never saw him. Sometimesthey went out to the wide ocean, or visited thecoast towns with Mora, and splashed the ladiesbathing, and made them scream andlaugh. Always Undine was looking for herlittle friend, but she never saw him. Manywere the journeys she made, and wonderfulwere the sights she saw; indeed, one could filla book with all that Undine did and saw whenshe grew up and became a wave.

It was now October, and had been wonderfullywarm, close weather for the time of theyear. The waves were rolling lazily aboutout at sea some three miles from the land.They arched their huge backs and pressed silentlyafter each other, doing "Serpent drill,"107as they called it, and weary work it was. Thelittle waves were slapping at each other angrily,for no better reason than that they hadbeen told not to, but had nothing else to do.They all seemed uneasy and troubled, yetUndine could not have told you why she feltin such a strange condition of pent-up excitement.A rumour ran round that there was tobe a Storm War that evening, and almost beforethey had begun to discuss whether thiswas likely to be true, the clouds lowered, thesky grew black and dismal, the wind trumpetedout shouts of battle, huge waves biggerthan old Lobster Pot rushed up the channelin answer to the summons, and the whole seawas one seething angry mass of cruel wavesbent on destruction.

Now the great battalions of the Sea Wolves,as they call their fiercest fighting waves, camethundering up from the Atlantic, breaking allbefore them. Undine had never seen suchwild, handsome fellows before. Everyonejoined them, and soon the sea was nothing buta reckless mob of madly enraged waves, moaningand wailing horribly in a frenzy of rage.108Down came the sleet and hail in sharp volleys,as though from a battery of artillery,which had taken up its position behind thethick clouds. A solitary storm bird wasdriven before the wet rushing wind, with stiffwings and bent claws, squealing miserably, asthough to warn the vessels of their doom.

If you have not been a wave, you cannotunderstand the wild feeling that seizes youwhen the Storm War begins. Even gentleUndine quivered with rage, and sought aboutfor something to destroy. As for Surger, hewas leaping about and yelling like a madthing.

The fishing smacks had hauled up theirnets, or cut them adrift, and were speeding forthe shore. Some few smaller boats had madefor the beach earlier, suspecting danger. OldLobster Pot hurried round among his family,giving orders in loud tones of command.

"There's for you," he shouted to Undine andSurger, as a small open boat with a single lugsail rushed through the surf. "He will bemaking for the little bay by the cave. Awaywith you! Drive him on to the rocks!"

109A solitary man half-sat and half-stood in thestern of the boat, his back to the tiller, theend of the sheet in his hand. It was passedsecurely round a pin near to him. He stoopeddown to cover up with a spare sail two littlechildren, girl and boy, who were lying frightenedat the bottom of the boat. Then he sethis teeth, and stared through the blinding hailinto the gathering darkness, to find the openinginto the little bay.

Undine and Surger rushed on to the slenderlittle vessel with all their force. The manskilfully made way for them, and they passedunder the keel of the boat, doing no harm.The wind howled and shrieked at them fortheir failure, and caught the boat with all itsmight, driving it past the two waves and nearerto the rocks. Then Undine and Surger racedon alongside the little boat until it neared theopening to the bay, and as the man tried toturn her into the safe harbour, the wind madea terrible effort, and the two waves, leapingtogether at the side of the boat, crashed herinto the rocks.

In a moment the man had thrown back the110sail and seized, from the bottom of the boat,the two children, who were lying hidden underthe sail. They were the little blue-eyedboy and his sister, Undine. Bravely hestruggled with them across the rocks andthrough the surf to gain the beach. Surgerand Undine were after him, for in her rageand fury she had not seen that it was the littleblue-eyed boy. Mora and Old Lobster Pot,with many other big waves, seeing what hadhappened, were rushing across the sea towardsthe bay, for fear Surger and Undine shouldnot be strong enough to drown the man andhis children. Happily they were too late; forbefore they arrived, the man had gained theshore and pulled himself up the slope of thebeach, saving the girl in his arms, but Surgermanaged to knock the little boy out of hisgrasp, and was rolling him down again intothe sea to drown him. The man and the girlwere too stunned and bruised to know whetherthey were saved or drowned. A coastguardwas running down the cliff, but he would havebeen too late to save the little boy, had notUndine heard him calling out in despair, as111Surger dragged him underneath the waves,"Undine! Undine! Save me! Save me!"

The waters were falling on him, doing theirbest to choke him, when Undine heard thecall, and for the first time since she had beena little ripple, remembered what the Zephyrhad taught her of love and pity. In a momentshe had forgotten her anger, and the fiercecommands of Old Lobster Pot, and the battleshouts of the Storm War; she thought onlyof the beautiful little blue-eyed boy, who wasbeing dragged under the water and drowned.She rushed past Surger, who tried his best tostop her, and, heedless of the shouts of OldLobster Pot and Mora, who yelled out, "Killhim! Drown him!" and caring nothing forall the rage and raving of the mad waves thatpressed round her, she caught up the littleboy on her breast, and with all her mightthrew him on to the soft sand, just as the coastguardreached the edge of the sea, and wasthere to pull him out.

Then, half ashamed and half overjoyed atwhat she had done, she turned back and fledaway out to sea. And there arose such a yell112and a shout from the assembled waves,mingled with the groaning and howling ofangry wind, that she sped on in the wildestterror like a hunted hare. And all the wavesof the sea, full of rage that one of their numbershould turn traitor and coward and save amortal man in a time of Storm War—gatheredtogether and chased after her.

Away she went down the Channel, acrossthe Bay of Biscay, round Cape Finisterre, andthrough the gates of Gibraltar into the warmMediterranean; and after her in hot pursuitraced a surging crowd of fierce and angrywaves. But they were not to punish her forher brave deed, for there, near the warmshores of Sicily, they say she met the goodZephyr, who saved her from her pursuers,taking her into her arms and changing her intoa beautiful cloud.

And the glorious Sun heard the story ofUndine, and was so pleased with what she haddone that he made her one of his special eveningattendants and gave her a splendid robeof amber and gold. And if you look in the113sky when the sun is setting in the sea, you maysee Undine even to this day, a beautiful goldencloud gazing lovingly down at the worldshe used to live in.

There was a time when the Indians calledthe Little Turtle, the Keeper of the Heavens.That was when the Indians thought the earthwas a Great Island, which rested upon the BigTurtle's back. It came about in this way.When the Great Island was first made therewere no Sun and no Moon and no Stars. Inorder to know what to do the old Turtle calleda meeting of all the animals. When they hadall gathered together the old Turtle told themthat there was no light. After a long discussionas to what could be done to mend mattersthe animals grew weary and were about to gohome and let the Great Island continue indarkness, when the Little Turtle spoke up andsaid: "If I were able to climb into the sky I115could gather some of the lightning and makelight."

"Go," said Big Turtle. "It will do no harmto try."

Now the Little Turtle had very great powersfor, as soon as he had made up his mind togo, a vast cloud full of thunder and lightningslowly rolled down toward the animals, andcame so near that Little Turtle climbed into itand was soon carried into the Sky.

As soon as Little Turtle arrived there hewent around and gathered as much as he couldof the lightning and kindled a great roundflame, which stood still in the Sky. But it didnot light all of the Great Island. The Sun, asLittle Turtle had made it, was not satisfactory,so another meeting of all the animals wascalled. To this Council Little Turtle came inthe cloud.

It was decided to give the Sun life andspirit, so that he could run about the Sky byday. Some animals were told to bore a holethrough the earth so that the Sun could gothrough it and be back in the East by night.

This the animals did. But the Sun sometimes116loitered in this earth passage and toooften the world was left in total darkness.Again the animals were dissatisfied, and athird meeting was called to decide the bestplan and to scold the Sun for his neglect.

To this third meeting the Sun and the LittleTurtle and all the other animals came. Theydecided then and there that the Little Turtleshould make the Sun a wife, and that sheshould shine while he was going back to theEast through the earth passage.

Then the Little Turtle made the Moon,and gave her as a wife to the Sun. She wassmaller and not so powerful as he. You cansee her in the Sky. The Stars that run aboutthe Sky are their many children.

One day the Moon ran into the earth passageearlier than she should have done, andbefore the Sun himself had passed through.So offended was he that he robbed her of allher heat and much of her light, and she wasnever able to keep pace with him in the Sky.

Not knowing why her light had grown dim,or what had become of her, the Little Turtlewent out to see what was the matter. He117found the Moon lingering along the undergroundtrail. There was just a little light andheat left to her, and barely a strip of her onceglorious body—just as much as one sees of thenew Moon nowadays.

Little Turtle brought her out and tried tomend her. But it was of no use. She wouldbecome better for a time and then relapse.Soon she would improve again until she wasalmost as strong as ever she had been; thenagain she would begin to fade away until atlast only a tiny strip was left of her, and shehad almost no heat. And this trick of changinghas been repeated many, many times. Indeed,to this day the Moon continually changesher shape.

A woodman once dwelt with his wife atthe edge of the forest, under the shadow ofthe Honorable Mountain. The two were industriousand good, but though they lovedeach other they were not happy. No childrenhad come to bless them and this the wifemourned deeply. The husband pitied her andtreated her very kindly, yet still she wassad. As she gazed upon the snows of Fujiyamaher heart swelled within her and sheprostrated herself and said, "Fuji no Yama,Honorable Mountain, my heart is heavy becauseno childish arms encircle my neck, nolittle head nestles in my bosom. From thyeternal purity send some little white soul tocomfort me!"

119The Honorable Mountain spoke not; yet asshe prayed, lo, from its heights there sparkledand glowed a tiny light. Fitful and gleamingit seemed, yet it had a silver radiance as ofthe moon.

The woodman's wife beheld it, and shecalled to her husband eagerly, "Come hither,I pray you. See the strange light whichcomes from Fuji San. I seem to see a facesmiling at me. It is the face of a little child."

Then her husband smiled at her fancy, but,because he loved her so, he said, indulgently,"I will go and see what it is."

"I thank you, my lord; go quickly!" shereplied.

So, quickly he went to the forest, and as heneared a mountain stream, with Fuji gleamingcold and white in the moonlight, he saw thestrange light, which seemed to hover and restupon the branches of a tall bamboo. Hasteningthither he found there a moon child, atiny, fragile, fairy thing, more beautiful thanany child he had ever seen.

"Little creature," he said, "who are you?"

"My name is Princess Moonbeam," she answeredsweetly. "My mother is the Moon120Lady, and she has sent me to Earth becauseevery Moon Child must do some good thing,else will its silvery light become pale and wanand be of no avail."

"Little Princess," he said eagerly, "the bestof good deeds is to comfort a sad heart. Comehome with me and be a child to my wife, whoweeps for children. Thus will your beamsgrow bright."

"I will go with you," said the little Moonbeam,and, rejoicing greatly, he bore hertenderly to his wife.

"I bring you a treasure," he said. "TheMoon Lady sends you this beam of light tolighten your sad heart."

Then was his wife much overjoyed and shetook the little creature to her bosom and caredfor her.

Lovelier grew the Moon Child every yearand much she rejoiced the hearts of her fosterparents. Her hair was like a golden aureoleabout her face. Her eyes were deep andtender, her cheeks were pale and delicate, andabout her there was a subtle and unearthlycharm. Every one loved her, even the emperor's121son, who, hunting in the forest, sawher lighting up the humble cottage with herheavenly light. He loved her dearly and sheloved him, but alas! she could not marry him,because her life upon the earth could be buttwenty years. Then she must return to herhome in the moon, for so willed her motherthe Moon Lady.

At last the day came when she must go.Her parents wept, and could not be consoled;and her lover, who was now the emperor,could not keep her, although he besoughtHigh Heaven to spare her.

Her mother caught her up in a silver moonbeam;and all the way to the moon the littlePrincess wept silvery tears. As the tears fellfrom her eyes, lo! they took wings and floatedaway looking for the form of the emperorwho might see her no more.

But the silver-bright tears are seen to thisday floating hither and yon about the valesand marshes of fair Nippon. The childrenchase them with happy cries, and say, "Seethe fireflies! How fair they are! Whencecame they?"

122Then their mothers relate to them the legendand say, "These are the tears of the littlePrincess, flitting to seek her beloved"; andover all, calm and eternal, smiles the HonorableMountain.

THE MOON

Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Joseph Addison.

Madison Cawein.

In a beautiful valley surrounded by mountainsthere once lived a shepherd with his wife andchildren. They were very poor, indeed, andwere obliged to work hard in order to earn thescantiest living.

The good wife was most helpful to her husband.She kept the cottage spotlessly clean,and mended the children's clothes with patientskill. Every day the shepherd took his smallflock of sheep to pasture on the side of a mountain,whose tall, white summit was hidden inthe clouds. He often carried a crossbow, andsometimes he brought home some mountaingame, which provided a fine meal for his family.

One day, while he was watching his sheep,he saw, a short distance above him, a fine reindeer128drinking from a pool in the basin of arock. The shepherd seized his crossbow andtook aim to shoot the quarry, but before hecould speed an arrow, the deer scented dangerand leaped away up the steep slope of themountain-side. The shepherd pursued hisgame with eager haste, climbing up the dangerouspaths with a sureness of foot whichcomes only to those whose lives are spentamong the mountain fastnesses.

It grew bitterly cold as the shepherdpressed on and on, and he saw the glitteringice-fields near the mountain top.

"'Tis the most fleet-footed quarry I everfollowed," said the hunter, stopping for a moment'srest. "After this hard chase, I'm afraidI must give up the game."

Suddenly he saw the reindeer slacken pace,and walk into the entrance of a cavern in theglacier.

"I'll make one more effort," said the tiredhunter, climbing on until he reached the openingwhere the reindeer disappeared. In a fewmoments he reached a dark passage, at the endof which he saw glittering, coloured lights.129His heart beat fast, but he walked on towardthe brilliant opening.

The desire to see the lighted hall at the endof the passageway now took possession of thehunter and, strange to say, he forgot all aboutthe quarry, which had led him to this marvelousplace. When he reached the thresholdof the opening he was obliged to shade his eyeswith both hands. Rainbow colours sparkledfrom the walls and ceiling, which were thicklyset with precious stones. A floor of shiningwhite marble added to the beauty of the place.The shepherd stood in silent wonder.

"Welcome to the Hall of Mists," said aqueenly voice, but still he stood gazing fromthe entrance.

The queen repeated her words of welcome,and the shepherd walked humbly forward towarda beautiful woman, clothed in silverywhite robes girdled with gold. On her brighthair was a crown of jeweled blossoms. Sheheld a distaff in her right hand; in her left, abunch of flowers the colour of the sky on a fairsummer day. She was attended by many130youthful maidens, who stood back of the queennear jeweled spinning wheels.

Filled with awe, the shepherd threw himselfon his knees at the feet of this Queen of theAir.

"Have no fear, my good man," she said ina gentle voice. "Perseverance and courage ledthee up a dangerous path, but thou hast notlaboured in vain. Thou shalt be rewarded forthy dauntless chase. Choose anything thouwilt from my jeweled Hall of Mists."

Without hesitating a moment, the shepherdsaid, "Gracious Queen, there is nothing in theworld I should like to have so much as theflowers your majesty holds."

The Queen of the Air smiled and put theblossoms into his hand. Then she took up ameasure of small seed, which stood near her,and said: "Thou hast made a wise choice, mygood man. Sow this seed in the field nearyour cottage. Farewell."

Suddenly a peal of thunder rang throughthe air, and the brilliant light in the Hall ofMists changed to total darkness. In a twinklingthe bewildered man found himself once131more upon the mountain-side not far from thespot where he had left his sheep grazing. Atfirst he thought he had been dreaming, butthere in one hand he held a bunch of blue flowers;in the other, a measure of seed.

He hastened home, told the marvelous adventureto his wife, and showed her the blueflowers and the measure of seed. For awhileshe listened in wide-eyed wonder, but when theshepherd said the Queen bade him choose anythinghe wished from the jeweled hall, thegood wife said impatiently: "Do not tell methat you chose a bunch of flowers when youmight have had a precious stone! How couldyou be so foolish? One jewel would havemade us rich for life."

"Let us see what the seed will bring forth,"answered her husband. "I shall plant it to-morrow."

Accordingly, the next day he plowed theground and planted the seed. He was amazedto find that the small measure held enough tosow a very large field. In a short time, tinygreen shoots covered the ground. With eagerinterest, the shepherd watched the little plants132grow and burst into blossoms exactly like thosethe Queen of the Air had given to him. In afew weeks he saw the star-like blossoms witherand seeds begin to form and ripen. One nightthe shepherd dreamed he saw a beautifulwoman, clothed in silver white, float over hisfield and bless the ripening stalks.

The next evening an old woman knocked atthe cottage door. When the shepherd invitedher to come in, he noticed she carried in herhand a number of stalks from his field.

"I've come to teach you what wonderfuluse you can make of these stalks," she said.

Very gently and patiently she taught theshepherd and his wife how to separate delicatefibers from the woody core; how to spin theminto thread and weave the thread into linen.Last of all she told them how to bleach the usefullinen. It was a wonderful evening for thepeasant and his wife.

When the old woman rose to leave the cottage,she said to the shepherd, "In the Queen'sHall of Mists you asked for the gift of blueflax flowers. To-night you have learned whata priceless blessing you chose. Farewell."

133She left the cottage very quickly and whenthe shepherd and his wife went to the door tosee which way she went lo! she had disappeared.In a short time all the people in thevalley heard the wonderful story of makinglinen. For awhile they bought the linen whichwas made from the shepherd's first field offlax. But they bought some of his seed, too,and the next year they were able to spin theirown thread and weave their linen. The blessingwhich came from the shepherd's choicewas shared by all the people in the valley.

One day as the children were coming homefrom school, the snowflakes began droppinglazily to the ground. One beautiful star-shapedflake fell on a little girl's hand.

"Oh, you pretty, pretty snow fairy. Wheredid you come from? Did you tumble off afleecy cloud, or did you dance all the way fromFrostland to show us your soft, lacy dress?"

To the little girl's surprise, a tiny voice said:"Do you really want me to tell you where Icame from? I was not always a snowflake, andwill not return to Frostland for a long, longtime. I can stay with you but a little while;then, when the bright sun comes and the southwind calls, I must leave you, for I have muchto do. Many things in the woods need myhelp.

135"Last spring, when the earth became soft,the sky blue, and the warm breeze played withthe sun, I was sent from the clouds to give theviolets a drink of water. Taking the form ofa sparkling dewdrop, I stooped and kissed thedark green leaves, and a violet held me inher arms until the sturdy oak called.

"A sunbeam drew me up, up, and up, thenlet me gently drop in the quiet pitter-patter ofrain. I reached down, down to the roots, givinghim new life, so that he put forth leaveswhich sheltered and protected the violets allsummer.

"From the roots of the sturdy oak I traveledon and on and on until the babbling brookcalled. I turned into a tiny stream of clearwater, and the brook rocked me as it went murmuringthrough a shady dell. The birdsdipped into the cool water, then shook theirwings till the drops glistened like diamonds inthe sunlight. The willow tree bent and lookedat herself in the mirror of water, the fernscrept nearer and nearer, and the small whitepebble was worn smooth by the laughingbrook, as it sang on its way to the sea.

136"When I reached the big, broad waters, Ifound many, many dewdrops, which had beenchanged into rain and into streams to help theplants, the flowers, and trees. Ships, lookinglike great white birds, sailed on the waters.Suddenly a storm came up, the sea grew darkand angry-looking. I was turned into whitefoam, and the waves tossed me higher andhigher until the ships went down. The seagullsflapped their wings and gave their cryof warning for all things in the forest to keepaway from the wild billows.

"After the storm, I was carried up and upin the air as mist, so that I blotted out all sightof land. I drew closer and closer to the smallislands, and wrapped them in a thick blanketof fog. The wind sighed, the flowers closedtheir beautiful petals, and the birds hid theirheads under their wings in fear of this clingingwhite monster.

"The winter winds came along and carriedme into the far Northland, where the Ice Kingreigns supreme. Here I found little mendressed in fur to keep them warm. Greatwhite bears walked on huge cakes of ice. But137the birds and flowers could not live in that still,cold land. The silence was broken only by thecrunching of the ice. I, too, became ice, anddrifted slowly out on the shining white waste.

"Then again came the sun, warm and strong,and forced back the cold north wind. Insteadof being a thick white cake of ice, I became atiny, fluffy bit of frost, as white as ermine, assoft, as soft as down. Gently the north wind,who was now a slave of the mighty sun, gatheredme up and carried me into a strange land,a very strange land. The earth was hard, thetrees bare, and the flowers were all dead.Dark, sullen-looking clouds took me from thenorth wind and sent me floating down, downthrough space until I reached your hand.

"When you gather up a handful of snow tomake a big, round snowball, do not forget thatonce we were bright dewdrops sparkling in themorning sun. And when you wade in the littlebrook in the summer time, we will flow overyour bare feet and sing you a song of the sea."

May Byron.

The gentle South Breeze, whom the Indianscall Shawondasee, lay asleep on the soft grassin front of his wigwam. His face was turnedtoward the Northland, and he was dreamingof the joys and blessings he would send thereto fill the summer days with gladness.

In the spring he had told the bluebird andswallow that it was time to build their nests inthe budding Northland. His warm breathhad melted the winter snows and enticed thebrooks and rills to flow again toward the sea.Now the last days of spring were waning andsummer was at hand.

Shawondasee smiled in his dream. Hewafted gentle showers to the meadows of theNorthland and blossoms opened their faces tothe sun. Little children clapped their hands140in glee when they saw the shining buttercupsand the daisies with golden hearts.

The laughter which Shawondasee heard inhis dream wakened him. Slowly he openedhis eyes and looked dreamily at the greatstretches of prairie which lay before him. Ina little while the South Breeze aroused himselfand gazed intently toward the Northland.There among the slender waving grasses hesaw a beautiful maiden. Her tall, gracefulfigure was clothed in delicate green, and hermoccasins were of the same color. Her hairwas yellow as gold. Merrily she dancedabout the prairie, nodding and smiling atShawondasee, who became enchanted with hergrace and beauty.

"'Tis the loveliest vision I've ever seen,"murmured the South Breeze softly. "Surelyshe is a daughter of the Sun, and he has madeher wonderful hair out of his own beams."

