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+Project Gutenberg's The Curious Book of Birds, by Abbie Farwell Brown
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Curious Book of Birds
+
+Author: Abbie Farwell Brown
+
+Illustrator: E. Boyd Smith
+
+Release Date: June 27, 2005 [EBook #16140]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Julia Miller and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _Mr. Stork and Miss Heron (page 178)_]
+
+
+
+
+   The Curious Book of Birds
+
+    By Abbie Farwell Brown
+
+     _With Illustrations_
+
+      _By E. Boyd Smith_
+
+
+     BOSTON AND NEW YORK
+ HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
+The Riverside Press, Cambridge
+             1903
+
+
+
+
+_Published October, 1903._
+
+
+
+
+_There are many books written nowadays which will tell you about birds
+as folk of the twentieth century see them. They describe carefully the
+singer's house, his habits, the number of his little wife's eggs, and
+the color of every tiny feather on her pretty wings. But these books
+tell you nothing at all about bird-history; about what birds have meant
+to all the generations of men, women, and children since the world
+began. You would think, to read the words of the bird-book men, that
+they were the very first folk to see any bird, and that what they think
+they have seen is the only matter worth the knowing._
+
+_Now the interesting facts about birds we have always with us. We can
+find them out for ourselves, which is a very pleasant thing to do, or we
+can take the word of others, of which there is no lack. But it is the
+quaint fancies about birds which are in danger of being lost. The
+long-time fancies which the world's children in all lands have been
+taught are quite as important as the every-day facts. They show what the
+little feathered brothers have been to the children of men; how we have
+come to like some and to dislike others as we do; why the poets have
+called them by certain nicknames which we ought to know; and why a great
+many strange things are so, in the minds of childlike people._
+
+_Facts are not what one looks for in a Curious Book. Yet it may be that
+some facts have crept in among the ancient fancies of this volume, just
+as bookworms will crawl into the nicest books; but they do not belong
+there, and it is for these that the Book apologizes to the children. It
+has no apology to offer those grown folks who insist that facts, never
+fancies, are what children need._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                        PAGE
+
+THE DISOBEDIENT WOODPECKER                 1
+(_French_)
+
+MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN               6
+(_Isle of Wight_)
+
+THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH                    14
+(_Roumanian_)
+
+KING OF THE BIRDS                         18
+(_Gascon_)
+
+HALCYONE                                  27
+(_Greek_)
+
+THE FORGETFUL KINGFISHER                  33
+(_German_)
+
+THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE                 39
+(_French_)
+
+HOW THE BLUEBIRD CROSSED                  45
+(_Samoan_)
+
+THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN                      49
+(_Arabic, Malay_)
+
+THE MASQUERADING CROW                     59
+(_Russian_)
+
+KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS                69
+(_Arabic_)
+
+THE PIOUS ROBIN                           81
+(_Breton, Basque, Greek_)
+
+THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN               87
+(_Ojibway_)
+
+THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN                     94
+(_Roumanian_)
+
+WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES                 98
+(_French_)
+
+MRS. PARTRIDGE'S BABIES                  105
+(_Greek_)
+
+THE EARLY GIRL                           109
+(_Roumanian_)
+
+HOW THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT       114
+(_French_)
+
+THE BLACKBIRD AND THE FOX                124
+(_French_)
+
+THE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH                 127
+(_Welsh_)
+
+THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE                  132
+(_Greek_)
+
+THE GROUND-PIGEON                        138
+(_Malay_)
+
+SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE             145
+(_Congo Negro_)
+
+THE THRUSH AND THE CUCKOO                153
+(_Roumanian, German_)
+
+THE OWL AND THE MOON                     157
+(_Malay_)
+
+THE TUFTED CAP                           164
+(_Ainu, Japanese Islands_)
+
+THE GOOD HUNTER                          168
+(_Iroquois_)
+
+THE COURTSHIP OF MR. STORK AND MISS
+HERON                                    176
+(_Russian_)
+
+THE PHOENIX                              184
+(_Egyptian_)
+
+Seven of these tales appeared originally in _The Churchman_ and two in
+_The Congregationalist_. They are reprinted by the courteous permission
+of the publishers of those magazines.
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                        PAGE
+MR. STORK AND MISS HERON (page 178)
+                                Frontispiece
+
+"NEXT YOU MUST LAY A FEATHER"             10
+
+SUCH A GORGEOUS COAT!                     16
+
+"BLESS ME!" HE EXCLAIMED, "WHOM HAVE
+WE HERE?"                                 64
+
+HERE ARE SOME NICE FAT WIGGLY WORMS      106
+
+HE MANAGED TO FLUTTER OUT OF REACH       126
+
+"O BROTHER, DON'T!"                      148
+
+PUTRI BALAN BEGAN TO LAUGH               160
+
+
+
+
+The Curious Book of Birds
+
+
+
+
+    "Not you alone, proud truths of the world,
+    Not you alone, ye facts of modern science,
+    But myths and fables of eld, Asia's, Africa's fables."
+
+                                             _Whitman._
+
+
+
+
+The Curious Book of Birds
+
+
+
+
+THE DISOBEDIENT WOODPECKER
+
+
+Long, long ago, at the beginning of things, they say that the Lord made
+the world smooth and round like an apple. There were no hills nor
+mountains: nor were there any hollows or valleys to hold the seas and
+rivers, fountains and pools, which the world of men would need. It must,
+indeed, have been a stupid and ugly earth in those days, with no chance
+for swimming or sailing, rowing or fishing. But as yet there was no one
+to think anything about it, no one who would long to swim, sail, row,
+and fish. For this was long before men were created.
+
+The Lord looked about Him at the flocks of newly made birds, who were
+preening their wings and wondering at their own bright feathers, and
+said to Himself,--
+
+"I will make these pretty creatures useful, from the very beginning, so
+that in after time men shall love them dearly. Come, my birds," He
+cried, "come hither to me, and with the beaks which I have given you
+hollow me out _here_, and _here_, and _here_, basins for the lakes and
+pools which I intend to fill with water for men and for you, their
+friends. Come, little brothers, busy yourselves as you would wish to be
+happy hereafter."
+
+Then there was a twittering and fluttering as the good birds set to work
+with a will, singing happily over the work which their dear Lord had
+given them to do. They pecked and they pecked with their sharp little
+bills; they scratched and they scratched with their sharp little claws,
+till in the proper places they had hollowed out great basins and valleys
+and long river beds, and little holes in the ground.
+
+Then the Lord sent great rains upon the earth until the hollows which
+the birds had made were filled with water, and so became rivers and
+lakes, little brooks and fountains, just as we see them to-day. Now it
+was a beautiful, beautiful world, and the good birds sang happily and
+rejoiced in the work which they had helped, and in the sparkling water
+which was sweet to their taste.
+
+All were happy except one. The Woodpecker had taken no part with the
+other busy birds. She was a lazy, disobedient creature, and when she
+heard the Lord's commands she had only said, "Tut tut!" and sat still on
+the branch where she had perched, preening her pretty feathers and
+admiring her silver stockings. "You can toil if you want to," she said
+to the other birds who wondered at her, "but I shall do no such dirty
+work. My clothes are too fine."
+
+Now when the world was quite finished and the beautiful water sparkled
+and glinted here and there, cool and refreshing, the Lord called the
+birds to Him and thanked them for their help, praising them for their
+industry and zeal. But to the Woodpecker He said,--
+
+"As for you, O Woodpecker, I observe that your feathers are unruffled by
+work and that there is no spot of soil upon your beak and claws. How did
+you manage to keep so neat?"
+
+The Woodpecker looked sulky and stood upon one leg.
+
+"It is a good thing to be neat," said the Lord, "but not if it comes
+from shirking a duty. It is good to be dainty, but not from laziness.
+Have you not worked with your brothers as I commanded you?"
+
+"It was such very dirty work," piped the Woodpecker crossly; "I was
+afraid of spoiling my pretty bright coat and my silver shining hose."
+
+"Oh, vain and lazy bird!" said the Lord sadly. "Have you nothing to do
+but show off your fine clothes and give yourself airs? You are no more
+beautiful than many of your brothers, yet they all obeyed me willingly.
+Look at the snow-white Dove, and the gorgeous Bird of Paradise, and the
+pretty Grosbeak. They have worked nobly, yet their plumage is not
+injured. I fear that you must be punished for your disobedience, little
+Woodpecker. Henceforth you shall wear stockings of sooty black instead
+of the shining silver ones of which you are so proud. You who were too
+fine to dig in the earth shall ever be pecking at dusty wood. And as you
+declined to help in building the water-basins of the world, so you shall
+never sip from them when you are thirsty. Never shall you thrust beak
+into lake or river, little rippling brook or cool, sweet fountain.
+Raindrops falling scantily from the leaves shall be your drink, and your
+voice shall be heard only when other creatures are hiding themselves
+from the approaching storm."
+
+It was a sad punishment for the Woodpecker, but she certainly deserved
+it. Ever since that time, whenever we hear a little tap-tapping in the
+tree city, we know that it is the poor Woodpecker digging at the dusty
+wood, as the Lord said she should do. And when we spy her, a dusty
+little body with black stockings, clinging upright to the tree trunk, we
+see that she is creeping, climbing, looking up eagerly toward the sky,
+longing for the rain to fall into her thirsty beak. She is always hoping
+for the storm to come, and plaintively pipes, "_Plui-plui!_ Rain, O
+Rain!" until the drops begin to patter on the leaves.