All day long he watched her dancing gailyon the northern prairie, and at night when hewent into his wigwam, he said, "I shall journeynorthward and woo the sunny-haired141maiden. Gently will I woo her to be mybride."

The next day when Shawondasee camesleepily out of his wigwam, there, in the morninglight, he saw the graceful maiden flittingabout on the prairie. All the while she noddedher golden head and smiled gaily at him.

"There is plenty of time to woo her," sighedShawondasee; "I'll enjoy her dancing a littlelonger before I journey northward and ask herto live with me in the Southland."

One morning when South Breeze came outof his wigwam to watch the dancing maiden,he noticed a great change had come to her.On her head was a fleecy white crown.

"What has happened to my golden-hairedprairie maiden?" he sighed. "Can it be thatmy rough brother, North Wind, has crownedher with snow?"

He sprang to his feet and hastened towardthe northern plains. As he drew near themaiden, he saw that her golden hair had, indeed,gone, and in its place were tresses softand white as the snow.

Shawondasee's heart was filled with sorrow.142His breath came quick and fast and, as hecame very near to the maiden, he drew a deep,deep sigh.

Suddenly the strangest thing happened.All the air was filled with soft, downy fibers,which flitted over the prairie like the tiniestfairy sails and, in a little while, sank lightlyamong the waving grasses. Shawondaseeclosed his eyes for a moment, and when heopened them, lo! the prairie maiden had vanished.

"I cannot give up my beautiful maiden,"sighed South Breeze. "I shall not go back tothe Southland until I have found her."

For weeks he wandered over the meadows,but no trace of the maiden could he find. Oneday Kabibonokka, the rough North Wind,blew sharp and shrill. His cold blast madethe gentle Shawondasee shiver and hasten backto his warm wigwam in the South.

During the cold winter months while Kabibonokka,with his icy breath, stalked overthe prairie, Shawondasee stayed in his wigwamand mourned the loss of his prairiemaiden. But when the warm days came again143and the grass sprang up on the northern plains,the South Breeze came forth and planned tojourney northward.

One day he looked toward the prairie wherea year ago he had seen the dancing, golden-hairedmaiden. A marvelous sight greetedhim. Hundreds of bright yellow flowersamong the waving grasses nodded and smiledat him. The prairie was shining with goldendandelions.

In a quiet, pleasant meadow, where green oldtrees waved their branches as the summerwinds went singing by, bloomed a sisterhood offlowers. A neighbouring brook rippled musically,and passing clouds cast shadows upon thewaving grass below.

The flowers were very happy together inthis pleasant spot. No cold winds came toblight them, no rude hands tore them fromtheir stems. Warm sunbeams smiled on themall day long, and the dewdrops refreshed themat night with a cooling drink.

One morning when the flowers awoke, fragrantand fresh, a little worm came creepingby.

"Oh, pity and love me," sighed the littleworm. "Give me shelter, dear flowers. I am145lonely, poor, and weak. A little spot for aresting place is all I ask. Only let me lie inthe deep, green moss and weave my little tomband sleep my long, unbroken sleep untilspring's first flowers come. Then will I comeforth in fairy dress, and repay your gentle carefor a poor worm. Kind flowers, let me stay."

But none of the proud flowers would giveshelter to the poor worm. Wild Rose showedher little thorns while her soft face glowedwith pride. Violet hid beneath some droopingferns and the daisy turned her face away.Little Houstonia laughed scornfully, as shedanced on her slender stem, while Cowslipbent down and whispered the tale to the brook.

A blue-eyed Grass looked down on the poorworm as she silently turned away.

"You will harm our delicate leaves," shesaid; "that is why you may not stay."

At that moment a sweet voice called froma distance:

"Come here, poor worm, come to me. Thesun lies warm in this quiet spot. I will sharemy home with you."

The flowers all looked in wonder to see who146had offered the worm a home. To their surprise,they found Clover Blossom, with flutteringwings, beckoning him to come. Fromher snug little nook where the cool windsrustled by, and the murmuring bees and butterfliesloved to come, her rosy face smiledkindly down as the friendless worm drewnear.

"Poor thing, you are welcome here," shesaid in a soft voice. "In the soft, green mossclose at my side you may sleep until springcomes. I will spread my leaves over you, andguard you through the long winter."

Then, deep in a moss bed, the grateful wormspun his winter home, and lay down for hislong rest.

And well did Clover Blossom keep herwatch. Autumn came and took all her sisterflowers. Then when it was time for her togo, she spread her withered leaves softly overthe sleeping worm, and bent her faithful littlehead beneath the winter snow.

Spring came again and the flowers arosefrom their winter sleep. How gaily they147danced on their slender stems, and sang theirsongs with the rippling waves of the brook.The warm winds kissed their cheeks, as oneby one they came again to dwell in their summerhomes.

Little Clover Blossom bloomed once more,and watched patiently by the mossy bed wherethe worm still lay quietly sleeping. Her sisterflowers cried scornfully, as they waved inthe summer air, "Come and dance with us,Little Clover. That ugly worm was poor andfriendless. He will not come again in fairydress. Don't believe what a worm tells you—atany rate, he lies in the green moss dead. Socome and be happy with us."

But Little Clover kept watch for she did notdoubt the poor worm's truth; she trusted thathe would come as he had said.

At last she felt the moss at her side move,then a small cell opened wide, and out flewa glittering butterfly that soared up to the summersky on golden wings!

Then the flowers cried out, "Clover, yourwatching was in vain. It is as we told you,he will never come again." And the unkind148flowers danced for joy as they watched himsilently soar away.

Little Clover bowed her head in silence. Asshe drooped she heard a Daisy say:

"O sisters look, I see him now. He is floatingback from cloudland. Spread wide yourleaves that he may choose the one he deemsmost fair."

Then Wild Rose glowed with a deep blushas she proudly waved on her stem; Cowslipbent to look at herself in the rippling brook,little Houstonia merrily danced and spreadout her white leaves wide; and Daisy whisperedher joy and hope to Violet, who peepedout from the tall green ferns to watch the glitteringform of the butterfly that shone in thesummer sky.

Nearer and nearer the bright form came,and fairer and fairer grew the blossoms. Eachwelcomed him in her sweetest tones and eachoffered him honey and dew. But in vain didthey beckon and smile and call. He floatedpast Violet, Daisy, and Rose, and wentstraight to the pleasant home of Clover Blossom,the flower most truly fair.

149"Dear flower," he said, "when I was aloneand friendless you watched over me and caredfor me. And now I will try to show the thanksthe poor worm could not tell.

Then, through the long, bright summerhours, through sunshine and rain, lived happilytogether Clover and Prince Butterfly.

Saxe Holm.

Every day when Helios drove his wonderfulhorses and fiery chariot across the sky, Auroraopened the gates of pearl and drew back thedark curtains of the night; for Aurora was theGoddess of the Dawn. She was so beautifulthat the whole sky flushed pink with pleasurewhen she appeared in the east.

On the earth lived a mortal called Tithonus,who loved Aurora so well that he never failedto leave his bed while it was still dark to watchfor her coming. Aurora loved Tithonus in return,and one day she flew to the king of thegods, and begged of him that Tithonus mightbe given a draft of nectar, and so become immortal.

Jupiter granted this request, and Aurora152took Tithonus up to Mount Olympus to live inher golden house.

The goddess had forgotten to ask thatTithonus might never grow old. Therefore,the time came when grey hairs could be seenamong his golden curls. Aurora was alwayskind to him and continued to give him beautifulgarments, and to feed him on ambrosia.Still, Tithonus grew older and older and, intime, after several hundred years, he was sovery old that he could not move at all. Littlewas left of him but his voice, and even that hadgrown high and thin. Aurora felt so sorry tosee him withering away in this manner thatshe changed him into a little insect, and senthim down to earth again where men called himthe grasshopper.

Very glad to be free and active once more,Tithonus hops about in the fields all day,chirping cheerfully to Aurora.

Edith M. Thomas.

It chanced upon a time that while the fairieswere looking for cowslips in the meads, whileyet the dew was hanging on the buds likebeads, they found a babe left in its swathing-clothes—alittle, sorrowful, deserted thing. Itwas a pity to see the abandoned little orphanleft in that way.

How the cold dew kept wetting its childishcoats; and its little hair, like gossamer, how itwas bedabbled! Its pouting mouth, unknowinghow to speak, lay half-opened like a rose-lippedshell; and its cheek was softer than anypeach, upon which the tears, for very roundness,could not long dwell, but fell off in clearnesslike pearls—some on the grass, and someon his little hand; and some haply wandered tothe little dimpled well under his mouth.

155Pity it was, too, to see how the burning sunhad scorched its helpless limbs; for it laywithout shade or shelter, for foul weather orfair. So, having compassion on its sad plight,the fairies turned themselves into grasshoppersand swarmed about the babe, making suchshrill cries as that pretty little chirping creaturemakes in its mirth, till, with their noise,they attracted the attention of a passing rustic,a tender-hearted kind who, wondering at theirsmall but loud concert, strayed aside curiously,and found the babe where it lay in the remotegrass, and, taking it up, wrapped it in his russetcoat, and bore it to his cottage, where hiswife kindly nurtured it till it grew up a goodlypersonage.

This babe prospered and, in time, becamethe famous Sir Thomas Gresham, one of thegreatest merchants of England. He afterwardsadopted the grasshopper as his crest,and you may see to this day, on a tall staff highabove the roof of the Royal Exchange in London,a huge Golden Grasshopper to remindyou of the wisest, richest, and greatest of all156the men who built up the trade and commerceof England.

Thomas Hood.

Gather a single blade of grass, and examinefor a minute its narrow, sword-shaped stripof fluted green. Nothing there, as it seemsof notable goodness or beauty. A very littlestrength and a very little tallness, and a fewdelicate long lines meeting in a point, not aperfect point either, but blunt and unfinished,by no means a creditable or apparently much-cared-forexample of Nature's workmanship,made only to be trodden on to-day, and to-morrowto be cast into the oven, and a littlepale and hollow stalk, feeble and flaccid, leadingdown to the dull brown fiber of roots.

And yet, think of it well, and judge whetherof all the gorgeous flowers that beam in summerair, and of all strong and goodly trees,pleasant to the eyes, or good for food, stately158palm and pine, strong ash and oak, scentedcitron, burdened vine, there be any by man sodeeply loved, by God so highly graced, as thatnarrow point of feeble green. And well doesit fulfill its mission. Consider what we owemerely to the meadow grass, to the covering ofthe dark ground by that glorious enamel, bythe companies of those soft, and countless, andpeaceful spears.

The fields! Follow forth but for a littletime the thoughts of all that we ought to recognizein these words. All spring and summeris in them, the walks by silent and scentedpaths, the rests in noonday heat, the joy ofherds and flocks, the power of all shepherdlife and meditation, the life of sunlight uponthe world falling in emerald streaks, and fallingin soft blue shadows where else it wouldhave struck upon the dark mold or scorchingdust.

Pastures beside the pacing brooks, soft banksand knolls of lowly hills, thymy slopes ofdown, overlooked by the blue line of lifted sea,crisp lawns, all dim with early dew, or smoothin evening warmth of barred sunshine, dinted159by happy feet, and softening in their fall thesound of loving voices,—all these are summedin those simple words; and these are not all.

We may not measure to the full the depth ofthis heavenly gift in our own land, though stillas we think of it longer, the infinite of thatmeadow sweetness, Shakespeare's peculiar joywould open on us more and more; yet we haveit but in part. Go out in the springtime amongthe meadows that slope from the shores of theSwiss lakes to the root of the lower mountains.There, mingled with the taller Gentians,and the white Narcissus, the grass growsdeep and free; and as you follow the windingmountain paths, beneath arching boughs, allveiled with blossoms—paths that foreverdroop and rise over the green banks andmounds sweeping down in scented undulationsteep to the blue water, studded here and therewith new-mown heaps filling all the air withfainter sweetness,—look up towards thehigher hills, where the waves of everlastinggreen roll silently into their long inlets amongthe shadows of the pines; and we may, perhaps,at last know the meaning of those quiet160words of the Psalmist, "He maketh the grassto grow upon the mountains."

Charles Dalmon.

Deep in the pink petals of a lotus bloom thatgrew in the castle moats of f*ckui, lived Hi-o,the king of the Fire-Flies. In this beautifulflower his daughter, the Princess Hotaru,passed her childhood exploring every shadynook and fragrant corner of the bell-like palace,listening to the buzz of life around, andpeeping over the edge of the petals at thewonderful world which lay mysteriously beyond.The princess had few youthful companions,but, as she daily bade her father farewell,she dreamed of the time when she, too,would fly abroad, and her brilliant light wouldattract unusual admiration.

Gradually, a beautiful sheen o'erspread herbody; night by night it became brighter, untilat last her home, in the hours of darkness, was162as a lamp of coral wherein shone a lamp ofgold. So glorious was her light that the starspaled before it, and the bright, sickle moonwithdrew behind a cloud from jealousy.

The Princess was now allowed to fly fromher home, to loiter among the pleasant ricefields, and to explore the indigo meadowswhich lay far off on the horizon. She had nolack of friends and would-be lovers. Thousandsof insects, attracted by her magic light,came and offered their homage, but the Princesscared for none of their attentions andthough she spoke politely to them all, she gaveencouragement to none.

One evening the Princess said to hermother, the Queen:

"I have had many admirers but no one hasfound a way to my heart. To-night I shallhold court and if any of them love me theywill come to me here. Then I shall set theman impossible task. If they are wise theywill not attempt to do it, but if they love theirlives more than they love me I do not wantthem. I shall say to one and all: 'Only he163who loves me more than life shall call mebride.'"

"As you will," said her mother. And thatevening, seated upon a throne formed of theheart of a lotus, Princess Hotaru held hercourt.

No sooner had twilight set in than forthcame the golden beetle and laid his fortunesat her feet.

"Go and bring me fire and I will be yourbride," said Hotaru.

Bowing his head the green-gold creaturespread his wings and left the court with astately whirr.

Next came co*ckchafer, who wooed her inpassionate words. But to him she gave thesame answer. "Bring me fire and you mayhave me for your wife."

Dragon-fly, proud in his gorgeous colours,offered his heart and his hand, quite sure thathe would be accepted at once. The humblehawk-moth persistently addressed the lovelyPrincess. As the evening wore on countlessother insects gained an audience, but the answerto them all was ever the same, "The164treasure of fire shall be my bridegroom'sgift."

One by one they took wing, enraptured bythe hope of success and unconscious that theywere all bent on the same errand.

But none ever came back to wed the Princess.The hawk-moth entered a temple andcircled round and round the tall wax lights,coming nearer and nearer each time. "Nowto win the Princess!" he murmured. Alas!the foolish creature darted forward to snatcha flash of flame, but the flame singed his wingsand he fell helpless to the ground.

The beetle whizzed off to a neighbouringhouse and watched intently for a moment ortwo a log fire crackling on a hearth. He thenboldly caught at a tongue of flame, hoping tocarry it to the Princess. But he, too, wasburied by the fire.

The dragon-fly, notwithstanding his sunlitsplendours, could not fulfill the bidding of theLady of the Lotus Bloom. He also fell aprey to her imperious command. Others therewere who tried to steal from the diamond itsheart of fire, or winged their way to the great165mountain, or sped to the depths of the valleyin their search for the great gift.

But all their efforts to bring the treasure offire were in vain. The sun in roseate splendourshone on the bodies of the insect lovers whohad given up their lives in their devotion tothe Princess.

Now tidings came to Hi-maro, the Princeof the Fire-Flies, on the north side of thecastle moat, that Princess Hotaru was exceedinglybeautiful, whereupon he fled swiftly toher home among the lotus flowers, to ask ofher father his daughter in marriage. The fatheragreed to the Prince's request with thecondition that the Prince should come in personbringing the Princess the gift of fire.

Even as a flood of light the Prince at thehead of his host of fire-flies came and filledthe lotus palace with a blaze of glory.

But Hotaru herself was so beautiful that hercharms were not dimmed.

One look passed between the youth and themaiden and the visit ended in the Prince'swooing and winning the Princess. He tookher to his palace on the north side of the castle166moat and there they lived happily for manyyears.

Many, many years have passed since Hi-marowon the Princess and still it is the fancyof all Fire-Fly Princesses to send their suitorsin search of fire as a love-offering. It is forthis reason that we see many thousand insectshovering around the evening lights in the vainhope of securing a flash of fire that shall winthem their prize. (Adapted.)

JULY

Susan Hartley Swett.

I knew a farmer in New York who had avery large bob-tailed churn dog by the nameof Cuff. The farmer kept a large dairy andmade a great deal of butter, and it was thebusiness of Cuff to spend nearly half of eachsummer day treading the endless round ofthe churning machine. During the remainderof the day he had plenty of time to sleep andrest, and sit on his hips and survey the landscape.

One day, sitting thus, he discovered a woodchuckabout forty rods from the house, on asteep hillside, feeding about near his hole,which was beneath a large rock. The old dog,forgetting his stiffness, and remembering thefun he had had with woodchucks in his earlierdays, started off at his highest speed, vainly168hoping to catch this one before he could getto his hole. But the woodchuck, seeing thedog come labouring up the hill, sprang to themouth of his den, and, when his pursuer wasonly a few yards off, whistled tauntingly andwent in. This occurred several times, the olddog marching up the hill, and then marchingdown again, having had his labour for hispains.

I suspect that he revolved the subject in hismind while revolving the great wheel of thechurning machine, and that some turn or otherbrought him a happy thought, for next timehe showed himself a strategist. Instead ofgiving chase to the woodchuck, when first discovered,he crouched down to the ground, and,resting his head on his paws, watched him.The woodchuck kept working away from hishole, lured by the tender clover, but, not unmindfulof his safety, lifted himself up onhis haunches every few moments and surveyedthe approaches.

Presently, after the woodchuck had let himselfdown from one of these attitudes of observationand resumed his feeding, Cuff started169swiftly but stealthily up the hill, preciselyin the attitude of a cat when she is stalking abird. When the woodchuck rose up again,Cuff was perfectly motionless and half hid bythe grass. When he again resumed his clover,Cuff sped up the hill as before, this time crossinga fence, but in a low place, and so nimblythat he was not discovered. Again the woodchuckwas on the lookout; again Cuff was motionlessand hugging the ground.

As the dog neared his victim, he was partiallyhidden by a swell in the earth, but stillthe woodchuck from his lookout reported "Allright," when Cuff, having not twice as far torun as the chuck, threw all stealthiness asideand rushed directly for the hole. At that momentthe woodchuck discovered his dangerand, seeing that it was a race for life, leapedas I never saw marmot leap before. But hewas two seconds too late, his retreat was cutoff, and the powerful jaws of the old dogclosed upon him.

The next season Cuff tried the same tacticsagain with like success, but when the third170woodchuck had taken up his abode at the fatalhole, the old churner's wits and strength hadbegun to fail him, and he was baffled in eachattempt to capture the animal.

A long time ago, in France, the great lordshad full power over the people. They hadpower to make them work and fight, and theyjudged them and punished them when theydid wrong.

Now there was a lord in these times, whohad a dearly beloved younger brother; andthis brother was found dead one morning,lying near a hedge, from behind which themurderer must have sprung to strike himdown.

The lord ordered the murderer to be taken,if possible, and vowed that if he was foundhe should suffer a punishment for his crime.

The very evening after his brother's death,when the lord was praying in his room, thereentered his steward, Crondas, who said to him:

172"My lord, I have discovered your brother'smurderer, and have had him brought herethat he may appear before you."

"Let him be brought to me," said the lord,"and if you see in me any signs of mercy,remind me of the crime he has committed,that I may punish him as he deserves."

Crondas made a sign to the servants; andthey brought in a peasant with a white,shocked face, who fell on his knees before hismaster, exclaiming:

"Have mercy upon me, my lord! I swearto you I have committed no crime!"

When the lord demanded of Crondas theproofs of the man's guilt, Crondas showed hima purse, saying:

"My lord, if you are inclined to believewhat this man says, I only beg you to ask thescoundrel how he happened to have in hishouse this purse, which belonged to your deadbrother."

"I recognize it," said the lord, with deepfeeling.

"And this, my lord, do you also recognizeit?" said Crondas, showing him a gold ring.

173"Yes," said the lord again; "it is the ring mybrother always wore on the ring finger of hisleft hand."

"My lord," went on Crondas, "I foundthese things myself, in a hiding-place in thisman's house. Now, does he dare say, on hisknees, that he is innocent of the dreadfulcrime with which he is charged?"

Not being able to explain the presence ofthe things in his house, the poor peasant wasjudged to be guilty, and condemned to bekilled on the very spot where his victim'sbody had been found. While he lay in prison,waiting for his execution, all the peasantsround about visited the lord and begged himnot to punish the man. They all said of him—whatwe say when we wish to credit anyonewith unusual kindness and gentleness:

"We have known him long, my lord, andwe know he would not even crush an insectin his path."

But Crondas, who never left the lord, saidto each one:

"Bah! that is no reason why he should notkill a man; and if he is not punished, many174others will be encouraged to be murderers.Let him suffer for his misdeeds."

And to every effort the peasants made toput off the day of punishment, Crondas replied:

"Ah, my lord, these people know how mercifulyou are. They think that, the first anguishof your grief once past, you will pardonthe murderer."

At this the lord never failed to cry:

"No, no, never! He shall be punished."

So the lord, urged by Crondas, ordered themen to prepare to execute the peasant, addingthat he wished to be present, that he mightsee perish the wretch who had killed hisbrother.

Crondas was very active in the preparations,bringing fa*ggots to help build the fire, andarranging with his own hands a sort of thronemade of branches for his lord. Then he wentto tell him all was ready, and the lord came,followed by a crowd of people, who wept andlamented over the peasant's unjust death.

Crondas then said to the servants:

"Tie him, and set fire to the pile."

175Meantime the lord was watching the proceedingswith deep attention and saying nothing;but his eyes went from the peasant toCrondas and from Crondas back to the peasant,then to the servants who stood by thefa*ggots ready to light the fire.

And as the servants were slow in obeying,Crondas cried to them:

"Come, come, hurry up! Our lord is waiting."

He was in haste to see the death of the peasant;but the poor man said to those who wereabout to tie him:

"Oh, let me make a last prayer, I beg ofyou!"