+
+
+
+
+MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN
+
+
+Did you ever notice how different are the nests which the birds build in
+springtime, in tree or bush or sandy bank or hidden in the grass? Some
+are wonderfully wrought, pretty little homes for birdikins. But others
+are clumsy, and carelessly fastened to the bough, most unsafe cradles
+for the feathered baby on the treetop. Sometimes after a heavy wind you
+find on the ground under the nest poor little broken eggs which rolled
+out and lost their chance of turning into birds with safe, safe wings of
+their own. Now such sad things as this happen because in their youth the
+lazy father and mother birds did not learn their lesson when Mother
+Magpie had her class in nest-making. The clumsiest nest of all is that
+which the Wood-Pigeon tries to build. Indeed, it is not a nest at all,
+only the beginning of one. And there is an old story about this, which I
+shall tell you.
+
+In the early springtime of the world, when birds were first made, none
+of them--except Mother Magpie--knew how to build a nest. In that lovely
+garden where they lived the birds went fluttering about trying their new
+wings, so interested in this wonderful game of flying that they forgot
+all about preparing a home for the baby birds who were to come. When the
+time came to lay their eggs the parents knew not what to do. There was
+no place safe from the four-legged creatures who cannot fly, and they
+began to twitter helplessly: "Oh, how I wish I had a nice warm nest for
+my eggs!" "Oh, what shall we do for a home?" "Dear me! I don't know
+anything about housekeeping." And the poor silly things ruffled up their
+feathers and looked miserable as only a little bird can look when it is
+unhappy.
+
+All except Mother Magpie! She was not the best--oh, no!--but she was the
+cleverest and wisest of all the birds; it seemed as if she knew
+everything that a bird could know. Already she had found out a way, and
+was busily building a famous nest for herself. She was indeed a clever
+bird! She gathered turf and sticks, and with clay bound them firmly
+together in a stout elm tree. About her house she built a fence of
+thorns to keep away the burglar birds who had already begun mischief
+among their peaceful neighbors. Thus she had a snug and cosy dwelling
+finished before the others even suspected what she was doing. She popped
+into her new house and sat there comfortably, peering out through the
+window-slits with her sharp little eyes. And she saw the other birds
+hopping about and twittering helplessly.
+
+"What silly birds they are!" she croaked. "Ha, ha! What would they not
+give for a nest like mine!"
+
+But presently a sharp-eyed Sparrow spied Mother Magpie sitting in her
+nest.
+
+"Oho! Look there!" he cried. "Mother Magpie has found a way. Let us ask
+her to teach us."
+
+Then all the other birds chirped eagerly, "Yes, yes! Let us ask her to
+teach us!"
+
+So, in a great company, they came fluttering, hopping, twittering up to
+the elm tree where Mother Magpie nestled comfortably in her new house.
+
+"O wise Mother Magpie, dear Mother Magpie," they cried, "teach us how to
+build our nests like yours, for it is growing night, and we are tired
+and sleepy."
+
+The Magpie said she would teach them if they would be a patient,
+diligent, obedient class of little birds. And they all promised that
+they would.
+
+She made them perch about her in a great circle, some on the lower
+branches of the trees, some on the bushes, and some on the ground among
+the grass and flowers. And where each bird perched, there it was to
+build its nest. Then Mother Magpie found clay and bits of twigs and moss
+and grass--everything a bird could need to build a nest; and there is
+scarcely anything you can think of which some bird would not find very
+useful. When these things were all piled up before her she told every
+bird to do just as she did. It was like a great big kindergarten of
+birds playing at a new building game, with Mother Magpie for the
+teacher.
+
+She began to show them how to weave the bits of things together into
+nests, as they should be made. And some of the birds, who were attentive
+and careful, soon saw how it was done, and started nice homes for
+themselves. You have seen what wonderful swinging baskets the Oriole
+makes for his baby-cradle? Well, it was the Magpie who taught him how,
+and he was the prize pupil, to be sure. But some of the birds were not
+like him, nor like the patient little Wren. Some of them were lazy and
+stupid and envious of Mother Magpie's cosy nest, which was already
+finished, while theirs was yet to do.
+
+As Mother Magpie worked, showing them how, it seemed so very simple that
+they were ashamed not to have discovered it for themselves. So, as she
+went on bit by bit, the silly things pretended that they had known all
+about it from the first--which was very unpleasant for their teacher.
+
+Mother Magpie took two sticks in her beak and began like this: "First of
+all, my friends, you must lay two sticks crosswise for a foundation,
+thus," and she placed them carefully on the branch before her.
+
+"Oh yes, oh yes!" croaked old Daddy Crow, interrupting her rudely. "I
+thought that was the way to begin."
+
+Mother Magpie snapped her eyes at him and went on, "Next you must lay a
+feather on a bit of moss, to start the walls."
+
+"Certainly, of course," screamed the Jackdaw. "I knew that came next.
+That is what I told the Parrot but a moment since."
+
+Mother Magpie looked at him impatiently, but she did not say anything.
+"Then, my friends, you must place on your foundation moss, hair,
+feathers, sticks, and grass--whatever you choose for your house. You
+must place them like _this_."
+
+"Yes, yes," cried the Starling, "sticks and grass, every one knows how
+to do that! Of course, of course! Tell us something new."
+
+[Illustration: _"Next you must lay a feather"_]
+
+Now Mother Magpie was very angry, but she kept on with her lesson in
+spite of these rude and silly interruptions. She turned toward the
+Wood-Pigeon, who was a rattle-pated young thing, and who was not having
+any success with the sticks which she was trying to place.
+
+"Here, Wood-Pigeon," said Mother Magpie, "you must place those sticks
+through and across, criss-cross, criss-cross, _so_."
+
+"Criss-cross, criss-cross, so," interrupted the Wood-Pigeon. "I know.
+That will do-o-o, that will do-o-o!"
+
+Mother Magpie hopped up and down on one leg, so angry she could hardly
+croak.
+
+"You silly Pigeon," she sputtered, "not _so_. You are spoiling your
+nest. Place the sticks _so_!"
+
+"I know, I know! That will do-o-o, that will do-o-o!" cooed the
+Wood-Pigeon obstinately in her soft, foolish little voice, without
+paying the least attention to Mother Magpie's directions.
+
+"We all know that--anything more?" chirped the chorus of birds, trying
+to conceal how anxious they were to know what came next, for the nests
+were only half finished.
+
+But Mother Magpie was thoroughly disgusted, and refused to go on with
+the lesson which had been so rudely interrupted by her pupils.
+
+"You are all so wise, friends," she said, "that surely you do not need
+any help from me. You say you know all about it,--then go on and finish
+your nests by yourselves. Much luck may you have!" And away she flew to
+her own cosy nest in the elm tree, where she was soon fast asleep,
+forgetting all about the matter.
+
+But oh! What a pickle the other birds were in! The lesson was but half
+finished, and most of them had not the slightest idea what to do next.
+That is why to this day many of the birds have never learned to build a
+perfect nest. Some do better than others, but none build like Mother
+Magpie.
+
+But the Wood-Pigeon was in the worst case of them all. For she had only
+the foundation laid criss-cross as the Magpie had shown her. And so, if
+you find in the woods the most shiftless, silly kind of nest that you
+can imagine--just a platform of sticks laid flat across a branch, with
+no railing to keep the eggs from rolling out, no roof to keep the rain
+from soaking in--when you see that foolishness, you will know that it is
+the nest of little Mistress Wood-Pigeon, who was too stupid to learn the
+lesson which Mother Magpie was ready to teach.
+
+And the queerest part of all is that the birds blamed the Magpie for the
+whole matter, and have never liked her since. But, as you may have
+found out for yourselves, that is often the fate of wise folk who make
+discoveries or who do things better than others.
+
+
+
+
+THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH
+
+
+The Goldfinch who lives in Europe is one of the gaudiest of the little
+feathered brothers. He is a very Joseph of birds in his coat of many
+colors, and folk often wonder how he came to have feathers so much more
+gorgeous than his kindred. But after you have read this tale you will
+wonder no longer.
+
+You must know that when the Father first made all the birds they were
+dressed alike in plumage of sober gray. But this dull uniform pleased
+Him no more than it did the birds themselves, who begged that they might
+wear each the particular style which was most becoming, and by which
+they could be recognized afar.
+
+So the Father called the birds to Him, one by one, as they stood in
+line, and dipping His brush in the rainbow color-box painted each
+appropriately in the colors which it wears to-day. (Except, indeed, that
+some had later adventures which altered their original hues, as you
+shall hear in due season.)
+
+But the Goldfinch did not come with the other birds. That tardy little
+fellow was busy elsewhere on his own affairs and heeded not the Father's
+command to fall in line and wait his turn for being made beautiful.
+
+So it happened that not until the painting was finished and all the
+birds had flown away to admire themselves in the water-mirrors of the
+earth, did the Goldfinch present himself at the Father's feet out of
+breath.
+
+"O Father!" he panted, "I am late. But I was so busy! Pray forgive me
+and permit me to have a pretty coat like the others."