And, though Crondas begged the lord notto grant this request, the lord extended hishand to command the servants to grant to thepeasant that which he had asked; and, as hedid so, he saw Crondas make a sign of impatience.

The peasant, dropping his sad, haggardeyes, was about to kneel on a stone not farfrom where his lord was sitting; but, seeingon the stone a little lady-bug just at the place176where his knee was at rest, he put it to oneside gently, with his hand, so as not to crush*t. Then, kneeling down, he began to pray.

As the lord watched him, he noticed that thelittle creature, whose life he had just spared,suddenly opened its bright wings and, takingflight, lighted on Crondas's left hand. Crondas,for no reason except that he was perhapsannoyed at having to wait so long for theexecution, put a finger of his right handon the insect, and almost crushed it. Whenhe lifted it, a pair of broken red wings faintlyquivered.

At this moment the peasant, having finishedhis prayer, rose from the stone. Thelord, descending from his throne, cried suddenly:

"Let that man go! Do not kill him; he isnot my brother's murderer. That is impossible!"

While speaking thus, the lord kept his eyesfixed on the face of Crondas, which suddenlygrew white with fear. However, Crondas approachedhis master, saying:

"But the proofs, my lord? The proofs are177there. If you do not find them sufficient toconvict this man, whom can you accuse of themurder?"

Then the lord, taking Crondas's hand, criedloudly:

"Whom can I accuse? Perhaps you, Crondas,for there is blood upon your hand. Atthe very moment when you pretended to befull of horror for the crime of murder, youkilled for mere pleasure this poor little creature,which had lighted unsuspectingly uponyour hand, but which the peasant, unjustlycondemned, had spared, when his own deathstared him in the face."

Then, seizing Crondas, and looking sternlyand fixedly at the cowering fellow, the lordthundered:

"Now, confess your sin!"

Crondas grew more ghastly than before and,trying to control his voice, faltered out:

"I confess. Have mercy, my lord! I killedyour brother because he threatened to tell youof my dishonesty toward you. I took his purseand ring, and hid them in this man's house, tomake you think it was he who had sinned. I178am the guilty one. Do with me as you will.Punish me in his place."

The lord did as Crondas had said, and themurderer suffered for his sin instead of thepeasant, who was made steward in Crondas'splace. No one pleaded for the guilty man'slife, for he had been hard and cruel, and noman was his friend.

Now all the people of the country felt thegood God himself had sent the little red lady-bugthat it might teach the lord to administerjustice. Since then everyone who sees suchan insect takes care not to hurt it, and says:

"That is the insect beloved of God. Perhapsit is on its way now to help someone. Iwould not harm it, for my hand would bestained with blood."

And the story has been handed down frompeasant to peasant, and is known throughoutthe whole of France.

And that is why the lady-bug is called inFrance "La petite bete au bon Dieu," whichmeans "the little insect beloved of God"; andthat is why everyone has reverence for it andloves it, and would not take its life.

Madison Cawein.

Once upon a time there lived a beautifulGrecian maiden named Arachne, who couldcard and spin, weave and embroider withmarvelous skill. She became so proud of herart that she boasted no one in the whole landcould equal her.

So great was her fame that many traveledfrom afar to see the beautiful garments whichshe made. Whenever she sat at her loom agroup of people stood near so that they mightsee her work in the making. Indeed, it is said,that even the nymphs left their haunts amongstreams and groves to behold the grace andease with which this maiden worked.

One day a group of people stood watchingArachne at her loom. Their admiration182knew no bounds. They looked at each otherin astonishment.

"See how deftly she rolls the wool into softfleecy balls," said one.

"And with what delicate grace she cardsit," said another. "It is as light and fine asthe mists of the morning. She is wonderful,indeed."

"Surely the maiden has more than humanskill," added the first speaker. "I believeMinerva, the goddess of spinning and weaving,taught her how to throw that swiftshuttle."

When Arachne heard these last words shestopped her work, tossed her head, and saidhaughtily, "I did not learn my art fromMinerva, but I'm quite sure I can equal thegoddess in skill."

"Hush!" cried one of the bystanders."Those are rash words, indeed. No mortalcan compare with the gods."

But Arachne's pride knew no bounds. Shetossed her head again and said, "I'm willingat any time to match my skill with Minerva's.183If she can prove herself to be my superior I'llbear any punishment she may name."

The people were very much frightened tohear the maiden boast in this manner. Theyslipped away to their homes in fear anddread.

A few days after this conversation happenedArachne was seated at her loom. Asusual many who were interested stood watchingher. Suddenly there appeared before heran aged woman leaning on a staff, who said,"Lo, I've come to give you advice which Ihave learned through the years. Beware ofpride and boastfulness. True knowledgeteaches humility. Seek for fame among mortalsif you like, but never try to match yourskill with Minerva's. Your proud boastinghas offended the goddess. Ask humbly for herforgiveness and I believe she will pardonyour rash words."

Arachne laughed scornfully and said, "Oldwoman, begone! I care not for your advice.If Minerva's skill is greater than mine let thegoddess prove it by fair trial. Why does shenot come herself to see me?"

184Then a marvelous thing happened. In atwinkling the bent figure of the old womanchanged to the shining form of the goddessMinerva. The nymphs who stood near bowedreverently and the people drew back inbreathless awe.

"A contest in weaving shall begin at once,"declared the goddess.

Arachne's face flushed and then grew palebut she was not daunted. In her foolish prideshe felt sure of victory.

Minerva now commanded that two looms beset up. In a few moments this was done; theneach took her place and made ready by tyingthe web to the beam.

Now began the famous contest. With raregrace and ease the goddess and the maidenthrew their swift shuttles. Silently the skilledweavers worked until each web was finished.Then Arachne glanced at her rival's marvelousweb. The maiden never had dreamedof a vision so beautiful. Her heart sank, for,in a moment, she knew how foolish she hadbeen to match her skill with Minerva's. PoorArachne could not bear the great blow to her185pride. In her grief she hung her head.But quickly Minerva sprinkled the maiden'sbody with magic juices and said, "BoastfulArachne, thou art now changed into a spider.Thou and thy descendants shall spin throughthe ages to come."

And there hanging to a slender thread wasthe first spider.

Nature has provided spiders with an organfilled always with liquid which, on being exposedto the air, hardens, and can be drawnout into the slender threads we know as cobwebs.The silk-worm encases its body with amile or more of gleaming silk, but there itsusefulness is ended as far as the silkworm isconcerned. But spiders have found a hundreduses for their cordage, some of whichare startlingly similar to human inventions.

Those spiders which burrow in the earthhang their tunnels with silken tapestries imperviousto wet, which, at the same time, actas lining to the tube. Then the entrance maybe a trap-door of soil and silk, hinged withstrong silken threads; or in the turret spiders,which are found in our fields, there is reareda tiny tower of leaves or twigs bound togetherwith silk. Who of us has not teased the inmateby pushing a bent straw into his strongholdand awaiting his furious onslaught uponthe innocent stalk!

187A list of all the uses of cobwebs would takemore space than we can spare; but of thesethe most familiar is the snare set for unwaryflies,—the wonderfully ingenious webs whichsparkle with dew among the grasses or stretchfrom bush to bush. The framework is ofstrong webbing and upon this is closely woventhe sticky spiral which is so elastic, so ethereal,and yet strong enough to entangle a good-sizedinsect. How knowing seems the littleworker, as when, the web and his dew of concealmentbeing completed, he spins a strongcable from the center of the web to the entranceof his watch-tower. Then, when atrembling of his aerial spans warn him of acapture, how eagerly he seizes his master cableand jerks away in it, thus vibrating the wholestructure and making more certain the confusionof his victim.

What is more interesting than to see a great188yellow garden-spider, hanging head downwardsin the center of his web, when we approachtoo closely, instead of deserting hissnare, set it vibrating back and forth so rapidlythat he becomes a mere blur; a more certainmethod of escaping the onslaught of a birdthan if he ran to the shelter of a leaf.

Those spiders which leap upon their preyinstead of setting snares for it have still a usefor their thready life, throwing out a cableas they leap, to break their fall if they misstheir foothold. What a strange use of thecobweb is that of the little flying spiders! Upthey run to the top of a post, elevate theirabdomens and run out several threads whichlengthen and lengthen until the breeze catchesthem and away go the wingless aeronauts foryards or for miles as fortune and wind andweather may dictate! We wonder if they cancut loose or pull in their balloon cables atwill.

Many species of spiders spin a case forholding their eggs, and some carry this aboutwith them until the young are hatched.

A most fascinating tale would unfold could189we discover all the uses of cobweb when thespiders themselves are through with it. Certainit is that our ruby-throated hummingbird robs many webs to fasten together theplant down, wood pulp, and lichens whichcompose her dainty nest.

Search the pond and you will find anothermember of the spider family swimming aboutat ease beneath the surface, thoroughlyaquatic in habits, but breathing a bubble ofair which he carries about with him. Whenhis supply is low he swims to a submarinecastle of silk, so air-tight that he can keepit filled with a large bubble of air, upon whichhe draws from time to time.

And so we might go on enumerating almostendless uses for the web which is Nature'sgifts to these little waifs, who ages ago left thesea and have won a place for themselves inthe sunshine among the butterflies and flowers.

Many years ago there lived at a swamp'sedge a tiny fairy who occupied her time inspinning, and made the most beautiful anddelicate fabrics imaginable.

Her wheel whirled so fast that it was nothingbut a blur such as a fly's wings make whenhe is tangled in a flower, and her spindle wasthe sting of a bumble-bee—her uncle—whohad left it to her, for any good use in amendsfor a life so grouchy that none of the othercreatures would have anything to do withhim.

Still, one inhabitant of the swamp was worsethan the bee, and the fairy was mightily disturbedwhen she discovered that he had takenup his abode in the very next bush. He wasan enormous spider, big as a bird and hideously191gorgeous with red, blue, and yellow. Hetook some pride in himself as a spinner, butwhen he saw the shining tissue that the fairywas weaving he realized that his own art wascheap and poor in comparison and he wasjealous and determined to destroy her. Shecaught up her wheel and spindle and ran withthe spider in pursuit. She asked the mousefor shelter, but he was afraid, and shut thedoor. She begged the toad to protect her,but he only ran out his tongue. Finally a fire-flycame along, with his lantern lit. He sawthe fairy; he saw the spider, and, calling to thefairy to follow, he flew with her across thefield, lighting the way, for it was now night.They soon reached a bush which bore a handsomepink blossom.

"Jump into the flower," commanded thefire-fly. Still clutching her wheel, the fairyput her last strength into a spring and alightedin the heart of the blossom. The spider wasclose upon her, but as he put his ugly clawon the lower petal to draw himself up afterher, she gave him such a stab in the leg withher spindle that he lost his hold and fell to192the ground. In another second the flowerclosed over the fairy, gathering its petals sotightly that the spider could not get in. Hewove his web about it, believing that he wouldcatch her when she ventured out in the morning.But when morning came she did not appear.The spider kept watch, but finally thepetals dropped to the earth and when he sawno fairy he knew it was all up, so he bit hisown body and died. But the fairy was notdead. She remained snuggled in the little ballthat the plant put out behind the blossom andin a few days the ball opened and all the beautifulfabric she had been spinning while inhiding poured out in a tassel of snowy white.And men wove the threads to make garmentsfor themselves, and they bless the fairy of thecotton plant and are glad when she escapesthe weevil as well as the spider.

It was a beautiful day in midsummer. Themeadow was alive with busy little people astirin the bright sunlight. A long line of antscame crawling down the path carrying provisionsto their home under the elm tree; andan old toad came hopping down throughthe grass, blinking in the warm sun. Just alittle higher up the bees were droning drowsilyas they flew from flower to flower; andabove them all, seeming almost in the bluesky, a robin was calling to his mate.

Pretty soon Mrs. Spider came down thepath. She seemed to be in a great hurry.She looked neither to the right nor to theleft, but kept straight ahead, holding tightlyto a little white bag which she carried in hermouth. She was just rushing past Mr. Toad194when a big black beetle came humping by,stumbled against Mrs. Spider, and knockedthe bag out of her mouth.

In an instant Mrs. Spider pounced downupon him, and, though he was so much biggerthan she, he tumbled over on his back. Whilehe was trying to kick himself right side uponce more, Mrs. Spider made a quick littledash, took up her bag, and scuttled off throughthe grass.

"Well, I never," said Grasshopper Green,who was playing see-saw on a blade of grass.

"No, nor I," grumbled Mr. Beetle, as hewriggled back to his feet. "I didn't want herbag. She needn't have made such a fuss."

"She must have had something very fine inthat bag," said Grasshopper Green, "forshe was so frightened when she dropped it.I wonder what it was"—and he balanced himselfon his grass blade until a stray breeze blewhim off, and then he straightway forgot aboutMrs. Spider altogether.

Two weeks after this Grasshopper Greenstarted out for a little exercise after breakfast.Just as he reached the edge of the brook195he saw Mrs. Spider coming toward him. Shewas moving quite slowly, and no longer carriedthe little white bag. As she came nearer,he could see that she had something on herback.

"Good morning, neighbor," called GrasshopperGreen. "May I help you carry yourthings?" "Thank you," she said, "but theywouldn't stay with you, even if they could stayon when you give such great jumps."

"They!" cried Grasshopper Green. Andthen, as he came nearer, he saw that the thingson Mrs. Spider's back were wee little babyspiders.

"Aren't they pretty children?" she askedproudly. "I was so afraid that somethingwould happen to my eggs that I never let goof the bag once, except when that stupid Mr.Beetle knocked it out of my mouth."

"Oh, ho," said Grasshopper Green, "sothat was what frightened you so! Your bagwas full of eggs! And, now, you are goingto carry all these children on your back?Doesn't it tire you dreadfully?"

"I don't mind that a bit," said Mrs. Spider,196"if only the children are well and safe. In alittle while, you know, they will be able torun about by themselves, and then we shall beso happy here in the meadow grass. Oh, it'swell worth the trouble, neighbor Grasshopper."

"Yes," said Grasshopper Green, "I have adozen wee boys of my own at home; and thatreminds me that it is time to go home tobreakfast! Good-bye, neighbor. I hope thechildren will soon be running about with you.You certainly are taking good care of them.Good-bye."

Then home he went; and the proud, happymother Spider kept on her way to hunt for abreakfast for the babies she loved so well.

Alfred Tennyson.

One night, long, long ago when the Moon ofFlowers shone softly on the prairie a group ofIndian youths sitting in a circle on the grasswere talking about the stars. One of thebraves, a young chieftain, gazed intently towardthe south. On a wooded hill back ofhis wigwam twinkled a star which was thebrightest he had ever seen.

"Surely the star has a message for the RedMen. Who can read it?" the watchers askedeach other.

Each night during the beautiful Moon ofFlowers the star grew more and more radiantuntil its glorious light filled the southern sky,but not one of the Indian youths had been ableto explain the meaning of the light.

One night after the Moon of Flowers hadgiven her place in Sky Land to the Hot Moon200the chief dreamed that a beautiful maidenstood by his side and said, "Young brave, howbeautiful your world is when the SummerQueen reigns. Great stretches of prairieglisten with dandelions and red lilies; butterfliesflit about in the sunlight; gentle breezestouch the forest leaves and they sing soft answersto the rapture of the birds; little childrenshout for joy in merry laughter. I longto live among you. Ask your wise men how Imay become a part of this beauty, and how Imay add to the children's happiness."

Then the young chief awakened. Hesprang to his feet, called his braves togetherin the council-lodge and told them his dream.

"It's the message of the radiant star," theysaid. "Let us smoke the pipe of peace as asign of our welcome."

Accordingly a band of young braves led bythe chieftain climbed the wooded hill andsmoked a pipe of peace filled with sweet-scentedherbs. Then they stretched forththeir hands towards the star and bade welcometo her. At the close of their ceremoniesthe light grew more luminous than ever before201and the braves knew their welcome wasunderstood. They walked back to the villageand the star followed them all the way, andshone over their wigwams until daybreak.

At night the chief dreamed that the beautifulmaiden stood again by his side. "I'mcoming to dwell among your people," she said."I'm wondering what form I shall take inorder to add to the children's joy."

"They love to hear the birds sing," said thechief.

But the maiden shook her head. "I shallnot live in the tree-tops," she answered.

"Choose your own way to live, Star-Maiden,"said the chief.

"I shall live among you as a flower," shesaid. "Surely the children's hearts are gladdenedby the blossoms of the earth."

"They are, indeed," declared the chief."The mountain-rose is wondrously beautiful."

"Oh, but it is too far away from the children,"sighed the maiden.

"The prairie dandelion makes our little onesclap their hands in glee," suggested the chief.

The maiden thought awhile; then she said,202"The buffalo's hoof often crushes the prairiedandelion."

The chief was sorely puzzled. Finally hesaid, "You would be safe from harm if youshould choose the rocky cliffs for your bloomingplace."

But the maiden said, "The children seldomclimb the cliffs. I must live where the childrencan see me."

Suddenly her face brightened and she said,"I know! I know! I'll live in the clearstreamlet and bloom on its surface. I shallfeel soft breezes blow and hear the birds sing.In the branches which bend over me the warblerswill build their nests. The children willplay on the banks, and they will touch me withtheir little hands as they glide safely along intheir canoes. Look for me in the streamlet."

Then the young brave awakened. Hesprang up and walked to a clear stream whichflowed near the Indian village. On the watersfloated beautiful white blossoms with delicatewaxen leaves. Hundreds of lovely water-lilieswere waiting there to surprise the Indianchildren and bring added joy into their lives.

Mother's Portfolio.

The little pond behind the machine-shop wasfull of tadpoles—wee fellows—all head andtail. Jolliest of these were Taddypole andPollywog, two little cousins, who spent theirtime in countless swimming matches or gamesof hide-and-seek among the stones which borderedthe pond.

204Barefooted boys and girls peeped over theedge of the water to watch the tadpoles dartinghither and thither; then, with merryshouts, returned to their own play.

Taddy's and Pollie's round eyes watchedthem curiously. Sometimes when the landbabieswaded in the shallow water these tinywater-babies played fearlessly around theirfeet, nibbling their toes or playing leapfrogover them.

So they passed merry days and when the twilightcame, Taddy and Pollie were ready tolisten to the band concert. This, unfortunately,was given on land, so the little tadpolescould not be present, but from the water theycould catch glimpses of Father Frog boomingaway on his big bass drum, and hear the sweetchirping chorus of the tiny frog violinists inthe marsh near by.

"Oh, Pollie," cried Tadpole, "if we couldonly go to the concert! Why, I'd be willing togive up hide-and-seek for a week just to get alittle nearer to the music."

"I know," said Pollywog gloomily. "I wantto go myself, the very worst kind of way.205There's no use wishing, though, for we have noclothes that would be suitable. Only greensilk dress suits with polka dots are worn thisyear. Besides, we can't stand it out of thewater. It's too warm or something, I don'tknow just what, but I always feel halfsmothered if I try."

"Besides," reflected Taddy, "we haven'tbeen invited. Only musicians are asked, andwe can't sing, you know."

Splash! Ker-Chunk! Father Frog hoppedinto the water, then out again on a broad stone,where he began thundering a bass solo:

"Oh, how I wish we could!" cried the littletadpoles, feeling that this was a personal invitation.They swam as close as possible to thestone, and gazed admiringly at the greatsinger.

"Could what?" grumbled Father Frog.

"Wish we could go to the concert."

"Ker-chug!" answered Father Frog.

206It sounded very much like a hoarse chuckle."Why don't you go?"

"No invitation."

"No dress suit."

"Can't breathe out of the water."

The tadpoles' voices were very mournfulas they gave their reasons.

"I invite you," said Father Frog, "to theJuly concert three weeks from to-day. Yourdress suits will be ready, and as far as breathingis concerned it's all practice. Would youbelieve it?" he said in a hoarse whisper, "Icouldn't stay out of the water very well myselfat one time, but I practised breathingevery day, until now it is the easiest thing inthe world. But speaking of practice makingperfect reminds me I must rehearse my songfor the concert.

"Let's go down in the sand," whisperedPollie. "I can always think better downthere; and, really, this is all so surprising I207must think it over. Oh, Taddy, do you thinkwe could truly go to the concert?"

Taddy swished his tail and dived downwithout answering, feeling this to be too muchof a problem for a tadpole to decide.

"It's very strange," said Taddy a few dayslater; "it certainly seems as if we were gettinglegs—what use have tadpoles for them? Weonly need our strong tails for swimming."

"Taddy," cried Pollie, "there's somethingstill stranger. Our tails are shrinking. If theydon't stop they will disappear, and then whatcould we do?"

"Grr-nm, grr-nm!" sounded Father Frog'shoarse voice. "Getting ready for the concert,I see! Well, when you lose those ridiculoustails you will look much better."

"Lose them!" exclaimed the tadpoles; "andwhat do you think we could do without them?"But Father Frog had disappeared, leavingonly the echo of his "Come along."

"I feel as if something strange were aboutto happen," said Pollie. "I'm tired of tag andhide-and-seek; let's think of some new game."

"We might practice breathing, as Father208Frog advised," suggested Taddy; "let's go tothe top of the water and see who can keep hishead out the longer."

This new game interested the tadpoles verymuch, and in a week's time they began reallyto enjoy the air.

"I can stay out a long while now," announcedTaddy triumphantly, "and since myfront legs appeared I can jump quite high."

"Our tails are quite gone," said Pollie, "andI don't know but that it is an improvement. Ithink I like legs better than tails, and hoppingis much more fun than swimming. Some dayI mean to hop up on that wet stone whereFather Frog sits so often. Wouldn't he be surprisedto see me there?"

"What fun!" exclaimed Taddy. "Try itnow. There, you did it! Oh, Pollie, how fineyou look! Do you like it up there? I'mcoming, too, Pollie. Hurrah!"

"Ho, ho!" chuckled Father Frog from theland. "Are you ready for the concert, littlefrogs?"

Taddy and Pollie looked at each other inastonishment.

209"Are we frogs?" they cried.

"Why, yes."

"Oh, Taddy, and you have your green suit!"

"So have you, Pollie."

"Why, I shouldn't be surprised at anythingnow, not even if we could sing. Let's try," andboth little frogs lifted up their voices andsang.

"Che-weep, che-weep, che-weep."

They looked so droll, and sang with such afunny chirp, that Father Frog fell off thebank splash into the water with laughter.