+
+"You are late indeed," said the Father reproachfully, "and all the
+coloring has been done. You should have come when I bade you. Do you not
+know that it is the prompt bird who fares best? My rainbow color-box has
+been generously used, and I have but little of each tint left. Yet I
+will paint you with the colors that I have, and if the result be ill you
+have only yourself to blame."
+
+The Father smiled gently as He took up the brush which He had laid down,
+and dipped it in the first color which came to hand. This He used until
+there was no more, when He began with another shade, and so continued
+until the Goldfinch was completely colored from head to foot. Such a
+gorgeous coat! His forehead and throat were of the most brilliant
+crimson. His cap and sailor collar were black. His back was brown and
+yellow, his breast white, his wings golden set off with velvet black,
+and his tail was black with white-tipped feathers. Certainly there was
+no danger of his being mistaken for any other bird.
+
+When the Goldfinch looked down into a pool and saw the reflection of his
+gorgeous coat, he burst out into a song of joy. "I like it, oh, I like
+it!" he warbled, and his song was very sweet. "Oh, I am glad that I was
+late, indeed I am, dear Father!"
+
+But the kind Father sighed and shook His head as He put away the brush,
+exclaiming, "Poor little Goldfinch! You are indeed a beautiful bird. But
+I fear that the gorgeous coat which you wear, and which is the best that
+I could give you, because you came so late, will cause you more sorrow
+than joy. Because of it you will be chased and captured and kept in
+captivity; and your life will be spent in mourning for the days when you
+were a plain gray bird."
+
+And so it happened. For to this day the Goldfinch is persecuted by human
+folk who admire his wonderful plumage and his beautiful song. He is
+kept captive in a cage, while his less gorgeous brothers fly freely in
+the beautiful world out of doors.
+
+[Illustration: _Such a gorgeous coat!_]
+
+
+
+
+KING OF THE BIRDS
+
+
+Once upon a time, when the world was very new and when the birds had
+just learned from Mother Magpie how to build their nests, some one said,
+"We ought to have a king. Oh, we need a king of the birds very much!"
+
+For you see, already in the Garden of Birds trouble had begun. There
+were disputes every morning as to which was the earliest bird who was
+entitled to the worm. There were quarrels over the best places for
+nest-building and over the fattest bug or beetle; and there was no one
+to settle these difficulties. Moreover, the robber birds were growing
+too bold, and there was no one to rule and punish them. There was no
+doubt about it; the birds needed a king to keep them in order and peace.
+
+So the whisper went about, "We must have a king. Whom shall we choose
+for our king?"
+
+They decided to hold a great meeting for the election. And because the
+especial talent of a bird is for flying, they agreed that the bird who
+could fly highest up into the blue sky, straight toward the sun, should
+be their king, king of all the feathered tribes of the air.
+
+Therefore, after breakfast one beautiful morning, the birds met in the
+garden to choose their king. All the birds were there, from the largest
+to the smallest, chirping, twittering, singing on every bush and tree
+and bit of dry grass, till the noise was almost as great as nowadays at
+an election of two-legged folk without feathers. They swooped down in
+great clouds, till the sky was black with them, and they were dotted on
+the grass like punctuation marks on a green page. There were so many
+that not even wise Mother Magpie or old Master Owl could count them, and
+they all talked at the same time, like ladies at an afternoon tea, which
+was very confusing.
+
+Little Robin Redbreast was there, hopping about and saying pleasant
+things to every one, for he was a great favorite. Gorgeous Goldfinch was
+there, in fine feather; and little Blackbird, who was then as white as
+snow. There were the proud Peacock and the silly Ostrich, the awkward
+Penguin and the Dodo, whom no man living has ever seen. Likewise there
+were the Jubjub Bird and the Dinky Bird, and many other curious
+varieties that one never finds described in the wise Bird Books,--which
+is very strange, and sad, too, I think. Yes, all the birds were there
+for the choosing of their king, both the birds who could fly, and those
+who could not. (But for what were they given wings, if not to fly? How
+silly an Ostrich must feel!)
+
+Now the Eagle expected to be king. He felt sure that he could fly higher
+than any one else. He sat apart on a tall pine tree, looking very
+dignified and noble, as a future king should look. And the birds glanced
+at one another, nodded their heads, and whispered, "He is sure to be
+elected king. He can fly straight up toward the sun without winking, and
+his great wings are so strong, so strong! He never grows tired. He is
+sure to be king."
+
+Thus they whispered among themselves, and the Eagle heard them, and was
+pleased. But the little brown Wren heard also, and he was not pleased.
+The absurd little bird! He wanted to be king himself, although he was
+one of the tiniest birds there, who could never be a protector to the
+others, nor stop trouble when it began. No, indeed! Fancy him stepping
+as a peacemaker between a robber Hawk and a bloody Falcon. It was they
+who would make pieces of him. But he was a conceited little creature,
+and saw no reason why he should not make a noble sovereign.
+
+"I am cleverer than the Eagle," he said to himself, "though he is so
+much bigger. I will be king in spite of him. Ha-ha! We shall see what we
+shall see!" For the Wren had a great idea in his wee little head--an
+idea bigger than the head itself, if you can explain how that could be.
+He ruffled up his feathers to make himself as huge as possible, and
+hopped over to the branch where the Eagle was sitting.
+
+"Well, Eagle," said the Wren pompously, "I suppose you expect to be
+king, eh?"
+
+The Eagle stared hard at him with his great bright eyes. "Well, if I do,
+what of that?" he said. "Who will dispute me?"
+
+"I shall," said the Wren, bobbing his little brown head and wriggling
+his tail saucily.
+
+"You!" said the Eagle. "Do _you_ expect to fly higher than I?"
+
+"Yes," chirped the Wren, "I do. Yes, I do, do, do!"
+
+"Ho!" said the Eagle scornfully. "I am big and strong and brave. I can
+fly higher than the clouds. You, poor little thing, are no bigger than a
+bean. You will be out of breath before we have gone twice this tree's
+height."
+
+"Little as I am, I can mount higher than you," said the Wren.
+
+"What will you wager, Wren?" asked the Eagle. "What will you give me if
+I win?"
+
+"If you win you will be king," said the Wren. "But beside that, if you
+win I will give you my fat little body to eat for your breakfast. But if
+I win, Sir, I shall be king, and you must promise never, never, never,
+to hurt me or any of my people."
+
+"Very well. I promise," said the Eagle haughtily. "Come now, it is time
+for the trial, you poor little foolish creature."
+
+The birds were flapping their wings and singing eagerly, "Let us
+begin--begin. We want to see who is to be king. Come, birds, to the
+trial. Who can fly the highest? Come!"
+
+Then the Eagle spread his great wings and mounted leisurely into the
+air, straight toward the noonday sun. And after him rose a number of
+other birds who wanted to be king,--the wicked Hawk, the bold Albatross,
+and the Skylark singing his wonderful song. The long-legged Stork
+started also, but that was only for a joke. "Fancy me for a king!" he
+cried, and he laughed so that he had to come down again in a minute. But
+the Wren was nowhere to be seen. The truth was, he had hopped ever so
+lightly upon the Eagle's head, where he sat like a tiny crest. But the
+Eagle did not know he was there.
+
+Soon the Hawk and the Albatross and even the brave little Skylark fell
+behind, and the Eagle began to chuckle to himself at his easy victory.
+"Where are you, poor little Wren?" he cried very loudly, for he fancied
+that the tiny bird must be left far, far below.
+
+"Here I am, here I am, away up above you, Master Eagle!" piped the Wren
+in a weak little voice. And the Eagle fancied the Wren was so far up in
+the air that even his sharp eyes could not spy the tiny creature. "Dear
+me!" said he to himself. "How extraordinary that he has passed me." So
+he redoubled his speed and flew on, higher, higher.
+
+Presently he called out again in a tremendous voice, "Well, where are
+you now? Where are you now, poor little Wren?"
+
+Once more he heard the tiny shrill voice from somewhere above piping,
+"Here I am, here I am, nearer the sun than you, Master Eagle. Will you
+give up now?"
+
+Of course the Eagle would not give up yet. He flew on, higher and
+higher, till the garden and its flock of patient birds waiting for their
+king grew dim and blurry below. And at last even the mighty wings of the
+Eagle were weary, for he was far above the clouds. "Surely," he thought,
+"now the Wren is left miles behind." He gave a scream of triumph and
+cried, "Where are you now, poor little Wren? Can you hear me at all,
+down below there?"
+
+But what was his amazement to hear the same little voice above his head
+shrilling, "Here I am, here I am, Sir Eagle. Look up and see me, look!"
+And there, sure enough, he was fluttering above the Eagle's head. "And
+now, since I have mounted so much higher than you, will you agree that I
+have won?"
+
+"Yes, you have won, little Wren. Let us descend together, for I am weary
+enough," cried the Eagle, much mortified; and down he swooped, on heavy,
+discouraged wings.
+
+"Yes, let us descend together," murmured the Wren, once more perching
+comfortably on the Eagle's head. And so down he rode on this convenient
+elevator, which was the first one invented in this world.
+
+When the Eagle nearly reached the ground, the other birds set up a cry
+of greeting.
+
+"Hail, King Eagle!" they sang. "How high you flew! How near the sun! Did
+he not scorch your Majesty's feathers? Hail, mighty king!" and they made
+a deafening chorus. But the Eagle stopped them.
+
+"The Wren is your king, not I," he said. "He mounted higher than I did."