Taddy and Pollie didn't mind this in theleast, for they were sure that Che-weep wasthe most beautiful song in the world.

And this is the way Taddypole and Pollywoglost their tails, and gained their voices intime for the July concert.

Once upon a time in a mountain valley therewas a group of Indian lodges where the peopledwelt very happily. It was an excellentplace for a village. In the thick forests whichcovered the mountain slopes there was abundanceof game, and through the valley floweda sparkling clear brook fed by a full torrentand many slender rills which leaped downthe wild mountain sides. So pure and deliciouswas the water from this stream that theIndians felt sure it was a gift to them fromthe Great Spirit.

Each day it was the custom for the Indianmaidens to take their kettles to the brook andfill them with water. They were much surprisedone summer morning to note that thestream was not so deep as usual.

211"Is it because we have had little rainlately?" they asked each other.

They reported what they had noticed to thevillagers who said, "Our brook will not failus. The weather has been very dry of late;but soon we shall have plenty of rain whichwill swell the waters of our precious stream."

But, strange to say, the rain did not deepenthe brook and when the Indians saw that thewater was becoming shallower each day theywere very much alarmed. One morning theyfound that the brook and the waters which fedit had entirely disappeared. With sad heartsthey gazed at the bed of shining pebbles whichmarked the course of their beloved stream.

"Is the Great Spirit angry with us?" theywhispered. "What have we done to makehim take away our life-giving water?"

The chief called the men to the councillodge in order to determine the best thingto do.

Now it happened that the people of thehappy village had often heard rumors of anothergroup of Indians who lived higher upon the mountain. After much deliberation a212wise man rose in the council lodge and said,"Let us send one of our fleet-footed braves ona journey to discover this village which wehave heard about but whose people we knownot. Perhaps they can tell him what hasstopped the flow of waters. Let the runnerfollow the bed of the mountain stream whichleaped most willingly to our precious brook."

Accordingly a swift runner was chosen tosearch for the other Indian village. He wasadvised to follow a trail which led to thesource of the brook. It was a hazardous journeyup the slippery path of the mountainslope which was covered with dense thicketsof tangled underbrush and forest trees.

For three days the young brave pursued histask of climbing the mountain. At last hecame to a small stretch of level plain and therehe saw a group of wigwams. Back of thevillage the runner could see a clear stream ofwater whose course further down the mountainhad been stopped by a large dam whichchecked the water and turned it into a greatpond. Several Indians came out of their wigwams213and gazed coldly at the stranger. Nota word of welcome did they give.

"Why have you done this mischief?" askedthe runner, pointing to the dam. "Know younot that this stopping of the mountain brookhas cut off the supply of water to us who livein the valley below?"

"The dam was built by the order of ourchief," replied one of the men.

"Lead me to him that I may tell him themisery he has caused my people. Surely hewill be merciful," said the runner.

But no one offered to lead the way. In alittle while one of them pointed to the pondand said, "The chief lives there."

The runner went quickly to the edge of thepond and there, lying in the mud, he saw amonster whose bloated body of giant size washalf hidden. His great yellow eyes bulgedout like knots on a tree-trunk; his mouthreached almost from ear to ear. At the approachof the Indian this creature arousedhimself and stretched out his great broadskinny feet.

214In a hoarse frog-like voice the monster chiefcroaked, "What do you want? What do youwant?"

"I came to see why the brook which broughtour village water has dried up. It is becauseyou have built a dam to stop its course," saidthe runner.

"What do I care?" lazily replied the chief."What do I care?"

"We cannot live without the water fromour brook," pleaded the Indian.

"What do I care?" again croaked the monster."If you want water go somewhere else!Go somewhere else!"

"My people are dying from thirst! Noone may rightfully keep for his own use thewater from a mountain stream. The GreatSpirit sent the brook to our village!" said therunner earnestly.

The monster rolled his great yellow eyes forseveral minutes. Then he said, "Shoot a holein the wall of the dam with one of your arrows.Your people may have as much wateras will flow through the arrow hole."

Very swiftly the runner sped an arrow. It215pierced the wall and a slender stream of watertrickled through the opening.

"Begone!" croaked the monster when hesaw the water flowing. "Begone! Begone!"

Feeling encouraged at the hope that enoughwater would flow to supply the needs of hispeople the runner hastened back to the village.When he told what had happened there wasgreat rejoicing, especially when the Indianssaw a slender stream of water flowing into thebrook's dry bed. But, alas! The water didnot continue to flow. In a few weeks the peoplewere again suffering from thirst. A councilof all the men in the village was held andearnestly they implored the Great Spirit tohelp them.

After much deliberation it was decided thatthe bravest man among them should go to theFrog Chief, and challenge him to do battle forthe mountain water. "Let us hope that ourwarrior will stay this monster whose selfishnessis bringing destruction to us," said one ofthe leaders.

Many of the young men offered to go, eachdeclaring his willingness to do battle, even at216the greatest risk, with the monster chief.While several braves were clamoring for thisgreat privilege of fighting for the good of thevillage, there appeared in the doorway of thecouncil lodge a warrior who was marvelous tosee. His flashing eyes were encircled withgreen rings; his cheeks were as red as blood.Great clam shells hung from his ears, and talleagle plumes nodded on his head. It wasGlooscap, the spirit who brought great blessingsto the Indians and who sometimes tookhuman shape in order to help them.

The silence of the council was broken bythis mighty warrior who said, "I will undertaketo do battle with the monster who hasstopped the flow of water to your brook. Heshall account to me for this wicked deed."

Then swiftly he departed and followed themountain trail to the upper village.

In a short time he reached the place andsat down near the group of wigwams to rest.The people saw him, but they offered himneither food nor drink.

"Fetch me water to quench my thirst," saidGlooscap to a small boy who came near.

217After a long while the lad returned with adrinking vessel half filled with muddy water.Glooscap took the cup, emptied the contentson the grass and said, "I want clean water fromthe mountain brook."

"I cannot give it to you," said the lad. "Ourchief drinks all the clean water."

"Then lead me to your chief," said Glooscap."He shall give me pure water."

Quaking with fear, the Indian boy ledGlooscap to the pond where the monster chieflay sunning himself.

"What do you want?" croaked the yellow-eyedcreature.

"I've come to you for a drink of purewater," said Glooscap.

"Go somewhere else! Go somewhere else!"said the monster hoarsely.

The mighty Glooscap now rushed forwardwith his spear, thrust it through the chief'sgreat body, and lo! a stream of water rushedforth with such force that it broke the damand flowed down the mountain in a clear,sparkling torrent. The monster chief had218swallowed all the pure water of the mountainstreams.

Then Glooscap rose to a giant's height,caught the monster in his powerful hand andsqueezed him with all his might. When heloosened his grasp there in his hand was agreat bullfrog with crumpled back, yellow,bulging eyes, wide mouth, and broad, skinnyfeet. Glooscap flung the creature back intothe pond and ever since that day croaking bull-frogsmay be found in muddy streams.

Madison Cawein.

"There's no use trying," said the newest newt;"you'll never be anything but grubby."

The newest newt lived at the bottom of thegarden pond. He was a very elegant newt.The orange spots on his waistcoat were thebrightest to be seen in all the garden.

The grubbiest grub was not elegant. Hewas unquestionably the very grubbiest thing inthe garden pond. However, he had ambitions.

"But there's no use trying," said the newestnewt again. "I myself saw you fall from awillow leaf not so long since, and had ideasabout you. I thought, perhaps, you might besome new kind of egg and hatch into a royalturtle. But I watched you, and you didn't221hatch—you grew just like a tadpole. Onlyyou didn't grow even into a frog."

The grubbiest grub said nothing. His heartgrew a little bitter as he thought, "Not eveninto a frog."

"But cheer up," said the newest newt,"there's mud enough at the bottom of the gardenspot for all of us. And it's not a bad place—aristocraticturtles in the neighbourhood,and I live here."

He was off with an extra swirl of his extrashiny tail. He was due at the turtles' ball atsunset. He was always being invited somewherebecause of the orange on his waistcoat.

The grubbiest grub was never invited anywhere,and he didn't look like anything thatanybody had ever seen, and didn't seem relatedto anybody. And his heart rebelled.

"Up above the pond there is light," he said."I know that, and there is some strangething—tall, and coloured like—like——" Hecouldn't think what. He had only pond grassand pond creatures to compare it to."Like——" A little fish swam slowly pasthim, and, as it turned, the long light, sifting222through the water from the sunset, caught colourson its body. "Like that!" said the grubbiestgrub.

The fish was swaying slowly. Then it sawthe grubbiest grub. "Good evening," said thesparkling fish; "and isn't there a party?"

"To be sure," answered the grubbiest grub,"but you see I'm not invited."

The sparkling fish looked again. "Why,"she said, "I thought you belonged to that set ofnewts and turtles, and the better class of pondfrogs. Anyway, why aren't you invited?"

"I'm far too grubby," said the grubbiestgrub; "didn't you know?"

The little silver fish swam slowly around thegrub.

"I think you belong above," she said at last;"don't you ever want to go up there?"

"I have dreamed of a thing gleaming like—like——"

"Rainbows," said the shining fish.

"Rainbows," repeated the grubbiest grub,"and I have wanted so to find one. But I nevercould tell anyone. The newt would have diedlaughing."

223"So you're afraid of being laughed at!" saidthe fish. "I think you do belong to the turtleset." And she swam away.

Suddenly something seemed to sting andburn into the heart of the grubby grub. Thelook the silver fish had given him was worsethan the laughter of any number of newts. "Iwill go and find the thing I dreamed," he said.

The grubbiest grub started slowly up a massof tangled roots and thence on to a long, thinstem. The wave that rippled round the stemsaw the grub coming. "You don't belonghere," he said.

"Please," entreated the grub, and his poorgrubby face looked so sad that the wave pauseda moment before he brushed him off.

"Well—what do you want here?" asked thewave. "We can't have grubs eating out ourlily hearts, you know."

The grub took a deep breath, and clung ontightly to the lily stem. He was terribly afraidof being laughed at, but he thought of the silverfish and the pain that was worse than anylaughter. "I don't want to eat your lily's224heart," he said; "I'm only looking for a thingI—dreamed."

Strange, the wave didn't laugh. He onlylooked more closely at the grubby grub. "Oh,you're that kind," he said. "Sure enough.Well, go along. Take the first turning by themoss roots, and good luck to you."

The grubbiest grub went on. He foundmoving upward easier as he grew more usedto it. At the place where the moss roots clungmost closely to the lily stem, he turned off,then along the moss roots to the edge of thepond, and on up to a broad shaft of greenpointing still higher.

The grubbiest grub paused. He was very,very tired, and everything was new and strangeto him. He had never breathed the air before,nor seen the stars.

About him were many voices, and therewere points of light and trails, and flashes ofgold, such as the silver fish had scattered inthe water. There was darkness, too, reachingbeneath to clutch him.

The grubbiest grub clung tightly to the shaftof green. "What am I doing here? What225am I doing here?" he asked himself, and hisback ached and his sides ached, and his heartwas numb with aching.

"Why, you are waiting for the morning,"said a little voice beside him. "Don't befrightened. I've seen your kind before. Youcame up from the mud, and if you wait tilldaylight you'll have wings and fly away. Thechildren in the big house will clap their handsand say, "Look, look, another dragon-fly!Your wings are like rainbows."

"You can't be laughing at me," said thegrubbiest grub; "your voice is kind."

"Why should I laugh?" said the little voice."I am one of the grass-blade spirits, and I loveall things with wings."

"But I have no wings," said the grubbygrub, "and it seems darker."

"No, no," said the grass-blade spirit. "It'sonly the moon gone for a moment. But, oh!"she cried, as the moon flickered through on thebroad green shaft again, "your shell has brokenopen."

And sure enough, there sat a pale wisp of adragon-fly in the moonlight. "But I have no226wings," he cried in disappointment. "I cannotfly."

"Only wait," said the grass-blade spirit, andhe waited in eager, trembling excitement.

He waited while the stars turned round theheavens and the moon sank.

Then his heart lifted up, and he felt hiswings, and he flew.

He flew, trembling, quivering, white buttouched with iridescent colour, on, on abovethe pointed shaft, on still in the dawn.

The grass-blade spirit watched. "Yes! yes!"he cried from below; "splendid—O beautifulspirit—but higher!"

Higher he went, and then he sank exhausted.

"You have found your dream," cried thegrass-blade spirit, as the dragon-fly felt thewarmth about him.

He opened his eyes. He saw blue andgold and yellow of sunlight flashing in thedawn. About him was fragrance and rest andpeace.

"I love you," said the iris flower, where he227had fallen; "and I have waited for you—it isday."

So the poor grub, with the funny, blinkingeyes and the puffy face had fallen on the petalsof a great sweet iris flower. Of course, as youknow, every flower is the house of a fairy.And this house was a palace of blue flowersveined in gold, and blue fringes and tassels inthe inmost inner room, where the wonderfulfairy lived who was the flower princess.

The iris-flower princess rose from her couchof lavender and gold. It was then that shesaid, "I have waited for you—it is day."

And it was day, sparkling and gleaming onall the grass-blades.

The grubbiest grub—who was a dragon-flyprince now, in green velvet and a silken cloak,shimmering like wings behind him—and theflower princess stood on the flower palace steps,and looked out across the grass-blades.

All the little grass-blade spirits cried, "Allhail, Prince Dragon-Fly!" and the flower princess—whowould be queen now of all thewinged folk as well—called to the grass-bladespirit who had urged Prince Dragon-Fly to228find her. And as the little grass-blade fairyknelt there at her feet, she proclaimed him"Knight of the Grass-Blades, Keeper of theDewdrops, and Lord High Admiral of theGarden Pond."

The folk at the bottom of the garden pond,however, went on just the same in spite of theNew Dewdrop—High Lord, Grass-BladeAdmiral. In fact, they didn't even know thatthere was a new admiral, and they neverdreamed of the great coronation ceremonythat was to make the poor little despisedgrubby thing the king of the winged creatures.They just thought about themselves as usual,and the success of the last ball, and the aristocraticturtles, and the extra shiny mud floorwhere the newest newt with the orange spotson his waistcoat had danced so beautifullywith Sir Fat-Frog's fattest daughter.

Alfred Tennyson.

John Masefield.

William Blake.

Long, long ago Woodpecker wore a plain suitof dark grey feathers with a few white patcheson it. He often looked admiringly at thebright colours which many of the birds wore,and sometimes his gay companions tauntedhim about his plain clothes. Then GreyWoodpecker would leave the woods for awhileand flit about an Indian village.

Here he made friends with an Indian girlwhose name was Pretty-Dancing-Maiden whowas the pride of her people. There was nosport she loved so much as dancing, and thegraceful movements of her slender figure anddainty feet made all the people call her thebest dancer in the village.

Whenever this maiden dressed for a danceGrey Woodpecker helped her paint her face234with many colours. When she was ready hewould hop a little distance off and, with hishead on one side, say, "Pretty-Dancing-Maidenis more beautiful than any bird of theforest."

One day after she had finished painting helooked admiringly at her but said nothing.The maiden laughed merrily and asked,"What colour needs deepening, Grey Woodpecker?"

"Red! Red! Red!" was his answer, for thebird loved the brilliant colour best which themaiden used on her cheeks and smiling lips.

Then Pretty-Dancing-Maiden always tookup the bits of wood which she used for brushes,dipped them into red paint, and again toucheddaintily her cheeks and lips. And with amerry good-bye to Grey Woodpecker she ranlightly out of the wigwam to the dance.

It happened one evening after the maidenhad gayly dressed for the dance and wavedgood-bye to her little feathered friend, the birdlooked intently at the bits of wood which themaiden had used to put on the beautiful redpaint. In a little while his eyes twinkled merrily235and he said, "I'll make myself beautifultoo! I'll use Pretty-Dancing-Maiden's redpaint brushes and brighten my suit of plaingrey and white."

He took up the wooden brushes and rubbedthe red paint over his ears. Two brilliantstripes he made, for there was plenty of thecolour on the bits of sticks. How happy hewas!

"The birds of the forest shall never againcall me a bird of plain clothes," said he.

And ever since that far-off day the woodpeckershave worn red stripes over their ears.

Abbie Farwell Brown.

On the thirteenth of July a red-mutchedwoodpecker knocked on the stricken bough ofa lofty elm to crave of the Dryad within hospitalityfor a season. Yes, her wish would begranted, but only on condition that she woulddig out a shelter for herself there in the hard,dry wood.

What had gone wrong in the woodpeckerfamily that she was in need of shelter this latein the year? Earlier in the summer she andher mate had burrowed out a comfortablehome in a great oak tree not two hundred yardsaway. Then they were on the best of termsand had relieved each other at the task of diggingout their dwelling place. Twenty ortwenty-five minutes at a time was thought longenough for either of them to devote to so labourious238a task in the springtime; then theother spent an equal time at the work, whilethe one off duty hurried away to partake of refreshmentsor to seek rest in change of occupation.

Then there seemed to be some joy in theirlives, for when they had occasionally foundtime for recreation, they had chased each otheraround the tree trunks and given utterance totheir enjoyment of the game in many a pealof cackling laughter. Near the base of a treethe game began, and, spirally round and roundits trunk, they pursued each other, the one inthe lead every now and then casting a challenginglook behind, then hurrying upwardfaster than before. Their playtimes werebrief, however, for the unfinished burrow wascalling.

When this was completed and later a halfdozen or more eggs were laid, though madamspent most of her time in dispensing warmthto them, her mate also did his share. Togetherthey had devoted their energies to providingfor the little ones that pecked their way outof the round, white eggs. Many long journeys239were they compelled to take, and many werethe hours spent in search of suitable food fortheir hungry offspring; but on their returntheir throats were always full to the brim withthe nourishment which they pumped into infantthroats as, hanging head downward overthem, they clung with their claws to the entranceof their home. And when, after a time,the chicks were old enough to scramble abouton the trunk of the tree outside their home, awheezy call from one of them was enough tobring one or both of the parents, with throatdistended with the best the wood afforded, tominister to their wants. Together they haddriven away the over-solicitous squirrels andmeddlesome sparrows who came to visit them.Together they had guided their asthmaticyoung family about the wood, teaching themby example, if not by precept, where food wasto be found, and how to meet the dangers theywere likely to encounter at any moment.

The accidents of nature had depleted thebrood, till now but two of them were left. Aball of baby feathers in the home of an owlliving in the wood told the story of the passing240of one of them; the gladness which attendedthe home-coming of a foraging mothersquirrel marked the taking off of another; sothey had gone, till only these two remained,wheezy and exacting.

Of late the care of them had fallen mainlyon the father, who picked up a living for themas best he could. At times he seemed to try toget away from them—a futile effort, for whenthey did not follow his undulating flight intheir awkward up-and-down fashion, theywent in search of him if he was gone a fewminutes overtime.

Here on the thirteenth of July was themother seeking shelter away from her formerhome. Had there been a family disagreement?Was the home-nest no longer largeenough for the parent birds and their now almostgrown-up family? Was she planning fora new brood? Surely not! It would be impossibleto rear in a single season two broodsrequiring so much care.

Whatever her purpose, here she was, drawingher plans on the under side of the dry oldbough. Soon she began to peck out an entrance,241and it was not long before the chipswere flying in every direction. More than anhour she worked, then flew to the dead top ofa tree across the way, where she sat for a brieftime resting and sunning herself. Twice sheleft her perch to dart out after passing insects,then returned to her labour. Occasionally sheswung around to the top side of the deadbranch, and tore off bits of bark either for thepurpose of seeing if the hole was going clearthrough or for securing the insect fare lurkingunder it. This part of the work continuedat intervals, till the bark was removed from allthe excavated portion of the bough. All day,until about five o'clock, she spent at her taskwith but little rest, then there was a long visitto the rest perch in the neighbouring treetop.

The early morning hours were probably devotedto commissary tours; for it was almosteight o'clock when she appeared on the sceneof her labours and again began to wield thepick. About ten o'clock her spouse appearedand arranged himself comfortably on the samelimb about a foot away from the hole she wasdigging, but not by so much as a single stroke242did he assist her. Soon a wheezy, whistlingcry called him to duties as insistent as homebuilding, and he departed.

After watching the progress of woodpeckeraffairs for some time, a dweller in the houseunder the tree decided to lend a hand. Aworm-eaten hitching-post stood near, on whichwas placed pieces of bread for the hungry littlewielder of the pick. This not only satisfiedher wants, but served also to bring her mateand offspring near occasionally. At first theyoung members of the family refused to pickup this food set before them, but, instead,clung to a neighbouring tree and called vociferouslyfor help. Then the father took the bitsof bread and pushed them far down into thescreaming throats. The young Romulus musthave possessed wonderful powers of enduranceif the woodpeckers of old ministered tohim as vigorously in response to his infantilewails as the woodpeckers of to-day respond tothe screaming demands of their own offspring.How gentle the wolf must have seemed in comparison!

Several times the young woodpeckers followed243the father to the limb in which themother was chiseling a home. Together theywatched her work, but during the first threedays seemed to take no interest whatever inthe hole she was making. Then the fatherwent in and examined the opening, but flewaway without giving any real aid. And allthrough the work his assistance seemed to belimited to inspection.

In her digging, the mother woodpeckerclung with her claws to the opening of theburrow, and, head downward, pecked rapidly.Sometimes she would throw out chips—whichwere little more than coarse sawdust—afterthree or four blows; again, she worked for aminute or two, then threw out several billfulsat a time. In throwing out these chips sheslipped backward and forward over the loweredge of the opening, after the manner of thatold-fashioned toy called a "supple jack."First she threw her chips to one side, then tothe other, till the ground beneath the burrow,for a space thirty feet in circumference, wasgenerously sprinkled with them.

Though several persons were watching her,244and though squirrels were springing aboutamong the branches, she was not disturbed,but went steadily on with her task. While shewas away on short vacations, the wren, dwellingin the porch roof beneath, frequently investigatedthe hole she was digging—sparrowsexamined it, and squirrels looked into it, but itwas very noticeable that they all had an eyeon her return. Once, in her absence, one ofher own young woodpeckers scrambled to theedge of the hole, and peeped in for a moment,then scuttled back again to the place where thedead branch joined the trunk of the tree, and,in his usual noisy manner, demanded food.