+
+"The Wren? Ha-ha! The _Wren_! We can't believe that The Wren flew
+higher than you? No, no!" they all shouted. But just then the Eagle
+lighted on a tree, and from the top of his head hopped the little Wren,
+cocking his head and ruffling himself proudly.
+
+"Yes, I mounted higher than he," he cried, "for I was perched on his
+head all the while, ha-ha! And now, therefore, I am king, small though I
+be."
+
+Now the Eagle was very angry when he saw the trick that had been played
+upon him, and he swooped upon the sly Wren to punish him. But the Wren
+screamed, "Remember, remember your promise never to injure me or mine!"
+Then the Eagle stopped, for he was a noble bird and never forgot a
+promise. He folded his wings and turned away in disgust.
+
+"Be king, then, O cheat and trickster!" he said.
+
+"Cheat and trickster!" echoed the other birds. "We will have no such
+fellow for our king. Cheat and trickster he is, and he shall be
+punished. You shall be king, brave Eagle, for without your strength he
+could never have flown so high. It is you whom we want for our
+protector and lawmaker, not this sly fellow no bigger than a bean."
+
+So the Eagle became their king, after all; and a noble bird he is, as
+you must understand, or he would never have been chosen to guard our
+nation's coat of arms. And besides this you may see his picture on many
+a banner and crest and coin of gold or silver, so famous has he become.
+
+But the Wren was to be punished. And while the birds were trying to
+decide what should be done with him, they put him in prison in a
+mouse-hole and set Master Owl to guard the door. Now while the judges
+were putting their heads together the lazy Owl fell fast asleep, and out
+of prison stole the little Wren and was far away before any one could
+catch him. So he was never punished after all, as he richly deserved to
+be.
+
+The birds were so angry with old Master Owl for his carelessness that he
+has never since dared to show his face abroad in daytime, but hides away
+in his hollow tree. And only at night he wanders alone in the woods,
+sorry and ashamed.
+
+
+
+
+HALCYONE
+
+
+The story of the first Kingfisher is a sad one, and you need not read it
+unless for a very little while you wish to feel sorry.
+
+Long, long ago when the world was new, there lived a beautiful princess
+named Halcyone. She was the daughter of old Ĉolus, King of the Winds,
+and lived with him on his happy island, where it was his chief business
+to keep in order the four boisterous brothers, Boreas, the North Wind,
+Zephyrus, the West Wind, Auster, the South Wind, and Eurus, the East
+Wind. Sometimes, indeed, Ĉolus had a hard time of it; for the Winds
+would escape from his control and rush out upon the sea for their
+terrible games, which were sure to bring death and destruction to the
+sailors and their ships. Knowing them so well, for she had grown up with
+these rough playmates, Halcyone came to dread more than anything else
+the cruelties which they practiced at every opportunity.
+
+One day the Prince Ceyx came to the island of King Ĉolus. He was the son
+of Hesperus, the Evening Star, and he was the king of the great land of
+Thessaly. Ceyx and Halcyone grew to love each other dearly, and at last
+with the consent of good King Ĉolus, but to the wrath of the four Winds,
+the beautiful princess went away to be the wife of Ceyx and Queen of
+Thessaly.
+
+For a long time they lived happily in their peaceful kingdom, but
+finally came a day when Ceyx must take a long voyage on the sea, to
+visit a temple in a far country. Halcyone could not bear to have him go,
+for she feared the dangers of the great deep, knowing well the cruelty
+of the Winds, whom King Ĉolus had such difficulty in keeping within
+bounds. She knew how the mischievous brothers loved to rush down upon
+venturesome sailors and blow them into danger, and she knew that they
+especially hated her husband because he had carried her away from the
+island where she had watched the Winds at their terrible play. She
+begged Ceyx not to go, but he said that it was necessary. Then she
+prayed that if he must go he would take her with him, for she could not
+bear to remain behind dreading what might happen.
+
+But Ceyx was resolved that Halcyone should not go. The good king longed
+to take her with him; no more than she could he smile at the thought of
+separation. But he also feared the sea, not on his own account, but for
+his dear wife. In spite of her entreaties he remained firm. If all went
+well he promised to return in two months' time. But Halcyone knew that
+she should never see him again as now he spoke.
+
+The day of separation came. Standing heart-broken upon the shore,
+Halcyone watched the vessel sail away into the East, until as a little
+speck it dropped below the horizon; then sobbing bitterly she returned
+to the palace.
+
+Now the king and his men had completed but half their journey when a
+terrible storm arose. The wicked Winds had escaped from the control of
+good old Ĉolus and were rushing down upon the ocean to punish Ceyx for
+carrying away the beautiful Halcyone. Fiercely they blew, the lightning
+flashed, and the sea ran high; and in the midst of the horrible tumult
+the good ship went to the bottom with all on board. Thus the fears of
+Halcyone were proved true, and far from his dear wife poor Ceyx perished
+in the cruel waves.
+
+That very night when the shipwreck occurred, the sad and fearful
+Halcyone, sleeping lonely at home, knew in a dream the very calamity
+which had happened. She seemed to see the storm and the shipwreck, and
+the form of Ceyx appeared, saying a sad farewell to her. As soon as it
+was light she rose and hastened to the seashore, trembling with a
+horrible dread. Standing on the very spot whence she had last seen the
+fated ship, she looked wistfully over the waste of stormy waters. At
+last she spied a dark something tossing on the waves. The object floated
+nearer and nearer, until a huge breaker cast before her on the sand the
+body of her drowned husband.
+
+"O dearest Ceyx!" she cried. "Is it thus that you return to me?"
+Stretching out her arms toward him, she leaped upon the sea wall as if
+she would throw herself into the ocean, which advanced and retreated,
+seething around his body. But a different fate was to be hers. As she
+leaped forward two strong wings sprouted from her shoulders, and before
+she knew it she found herself skimming lightly as a bird over the water.
+From her throat came sounds of sobbing, which changed as she flew into
+the shrill piping of a bird. Soft feathers now covered her body, and a
+crest rose above the forehead which had once been so fair. Halcyone was
+become a Kingfisher, the first Kingfisher who ever flew lamenting above
+the waters of the world.
+
+The sad bird fluttered through the spray straight to the body that was
+tossed upon the surf. As her wings touched the wet shoulders, and as her
+horny beak sought the dumb lips in an attempt to kiss what was once so
+dear, the body of Ceyx began to receive new life. The limbs stirred, a
+faint color returned to the cheeks. At the same moment a change like
+that which had transformed Halcyone began to pass over her husband. He
+too was becoming a Kingfisher. He too felt the thrill of wings upon his
+shoulders, wings which were to bear him up and away out of the sea which
+had been his death. He too was clad in soft plumage with a kingly crest
+upon his kingly head. With a faint cry, half of sorrow for what had
+happened, half of joy for the future in which these two loving ones were
+at least to be together, Ceyx rose from the surf-swept sand where his
+lifeless limbs had lain and went skimming over the waves beside Halcyone
+his wife.
+
+So those unhappy mortals became the first kingfishers, happy at last in
+being reunited. So we see them still, flying up and down over the waters
+of the world, royal forms with royal crests upon their heads.
+
+They built their nest of the bones of fish, a stout and well-joined
+basket which floated on the waves as safely as any little boat. And
+while their children, the baby Halcyons, lay in this rocking cradle, for
+seven days in the heart of winter, no storms ever troubled the ocean
+and mariners could set out upon their voyages without fear.
+
+For while his little grandchildren rocked in their basket, the good King
+Ĉolus, pitying the sorrows of his daughter Halcyone, was always
+especially careful to chain up in prison those wicked brothers the
+Winds, so that they could do no mischief of any kind.
+
+And that is why a halcyon time has come to mean a season of peace and
+safety.
+
+
+
+
+THE FORGETFUL KINGFISHER
+
+
+In these days the Kingfisher is a sad and solitary bird, caring not to
+venture far from the water where she finds her food. Up and down the
+river banks she goes, uttering a peculiar plaintive cry. What is she
+saying, and why is she so restless? The American Kingfisher is gray, but
+her cousin of Europe is a bird of brilliant azure with a breast of rusty
+red. Therefore it must have been the foreign Kingfisher who was
+forgetful, as you shall hear.
+
+Long, long after the sorrows of Halcyone, the first Kingfisher, were
+ended, came the great storm which lasted forty days and forty nights,
+causing the worst flood which the world has ever known. That was a
+terrible time. When Father Noah hastened to build his ark, inviting the
+animals and birds to take refuge with him, the Kingfisher herself was
+glad to go aboard. For even she, protected by Ĉolus from the fury of
+winds and waters, was not safe while there was no place in all the world
+for her to rest foot and weary wing. So the Kingfisher fluttered in with
+the other birds and animals, a strange company! And there they lived
+all together, Noah and his arkful of pets, for many weary days, while
+the waters raged and the winds howled outside, and all the earth was
+covered fathoms deep out of sight below the waves.
+
+But after long weeks the storm ceased, and Father Noah opened the little
+window in the ark and sent forth the Dove to see whether or not there
+was land visible on which the ark might find rest. Now after he had sent
+out the Dove, Noah looked about him at the other birds and animals which
+crowded around him eagerly, for they were growing very restless from
+their long confinement, and he said, "Which of you is bravest, and will
+dare follow our friend the Dove out into the watery world? Ah, here is
+the Kingfisher. Little mother, you at least, reared among the winds and
+waters, will not be afraid. Take wing, O Kingfisher, and see if the
+earth be visible. Then return quickly and bring me faithful word of what
+you find out yonder."