It was near the end of the third day's labourthat the woodpecker was first seen "trying on"her new home. Then she went into it, and,nestling there, with head up for the first time,looked out of the window. Evidently, thepocket was neither deep enough nor wideenough, for after this she worked on both bottomand sides of it, scattering chips as before.The work periods were shorter now and therests more frequent, showing that her strengthwas failing. On the afternoon of the fifth day,245when the burrow was finished, completely exhausted,she made her way to the roof of thehouse, where, with wings spread, she lay formore than an hour. Seemingly too tired toreach her usual resting place in the treetopacross the way, she lay there gathering strengthfor the longer flight.

Though the sexes are alike in the redheadfamily, it was not difficult to distinguish themin this case, for the feathers about the headand neck of the mother were much more wornthan those of her less industrious mate. Yetit may be an injustice to him to accuse him ofindolence, for was he not purveying to theiryounglings?—a task which may have taxed hisenergies to the limit. Perhaps, after all, it wasonly a case of division of labour.

After the completion of the burrow, thoughthe woodpecker was anxiously watched for,for several days, she was not seen near it again,though the usual bits of bread placed on thehitching-post brought her to its neighbourhood.

The experiment was tried of putting some ofthe crusts on the top of the post and stuffing246others tightly into the large worm-holes. Thelatter were invariably taken first. Though theyoung birds came there regularly to be fed,more than a week passed before they made theslightest effort to help themselves. Theywould cling to the sides of the post, and, withupward-pointing, open bills, whistle asthmaticallyfor the food, which the parents werecompelled to place in their throats. Whetherit was wilfulness or inability that caused themto act as they did, it was impossible to determine.

The whistling of the young birds, which wasonce believed to predict rain, or to be a demandfor it from a thirsty throat, always precedesor accompanies the taking of food. It is,doubtless, a little more frequent before showers,for at such times the older birds are ableto collect more beetles and other insects thatcome out then from their shelters into theopen.

The old belief that woodpeckers are everathirst because of their inability to drink anysave the rain that falls into their open throatsor the drops that fall from the leaves, may have247some foundation. In the case of this family,though a basin of water was always convenientlynear, and though sparrows, robins, bluejays,and wrens constantly patronized it, nowoodpecker was ever seen to refresh himselffrom it—many as there were of them in the vicinity.

When more bread than the four birds couldconsume was placed in the post, the older onescarried a part of it away—usually the largerpieces on top—for future use, or pounded ittightly into worm-holes in the same post, butnever into the ones in which they found it.

Several weeks after the burrow was finished,one evening just about sunset, a redhead wasseen peeping from the window in the treetop;then it was drawn back, and again it appearedand was withdrawn to be seen no more duringthe evening. It was a dormitory, then, thatyou hollowed out for yourself, was it, my lady?

One morning, near the close of August, itwas noticed that the entrance to the lodgingwas distinctly larger, and that a patch of daylightshowed through from the other side.Whether, for some reason, the bird herself had248enlarged the opening before departing for theSouth, or whether this had been done by mischievoussquirrels on murder bent, is notknown; but certain it is that the red-mutchedlabourer was gone. Others of her kind lingeredin the grove for a week or more, andthough food was placed on the accustomedpost, neither she nor any of her immediatefamily appeared to claim it.

When he is gone, the most accomplishedsongsters are not missed more than the red-headedwoodpecker, whose broad patches ofclear colour enliven the wood. Though he mayno longer assist in the growth of the forests bybringing refreshing showers, as he is said tohave done in the long time ago, he certainlyis doing much in his own way to preservethem. Well might the ancients have made agod of him. He still possesses one of the giftswhich won that honour for him—the power ofproducing thunder—and in a way that mortalscan understand. Hear it rumbling among thedead treetops, as the bird drums rapidly on thedry wood and sets it to vibrating, then quicklylays his hollow bill against it to add resonance249to the peal. Vulcan himself could not havefelt greater satisfaction than he, as he stops tolisten, in conscious pride over his accomplishment.

Whether he is a god made manifest in feathers,or merely an old woman under a curse, expiatingthe crime of selfishness in picking upa living where there seems to be no life, and insharing this scant fare with the hungry, as wesee this bird with breast flattened and shouldersbent by hard work, while our sympathiesare awakened, we bless the day that gave to theworld this tireless little labourer of the woods.

Kingfisher is very proud, indeed, of his whitecollar and ruffled head-dress, but there was atime in the long, long ago when he had neitherof these ornaments. He wore a plain suit ofgray-blue feathers and his head was as smoothas a robin's.

In that far-off time Kingfisher lived near alarge lake, which was bordered by longstretches of pine trees. He chose this placefor a home because he could catch plenty offish in the clear waters of the lake. Also, hehad made a friend of Wolf, who lived with thegreat spirit, Manabozho, in a bear-skin wigwam,which stood on the shore.

Wolf was a mighty hunter and providedManabozho with plenty of food. It happenedone season that game was scarce in the forest251near the wigwam, and Wolf decided to huntin the woods on the opposite side of the lake.

"Brother Wolf," said Manabozho, "see howdense the pine woods over there are. Nohunter has ever ventured into that tangled forest."

"That is why I shall surely find plenty ofgame there," answered Wolf.

Accordingly, early next morning Wolf ranaround the long margin of the lake until hecame to the thick forest. He soon caught allthe game he could carry, but instead of returningwith it to the lodge, he stopped to fish onBig Rock, which jutted out into the lake.

Kingfisher, perched on one of the tall pinetrees, called out: "Wolf, do not fish from BigRock. The sea-serpents are lurking near, andthey will catch you."

"I want some fine fish to take to Manabozho,"answered Wolf. "I'm not afraid ofthe sea-ser——!"

He had not finished speaking when, in avery mysterious way, something gave his fishing-linea mighty jerk, and Wolf was pulledheadlong into the water.

252Manabozho had no game for supper. Allnight he listened for the footsteps of his faithfulhunter, but Wolf did not return to thelodge. In the morning the great spirit beganto search for his companion. He traveled allaround the long margin of the lake, but not asingle trace of Wolf could he find. Near BigRock, on a tall pine tree, sat Kingfisher.Manabozho had never before spoken to theplain little bird, who was very much surprisedwhen the great spirit said, "Kingfisher, canyou tell me what has happened to Manabozho'sbrother Wolf? I'll give you a beautifulnecklace of wampum if you can help me findhim."

Kingfisher flew down from the pine tree toa branch near the great spirit and said, "YesterdayI saw your brother Wolf fishing fromBig Rock. A sea-serpent pulled him underthe water. If you would rescue him you mustwatch on this side of the lake. When the sunis highest the sea-serpents come to the rocks tosun themselves."

Manabozho was so pleased with the informationthat he put a necklace of beautiful253white wampum around Kingfisher's neck.

"You must not tell the serpents that I amwatching for Wolf," said Manabozho.

But Kingfisher was looking in the mirrorof the lake, admiring his new necklace, so hedid not hear the great spirit's words. Manabozhobecame suspicious and seized the littlebird by the head. Kingfisher wriggled andtwisted, and finally freed himself from thehand of the angry Manabozho and flew away.But the feathers on Kingfisher's head werevery much ruffled in the struggle, and he hasworn them so ever since; also, to this day, hewears Manabozho's gift of the beautiful whitenecklace.

Once upon a time the owls were the largestand the most dull and stupid of all the birdsof the air. While the eagle soared above themountain's crest to hail the sun before his rising,and the lark carolled his matin in the bluefields of ether, the owls were snoring; whenthe thrush and the blackbird, retreating fromthe heat of noon, filled the deep groves withtheir melody, the owls snored out the sylvanconcert; and when the soft cushat poured hisevening tale of love into the ear of his listeningmate, the owls were still snoring in theirunbroken and dreamless sleep.

It chanced, most naturally, that when towardsmidnight, the heavy, big-headed creatureshalf-opened their stupid eyes, and half-stretchedfirst one drowsy pinion and then the255other, that their stomachs craved for food;whereupon, after much yawning and stretching,they dragged themselves from their holesand went prowling after bats and mice in thedark. Tired with their hunt, and not over contentwith their supper, which was bothcoarse and scanty, they thus laid their headstogether, and, however dull by nature, anddoubly dulled by sleep, they were for oncestimulated by hunger and disappointment tosomething like ingenuity.

Said an old gray-headed owl: "This barbarousexercise ill suits with my years and mygravity."

"And this barbarous fare," said a pert, idleyoungster, "ill suits with the youthful activityof my stomach."

"I'll stake my reputation upon it," said athird, shaking his dull head, "but that proud,self-sufficient gormandizing eagle has eaten awhole sheep for his supper."

"And I'll stake mine," yawned a fourth,"that his first cousin, the vulture, and his secondcousin, the hawk, have feasted; the one on256a fat lamb, and the other on a hen and chickens."

"Chut," said the first old grey-beard, "we'llfeast ere long on sheep, lamb, hen, chickens,and all; ay! mayhap on the eagle's own littleones, to say nothing of his cousins."

"How so," hooted out the whole junto—"youwould not fight the king of birds?"

"Let me alone for that; there are betterweapons than beak or talons; and so he and hissubjects shall find. But you must all aid in theenterprise."

"If there be no fighting, and not too muchlabour, and not too much——"

"Peace! there shall be nothing but sleeping!"

"Sleeping?"

"Ay! and some talking. But leave that tome."

Here all the heavy heads poked forward,closing in a circle round their Nestor; whileall their great round eyes opened in full stareupon his.

"To-morrow you must all sleep as usual, untilI give a long hoot; then you must all open257your eyes and observe what shall chance."

Tired with so unusual a debate, all went tosleep accordingly, and snored louder thanusual; until, just as the sun had awakened tofull life and stir all the feathered tribe, theold owl hooted and screeched forth such a yell,as first terrified and then attracted on wings,spurred by curiosity, though still tremblingwith fear, every bird of the air from the gianteagle to the diminutive wren.

"A vision! a vision!" cried the owl; andagain he screeched and again he hooted, rustlingup all his feathers, flapping his wings,blinking his eyes, and tumbling head over taillike a bird distracted.

Every creature present stared and wondered.

"A vision, a vision! A miracle, a miracle!"again shouted the owl.

"I have seen a bird larger than the ostrichand stronger than the eagle. Lightnings flamefrom his eyes, and thunder roars from his beak.He has spoken; and lo! his command was:The owls are my servants and to them I makeknown my will. Let all the birds of the air258hearken to their voice. Let them do their bidding,respect their repose, and feed them withthe fat of the land; or, behold, I will feed uponthem."

Thereupon, the owls set up a hoot in chorus,and all the birds scattered to the four winds tocollect food for the servants to eat, lest the unseenmaster should eat them.

From this time forth these stupid owls weredeemed the wisest of the birds of the air; theysupped every night upon fat yearlings; andwhen they hooted all the feathered tribeclapped their wings and sang a song of praise.

A bird's nest is a bird's house. Sometimes itis strong, well made and tightly roofed, andsometimes it is not, just as with men's houses.The principal difference between the bird'shouse and ours is that we build ours to be usedall the year round, while the bird prefers tomake a new one each summer. There aresome birds, such as the fish-hawk, however,that keep the same nest many years in succession,repairing it each spring; and I thinkmore birds would do so were it not that theirhouses are usually made so slightly that thewinter's gales knock them to pieces when theowners are absent at some Southern health resort.This is a pity, too, for many of our commonestnests are exceedingly pretty and callfor a great deal of work and care on the part260of the builders, whose only tools are their feetand beaks.

Take, for instance, the lovely hammock-likebasket, hung by its rim beneath the forkof some low branch, which is made by the littlegrey, red-eyed vireo, which carols to us allthe early summer days from every garden andorchard. Such a nest was hung in a mapleclose to my porch. The bird had built itwithin arm's length of where we were constantlypassing, yet we never saw it until it wasquite finished; and the only way we could geta look at it then was by pulling aside a branch.This care was not taken from fear of us, but inthe hope that the cradle would escape thesharp eyes of red squirrels, weasels, bluejays,and other creatures who hunt for and robbirds' nests of eggs and young to get food forthemselves. I am happy to say, however, thatthe vireo's nest was not disturbed.

How to hide their nests safely is the greatquestion in the minds of all the little birds.The big, strong ones do not need to worryabout that so much, because they can driveaway most robbers; therefore, we find that the261hawks and crows, jays, kingbirds, and othersable to take care of themselves, usually settheir baskets in the crotch of some tree, wherethey can be seen easily enough, but all nests ofthis kind are strongly made, and fastened sothat the winds shall not rock them out of theirplaces or spill the contents.

But the little birds try to hide their homesin various clever ways. A good many seekholes and crannies. The woodpeckers are ableto dig these for themselves, for their beaks arelike chisels. Others, like the wrens, bluebirds,nuthatches, chicadees, and so forth, find knot-holes,places where a branch has broken off,and various small hollows, in which to maketheir beds, where the young will be snug inbad weather, and pretty safe from all enemiesexcept snakes.

Others, like the kingfisher, the sand-swallow,and certain sea-birds, make or find holesin earth-banks and rocky cliffs, so that theirbabies are born in a tiny cave. All of our swallows,before the country was settled by whitepeople, lived in this manner or in hollow trees;but as soon as civilization came those we soon262named barn-swallows left the wilds and puttheir nests under the roofs of barns and otheroutbuildings. Then some one, rememberingthe ways of old England, began to put bird-housesin the gardens; and now, in all parts ofthe United States, you may find those cousinsof the swallows, the purple martins, living bythe dozen in these lofty little hotels on the topof a pole.

The nests of the cliff-swallows are little jugsof mud, plastered by their bases to the face ofthe rock. The birds make them by bringingpellets of mud in their bills from some stream-side,and putting them one upon another, untileach pair has formed a windowless, bottle-likehouse, with a front door like the neck of thejug, so small that no big bird can enter it.These are very safe and snug nests, and thebirds can sit in their doorways and gossip witheach other very sociably, for the nests arecrowded together like the houses in a cityblock. This is the same kind of swallow thatnow puts its nest in rows along the outside ofour barns under the eaves; but often they aremere cups instead of jugs, because the barn263roof sheds the rain, and a clay roof is no longernecessary to protect the feather bed inside.

Another one of the small birds that is moreand more coming to seek our protection andsympathy is the greenish-brown flycatcher that(as some folks think) calls out her own nameevery few minutes, Phoebe, Phoebe. Shemakes her home very solidly of mud and moss,lined with horse-hair, and in the old days alwaysrested it on a ledge of rock, as many stilldo. Most of the phoebes, however, now thinkit easier and safer to get under a roof, and sothey put their mossy cups on the stone piers orsupporting timbers of bridges, among the raftersof sheds and porches, and in similar places.

A great number and wide variety of birdsmake their houses upon the ground. Most ofthe sea-birds do so—along the ledges of thesea-cliff. Nearly all the water fowl and gamebirds (except herons) also do so; and most ofthe ducks and similar birds nestle among thewet reeds of marshes, where their rude beddingis damp all the time and sometimes soakingwet. To keep their eggs warm when theyhave to leave them for a time, many of the264ducks pluck a large quantity of downy feathersfrom their breasts with which to cover theeggs. The eider of the arctic regions is theforemost in this practice, and the eider-downsold in shops is gathered from their nests; butit is a habit of many other ducks. One of themost interesting of these ground-nest birds isthe least bittern, a solitary bird frequentingswamps and marshy places.

Not only the water-birds, however, but someof the smallest and prettiest of our songsterschoose to dwell and lay their eggs close to theground, although they seem to be exposedthere to many more dangers than are those inthe treetops or elsewhere. None try more anxiouslyto hide their homes than do theseground-nesters, arching the grasses abovethem, or building little sheds of leaves to protectand hide the shining eggs. (Adapted.)

Hatto, the hermit, stood in the desert andprayed to God. The storm was on, and hislong hair and beard blew about him as wind-whippedgrass blows about an old ruin. Buthe did not brush back the hair from his eyes,nor did he fasten his long beard to his girdle,for his arms were raised in prayer. Since sunrisehe had held his gaunt, hairy arms out-stretchedtoward heaven, as untiring as a treestretching out its boughs, and thus he wouldremain until evening. It was a great thing forwhich he was praying.

He was a man who had suffered much fromthe wickedness and dishonesty of the world.He himself had persecuted and tortured others,and persecution and torture had been hisportion, more than he could endure. Therefore,266he had gone forth into the wilderness,had dug himself a cave on the river bank,and had become a holy man whose prayersfound hearing at the throne of God.

Hatto, the hermit, stood on the river bankbefore his cave and prayed the great prayer ofhis life. He prayed God to send down the Dayof Judgment upon this wicked world. Hecried to the angels of the trumpets, who are toherald the end of the reign of sin.

Round about him was the wilderness, barrenand desolate. But a little up the bankstood an old willow with shortened trunk,which swelled out at the top of a round humplike a queer head, and from it new, freshlygreen twigs were sprouting. Every autumnthe peasants from the unwooded flatlandsrobbed the willow of her fresh new shoots.But every year the tree put forth new ones, andon stormy days the slender, flexible twigswhipped about the old willow, as hair andbeard whipped about Hatto, the hermit.

It was just on this day that a pair of waterthrushes, who usually built their nest on thetrunk of the old willow between the new twigs,267had decided to begin their work. But the wildwhipping of the twigs disturbed the birds.They flew up with their bits of dry grass withnothing accomplished. Then it was that theycaught sight of old Hatto.

No one now living can picture to himselfhow moss-grown and dried-up, how gnarledand black and generally unlike a human being,such an old desert hermit can become. Hisskin clung so close to forehead and cheekbonesthat his head looked like a skull, andonly a tiny gleam down in the depth of his eyeballsshowed that there was still life in him.The dried-up muscles gave no curve to thebody; the outstretched naked arms weremerely a couple of narrow bones, covered withhard, wrinkled, bark-like skin. He wore anold black cloak, clinging close to his body. Hewas tanned brown by the sun and black withdirt. His hair and beard alone were of alighter shade, for rain and sunshine had fadedthem to the grey-green hue of the under sideof willow leaves.

The birds, flying about uneasily and seekinga place for their nest, took Hatto the hermit to268be another old willow cut off by axe and sawin its heavenward striving. They flew abouthim many times, flew away and returned again,took note of the guide posts on the way to him,calculated his position in regard to protectionfrom storm and birds of prey, found it ratherunfavourable, but decided to locate there onaccount of the close vicinity of the stream andthe reeds, their chief source of supply. Oneof the birds shot down suddenly and laid a bitof grass in the hermit's outstretched hand.

The storm had abated a little, so that thestraw was not blown from his hand at once,but the hermit did not pause in his prayer,"Come soon, O Lord, come to destroy thisworld of sin, that mankind may not more increaseits load of guilt."

The storm roared out again, and the bit ofgrass fluttered out of the hermit's great bonyhand. But the birds came again and endeavouredto erect the cornerstone of their newhome between his fingers. Suddenly a dirty,clumsy thumb laid itself over the grass spearsand held them in firm position, while four fingersreached over the palm, making a peaceful269niche where a nest would be safe. The hermitcontinued his untiring supplications, andbefore his eyes danced fever visions of the dayof judgment. The earth trembled, the skiesshot fire. He saw the black clouds of hurryingbirds beneath the glowing firmament;herds of fleeing animals spread over the earth.But while his soul was filled with these visionsof fever, his eyes began to watch the flight ofthe tiny birds that came and went with lightningdashes, laying new straws in the nest withlittle chirps of pleasure.

The old man did not move. He had madea vow to stand the entire day with outstretchedarms, in order to force God to hear him.

The little thrushes built and built busily allthe day, and their work progressed finely.There was no lack of material in this wildernessof rolling ground with stiff grass andbrush, and on the river bank, with its reeds andrushes. They could not take time for dinneror supper. They flew back and forth, glowingwith interest and pleasure, and when duskcame they had reached the peak of their roof.

But before evening fell the hermit's eyes270had come to rest on their labour more andmore. He watched them in their flight; hescolded them when they were clumsy; hegrieved when the wind spoiled their efforts,and he became almost angry when theystopped a moment to rest.

Then the sun sank and the birds sought theiraccustomed resting place among the reeds, safefrom all harm, for no enemy could approachwithout a warning splash of the water ora quivering of the reeds.

When the morning broke, the thrushesthought at first that the events of the precedingday had been but a beautiful dream.

They found their guideposts and flewstraight to their nest, but the nest had disappeared.They peered out over the moors andflew high up to gain a wider view. But therewas no sign of nest or tree. Finally they satdown on a stone by the water and thought thematter over. They wagged their tails andturned their heads to right and left. Wherewere nest and tree?

But scarcely had the sun raised itself ahand's breadth over the belt of woods beyond271the stream, when their tree suddenly camewandering up and stood itself upon the selfsameplace it had occupied the day before. Itwas as black and as gnarled as before, and itcarried their nest on the tip of something thatwas probably a thin, upright bough.

The birds began to build again without attemptingto ponder further over the manymiracles of nature.

Hatto, the hermit, who chased the littlechildren from his cave and told them it werebetter for them if they had never seen the lightof day; he who waded out deep into the mudof the river to hurl curses after the flaggedboats filled with gay young people rowingpast; he from whose evil glance the shepherdscarefully guarded their flocks, he did not returnto his place on the river bank because ofthought for the little birds. But he knew thatnot only every letter in the Holy Book has itsown mystical meaning, but that everythingthat God allows to happen in the natural worldhas its significance also. And he had discoveredwhat it might mean, this sign of the birdsbuilding in his hand: God had willed that he272should stand with outstretched arm until thebirds had raised their young—could he dothis, then would his prayer be heard.

But on this day his glance followed the motionsof the birds with greater attention. Hesaw the rapid completion of the nest. Thetiny builders flew around it and examined itcarefully. They brought a few rags of mossfrom the real willow and plastered them onthe outside as a finishing decoration. Theybrought the softest young grass, and the femalebird pulled the down from her breastto furnish the inside.

The peasants of the neighbourhood, whofeared the evil power which the prayers ofthe hermit might have with God, were used tobring him bread and milk to soften his anger.They came now, and found him standing motionless,the bird's nest in his hand.

"See how the holy man loves the little creatures,"they said, and feared him no longer.They raised the milk can to his lips and fedhim with the bread. When he had eaten anddrunk he drove them away with curses, butthey smiled at his anger.

273His body had long since become the servantof his will. He had taught it obedience byhunger and scourge, by days of kneeling andsleepless nights. Now his muscles of steelheld his arm outstretched days and weeks, andwhile the mother bird sat on her eggs anddid not leave the nest, he would not go to hiscave even to sleep at night. He learned howto sleep standing with outstretched arm.

He grew accustomed to the two uneasy littleeyes that peered down at him over the edgeof the nest. He watched for rain and hail, andprotected the nest as well as he could.

One day the little mother left her place.Both thrushes sat on the edge of the nest, theirtails moving rapidly, holding great consultationand looking very happy, although thewhole nest seemed filled with a frightenedsqueaking. After a little they set out uponan energetic gnat hunt.

One gnat after another fell before them, andwas brought home to that which squeaked andpeeped up there in his hand. And the peepinggrew more intense whenever the food wasbrought in. It disturbed the holy man at his274prayers. Gently, very gently, his arm sankdown on the joints that had almost lost thepower of motion, until his deep-set, glowingeyes peered into the nest.

Never had he seen anything so ugly and somiserable—naked little bodies, with a fewscattered down tufts, no eyes, no strength tofly, nothing but six great open beaks.

He could not understand it himself, but heliked them just as they were. He had notthought to make an exception of the old birdsin his prayers for the great Doom, but whenhe now implored God to release the worldthrough utter destruction, he made a silentexception in favour of these six little helplesscreatures.

When the peasant women brought him foodhe no longer rewarded them with curses. Ashe was necessary for the little ones up therein his hand, he was glad that the people didnot let him starve.

Soon six little round heads peered all dayover the edge of the nest. Old Hatto's armsank to the level of his eyes more and morefrequently. He saw the feathers grow out of275the red skin; he saw the eyes open and thelittle bodies round out. The fortunate inheritanceof all the beauty with which natureendows the feathered denizens of the air cameearly into their heritage.

And, meanwhile, the prayers for the greatdestruction came more and more slowly fromHatto's lips.

He believed he had God's promise that itshould come as soon as the little birds wereable to fly. And now he stood there seekingan escape from God. For he could not sacrificethese six little ones, whom he hadwatched and cared for.

It had been different before, when he hadhad nothing of his own to care for. Love ofthe small and the helpless—that love whichevery little child must teach to the dangerousgrown man—this love came over him andmade him hesitate.

Sometimes he wished that he could throwthe entire nest into the stream, for he still believedthat those alone are to be envied whodie without having known care or sin. Was276it not his duty to save these little ones frombeasts of prey, from cold and hunger and allof the many ills of life? But just as he waspondering on this, a hawk swooped down onthe nest to kill the little ones. Hatto caughtthe robber in his left hand, whirled himaround his head, and threw him far out intothe stream.

Then came the day when the little ones wereready to fly. One of the old birds sat insidethe nest, trying to push the young ones out onthe edge, while the other flew about andshowed them how easy it was if they wouldonly try. But as the young ones would notovercome their fear, both old birds flew outbefore them, showing off all their prettiestarts and tricks. They turned and twisted inthe air, they shot up straight as does the lark,or they hung motionless on rapidly flutteringwings.

But the little ones would not move, andthen Hatto decided to interfere in the matterhimself. He gave them a careful push withone finger, and thus ended the dispute. Theytumble out, trembling and uncertain, hitting277at the air as bats do; they sink down, but riseup again; they find the proper motion anduse it at once to regain the nest. The oldbirds come back to them in happy pride, andHatto chuckles.

It was he who had brought the matter tosuch a happy conclusion. And now he ponderedmost seriously the question as towhether a loophole of escape could be foundfor God.

Perhaps, when one comes to think of it,God holds this earth like a bird's nest inHis right hand and perhaps He loves thosewithin it—all the helpless children of earth.Perhaps He is merciful to them whom He hadvowed to destroy, just as the hermit was mercifulto the little birds. Of course the hermit'sbirds were much better than God's humanbeings, but he could still understand that Godmight have pity for them in His heart.

Next day the nest was empty, and the bitternessof loneliness came over the hermit. Hisarm sank slowly down at his side, and itseemed to him that all nature held its breathto hear the roar of the trumpets announcing278the Last Judgment. But in the same momentall the birds returned and settled down on hishead and shoulders, for they had no fear ofhim. And a light shot through the torturedbrain of the old hermit. He had lowered hisarm every day to look at the birds.

And then, as he stood there, the six youngbirds flying about him, he nodded, smiling, tosome one whom he could not see.

"Thou art free," he said. "Thou art free.I did not keep my vow, therefore Thou needstnot keep Thine."

And it seemed to him that the hills ceasedfrom trembling and that the river sank quietlyinto its bed to rest.

William Shakespeare.

Once upon a time there lived a king who wasexceedingly rich. His palace was built ofrare marble; in his majesty's dining room foodwas served on plates and in vessels of puregold; the royal family wore robes fashionedfrom richest silk and costliest ermine. But,although the king's household lived in thisroyal way, his majesty gave strict orders toall in the palace that nothing should be wasted.The command was intended particularly forthe crown prince who spent money lavishly.It seemed as if he had never learned theproper value of things, and his extravagancewas the talk of all the people in the kingdom.

The king had had many stormy interviewswith his reckless son. Again and again didthis wasteful prince promise to mend his ways,282but before long he forgot his pledge, and didsomething which was marked by astonishingextravagance.

At last the king's patience came to an end.He decided to disinherit the prince and banishhim from the royal household. Filled withwrath his majesty sent for the youth and insternest words gave the following decree:

"Henceforth you are banished from thispalace! Flee from my presence!"

The carefree manner of the prince at thesewords exasperated his majesty who grew whitewith rage and said, "Prodigal, listen furtherto my stern decree. I forbid you to wear anyclothing made from skins of beasts or thethreads of the silk-worm; your exile cave shallnot be lighted by oil or taper, nor by candlesof tallow or wax. You shall taste no vegetablesthat grow under the earth or on vines in thesunlight. Your hunger shall not be fed byfish, flesh, or fowl. Begone, thou Prodigal!Go, starve upon the plain! Nevermore shaltthou waste my wealth. Thou art banished!This is my stern decree!"

The young prince was too much astonished283at this outburst of rage to realize the measureof the punishment the king had put upon him.He turned and left his majesty's presence withouta word. But although somewhat dazedby his royal father's decree, the youth snappedhis finger gayly as he slammed the palace doorand said in his usual carefree way, "The kinghas left me the mighty help of trees. So longas I may use the blessed trees of the earth Ishall not perish nor lack enjoyment." Andwhistling a merry tune he passed out of thegate of the royal park.

"I shall not take shelter in a dark cave,"mused the prince.

Immediately he planned to build a spacioushouse from carefully selected wood. For thestout rafters he choose heavy English oak andfor the floors, smooth Norwegian pine.Beautiful pillars of palmetto were raisedto hold the roof, made of cypress shinglesand strengthened by oaken eaves and carvedgargoyles. After the house was completed, thefloors were covered with curious palm-matting,dyed crimson by the stain of tropical logwood.The rooms were furnished with rich284chairs, tables, and couches made from rosewood,black walnut, and fragrant sandal-wood.Nothing was lacking in this home of beautyand comfort.

The merry prince examined his house withgreat pride. "Now," said he, "I mean to givea ball, and show his majesty, the king, whatluxury is mine even though he left me nothingbut the precious trees to furnish my house,clothing, and larder!"

Accordingly, invitations were sent to theroyal family, and many knights and ladies ofhigh degree.

The king was very much surprised to receiveword from his banished son.

"'Tis a huge joke," said his majesty."However, we'll accept the invitation, and seewhat sport the prodigal can offer us."

On the night of the ball the prince wasdressed in a superb robe, made from the fiberof the cocoa-tree; his fine dancing shoes weremade of caoutchouc, and on his brow he worea coronet of laurel leaves. With princelygrace he received the king, knights, and ladiesin a large hall brilliantly lighted with candlenuts285in sconces. The rooms were fragrantwith pink apple-blossoms from Maine, andrich magnolia and orange blossoms from theSouthland.

The king and his train could not hide theirastonishment at the superb beauty of the roomsand decorations.

"I wonder what the scapegoat will offer usto eat?" whispered the king to the High Chancellor.

"Providing refreshment from trees will taxhis wits more than building and furnishing ahouse," answered the chancellor, smiling.

It was not long before the guests were invitedinto the dining room, where a sumptuousfeast awaited them. His majesty looked withastonishment at the variety of luscious fruitheaped on large wooden platters curiouslycarved. Some of them held the products ofthe North,—apples, pears, plums, cherries,grapes, and peaches. Others were filled withtempting fruit from the South,—bananas,oranges, pomegranates, figs, dates, ripe olives,juicy soursops, and creamy durions. Deliciousbreadfruit, from the tropics, and rich cassava286cakes from Java were served with lusciousguava jam. Beautiful wooden bowls held almonds,English walnuts, filberts, pecans, chestnuts,Chinese nuts, and Brazilian creams.Dainty wicker baskets held sweets made ofmaple sugar cream covered with chocolate orcocoanut. The king declared that the grapejuice and sweet pear cider were daintier thanany wine he had ever tasted.

After the feast was ended the prince, withmerry, twinkling eyes, said to his father: "Seewhat a man banishment has made of me!"

To the youth's astonishment, his majestysmiled graciously, and, in the presence of theHigh Chancellor and all the knights and ladies,the king embraced his son and said, "Banishmenthas made a man of you! And, furthermore,you have taught all of us the wondersof the woodland. Welcome back to myheart, O Prince!"

And the High Chancellor, knights, and ladiesof high degree all said, "Long live ourplucky Prince."

Adapted from a poem by May Bryon.

H. F. Chorley.

A king once lived in a very hot part of Spain,where they have little rain and where it hardlyever snows or freezes.

This king had a very beautiful wife whomhe loved very much. But the queen had onegreat fault. She was always wishing for themost impossible things.

The king always tried to give her everythingshe wanted, but she was never satisfied.

At last, one day in winter, a very strangething happened. A shower of snow fell in thetown where the king and queen lived. It madethe hills white, so that they looked as if someone had been dusting white sugar over them.

Now snow was hardly ever seen in the town,so the people talked about it, a great deal.289After the queen had looked at it a little while,she began to cry bitterly.

None of the ladies could comfort her, norwould she tell any one what was the matter.There she sat at her window weeping, till theking came to her. He could not imagine whyshe was crying, and begged her to tell him.

"I am weeping," she said, sobbing all thetime, "because the hills are not always coveredwith snow. See how pretty they look! Andyet, I have never, till now, seen them look likethat. If you really love me, you would findsome way or other to make it snow once a yearat any rate."

"But how can I make it snow?" cried theking, in great trouble, because she would go onweeping and weeping, and spoiling her prettyeyes.

"I am sure I don't know," said the queencrossly.

Well, the king thought and thought, and atlast he hit upon a beautiful plan. He sent toall parts of Spain to buy almond trees to plant.The almond tree has a lovely pink-white blossom,you know.

290When the next spring arrived, thousands ofthese almond trees came into bloom on all thehills around the town. At a distance, the hillslooked as if they were covered with whitesnow.

For once the discontented queen was delighted.She could now keep saying a nice"Thank you" to the king for all the trouble hehad taken to please her. And suddenly itseemed to the king as if a black speck in thequeen's heart had been washed away and sothey lived happy ever afterwards.

"Good night, Dick. Remember, now, to wakeup with the robins so that you may be ready tohelp me set out our new trees."

"Good night," answered Dick in a sulkytone, for Dick was cross.

"Trees, trees, trees!" he mumbled to himself,as he began to undress. "I'm so sick ofhearing about trees. And now father hasbought some old twigs to set out to-morrow,and I want to go fishing.

"I wish I lived in a land where there wereno trees. We could get along well enoughwithout them." And with this thought hejumped into bed.

Dick had been asleep perhaps an hour ormore when he heard a queer, rustling noise,292and then a voice called out: "Here he is—theboy who hates trees!"

There was the strangest procession comingtoward him. It was made up of trees of allkinds. The Pine and Elm came first; theMaple and Oak followed: the Maple's leaveswere flushed scarlet, she was so excited. TheWillow was weeping, and the Poplar wastrembling all over.

Next came all the fruit trees, led by theCherry, while the Walnut, the White Birch,and the Palm were behind.

What did it all mean? Dick was frightenedfor a moment. It seemed as if every tree ofwhich he had ever heard was there, and hewondered how the room could hold them all.

When they had all grown quiet, the Pinesaid: "Dear brothers and sisters, here is a boywho hates trees; he cannot see that we are ofany use. It is more than I can stand, and Ihave called this meeting to see what can bedone about it. Has anyone anything to say?"

The Cherry looked very sour. "I cannot seethat boys are of any use," she said. "Manyyears ago, when cherry trees were scarce in293this country, a boy named George cut downmy great-grandfather just to try his newhatchet."

"And boys know so little," said the WhiteBirch; "they are always hacking me withknives, and taking off my coat, no matter howcold the weather is. I loved a boy once, butit was many years ago. He was a little Indianboy. He loved trees. I remember how hestood beside me one day and said:

"Then he took off my bark so carefully thathe did not hurt me a bit. But he is not livingnow. This boy is not like him."

"I don't like boys, either," spoke up theApple. "One day a boy climbed up into mybranches and broke off one of my limbs. Hewas a very silly boy, for he wanted green apples.Had my fruit been ripe, I would have294tossed one down to him. How happy weshould be if it were not for boys!"

The Maple was very angry. "This boy saidwe were of no use, but it was only this morningthat I heard him tease his grandfather fora cake of my sugar."

"He ate it as if he liked it, too," said thePalm. "I saw him; he was fanning himselfwith one of my leaves."

The Willow wiped her eyes. "Boys, boys,boys!" she said. "I'm so sick of boys! Thissame boy made a whistle out of one of my childrenthis very night, when he went for thecows."

Then a queer tree in the corner spoke in athick voice: "We are of no use, are we? Ifit were not for me, where would he get thetires for his bicycle? There are his rubberboots, too. Why, he uses me every day aboutsomething. But I've thought of a plan."

The trees crowded around him, talking togetherexcitedly. "But how shall we do it?"Dick heard them say. "Oh," said the Elm,"the Wind will help us. He is our friend."

295Before Dick could cry out, he found himselfbeing carried away by the Wind.

"Where am I going?" he called.

"To the land of no trees," they answered;and they bowed and smiled. Even the Willowheld up her head long enough to call, "Good-by!"and then home and trees were left far behind.

How fast the Wind traveled! On and onthey rushed, until suddenly the Wind droppedhim and went whistling away.

Dick felt really frightened when he foundhimself all alone.

"Oh, I'm so hot!" he exclaimed. "Wheream I?"

Certainly he had never before been in sucha place.

There were no trees nor green grass anywherein sight. As far as he could see, therewas only sand—white sand, hot and scorching.

"It seems to me I've seen pictures in mygeography like this," he said to himself. "Ican't stay here. What shall I do?"

All at once he noticed a tiny speck far away296in the distance. Now it looked larger. Hebrushed away something that looked verymuch like a tear, though he told himself thatit was only because he was so warm.

Yes, that speck surely moved, and was comingnearer. What if it were a bear!

"There is no tree to climb, and I cannotrun—I am so tired, and it is very hot."

Nearer and nearer it came, moving slowly.Dick watched it with a beating heart. At lasthe saw that it was not a single animal, but agreat many in line.

"Oh, they are camels!" he cried. "Yes, Iknow they are. Once at a circus I saw somethat looked just like them—but what queer-lookingmen are on them!"

They were now very near him, and one ofthe men beckoned with his hand and saidsomething.

"I can't understand him," said Dick to himself,"but I suppose he meant he'll give me aride."

The man helped him up and they journeyedon. After a time Dick grew very tired evenof riding.

297"The camel joggles me so," he said, "and Iam so thirsty I shall die. If they would onlystop a minute!"

What was the matter? What were theysaying? Each man was bowing himselftoward the ground and waving his hands.

"I don't see what they are making all thatfuss about. I can't see anything; the sun hurtsmy eyes so." And Dick covered his eyes withhis hand.

Suddenly there was a shout, and the camelsstood still. Dick lifted his head. Could hebelieve his eyes? Right before him was alittle spot of green grass, a spring of cool water,and one of those things he hated—a tree.

Hate a tree? He thought that he had neverseen anything so beautiful in his life.

He fairly tumbled off the camel in his hasteto reach it. The tears ran down his face as hethrew his arms around its trunk.

"Dear tree!" he cried.

"Dick, Dick, are you going to help me plantthe new trees?" called his father.

Opening his eyes, Dick found himself in298his own little room, both hands clasping hispillow.

Dick was soon dressed and downstairs, andso anxious was he to plant trees that he couldhardly eat his breakfast.

It is curious how friendly the forests are tothe sick. The trees reach out their arms toshelter them. In the stillness of the morningand through the long nights they whisper toevery one who listens; there lie the patientslistening and looking up through the gentlywaving branches to the floating clouds by day,and to the twinkling stars by night, until presentlythey are overcome by the spirit of health,which is the spirit of the pine-trees.

Trees appear at their best in the forest company,I think, just as men and women appearat their best in society. The single maple treeor the elm may be very proud and beautiful,but alone it cannot cure the sick or even accommodatea picnic.

So we ought to become acquainted with the300trees, in their own society and in their nativesurroundings. We shall then understandthem much better than when we find themlonely on our city lawns.

There is a glorious wealth waiting for uswhen we come to choose our tree friends forour homes. There are the elm, several kindsof maples, two kinds of sycamores, the linden,many sorts of oaks, the pines and the spruces,and almost a hundred others. Besides thesebig, lusty, shade-yielding trees, there are manysmall, more curious or more ornamental ones.Such are the magnolias, the maidenhair-tree,the Kentucky coffee-tree, the sweet-gum, andthe flowering dogwood. These smaller treesare, of course, particularly suited to smalllawns and close quarters; though, whereverpossible, the true American will give firstplace to the big, noble, native trees like theelm and the maple. Even if there is room foronly one of these, it will seem to be the onebest friend in the garden.

And while I am speaking of these trees, Iwould not forget the apple. There is no kindof tree more beautiful in spring, more comfortable301and homelike summer and winter, andmore to be chosen for a life-long friend. RecentlyI was consulted by a committee of aMassachusetts town who wanted to cut downa half-dozen sturdy old apple trees, because anew library had been built in their midst, andthe committee thought some more rare treeswere needed to keep the balance. Blue spruceor Camperdown elm would have been choice,strange, and outlandish, but the homely, commonapple tree they would gladly sacrifice.

We admire the tree for its size; the merebigness of it draws our attention; we look upto it. We admire it for its form, the form ofthe elm, or the maple, or the pine, or the palmis wonderful. We admire the tree in its leafa*ge,for its texture and color. Why, even theshadow of a tree is beautiful. The clever gardenerplaces his best tree where its shadow willbe traced all the afternoon across the lawn.How cool and pleasant the shadow lies there!

Nowhere do trees seem so useful as in thestreet. Even the city yearns for trees, and thebest residence and suburban sections makethese their greatest pride. The citizens turn302to the city trees as one of the most importantforms of public property. Tree-planting is tobe encouraged, and the trees now grown tomaturity must be saved at any cost. Leaky gasmains are the deadly enemies of street trees.Electric wires kill thousands more.

For the protection of street trees and thoseon public parks and grounds, every city shouldhave a tree-warden. These are provided forby law in some states, but the system shouldbecome general. Truly modern cities haveofficers with the title of "city forester," withthe extremely useful occupation of caring forthe public trees. Such officers should be appointedeverywhere.

The annual festival called Arbor Day, establishedin this country for the promotion oftree-planting, has, unfortunately, been turnedover exclusively to the public schools, whereasit ought to be observed also by the churches,lodges, political clubs, and women's clubs. Atall events, tree-planting should go on constantly,and should everywhere accompany thecampaign for the preservation of street trees.We may well remember that as a rough, general303rule, only one tree out of every twentyplanted ever comes to maturity. Let us, therefore,plant liberally.

In rural and semi-rural communities everywhere,it is a custom to secure from the woodsand pastures those trees needed for street andhouse-lot planting. Where stock is collectedfrom the wild in this way, it is best to take thetrees from the open pasture—or from recentlycultivated land, where possible. Effort shouldbe made also to select those which have grownon rich, well-drained soil. The theory thattrees taken from the forest will be more hardy,runs quite opposite to the fact. Indeed, thebest plan is everywhere to buy young treesfrom nurseries. Nursery trees have clean,symmetrical tops, and are likely to have a hundredtimes more good rootage than trees takenfrom the field.

Everything is in favor of the nursery-growntree, except the price; however, very often theexpense of digging and bringing in a half-dozengood-sized maples from the woods isgreater than the cost of better trees of like size304from the most expensive nursery in the country.

Arbor Day is not necessarily the best dayfor tree-planting, especially in the matter ofbig trees for streets, school grounds, and publicplaces. The experts prefer to handle suchtrees in mid-winter; they do this even in sectionswhere the ground freezes to a depth oftwo or three feet; in fact, it is considered theheight of good practice to take up the tree fromits place, accompanied by a huge block offrozen earth. Evergreen trees, such as pinesand spruces, may be handled very successfullyin August, and this season is widely chosen forthe purpose by knowing treemen.

Many tree-lovers make the mistake ofcrowding their small private grounds withtheir pets. If one has only a city lot thirty feetwide by a hundred feet deep, he cannot growa large forest. One or two large trees will beall such a place can reasonably support; anymore will make the premises too crowded.The trees themselves will suffer, and, besidesthat, there will be no opportunity to view305them. There will be no room for a flower garden,and no lawn for any purpose.

The common mistake in planting trees onsmall home grounds is to place the individualin the middle of the lawn. As a matter of design,the center of the lawn should be keptopen, and trees, at any rate, should file alongthe boundaries. In our northern climatesturdy, protecting evergreens will naturallychoose a north boundary, and the shady summertrees with heavy foliage will cast theircomfortable shadows from the south side of thegarden.