+
+Day was just beginning to dawn when the Kingfisher, who was then as gray
+as gray, flew out from the little window of the ark whence the Dove had
+preceded her. But hardly had she left the safe shelter of Father Noah's
+floating home, when there came a tremendous whirlwind which blew her
+about and buffeted her until she was almost beaten into the waves,
+which rolled endlessly over the face of the whole earth, covering the
+high hills and the very mountains. The Kingfisher was greatly
+frightened. She could not go back into the ark, for the little window
+was closed, and there was no land anywhere on which she could take
+refuge. Just think for a moment what a dreadful situation it was! There
+was nothing for her to do but to fly up, straight up, out of reach from
+the tossing waves and dashing spray.
+
+The Kingfisher was fresh and vigorous, and her wings were strong and
+powerful, for she had been resting long days in the quiet ark, eating
+the provisions which Father Noah had thoughtfully prepared for his many
+guests. So up, up she soared, above the very clouds, on into the blue
+ether which lies beyond. And lo! as she did so, her sober gray dress
+became a brilliant blue, the color caught from the azure of those clear
+heights. Higher and higher she flew, feeling so free and happy after her
+long captivity, that she quite forgot Father Noah and the errand upon
+which she had been sent. Up and up she went, higher than the sun, until
+at last she saw him rising far beneath her, a beautiful ball of fire,
+more dazzling, more wonderful than she had ever guessed.
+
+"Hola!" she cried, beside herself with joy at the sight. "There is the
+dear sun, whom I have not seen for many days. And how near, how
+beautiful he is! I will fly closer still, now that I have come so near.
+I will observe him in all his splendor, as no other bird, not even the
+high-flying, sharp-eyed Eagle, has ever seen him."
+
+And with that the foolish Kingfisher turned her course downward, with
+such mad, headlong speed that she had scarcely time to feel what
+terrible, increasing heat shot from the sun's rays, until she was so
+close upon him that it was too late to escape. Oh, but that was a
+dreadful moment! The feathers on her poor little breast were scorched
+and set afire, and she seemed in danger not only of spoiling her
+beautiful new blue dress but of being burned into a wretched little
+cinder. Horribly frightened at her danger, the Kingfisher turned once
+more, but this time toward the rolling waters which covered the earth.
+Down, down she swooped, until with the hiss of burning feathers she
+splashed into the cold wetness, putting out the fire which threatened to
+consume her. Once, twice, thrice, she dipped into the grateful coolness,
+flirting the drops from her blue plumage, now alas! sadly scorched.
+
+When the pain of her burns was somewhat relieved she had time to think
+what next she should do. She longed for rest, for refuge, for Father
+Noah's gentle, caressing hand to which she had grown accustomed during
+those stormy weeks of companionship in the ark. But where was Father
+Noah? Where was the ark? On all the rolling sea of water there was no
+movement of life, no sign of any human presence. Then the Kingfisher
+remembered her errand, and how carelessly she had performed it. She had
+been bidden to return quickly; but she had wasted many hours--she could
+not tell how many--in her forgetful flight. And now she was to be
+punished indeed, if she could not find her master and the ark of refuge.
+
+The poor Kingfisher looked wildly about. She fluttered here and there,
+backward and forward, over the weary stretch of waves, crying piteously
+for her master. He did not answer; there was no ark to be found. The sun
+set and the night came on, but still she sought eagerly from east to
+west, from north to south, always in vain. She could never find what she
+had so carelessly lost.
+
+The truth is that during her absence the Dove, who had done her errand
+faithfully, returned at last with the olive leaf which told of one spot
+upon the earth's surface at last uncovered by the waves. Then the ark,
+blown hither and thither by the same storm which had driven the
+Kingfisher to fly upward into the ether-blue, had drifted far and far
+to Mount Ararat, where it ran aground. And Father Noah, disembarking
+with his family and all the assembled animals, had broken up the ark,
+intending there to build him a house out of the materials from which it
+was made. But this was many, many leagues from the place where the poor
+Kingfisher, lonely and frightened, hovered about, crying piteously for
+her master.
+
+And even when the waters dried away, uncovering the earth in many
+places, so that the Kingfisher could alight and build herself a nest,
+she was never happy nor content, but to this day flies up and down the
+water-ways of the world piping sadly, looking eagerly for her dear
+master and for some traces of the ark which sheltered her. And the
+reflection which she makes in the water below shows an azure-blue body,
+like a reflection of the sky above, with some of the breast-feathers
+scorched to a rusty red. And now you know how it all came about.
+
+
+
+
+THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE
+
+
+Centuries and centuries ago, when men were first made, there was no such
+thing as fire known in all the world. Folk had no fire with which to
+cook their food, and so they were obliged to eat it raw; which was very
+unpleasant, as you may imagine! There were no cheery fireplaces about
+which to sit and tell stories, or make candy or pop corn. There was no
+light in the darkness at night except the sun and moon and stars. There
+were not even candles in those days, to say nothing of gas lamps or
+electric lights. It is strange to think of such a world where even the
+grown folks, like the children and the birds, had to go to bed at dusk,
+because there was nothing else to do.
+
+But the little birds, who lived nearer heaven than men, knew of the fire
+in the sun, and knew also what a fine thing it would be for the tribes
+without feathers if they could have some of the magic element.
+
+One day the birds held a solemn meeting, when it was decided that men
+must have fire. Then some one must fly up to the sun and bring a
+firebrand thence. Who would undertake this dangerous errand? Already by
+sad experience the Kingfisher had felt the force of the sun's heat,
+while the Eagle and the Wren, in the famous flight which they had taken
+together, had learned the same thing. The assembly of birds looked at
+one another, and there was a silence.
+
+"I dare not go," said the Kingfisher, trembling at the idea; "I have
+been up there once, and the warning I received was enough to last me for
+some time."
+
+"I cannot go," said the Peacock, "for my plumage is too precious to
+risk."
+
+"I ought not to go," said the Lark, "for the heat might injure my pretty
+voice."
+
+"I must not go," said the Stork, "for I have promised to bring a baby to
+the King's palace this evening."
+
+"I cannot go," said the Dove, "for I have a nestful of little ones who
+depend upon me for food."
+
+"Nor I," said the Sparrow, "for I am afraid." "Nor I!" "Nor I!" "Nor I!"
+echoed the other birds.
+
+"I _will_ not go," croaked the Owl, "for I simply do not wish to."
+
+Then up spoke the little Wren, who had been keeping in the background
+of late, because he was despised for his attempt to deceive the birds
+into electing him their king.
+
+"I will go," said the Wren. "I will go and bring fire to men. I am of
+little use here. No one loves me. Every one despises me because of the
+trick which I played the Eagle, our King. No one will care if I am
+injured in the attempt. I will go and try."
+
+"Bravely spoken, little friend," said the Eagle kindly. "I myself would
+go but that I am the King, and kings must not risk the lives upon which
+hangs the welfare of their people. Go you, little Wren, and if you are
+successful you will win back the respect of your brothers which you have
+forfeited."
+
+The brave little bird set out upon his errand without further words. And
+weak and delicate though he was, he flew and he flew up and up so
+sturdily that at last he reached the sun, whence he plucked a firebrand
+and bore it swiftly in his beak back toward the earth. Like a falling
+star the bright speck flashed through the air, drawing ever nearer and
+nearer to the cool waters of Birdland and the safety which awaited him
+there. The other birds gathered in a flock about their king and
+anxiously watched the Wren's approach.
+
+Suddenly the Robin cried out, "Alas! He burns! He has caught fire!" And
+off darted the faithful little friend to help the Wren. Sure enough, a
+spark from the blazing brand had fallen upon the plumage of the Wren,
+and his poor little wings were burning as he fluttered piteously down,
+still holding the fire in his beak.
+
+The Robin flew up to him and said, "Well done, brother! You have
+succeeded. Now give me the fire and I will relieve you while you drop
+into the lake below us to quench the flame which threatens your life."
+
+So the Robin in his turn seized the firebrand in his beak and started
+down with it. But, like the Wren, he too was soon fluttering in the
+blaze of his own burning plumage, a little living firework, falling
+toward the earth.
+
+Then up came the Lark, who had been watching the two unselfish birds.
+"Give me the brand, brother Robin," she cried, "for your pretty feathers
+are all ablaze and your life is in danger."
+
+So it was the Lark who finally brought the fire safely to the earth and
+gave it to mankind. But the Robin and the Wren, when they had put out
+the flame which burned their feathers, appeared in the assembly of the
+birds, and were greeted with great applause as the heroes of the day.
+The Robin's breast was scorched a brilliant red, but the poor, brave
+little Wren was wholly bare of plumage. All his pretty feathers had been
+burned away, and he stood before them shivering and piteous.
+
+"Bravo! little Wren," cried King Eagle. "A noble deed you have done this
+day, and nobly have you won back the respect of your brother birds and
+earned the everlasting gratitude of men. Now what shall we do to help
+you in your sorry plight?" After a moment's thought he turned to the
+other birds and said, "Who will give a feather to help patch a covering
+for our brave friend?"
+
+"I!" and "I!" and "I!" and "I!" chorused the generous birds. And in turn
+each came forward with a plume or a bit of down from his breast. The
+Robin first, who had shared his peril, brought a feather sadly scorched,
+but precious; the Lark next, who had helped in the time of need. The
+Eagle bestowed a kingly feather, the Thrush, the Nightingale,--every
+bird contributed except the Owl.
+
+But the selfish Owl said, "I see no reason why I should give a feather.
+Hoot! No! The Wren brought me into trouble once, and I will not help him
+now. Let him go bare, for all my aid."
+
+"Shame! Shame!" cried the birds indignantly. "Old Master Owl, you ought
+to be ashamed. But if you are so selfish we will not have you in our
+society. Go back to your hollow tree!"
+
+"Yes, go back to your hollow tree," cried the Eagle sternly; "and when
+winter comes may you shiver with cold as you would have left the brave
+little Wren to shiver this day. You shall ruffle your feathers as much
+as you like, but you will always feel cold at heart, because your heart
+is selfish."
+
+And indeed, since that day for all his feathers the Owl has never been
+able to keep warm enough in his lonely hollow tree.
+
+But the Wren became one of the happiest of all the birds, and a favorite
+both with his feathered brothers and with men, because of his brave
+deed, and because of the great fire-gift which he had brought from the
+sun.
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE BLUEBIRD CROSSED
+
+
+Of course every one knows that the Bluebird was made from a piece of the
+azure sky itself. One has only to match his wonderful color against the
+April heaven to be sure of that. Therefore the little Bluebird was
+especially dear to the Spirit of the sky, the Father in Heaven.
+
+One day this venturesome little bird started out upon a long journey
+across the wide Pacific Ocean toward this New World which neither
+Columbus nor any other man had yet discovered. Under him tossed the
+wide, wide sea, rolling for miles in every direction, with no land
+visible anywhere on which a little bird might rest his foot. For this
+was also before there were any islands in all that stretch of waters.
+Soon the poor little Bluebird became very weary and wished he had not
+ventured upon so long a flight. His wings began to droop and he sank
+lower and lower toward the sea which seemed eager to overwhelm his
+blueness with its own. He had come so far over the salty wastes that he
+was very thirsty; but with water, water everywhere there was not a drop
+to drink. The poor little bird glanced despairingly up toward the blue
+sky from which he had been made and cried,--
+
+"O Spirit of the blue sky, O my Father in Heaven, help your child the
+Bluebird! Give me, I pray you, a place to rest and refreshment for my
+thirsty throat, or I perish in the cruel blue waters!"
+
+At these sorrowful words the kind Father took pity upon his little
+Bluebird. And what do you think? He made a baby earthquake which heaved
+a rocky point of land up through the waves, just big enough for a little
+bird's perch. It was a tiny reef, and a crack in the rock held but a few
+drops of the rain which began to fall; but it meant at least a moment's
+safety and draught of life for the weary bird, and glad enough he was to
+reach it.
+
+He had not been there long, however, when a big wave almost washed him
+away. He was not yet safe. Still he lacked the rest and refreshment
+which he so sorely needed. For the raindrops were soon turned brackish
+by the waves which dashed upon the reef from all sides, and the Bluebird
+had to keep hopping up and down to avoid being drowned in the tossing
+spray. He was more tired than ever, and this continuous exercise made
+him even more thirsty. Once more he prayed to the Father for help. And
+once more the kind Spirit of the Sky heard him from the blueness.
+
+This time there was a terrible earthquake, until the sea boiled and
+rolled into huge waves as if churned by a mighty churn at the very
+bottom of things, and with a terrified scream the Bluebird flew high
+into the air.
+
+But when the noise and the rumbling died away and once more the sea lay
+calm and still, what do you think the Bluebird saw? The great ocean
+which had once stretched an unbroken sheet of blue as far as the eye
+could see was now dotted here and there by islands, big islands and
+little islands, groups and archipelagoes of them, just as on the map one
+sees them to-day peppering the Pacific Ocean. Samoa came up, and Tonga,
+and Tulima, and many others with names quite as bad, if not worse. From
+one island to another the Bluebird flew, finding rest and refreshment on
+each, until he reached the mainland in safety. And there the islands
+remain to this day for other travelers to visit, breaking their journey
+from west to east or from east to west. There are forests and cascades,
+springs of fresh and pleasant water, delicious fruits, wonderful birds
+and animals, and finally a race of strange, dark men. (But they came
+long, long after.)
+
+So the Bluebird crossed the Pacific, folk tell. Was it not wonderful how
+the kind Father came to scatter those many islands in the Pacific
+Ocean,--stepping-stones for a tiny little Bluebird so that he need not
+wet his feet in crossing that wide salty river?
+
+
+
+
+THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN
+
+
+Long, long ago in the days of wise King Solomon, the Crow and the
+Pheasant were the best of friends, and were always seen going about
+together, wing in wing. Now the Pheasant was the Peacock's own
+cousin,--a great honor, many thought, for the Peacock was the most
+gorgeous of all the birds. But it was not altogether pleasant for the
+Pheasant, because at that time he wore such plain and shabby old
+garments that his proud relative was ashamed of him, and did not like to
+be reminded that they were of the same family. When the Peacock went
+strutting about with his wonderful tail spread fan-wise, and with his
+vain little eyes peering to see who might be admiring his beauty, the
+Peacock's cousin and his friend the Crow, who was then a plain _white_
+bird, would slink aside and hide behind a tree, whence they would peep
+enviously until the Peacock had passed by. Then the Peacock's cousin
+would say,--
+
+"Oh, how beautiful, how grand, how noble he is! How came such a lordly
+bird to have for a cousin so homely a creature as I?"
+
+But the Crow would answer, trying to comfort his friend, "Yes, he is
+gorgeous. But listen, what a harsh and disagreeable voice he has! And
+see how vain he is. I would not be so vain had I so scandalous a tale in
+my family history."
+
+Then the Crow told the Peacock's cousin how his proud relative came to
+have so unmusical a voice.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Adam and Eve were living peacefully in their fair garden, while
+Satan was still seeking in vain a way to enter there, the Peacock was
+the most beautiful of all the companions who surrounded the happy pair.
+His plumage shone like pearl and emerald, and his voice was so melodious
+that he was selected to sing the Lord's praises every day in the streets
+of heaven. But he was then, as now, very, very vain; and Satan, prowling
+about outside the wall of Paradise, saw this.
+
+"Aha!" he said to himself, "here is the vainest creature in all the
+world. He is the one I must flatter in order to win entrance to the
+garden, where I am to work my mischief. Let me approach the Peacock."
+
+Satan stole softly to the gate and in a wheedling voice called to the
+Peacock,--
+
+"O most wonderful and beautiful bird! Are you one of the birds of
+Paradise?"
+
+"Yes, I am one of the dwellers in the happy garden," answered the
+Peacock, strutting. "But who are you who slink about so secretly, as if
+afraid of some one?"
+
+"I am one of the cherubim who are appointed to sing the Lord's praises,"
+answered the wicked Satan. "I have stopped for a moment to visit the
+Paradise which He has prepared for the blest, and I find as my first
+glimpse of its glories you, O most lovely bird! Will you conceal me
+under your rainbow wings and bring me within the walls?"
+
+"I dare not," answered the Peacock. "The Lord allows none to enter here.
+He will be angry and will punish me."
+
+"O charming bird!" went on Satan with his smooth tongue, "take me with
+you, and I will teach you three mysterious words which shall preserve
+you forever from sickness, age, and death."
+
+At this promise the Peacock was greatly tempted and began to hesitate in
+his refusals. And at last he said,--
+
+"I dare not myself let you in, O stranger, but if you keep your promise
+I will send the Serpent, who is wiser than I and who may more easily
+find some way to let you enter unobserved."
+
+So it was through the Peacock that Satan met the vile Serpent, whose
+shape he assumed in order to enter the garden and tempt Eve with the
+apple. And for the Peacock's share in the doings of that dreadful day
+the Lord took away his beautiful voice and sent him forth from the
+pleasant garden to chatter harshly in this workaday world, where his
+gorgeousness and his vanity are but a reminder to men of the shame which
+he brought upon their ancestors.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And therefore," said the Crow, concluding his gossip, "therefore, dear
+Pheasant, I see no reason why we should envy your cousin. We are very
+plain citizens of Birdland, but we are at least respectable. I like you
+much better, having nothing to make you vain, nothing of which to be
+ashamed."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So the Crow spoke, in the wisdom which he had learned from Solomon. But
+the Peacock's cousin refused to be comforted. The shabbiness of his coat
+preyed upon his mind, and he fancied that the other birds jeered at him
+because in such old clothes he dared to be the Peacock's cousin. It
+seemed to him that every day the Peacock himself grew more haughty and
+more patronizing.
+
+One day the Crow and the Peacock's cousin were sauntering through the
+Malay woods when they met the Peacock face to face. The Crow looked
+defiant and stood jauntily; but the Pheasant tried to shrink out of
+sight. The Peacock, however, had spied his poor relative, and was filled
+with cousinly resentment at his appearance.