The tree-lover who hopes to get the mostsatisfaction out of his hobby will not alwayswait to see his trees grow. It requires toomany years. About the best way to do is toadopt a tract of well-grown woodland, andthen to make the most of it. Improvement cuttingswill come first; for the axe is as importantas the spade, and trees have to be cut aswell as planted. The best trees can be left andnursed and admired. If there is space enough,forest effects can be developed; roads andpaths can be built; game-cover can be introduced,306and wild life encouraged. Birds andboys and others friends will visit you in yourwoods, and the days will go by like a lustyballad. Between you and me and the beech-tree,it will be a jolly, pleasant company.

On the mountain's broad back there had beena forest fire ten years before. Since that timethe charred trees had been felled and removedand the great fire-swept area had begun todeck itself with green along the edges, whereit skirted the healthy forest. However, thelarger part of the top was still barren and appallinglydesolate. Charred stumps, standingsentinel-like between the rock ledges, borewitness that once there had been a forest firehere; but no fresh shoots sprang from theground.

One day in the early summer all the childrenin the parish had assembled in front ofthe schoolhouse near the fire-swept mountain.Each child carried either a spade or a hoe onits shoulder and a basket of food in its hand.308As soon as all were assembled they marchedin a long procession toward the forest. Thebanner came first, with the teachers on eitherside of it. Then followed a couple of forestersand a wagon load of pine shrubs andspruce seeds; then the children.

The procession did not pause in any of thebirch groves near the settlements, butmarched on deep into the forest. As it movedalong the foxes stuck their heads out of theirlairs in astonishment and wondered what kindof backwoods people these were. As theymarched past the old coal pits where charcoalkilns were fired every autumn, the cross-beakstwisted their hooked bills and asked one anotherwhat kind of coalers these might be, whowere now thronging the forest.

Finally, the procession reached the bigburnt mountain plain. The rocks had beenstripped of the fine twin-flower creepers thatonce covered them; they had been robbed ofthe pretty silver moss and the attractive reindeermoss. Around the dark water gatheredin clefts and hollows there was now no wood-sorrel.The little patches of soil in crevices309and between stones were without ferns, withoutstar-flowers, without all the green and redand light and soft and soothing things thatusually clothe the forest ground.

It was as if a bright light flashed upon themountain when all the parish children coveredit. Here again was something sweet anddelicate, something fresh and rosy, somethingyoung and growing. Perhaps these childrenwould bring to the poor abandoned forest alittle new life.

When the children had rested and eatentheir luncheon, they seized hoes and spadesand began to work. The foresters showedthem what to do. They set out shrub aftershrub on every clear spot of earth they couldfind.

As they worked, they talked quite knowinglyamong themselves of how the littleshrubs they were planting would bind the soilso that it could not get away, and of how newsoil would form under the trees. By and byseeds would drop, and, in a few years, theywould be picking both strawberries and raspberrieswhere now there were only bare rocks.310The little shrubs which they were plantingwould gradually become tall trees. Perhapsbig houses and great splendid ships would bebuilt from them!

If the children had not come here andplanted while there was still a little soil in theclefts, all the earth would have been carriedaway by winds and water, and the mountaincould never more have been clothed in green.

"It was well that we came," said the children."We were just in the nick of time."They felt very important.

While they were working on the mountaintheir parents were at home. By and by theybegan to wonder how the children were gettingalong.

Of course it was only a joke about theirplanting a forest, but it might be amusing tosee what they were trying to do.

So presently both fathers and mothers wereon their way to the forest. When they cameto the outlying stock farms they met some oftheir neighbors.

"Are you going to the fire-swept mountain?"they asked.

311"That's where we're bound for."

"To have a look at the children?"

"Yes, to see what they are up to."

"It's only play, of course."

"It isn't likely that there will be many foresttrees planted by the youngsters. We havebrought the coffee pot along so that we canhave something warm to drink, since we muststay there all day with only lunch-basketprovisions."

So the parents of the children went on upthe mountain. At first they thought only ofhow pretty it looked to see all the rosy-cheekedlittle children scattered over the grayhills. Later they observed how the childrenwere working,—how some were setting outshrubs, while others were digging furrowsand sowing seeds. Others again were pullingup heather to prevent its choking the growingtrees. They saw that the children tookthe work seriously and were so intent uponwhat they were doing that they scarcely hadtime to glance up.

The fathers and mothers stood for a momentand looked on; then they, too, began to312pull up heather,—just for the fun of it. Thechildren were the instructors, for they werealready trained and had to show their elderswhat to do.

Then it happened that all the grown-upswho had come to watch the children took partin the work. Then, of course, it becamegreater fun than before. By and by the childrenhad even more help. Other implementswere needed, so a couple of long-legged boyswere sent down to the village for spades andhoes. As they ran past the cabins, the stay-at-homescame out and asked, "What's wrong?Has there been an accident?"

"No, indeed! But the whole parish is upon the fire-swept mountain planting a forest."

"If the whole parish is there, we can't stayat home."

So party after party of peasants went crowdingto the top of the burnt mountain. Theystood a moment and looked on. The temptationto join the workers was irresistible.

"It's a pleasure to sow one's own acres inthe spring and to think of the grain that will313spring up from the earth, but this work iseven more thrilling," they thought.

Not only slender blades would come fromthat sowing, but mighty trees with tall trunksand sturdy branches. It meant giving birthnot merely to a summer's grain, but to manyyears' growths. It meant the awakening humof insects, the song of the thrush, the play ofgrouse, and all kinds of life, on the desolatemountain. Moreover, it was like raising amemorial for coming generations. Theycould have left a bare, treeless height as anheritage. Instead, they were to leave a gloriousforest.

Coming generations would know theirforefathers had been a good and wise folk andthey would remember them with reverenceand gratitude.

George P. Morris.

William Brightly Rands.

Eugene Field.

Once upon a time there was a very greatgarden that lay between two ranges of blue,blue hills. And the sky above was blue, asblue as the hills, so that you could hardly tellwhere the sky ended and the hills began, andunderneath was the great, beautiful gardenwhich covered all the lands between.

And in this rare garden there were all thechoicest flowers and fruit that the world knew,and when the flowers were all in bloom, underthat blue, blue sky—in all the wonderfulcolors of gold and crimson, and royal purple,and with all the banks of white daisies,and all the sweet orchards of apple-bloom,there was nothing like it in the whole world,and the sweet perfume went out so far thatsailors in the ships coming in from sea, a hundred320miles away, could smell the sweet odorsand would say, "The wind blows from thegarden of the Princess Beautiful." For Imust tell you that the garden was owned bya great Princess, and she was called Beautifulby all who knew of her, and every travelerto that distant country made his way to herwhite marble palace to seek permission tolook upon the most beautiful garden in theworld.

And many who came there were of highrank, like herself, and some of them tried towin her love, for the Princess was like hername and as beautiful as the rarest flower inall that marvelous garden. But to the princesand kings she would not listen, for her heartand pride were only in her flowers, and shewished to remain with them forever and behappy in their beauty. She was only sad whenshe saw that some of those who came wentaway with heavy hearts because she would notleave her palace for theirs.

Now once there came to the palace of thePrincess Beautiful a great queen. She hadtraveled far to see the splendid garden, and321when she came the Princess led her with allher court among the flowers. And all thatsunlit day, under the blue, blue sky, the greatqueen and her court lingered in the garden—upand down the paths of white shells, wherehyacinths and lilies and daffodils and azaleasgrew on every side—and rested in the shadeof blossoming orchard trees. And when itwas evening, and they had gone, and the flowerswere left alone they whispered and murmuredtogether, for never before had theyseen a queen and her court.

And by and by, as the days passed, the flowersdecided that they, too, must have a queen—somerare flower, fine and stately, whomthey would honor, even as they had seen theirbeautiful Princess honor her royal guest.And night after night they talked of thesethings, but never could decide which of theirnumber should be chosen for the high place.

And then one day a great sadness came uponthe fair garden between the hills. A youngtraveler from an unknown country had cometo the white palace, and one sunny afternoonthe Princess Beautiful had led him among the322beds of primroses and lilies and daffodils.And when the sun was going down and sheturned and looked into his face, and saw howfair he was, and how the sun made his hairlike gold, how it shimmered on his beautifulgarments of velvet and fine lace. She felt forthe first time a great love arise within herheart. Then, all at once, she forgot her garden,her palace, and her pride, forgot everythingin all the world except the fair youthwho stood there with her in the sunset—andshe told him her great new love.

And as she spoke, softly and tenderly, thewords she had never spoken to any one before,the breeze died, and the sun slipped down behindthe far-off hills. And then, as the lightfaded, it seemed to the Princess Beautifulthat the fair youth before her was fading, too.His face grew dim and misty—his hair becamea blur of gold—his rare garments meltedback into the beds of bloom. And behold,instead of the fair youth there stood beforeher in the twilight only a wonderful goldenlily with a crimson heart.

Then the Princess Beautiful knew that because323she had cared only for her garden andhad sent from her those who had offered agreat love like her own, that this wonderfullily had come to her as a youth with a faceof radiant beauty, and with hair of gold, toawaken a human love in her heart. And eachday she mourned there by the splendid lily,and called it to return to her as the fair youthshe had loved; and at last when its flowershad faded and the stem drooped, the whitepalace of the Princess Beautiful was emptyand the Princess lay beside the withered lilyin the rare garden between the hills.

And there they made her grave and above itthey built a trellis where a white climbing rosemight grow. But when the rose bloomed, insteadof being white, it was a wonderful crimson,such as no one had ever seen before. Andwhen the other flowers saw those beautifulcrimson blossoms they no longer mourned, forthey said, "This is our beautiful PrincessBeautiful who has returned to be our queen."

And so it was the red rose became the queenof flowers, and a symbol of great human love.The poet Burns says:

And it was always in June that the greatcrimson rose bloomed on the grave in thegarden of the Princess Beautiful.

Madison Cawein.

In the far-off days of long ago roses had nothorns. The branches of the bushes and theflower stems were smooth and delicate andmade delicious food for the animals. Theygreedily ate the leaves, stems, and lovely blossoms;sometimes, indeed, they devoured theentire plant.

With grief the roses saw that each year thenumber of bushes was growing fewer and theyfeared the time would come when there wouldbe none of their blossoms left to gladden thesummer days. At last they held a council tosee if anything could be done to prevent theanimals from destroying the bushes. But noone could think of a way out of the difficulty.

"We must go to Manabozho, the Great328Chief," said one of them. "He will advise uswhat to do."

Accordingly, it was decided that severalmessengers, chosen from the council, shouldseek the Great Chief and tell him how theanimals were fast destroying the roses.

It was no easy matter to find Manabozho,for while he lived on earth among the RedMen he took many disguises. They whosought him were carried by the swiftest windthrough valleys and meadows and far over thehilltops. All along the path of their journey,whenever they asked the question, "Whereshall we find Manabozho?" they received thesame answer, "Travel on toward the sunrise.There you will find the Great Chief. He istending a wonderful garden."

At last one morning they saw the sun shiningon a marvellous garden where vegetablesgrew in abundance. There were beds ofcucumbers and squash, rows of corn and beans,and many other plants, whose names the messengersdid not know. And what surprisedthem most was the beautiful hedge of rose-busheswhich surrounded the garden. They329looked anxiously for the Great GardenerChief but he was nowhere to be seen. Silentlythe messengers hid themselves in a forestwhich grew near, for they believed Manabozhowould soon return. The thought oftalking to him filled them with awe, but theywere determined to be brave and tell him theirmission.

"He values roses or he would not havechosen them for his garden hedge," they whispered,looking with pride at the beauty of theflowering bushes.

While they were waiting a surprising thinghappened. In the forest they heard quiet,stealthy steps approaching. Soon they saw aprocession of animals from the woods. Therewere field mice, squirrels, rabbits, foxes, coyotes,elks, and bears, all making their way toManabozho's garden. They were sniffing theair as if they scented something delicious. Onthey came until they reached the rose-hedgewhere they stopped to taste the dainty, fragrantleaves. Various cries of satisfactionwere uttered and immediately they beganfeasting on the delicate bushes. Leaves, flowers,330and stems were all devoured and in ashort time not one bit of the rose-hedge aroundthe Great Chief's garden was left. It couldnot have disappeared more completely ifManabozho himself had cut it down. Thedainty morsel of the rose-hedge, however, wasnot enough to satisfy the hunger of the animalsfrom the woods. They turned their attentionto the vegetables and were devouringthe very choicest of them when suddenly thesmaller animals pricked up their ears andlistened. The next moment they scuttled awayas fast as they could into the forest. Thelarger animals took this for a sign of dangerand hurried after them.

In a little while the messengers of the RoseCouncil heard a loud voice singing. Manabozhowas returning from his adventure. Ashe drew near his song ceased for he saw thatdestruction had come to his precious garden.His rage was terrible! In a voice which shookthe neighboring hillsides he declared hewould punish the intruders. He was particularlygrieved at the destruction of his rose-hedgewhich he valued not only for its beauty331but because he believed it was a means of protectionto his garden.

When the messengers saw this they cameforward and stated the object of their journey.Manabozho listened with eager interestwhile one of them told the story of the rapidlydecreasing number of rose-bushes.

"Great Manabozho," said the speaker, "theanimals of the woods find rose-bushes such deliciousfood that they eat blossoms, leaves, andstems. Our number is decreasing so rapidlythat in a little while there will be none leftto gladden the earth. The destruction of yourhedge proves how ruthlessly the animals destroyus. Help us, O Chief! Devise someplan to protect us."

"You shall, indeed, have my help," saidManabozho, thoughtfully.

For some time the chief was silent. Thenhe said, "I'll give you weapons and you shallprotect yourselves. Sharp thorns shall growon your branches and needle-like pricklesshall cover the stems which hold your lovelyblossoms. While you are armed with these,332the cruel animals will not venture to touchyou."

The messengers thanked Manabozho withall their hearts. Delighted with his gift, theyhastened back to tell the Council how theGreat Chief had saved the roses of the world.Ever since that day roses have had thorns.

Adapted from Algonquin Indian Tales, by Egerton R.Young. Copyright, 1903, by Egerton R. Young. Reprintedby permission of the Abingdon Press, Publishers.

SWEET PEAS

John Keats.

In a cottage which stood near a large meadowlived a poor woman and her little child Elizabeth.The mother earned a scant living byspinning and weaving. She was not strongand could work for only a few hours at atime.

Each morning after the little girl had sweptthe cottage she ran to the meadow and gathereda large bunch of golden primroses. Theywere her mother's favorite flowers and Elizabethknew that their sunny color brought goodcheer to the room where her mother worked.

One fair morning Elizabeth wandered faracross the meadows searching for the brightestblossoms. She filled her arms with thesweetest primroses she could find and turnedto hasten back to the cottage when she saw334standing near her a lovely little creature. Herdress was made from the golden petals of theprimrose and so were her dainty shoes. Onher head sparkled a tiny crown studded withyellow jewels. She carried a fairy basketwhich held a number of wonderfully beautifulprimroses.

"Elizabeth," said the little creature, speakingin the most friendly way, "I'm the queenof the key-flower fairies. Tell me why youchoose daily to pluck our blossoms."

"These are primroses," said Elizabeth,looking at the flowers in her arms.

"Yes, yes, I know that is the name you mortalscall them but their proper name is thekey-flower," nodded the fairy.

"They are the blossoms mother loves best,"said Elizabeth, answering the little creature'sfirst question. "She is not strong enough towalk in the meadow so each day I fill a bowlwith primroses and put them near her spinningwheel."

The queen of the key-flowers fairies cameclose to Elizabeth, took a blossom from herbasket, and offering it to the little girl said,335"Today I'm going to send your mother a gift.Hold this flower in your hand and walk to thehills on the east side of the meadow. You willfind a path all the way bordered with ourblossoms. Follow the path carefully untilyou come to a hillside in which there is a greatarched doorway marked out by the pale goldof these flowers. Touch the door gently withthis key-flower which I give you. It will open,and you may enter into an enchanted hall."

Elizabeth took the flower which the fairyoffered her and the next moment the tinycreature vanished.

Stretching across the meadow Elizabethnow noticed the flower-bordered path whichthe fairy had directed her to follow. It ledto a sunny hillside where the little girl foundexactly what the fairy had described—anarched doorway around which grew palegolden primroses in full bloom.

Very gently Elizabeth tapped with herkey-flower on the door, which immediatelyswung open without the least bit of noise.

"Come in," called a silvery voice. Andthere, standing in a hall marvellously lighted,336stood the queen of the key-flower fairies.Elizabeth walked into the enchanted hall.Through a crystal roof the golden sunlightstreamed on lovely hanging-baskets filled withbrilliant primroses. The floor and walls werecovered with rich green moss and the curiousfurniture was fashioned from pale yellowpetals. On the tables stood baskets and vasesholding large bunches of primrose blossoms.Their delicious scent filled the air.

"This is key-flower hall," said the fairy.

Then, pointing to some golden chests whichstood near the walls she continued, "Your key-flowerwill unlock those treasure-boxes. Openone of them and see what it holds."

Elizabeth tapped gently with her fairyprimrose on one of the boxes. Immediatelythe lid opened and she saw that the chest wasfilled with pale golden flower petals.

"You may take home to your mother asmany flower petals as you can carry in yourapron," said the fairy.

Elizabeth began to fill her apron with thesoft golden disks, but, strange to say, she no337sooner lifted them from the treasure-chestthan they hardened into golden coins.

The fairy laughed merrily when she sawthe astonished look on Elizabeth's face.Then, suddenly, again the little creature vanished.

Elizabeth hurried home as fast as she couldand gave the fairy's gift to her mother. Therewas plenty of money to buy all the food andcomforts which the poor woman needed tomake her grow strong again.

Elizabeth loved to tell her about her adventurewith the queen of the primrose fairiesand the treasure which the magic key-flowerunlocked.

Helen Gray Cone.

Once when the Little Child of Bethlehem wasplaying, he grew very tired and thirsty, andhis playmate was very thirsty, too. So Jesusran to the well for a cup of water and hurriedback with it without stopping to drink. Buthis playmate was greedy, for he seized the cupand drank it all except a few drops at the bottom;then he gave the empty cup to Jesus, whotook it and let the last few drops fall on thegrass, when suddenly, from where they fell,there flowed a little clear stream of water withlilies-of-the-valley blooming along its bank.

KATRINA'S SUN-DIAL

Henry van Dyke.

There were once three little butterflies, onewas white, one was red, and one was yellow.They played in the sunshine and danced fromone blossom to another. They never grewtired, for they loved to play among the flowersin the garden.

One day a heavy rain fell and the little butterfliesbecame very wet. They soon hurriedhome but when they got to their house theyfound the door locked and they could not findthe key. So they had to stay outdoors andthey became wetter and wetter.

But by and by they flew to a yellow and redstriped tulip and said:

"Dear Tulip, open your little flower cupso that we may slip in until the rain is over?"

The tulip answered, "I will gladly open my341flower cup to the red butterfly and the yellowone. They are like me. But the white onemay not come in."

But the butterflies, the red and the yellowones, said: "No, if our white brother may notgo into your flower cup with us, we will stayout here in the rain with him." And awaythey flew. It rained harder and harder andthey flew to a white lily and said: "Good lily,open your flower cup a little so that we mayfind shelter from this rain." The lily answered,"I will open my flower cup so that thewhite butterfly may come in because he is likeme, but the red and yellow butterflies must stayout in the rain." Then the white butterflysaid: "No; if you will not shelter my brothers,you cannot shelter me. We would ratherstay outside together and be wet than leaveone another in need."

And the three little butterflies flew fartheron together.

It happened that the jolly old sun who wasbehind the clouds heard all that was said andhe knew how kind the little butterfly brotherswere to each other, for, had they not stayed342together in spite of the hard, hard rain? Sohis sunbeams pierced the clouds and droveaway the rain, and it was clear and brightonce more in the garden. The butterflieswere not wet long for the sunbeams soon driedtheir wings and warmed their bodies. Thenhow merry they were! They danced againand played among the flowers until it was evening,then they flew away together to theirhouse—and the door was wide open!

THE PINKS

Robert Bridges.

A little flower lay drooping on the groundunder an August sun. For days there hadbeen no rain. The earth was dry and hard.The little flower had held up its open mouthfor rain, but no rain had come.

And now it was dying of thirst.

As it lay dying a shadow passed over thesun. The air became dark.

Heavy thunder rolled. Flashes of lightningchased each other across the sky.

The birds hushed their singing. The veryleaves of the tree stood still.

At last two big drops fell at the root of thelittle flower.

A moment, and then the air was full of raindrops.They lifted the dying flower. They344washed it, fed it and brought it back to life.

When the sun broke through the clouds, twogreat tears glistened on the little flower'scheek. They were tears of thankfulness.

Then the flower lifted up its voice and said:

"Thank you, raindrops,—good raindrops,—youhave saved my life."

But the raindrops answered, "Thank not us;thank the clouds; they sent us."

Then the flower lifted up its voice and said:

"Thank you, clouds,—good clouds,—youhave saved my life."

But the clouds answered, "Thank not us;thank the sun. It saw you dying and calledus from the ocean. The winds heard yousighing, and brought us here to help you."

Then the little flower turned to the windand the sun. The wind bent down to theearth, and stopped for a moment to hear itswords.

The sun sent down its beams to receive theflower's message.

"Thank you, wind,—good wind," said thelittle flower.

345"Thank you, sun,—good sun,—you havesaved my life."

"Thank not us," said the sun and the wind;"thank the good God. He saw you dying; Heheard you sighing, He took pity on you. We,sun and winds and clouds and falling raindropsare only the givers of His bounty."

And the flower breathed a prayer of thanksto the great and good God.

PANSIES

James Whitcomb Riley.

From the Biographical Edition of the complete works ofJames Whitcomb Riley. Copyright 1913. Used by specialpermission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company.

One morning a king went into his garden fora walk. He noticed that the trees and flowerswere drooped and somewhat withered. Turningto a great branching oak tree, his majestysaid, "Tell me what has happened to my garden?"

"Sire," moaned the oak tree, "I am mostunhappy. See how thick my trunk is and howgnarled and twisted my great branches are.Now the pine tree, which stands at the otherend of the garden, is a picture of grace andbeauty. How tall and slender the stem is, andwhat dainty needles—like leaves—adorn thebranches."

The king walked on until he came to thepine tree. As he drew near he heard a deepsigh.

347"What troubles you, slender pine tree?" heasked.