+
+He stopped short. He stood upon one leg. He puffed and ruffled himself,
+spreading out his thousand-eyed tail so that its colors flashed
+wonderfully in the sunshine. He frilled his neck feathers and snapped
+his mean little eyes maliciously; then turning his back on the shabby
+couple said, as he stepped airily away,--
+
+"Ah, I have dropped some of my old feathers back there a little way. You
+can have them if you like, Pheasant. They will freshen you up a bit; you
+really are looking shockingly seedy. But for mercy's sake don't wear
+them in my presence! I can't bear to see any one parading in my cast-off
+elegance." Then the Peacock minced away.
+
+The Peacock's cousin stamped on the ground and flapped his wings with
+rage. If he had been a girl he would have burst into tears. "I cannot
+stand this," he cried. "To be treated as if I were a beggar! To be given
+old clothes to wear! Crow, Crow, if you were any kind of friend you
+would help me. But you stand staring there and see me insulted, without
+turning a feather! What is the use of all your wisdom that you learned
+from King Solomon if you cannot help a friend in need? I tell you, I
+must have some better garments, or I shall die of mortification."
+
+"Don't be excited," said the Crow soothingly. "I have been thinking the
+matter over, and I believe I can do something. Listen. Yesterday I found
+brushes and a box of colors in a room of the King's palace. They
+belonged to the Court Painter. Now they belong to me, for I have hidden
+them away in a hollow tree where no one else can find them. I thought
+they might be useful, and I think so still."
+
+"Well, well! What do you propose to do with paints and brushes?" cried
+the Peacock's cousin impatiently.
+
+"I propose to paint you, to varnish you, to gild you," patiently
+answered the Crow.
+
+"Oh, you dear Crow!" exclaimed the other, clapping his wings. "You will
+make me brilliant and beautiful! You will make me worthy of the
+Peacock, will you not? How clever of you to think of such a thing!"
+
+"Yes," replied the Crow; "I watched the Court Painter at work in the
+garden one day, and I know how it is done. I will make you as gorgeous
+as you wish. But you must return the compliment. If you are to be an
+ornament of fashion, so must I be; for are we not inseparable cronies?
+And when you become beautiful it would not do for you to be seen with
+such a dowdy as I am."
+
+"You dear creature!" said the Peacock's cousin affectionately; "of
+course we will share alike. I will paint you as soon as I see how you
+succeed with me. Ah, I know your skill in everything. You will be a fine
+artist, my friend! But come, let us get to work at once."
+
+So the flattered Crow led him to the hollow tree where he had concealed
+the brushes and the gilding and the India ink, and all the gorgeous
+changeable tints which an Eastern artist uses in his paintings. "Here we
+are," said the Crow. "Now let us see what we shall see, when Master Crow
+turns painter."
+
+The Crow set to work with a will, splashing on the colors generously,
+gold and green and bronze iridescence. He had the Peacock in mind, and
+though he did not exactly copy the plumage of that wonderful bird, he
+managed to suggest the cousinship of the Pheasant in the golden eyes of
+his long and beautiful tail. When he had finished, the Crow was
+delighted with his work.
+
+"Ah!" he cried. "Now bend over this fountain, my dear friend, and
+observe yourself. I think you do credit to my skill as an artist, eh?"
+
+The Peacock's cousin hurried down to the water-pool, all in a flutter of
+excitement. And when he saw his image he cried, "How beautiful, how
+truly beautiful, I am! Why, I am quite as handsome as Peacock himself.
+Surely, now he need not be ashamed to call me cousin. I shall move in
+the most fashionable circles. Heavens! Look at my lovely tail! Look at
+my burnished feathers! I must go immediately and show my new dress to
+Cousin Peacock. I should not be surprised if he became jealous of my
+gorgeousness." And off he started as fast as he could go.
+
+"Hold on!" cried the Crow. "Don't run away so quickly. You have
+forgotten something. Don't you remember that you promised to paint me
+beautiful like yourself?"
+
+"Oh, bother!" answered the ungrateful friend, tossing his head. "I have
+no time now for such business. I must hasten to my cousin, for this is a
+matter of family pride. Run along like a good creature; and by the way,
+you may as well gather the feathers which Peacock mentioned. I am sure
+they will make you look quite respectable. Besides, I will give you some
+of mine when I have worn them a little. Ta-ta!" And he stepped airily
+away.
+
+But the Crow strode after him, shaking his wings and crying, "Come back,
+come back and perform your part of the bargain, you selfish, ungrateful
+creature!" And he caught the Pheasant by one of his long tail-feathers.
+
+"Let go my train, impertinent wretch!" shrieked the Peacock's cousin,
+turning upon him fiercely. "I tell you I have no time to spend in such
+nonsense. I must be presenting myself in high society."
+
+"Villain!" croaked the Crow, and he rushed forward fiercely, intending
+to tear out the beautiful feathers which he had painted for his
+ungrateful friend. Thereupon the Pheasant exclaimed,--
+
+"You want to be painted, do you? Well, take _that_!" and, seizing the
+bottle of India ink which was in the Eastern artist's paint-box, he
+hurled it at the poor Crow, deluging with blackness his spotless
+feathers. Then laughing harshly, away he flew to his cousin the Peacock,
+who received him with proud affection, because they were now really
+birds of a feather. For the Peacock's cousin was become one of the most
+beautiful birds in the world.
+
+But the poor Crow was now a sombre, black bird, wearing the
+seedy-looking, inky coat which we know so well to-day. His heart was
+broken by his friend's faithlessness, and he became a sour cynic who can
+see no good in anything. He flies about crying "Caw! Caw!" in the most
+disagreeable, sarcastic tone, as if sneering at the mean action of that
+Malay bird, which he can never forget.
+
+
+
+
+THE MASQUERADING CROW
+
+
+The Crow became very sour and disagreeable after his friend the
+Peacock's cousin deserted him for more gorgeous company. Though he
+pretended not to care because the Pheasant was now a proud,
+beautifully-coated dandy, while he was the shabbiest of all the birds in
+his coat of rusty black, yet in truth he did care very much. He could
+not forget how the Peacock's cousin had dyed him this sombre hue, after
+promising to paint him bright and wonderful, like himself. He could not
+help thinking how fine he would have looked in similar plumage of a
+rainbow tint, or how becoming a long swallow-tail would be to his style
+of beauty. He wished that there was a tailor in Birdland to whom he
+could go for a new suit of clothes. But alas! There seemed no way but
+for him to remain ugly old Crow to the end of the chapter.
+
+The Crow went moping about most unhappily while this was preying on his
+mind, until he really became somewhat crazy upon the subject. The only
+thing about which he could think was clothes--clothes--clothes; and
+that is indeed a foolish matter to absorb one's mind. One word of the
+Peacock's cousin remained in his memory and refused to be forgotten. He
+had advised the Crow to gather up the feathers which had fallen from the
+Peacock's plumage and to make himself fine with them. First the Crow
+remembered these words sadly, because they showed the unkind heart of
+his old friend. Next he remembered them with scorn, because they showed
+vanity. Then he remembered them with interest because they gave him an
+idea. And that idea gradually grew bigger and bigger until it became a
+plan.
+
+The plan came to him completely one day while he was sitting moodily on
+a tree watching the Peacock and his cousin sweeping proudly over the
+velvet lawn of the King's garden. For nowadays the Pheasant moved in the
+most courtly circles, as he had promised himself. As they passed under
+the Crow two beautiful feathers fell behind them and lay on the grass
+shining in the sunlight with a hundred colors.
+
+"Once more the cast-off plumage of the Peacock family is left for me!"
+croaked the Crow to himself. "Am I only to be made beautiful by
+borrowing from others? Perhaps I might collect feathers enough from all
+the birds to conceal my inky coat. Aha! I have it." And this was the
+plan of the Crow. He would steal from every dweller in Birdland a
+feather, and see whether he could not make himself more beautiful than
+the Peacock's cousin himself.
+
+Now the Crow was a skilful thief. He could steal the silver off the
+King's table from under the steward's very nose. He could steal a maid's
+thimble from her finger as she nodded sleepily over her work. He could
+steal the pen from behind a scribe's ear, as he paused to scratch his
+head and think over the spelling of a word. So the Crow felt sure that
+he could steal their feathers from the birds without any trouble.
+
+When the Peacock and his cousin had passed by, the Crow swooped down and
+carried off the two feathers which were to begin his collection. He hid
+them in his treasure-house in the hollow tree, and started out for more.
+
+It was great fun for the Crow, and he almost forgot to be miserable. He
+followed old lady Ostrich about for some time before he dared tweak a
+handful of feathers from her tail. But finally he succeeded; and though
+she squawked horribly and turned, quick as a flash, she was not quick
+enough to catch the nimble thief, who was already hidden under a bush.
+In the same way he secured some lovely plumes from the Bird of
+Paradise, the Parrot, and the Cock. He robbed the Redbreast of his ruddy
+vest, the Hoopoe of his crown, and he secured a swallow-tail which he
+had long coveted. He took some rosy-redness from the Flamingo, the
+gilding of the Goldfinch, the gray down of an Eider-Duck. He burgled the
+Bluebird and the Redbird and the Yellowbird; and not one single
+feathered creature escaped his clever beak. At last his hole in the tree
+was brimming with feathers of every color, length, and degree of
+softness, a gorgeous feather-bed on which it would dazzle one to sleep.