"Sire," replied the pine, "I've been wishingfor many a day that I could bear lusciousgrapes such as ripen on the vine which trailsover the garden wall. To bear rich clustersof purple fruit must, indeed, bring great happiness."

The king walked on until he came to thegarden wall where the grapevine trailed. Buthe saw that the vine was withering and slippingdown from the wall.

"What a rich harvest of fruit you bear thisautumn!" said the king, going close to thegrapevine. But, to his surprise, he heard adeep sigh and the grapevine said, "It is veryhard to be obliged to cling to a garden wall forsupport. I should like to stand erect in thesunlight where all could see my ripe fruit."And the vine looked longingly at a peach treewhich stood near.

The king turned down a little winding path,which led to a quieter spot in his garden.There he saw a bright-faced pansy drinking348the morning dew, and beaming with happiness.

"Heartsease, my brave little flower," saidthe king, "you seem very cheerful. Tell mewhat wish you are nursing in that golden heartof yours?"

"Sire," answered the little flower, "my dearestwish is to be the very best heartsease thatever I can."

Once upon a time there lived in a country farover the sea a prophet whose name was Mohammed.He was a great leader and traveledmany miles through his country, teachingthe people who looked to him for guidance.

One scorching hot day, after a long pilgrimagethrough a dusty country, the great prophetstopped to rest. A clear stream flowed nearhim, and Mohammed bathed in its cool watersand then washed his travel-stained clothes.He spread the clean linen over a tall mallowplant. Then he lay down to rest while his garmentswere drying.

After sleeping for an hour or two theprophet wakened, much refreshed. He liftedhis dry linen from the common plant, and lo!a great surprise met his eye. The mallow hadbeen changed into a magnificent geranium,whose red clusters were dazzlingly bright inthe sunshine.

Maud Keary.

Juno, the wife of Jupiter, was queen of theearth and sky. In her beautiful golden chariot,drawn by six brilliant peaco*cks, the proudqueen sometimes drove on errands to all partsof the kingdom and even to the ends of theearth.

But when she wished a message to be deliveredquickly she usually sent Iris, her faithfulmessenger, who was swift as the wind, tocarry out her queen's requests. She wouldarch a lovely bridge of many colors from theskies to the earth; then, in robes of violet, blue,green, yellow, and red, she would pass overthe bridge like a flash of light with her messageto the earth or, perhaps, to the depths of thesea. When the people saw the brilliant archin the sky they would call out, "See the rainbow.352Iris brings us a message from Juno."

One day Juno invited all the flowers to afestival, for it was Iris's birthday. Many flowerscame clothed in wondrous beauty. Whilethe merry-making was at its highest, threestrange flowers, who were sisters, appeared.One wore a rich red gown, another a brightyellow, and a third was clad in the softest violet.Each was adorned with richest jewels.

"Who are they and whence do they come?"asked the revelers. No one could answer, forno one knew the names of the strange visitors;indeed, not one flower could remember everhaving seen them before.

When the strangers neared the others tojoin in the festival, the rain began to fall, andthe little raindrops laughed and frolicked anddanced in glee, while the flowers caught themin their cups and quickly let them roll awayagain to join the rest of their playmates.

Soon the sun was shining gorgeously again.And right across the sky spread the splendidarch of a rainbow, like bent sunbeams, one endof which was held by the strange flowers.

"The rainbow," cried the others, as soon as353they saw it. "See, Iris's bridge. And the colorsworn by the strange flowers are exactly likethe red, yellow, and violet of the rainbow. Letus give our new friends the name of Iris. Itwas they who brought her lovely archedbridge into our midst."

Ever since that day these tall, stately flowershave been called by the name of Iris, the faithfulmessenger of the gods.

James Whitcomb Riley.

Clytie was the name of a beautiful nymphwho lived in a coral cave far down in thedepths of the sea. It happened one morningthat she ventured to the surface of the waterand looked toward the east. In the distancewhere the earth and sky met she saw a marvelloussight. Aurora, the goddess of dawn,rolled aside the soft grey curtains of the morningsky and there, waiting for the day's journey,stood Apollo's jeweled car.

Clytie saw the sun-god leap into his seat andtake lightly in hand the reins of his restless,prancing steeds. Then up the steep slope ofthe eastern sky he drove, and the gleam fromhis dazzling chariot filled the air with goldenlight. All day long Clytie sat on the rocksnear the shore and watched Apollo in his355brilliant course. At evening when the lastbeams from the sun-god's car sank into thewestern sea, the nymph, with a deep sigh, returnedto her coral halls.

But she no longer took keen delight in fashioningdelicate shells and tending her seaweedgardens. She had fallen in love withthe sun-god and longed with all her heart tosee him again. One morning very early sherose to the surface of the water and wanderedeastward toward a large green meadow whichwas very near the place where Apollo startedhis course. Again she saw the "rosy-fingeredDawn" roll aside the soft grey curtains; againshe saw the radiant beauty of the sun-god.Clytie fixed her eyes on the driver of thegolden chariot and never for one moment lostsight of him in his day's journey through thesky. For nine days the sea-nymph lingered inthe meadow, tasting neither food nor drink,hoping for some small sign of favour fromApollo. But he was too intent on his marvellouscourse to find interest in the adoringClytie. Her constancy, however, touchedthe heart of the sun-god with pity, and he356changed her into a flower. Her slender limbsbecame a tall green stem, her delicate sea-greendress turned into leaves, and her lovelyface and golden hair changed into sun-likeflowers which faithfully follow the brilliantgod of day all through his course.

On warm summer evenings, when the afterglowof sunset tints the sky, the Dew Mothercomes to care for her children of the earth,the trees, grass, and flowers. She is dressed ingarments of softest grey, so delicate and somuch like the mists of the evening sky that itis very hard, indeed, to see her wander aboutwith her precious refreshing gift.

One evening, after a scorching hot day, theDew Mother had heavy work to perform.She was needed everywhere. The fierce raysof the sun had parched the forest leaves; thefruit in the orchards and vineyards must bebathed in the life-giving dew; the thirsty flowers,hanging their heads, waited patiently forher tender care and they knew she would notforsake them.

359When the Dew Mother had completed hertask she was so weary that she felt she mustrest before leaving the earth. It happenedthat she was in an old-fashioned garden whereshe found a bed of velvet moss. Here shelay down and slept until sunrise. When sheopened her eyes she saw bending over her abeautiful rose bush.

"My queen of flowers, thou hast watched methrough the night, and sheltered me with tendercare from the sun's first rays," said theDew Mother. "But what new gift can I addto the beauty of the rose whose perfume is therichest I can bestow; whose colour is like thefirst flush of the morning sky?"

Very humbly the queen of flowers replied,"Grant me a gift of the green moss, whichmade your resting place under my branches."

So the Dew Mother gladly added the giftof delicate soft moss to the manifold beautiesof the rose, and to-day in many an old-fashionedgarden one finds the exquisite moss rose.

Helen Gray Cone.

There was once a queen who was so fond offlowers that she wished to make her gardenthe most beautiful one in the world. Messengersfrom her court were sent into strangelands, and commanded to bring her majestyrare and wonderful flowering plants to fill hergarden with a wealth of bloom.

"It must be a garden fit for a queen," shesaid to those who were sent at her bidding.

So great was this queen's love of flowersthat she ordered her servants to keep a bouquetin every room of the palace during theflower season. And every morning her handmaidensgathered the choicest blossoms andplaced them upon a table in the queen's ownroom.

Now it chanced one day that while the362handmaidens were picking the flowers fortheir queen, one of them looked over the gardenwall to the blue hills that lay beyond. Toher great surprise, she discovered that a fieldalight with wonderful colors—yellow, blue,and crimson—stretched before her. Itreached out toward a bank of white daisieswhich bordered the distant hills.

"Come, come!" she called to the others."See, is this not a fair sight?"

The handmaidens came at the call and werelost in wonder at the beauty of the scene.

"Let us gather her majesty's bouquet thismorning from the flowers here," suggestedone. "I am sure our queen does not know howmuch beauty lies so close to her own garden."

The others were well pleased with the plan.Together they climbed the stone wall, ran intothe field, and gathered a wealth of blossoms.In a little while these field flowers graced theroyal table.

Now the queen who, as you know, loved herflowers more than any other one thing in theworld, never failed each morning to look ather bouquet and examine with loving care363each blossom in it. And it was with no smallsurprise that she discovered the strange flowersplaced that morning upon her table.

"These blossoms are rare, indeed," said she."Is it possible that my garden contains so manyplants that are strangers to me? I have seenblossoms more beautiful than some of these,but never before have I enjoyed a perfume sodelicious. To which one of them does it belong,I wonder?" And the queen bent closeto the bouquet to see if she could detect theflower with the sweet odor.

"I shall want the same kind of bouquet formany days," she said, smiling.

So it happened that each morning the handmaidensran to the fields beyond the palacegarden, and gathered some of the flowerswhich had won her majesty's heart.

One morning the queen called her handmaidensto her and said, "The flower with thedelicious odor is missing. Do you know whichone was not gathered to-day?"

"We do not know," said the maidens; "eachday we have tried to bring the same kind offlowers. We will search for it."

364But day after day the queen was disappointed,because she missed from her flowersthe one whose perfume was the sweetest shehad ever enjoyed.

Once or twice she thought the handmaidenshad found the blossom, but in a little while sheknew the scent was not the one she was hopingto find.

One morning she said, "I'll go with you togather the blossoms, my handmaidens. I shallfind the flower by its rare odor."

Then the maidens told the queen about themeadow outside the royal park, and togetherthey went to the beautiful field, whose blossomsdelighted her majesty's heart. Manytimes while they were all searching for thetreasure, they saw the queen stoop over abright flower and linger for a moment or two.Then she would shake her head and say, "No,that is not the perfume I am searching."

"It must be in this meadow somewhere,"said one of the maidens, "for many days wehave gathered flowers nowhere but here."

"We'll search until we find it, then," saidthe queen.

365As she spoke a light breeze began to stir theflowers, and a delicate perfume filled the air.

"I smell the rare odor now," called out hermajesty. "Come, stand near for a moment,and enjoy it. Surely the flower is not faraway."

The handmaidens gathered round theirqueen. Suddenly one of them said, "Can it bethat this odor comes from the little plant underyour majesty's foot?" asked one of the maidens.

"Surely not," answered another; "thoseflowers are so small and colorless."

The queen stooped down and took a sprayfrom the humble little plant which had sentforth an exquisite perfume when a careless foothad crushed its blossoms.

"It is! It is!" cried the queen in delight."I have found it at last. It shall be broughtinto the royal gardens, and shall be my specialtreasure. What a modest little plant it is, andwhat rare delight it gives."

"Shall you give your treasure a name?"asked the handmaidens.

The queen looked for a moment at the sprayshe held. Then she said, "I shall call it366Mignonette, which means 'little darling.'"

Accordingly, the mignonette was taken fromits wild life in the meadows and brought intothe gardens, where it still gives forth the sweetestof all perfumes.

Edward Bliss Reed.

Alfred Noyes.

One midsummer day the bright sun shonefrom morning until evening; not even a wispof white cloud floated across the blue, bluesky. The fairies were delighted, for thatnight they were going to have their gayestsport.

"We shall have a fine revel in cowslipmeadow to-night," said a happy little creatureto the fairy shoemaker who had been busy formany a day making shoes for the midsummerrevel.

The little wrinkled old man was fasteninga diamond buckle on the queen's dancingslippers and he did not like to be botheredwhen he was busy, so he merely shook his headand sang:

"But there hasn't been a cloud as big as mythumb nail in the sky all day long," said themerry little fairy. "How can there be rainwithout clouds?"

The shoemaker nodded his head, went onwith his work, and sang again:

One hour before midnight when the biground moon lit up the fields and dells a rainbowtroop of fairies in dainty gossamer robesand sparkling slippers came forth from theirvillage in the hills for the midsummer nightmerry-making.

The dancing in a ring was the greatestsport. First they formed a circle standingvery close together. Then, keeping time tothe music of the fairy fiddler, who stood in the373center, the little revellers danced round andround in a ring which grew larger and largeruntil the dancers could scarcely touch oneanother's tiny fingers. Peals of silvery laughterfilled the air as they broke away from thering and had a merry game of hide and seekor catch, until the fairy fiddler's music luredthem back to the dancing ring.

Three times they had danced in the ring;three times they had frolicked among thegrass blades in the merry games of hide andseek and catch, when suddenly they noticed adark shadow fall on the green dancing rings.

Wistfully they peered at the sky to see whatwas the matter. Soft clouds were sailing rightacross the moon's face and the next momenta few pattering raindrops began to fall, andthe fairy shoemaker, who had brought hiswork out into the fields (he never joined inthe sport), sang out in a high, ringing voice:

The fairies all knew what he meant for hehad sung the same little rhyme several times374during the day when they had rejoiced aboutthe promise of a clear, moonlight night.

"What shall we do?"

"Where shall we go?" asked the tiny creatures,for the raindrops were beginning to fallfaster.

"See how the cowslip bells are bending.Perhaps they mean to shelter us," said thefairy queen.

In a twinkling groups of fairies fled to thestalks of cowslip tufts. One after anothereach crept quickly into one of the hangingbells of the flowers, and there they nestledsoftly, safe from the pattering raindrops,which fell faster and faster in a midnightsummer shower. How cosy they were, cuddledup in the golden bells which swayed gentlyto and fro as light breezes touched them.So delighted they were with these lovely cradlesthat they sang one of their sweetest melodieswhen the clouds disappeared and thefull moon again flooded the meadow withlight.

The fairies did not forget the service of thefriendly cowslip bells. They gave the flower375a new name—the fairy-cup—and always intheir midsummer night's revel, at a sign fromthe fairy queen, they stop dancing for a fewmoments, creep into the bells of the cowslips,and sing their sweetest melody of Fairyland.

FAIRY DAWN

Joseph Rodman Drake.

Once upon a time, a great while ago, whenmen did eat and drink less, and were morehonest, and knew no knavery, there was wontto walk many harmless sprites called fairies,dancing in brave order in fairy rings on greenhills with sweet music. Sometimes they wereinvisible, and sometimes took divers shapes.Many mad pranks would they play, as pinchingof untidy damsels black and blue, and misplacingthings in ill-ordered houses; but lovinglywould they use good girls, giving themsilver and other pretty toys, which they wouldleave for them, sometimes in their shoes, othertimes in their pockets, sometimes in brightbasins and other clean vessels.

Now it chanced that in those happy days, ababe was born in a house to which the fairies377did like well to repair. This babe was a boy,and the fairies, to show their pleasure, broughtmany pretty things thither, coverlets and delicatelinen for his cradle; and capons, woodco*ck,and quail for the christening, at whichthere was so much good cheer that the clerkhad almost forgot to say the babe's name—RobinGoodfellow. So much for the birthand christening of little Robin.

When Robin was grown to six years of age,he was so knavish that all the neighbors didcomplain of him; for, no sooner was his mother'sback turned, but he was in one knavishaction or other, so that his mother was constrained(to avoid the complaints) to take himwith her to market or wheresoever she wentor rode. But this helped little or nothing,for, if he rode before her, then would he makemouths and ill-favored faces at those he met:if he rode behind her, then would he clap hishand on the tail; so that his mother was wearyof the many complaints that came against him.Yet knew she not how to beat him justly forit, because she never saw him do that whichwas worthy of blows. The complaints were378daily so renewed that his mother promisedhim a whipping. Robin did not like thatcheer, and, therefore, to avoid it, he ran away,and left his mother a-sorrowing for him.

After Robin had travelled a good day'sjourney from his mother's house he sat down,and, being weary, he fell asleep. No soonerhad slumber closed his eye-lids, but he thoughthe saw many goodly proper little personagesin antic measures tripping about him, andwithal he heard such music, as he thoughtthat Orpheus, that famous Greek fiddler (hadhe been alive), compared to one of these hadbeen but a poor musician. As delights commonlylast not long, so did those end soonerthan Robin would willingly they should havedone; and for very grief he awaked, andfound by him lying a scroll wherein waswritten these lines following, in golden letters:—

Robin, having read this, was very joyful, yetlonged he to know whether he had the poweror not, and to try it he wished for some meat.Presently a fine dish of roast veal was beforehim. Then wished he for plum-pudding; hestraightway had it. This liked him well, and,because he was weary, he wished himself ahorse: no sooner was his wish ended, but hewas changed into as fine a nag as you needsee, and leaped and curveted as nimbly as if380he had been in stable at rack and manger afull month. Then he wished himself a blackdog, and he was so; then a green tree, and hewas so. So from one thing to another, till hewas quite sure that he could change himselfto anything whatsoever he liked.

Thereupon, full of delight at his new powers,Robin Goodfellow set out, eager to putthem to the test.

As he was crossing a field, he met with ared-faced carter's clown and called to him tostop.

"Friend," quoth he, "what is a clock?"

"A thing," answered the clown, "thatshows the time of the day."

"Why, then," said Robin Goodfellow, "bethou a clock and tell me what time of the dayit is."

"I owe thee not so much service," answeredthe clown again, "but, because thoushalt think thyself beholden to me, know thatit is the same time of the day as it was yesterdayat this time!"

These shrewd answers vexed Robin Goodfellow,so that in himself he vowed to be revenged381of the clown, which he did in thismanner.

Robin Goodfellow turned himself into abird and followed this fellow, who was goinginto a field a little from that place to catch ahorse that was at grass. The horse, beingwild, ran over dyke and hedge, and the fellowafter, but to little purpose, for the horse wastoo swift for him. Robin was glad of thisoccasion, for now or never was the time tohave his revenge.

Presently Robin shaped himself exactly likethe horse that the clown followed, and so stoodright before him. Then the clown took holdof the horse's mane and got on his back, buthe had not ridden far when, with a stumble,Robin hurled his rider over his head, so thathe almost broke his neck. But then again hestood still and let the clown mount him oncemore.

By the way which the clown now would ridewas a great pond of water of a good depth,which covered the road. No sooner did heride into the very middle of the pond thanRobin Goodfellow turned himself into a fish,382and so left him with nothing but the pack-saddleon which he was riding betwixt hislegs. Meanwhile the fish swiftly swam to thebank. And then Robin, changed to a naughtyboy again, ran away laughing, "Ho, ho, hoh!"leaving the poor clown half drowned and coveredwith mud.

As Robin took his way along a green hedge-sidehe fell to singing:—

And when he had sung this over, he fell towondering what he should next turn himselfinto. Then, as he saw the smoke rise fromthe chimneys of the next town, he thought tohimself it would be to him great sport to walkthe streets with a broom on his shoulder, andcry:

383"Chimney sweep."

But when presently Robin did this, and onedid call him, then did Robin run away laughing,"Ho, ho, hoh!"

Next he set about to counterfeit a lamebeggar, begging very pitifully; but when astout chandler came out of his shop to giveRobin an alms, again he skipped off nimbly,laughing as his naughty manner was.

That same night, he did knock at manymen's doors, and when the servants came outhe blew out their candle and straightway vanishedin the dark street, with his "Ho, ho,hoh!"

All these mirthful tricks did Robin play,that day and night, and in these humours of hishe had many pretty songs, one of which I willsing as perfectly as I can. He sang it in hischimney-sweeper's humour, to the tune of "Ihave been a fiddler these fifteen years."

384But it befell that, on the very next nightto his playing the chimney-sweep, Robin hada summons from the land where are no chimneys.For King Oberon, seeing Robin Goodfellowdo so many merry tricks, called himout of his bed with these words, saying:—

Robin, hearing this, rose and went to him.There were with King Oberon many fairies,all attired in green. All these, with KingOberon, did welcome Robin Goodfellow intotheir company. Oberon took Robin by thehand and led him a fair dance: their musicianhad an excellent bag-pipe made of a wren'squill and the skin of a Greenland fly. Thispipe was so shrill and so sweet that a Scottishpipe, compared to it, would no more comenear it than a Jew's-harp doth to an Irishharp. After they had danced, King Oberonsaid to Robin:—

So marched they, with their piper before,to the Fairy-land. There did King Oberonshow Robin Goodfellow many secrets, whichhe never did open to the world. And there,in Fairy-land, doth Robin Goodfellow abidenow this many a long year.

SCENE I

(Enter, from opposite sides, a Fairy andPuck)

Puck.

How now, spirit! whither wander you?

387Fairy.

Puck.

Fairy.

Puck.

Fairy.

Oberon.

Titania.

Oberon.

Titania.

Oberon.

Titania.

Oberon.

Titania.

(Exit Titania with her train.)

Oberon.

Puck.

(Exit Puck)

Oberon.

393Puck.

Oberon.

SCENE II

Titania.

First Fairy

Chorus.

Second Fairy.

Chorus.

First Fairy.

(Exeunt Fairies. Titania sleeps.)

Oberon.

[Exit Oberon]

(The mischievous little Puck, wanderingin the forest, meets a clownish fellow namedBottom. Very slyly Puck slips an ass's headover Bottom's hairy pate; and in this strangedisguise the clown walks very near the flowerybank where Titania lies sleeping. He singsin a harsh voice and awakens the Fairy Queen.The charm makes her fall in love with Bottom,since he is the first creature she seesupon waking.)

Bottom (sings).

Titania (awakening).

Bottom (sings).

Titania.

Bottom.

Titania.

Bottom.

398Titania.

Peaseblossom. Ready.

Cobweb. And I.

Moth. And I.

Mustardseed. And I.

399All. Where shall we go?

Titania.

Peaseblossom. Hail, mortal!

Cobweb. Hail!

Moth. Hail!

Mustardseed. Hail!

Titania.

(Enter Titania and Bottom; Peaseblossom,Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseed, andother Fairies attending; Oberon behind,unseen.)

Titania.

Bottom. Where's Peaseblossom?

Peaseblossom. Ready.

Bottom.

Cobweb. Ready.

Bottom.

Mustardseed (bowing). Ready.

Bottom.

Mustardseed. What's your will?

Bottom.

Titania.

Bottom.

(Rough music is played)

Titania.

Bottom.

402Titania.

Bottom.

Titania.

(Exeunt Fairies)

Oberon (advancing).

Titania.

Oberon.

Puck.

Oberon.

Titania.

(Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and train)

Puck.

William Shakespeare.

Alfred Noyes.

Transcriber's Note

The original spelling and punctuation has been retained.

Variations in hyphenation and compound words have beenpreserved.