+
+Then the Crow set to work to make himself a coat of many colors, like
+Joseph's. He was a very clever bird, and a wondrous coat it turned out
+to be. It had no particular cut nor style; it was not like the coat
+which any bird had ever before worn. The feathers were placed in any
+fashion that happened to please his original fancy. Some pointed up and
+some down; some were straight and some were curled; some drooped about
+his feet and others curved gracefully over his head; some trailed far
+behind. He was completely covered from top to toe, so that not one blot
+of his own inky feathers showed through the gorgeousness. A red vest he
+wore, and a swallow-tail, of course, and there was a crown of feathers
+on his head. Never was there seen a more extraordinary bird nor one more
+gaudy. Perhaps he was not in the best of taste, but at least he was
+striking.
+
+When all was finished the Crow went and looked at himself in the
+fountain mirror; and he was much pleased.
+
+"Well now!" he cried. "How am I for a bird? I believe no one will know
+me, and that is just as well; for now I am so fine that I shall myself
+refuse to know any one. Ho! This ought to give some ideas to that
+conceited Peacock family! I am a self-made man. I am an artist who knows
+how to adapt his materials. I am a genius. King Solomon himself will
+wonder at my glory. And as for the Eagle, King of the Birds, he will
+grow pale with envy. King of the Birds, indeed! It is now I who should
+rightfully be King. No other ever wore clothes so fine as mine. By right
+of them I ought to be King of the Birds. I _will_ be King of the Birds!"
+
+You see the poor old Crow was quite crazy with his one idea.
+
+Forth he stalked into Birdland to show his gorgeous plumage and to get
+himself elected King of the Birds. The first persons he met were the
+Peacock and his cousin,--he who was once the Crow's best friend. The
+Crow ruffled himself his prettiest when he saw them coming.
+
+"Good gracious! Who is that extraordinary fowl?" drawled the Peacock.
+"He must be some great noble from a far country."
+
+"How beautiful!" murmured his silly cousin. "How odd! How fascinating!
+How distinguished! I wish the Crow had painted me like that!" The Crow
+heard these words and swelled with pride, casting a scornful glance at
+his old friend as he swept by.
+
+Next he met a little Sparrow who was picking bugs from the grass. "Out
+of my way, Birdling!" cried the Crow haughtily. "I am the King."
+
+"The King!" gasped the Sparrow, nearly choking over a fat bug, he was so
+surprised. "I did not know that the King wore such a robe. How
+gorgeous--but how queer!"
+
+Next the Crow met Mr. Stork, standing gravely on one leg and thinking of
+the little baby which he was going to bring that night to the cottage by
+the lake. The Stork looked up in surprise as the wonderful stranger
+approached.
+
+"Bless me!" he exclaimed, "whom have we here? I thought I knew all
+Birdland, but I never before saw such a freak as this!"
+
+[Illustration: _"Bless me!" he exclaimed, "whom have we here?"_]
+
+"I am the King. I am to be the new King," announced the Crow. "Is
+there any bird more gorgeous than I?"
+
+"Truly, I hope not," said the Stork gravely. "Yet the Woodcock is a very
+foolish bird. One never knows what he will do next. If he should try to
+be fashionable"--
+
+But the Crow had passed on without listening to the Stork's sarcasm.
+
+As he went through Birdland he drew behind him a following of feathered
+citizens, chattering, screaming, tittering all together like the crowd
+after a circus procession. All the birds, big and little, plain and
+pretty, flocked to see this wonderful stranger who because of his fine
+clothes was coming to have himself named King. Some of them thought him
+truly beautiful, some thought him ridiculous; some envied him, some
+jeered. But they all stared; and the more they stared the more conceited
+became the Crow, the more sure that the kingdom was to be his.
+
+At last they came into the presence of the Eagle himself. That royal
+bird was perched upon his eyrie far up on the cliff. Below him gathered
+the dense flock of birds, waiting to see what would happen when the Crow
+demanded to be made King in the Eagle's place. The Eagle had been warned
+of the matter by the little Humming-Bird, and was looking very majestic
+and scornful. But the Swallow flew round and round in great circles,
+twittering excitedly, and in each circle sweeping nearer and nearer to
+the ground. The Swallow was angry because some one had stolen his
+beautiful swallow-tail.
+
+Presently the Crow swaggered forth, and cocking his impertinent eye
+towards the Eagle he croaked,--
+
+"Hello there, Old High-perch! Give me your crown and sceptre, for I am
+King of the Birds, not you. Look at my gorgeous clothes; look at your
+own dull plumage. Am I not kingly?--look at me."
+
+The King made no reply, merely gazing sternly at the Crow. But the
+Swallow took up the word.
+
+"Look at him, look at him indeed, O King!" he screamed. "There is
+something strange about his kingly plumage. That swallow-tail is mine, I
+know it!" And with a vicious tweak the Swallow pulled out the long
+forked feathers of which the Crow was especially proud. Oh, what a
+shriek of rage the mad old bird gave! At that moment the Hoopoe came up
+and said, "Ha! Methinks I too recognize my property. This is my crown,"
+and forthwith he snatched the plumes from the Crow's forehead, leaving
+it quite ugly and bare. Next the gentle Redbreast claimed his vest, and
+the Bluebird her azure feathers, and the Ostrich her train which she had
+sorely missed. Each of the birds in turn came up and with much
+chattering and scolding twitched away the property of which he or she
+had been robbed, until the Crow stood before them in his customary suit
+of solemn black, a bird ashamed and sore. For they had pecked him with
+their bills and beaten him with their wings and scratched him with their
+claws until even his own plain old coat was frayed and rent.
+
+"Oh ho, oh ho! It is only old Daddy Crow, after all!" screamed the birds
+in chorus. And then, because the Eagle burst out laughing, they saw that
+it was really funny. Since the King did not mind being robbed for a time
+of his title, surely they need not mourn over the few feathers which the
+thief had borrowed, especially since each now had his own. Chattering
+with glee they all flew home to their various nests, leaving the Crow
+alone with his shame and soreness.
+
+Just at this moment the Peacock and his cousin came hurrying up out of
+breath.
+
+"Oh, what is it? What is the matter? What was all that noise just now?"
+asked the Peacock.
+
+"Oh, what has become of the beautiful, noble, splendid, remarkable,
+graceful, gorgeous, stylish, long-tailed, kingly stranger?" questioned
+the Peacock's cousin, speaking affably to the Crow, for the first time
+since his adoption into high society.
+
+The Crow looked at him sideways, and all his madness went away as he saw
+how very, very silly this creature was.
+
+"He was a fool in fools' feathers," he croaked. "He is no more. But
+before the end he bade me return these to you, saying, 'Fine feathers do
+not make fine birds.'" Speaking thus, he presented to the pair their two
+long feathers with which he had started his collection and which were
+the only ones now remaining to the masquerading Crow.
+
+Then with a harsh _Caw_! he flew away to his tree. He is not a happy
+bird, but since that time he has never been so mad as to think that
+clothes are the chief thing in the world.
+
+
+
+
+KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS
+
+
+King Solomon was wiser than all men, and his fame was in all nations
+round about Jerusalem. He was so wise that he knew every spoken
+language; yes, but more than this, he could talk with everything that
+lived, trees and flowers, beasts and fowls, creeping things and fishes.
+What a very pleasant thing that was for Solomon, to be sure! And how
+glad one would be nowadays to have such knowledge!
+
+Solomon was especially fond of birds, and loved to talk with them
+because their voices were so sweet and they spoke such beautiful words.
+One day the wise King was chatting pleasantly with the birds who lived
+in his wonderful garden, and these are some of the things which he heard
+them say. The Nightingale, the sweetest singer of all, chanted,--
+
+"Contentment is the greatest happiness."
+
+"It would be better for most people never to have been born," crooned
+the melancholy Turtle-Dove.
+
+The happy little Swallow gave her opinion,--"Do good and you will be
+rewarded hereafter."
+
+The harsh cry of the Peacock meant, "As thou judgest so shalt thou be
+judged."
+
+The Hoopoe said, "He who has no pity for others will find none for
+himself."
+
+The cynical old Crow croaked disagreeably, "The further away from men I
+am, the better I am pleased."
+
+Last of all the Cock who sings in the morning chanted his joyous
+song,--"Think of your Creator, O foolish creatures!"
+
+When they had finished talking King Solomon softly stroked the head of
+the pretty little Dove and bade her cheer up, for life was not so
+dreadful a thing, after all. And he gave her permission to build her
+nest under the walls of the great Temple which he was building, the most
+beautiful, golden house in the whole world. Some years afterward the
+Doves had so increased in numbers that with their extended wings they
+formed a veil over the numberless pilgrims who came to Jerusalem to
+visit the wonderful Temple.
+
+But of all the winged singers who spoke that day in the garden, the wise
+King chose to have ever near him the Cock, because he had spoken words
+of piety, and the nimble Hoopoe, because he was able to plunge his
+clear gaze into the depths of the earth as if it were made of
+transparent glass and discover the places where springs of living water
+were hidden under the soil. It was very convenient for Solomon, when he
+was traveling, to have some one with him who was able to find water in
+whatsoever place he might be resting.
+
+Thus the Cock and the Hoopoe became Solomon's closest companions; but of
+the two the Hoopoe was his favorite. The Hoopoe is an Eastern bird and
+we do not see him in America. He is about as big as a Jay, colored a
+beautiful reddish gray, with feathers of purple, brown, and white, and
+his black wings are banded with white. But the peculiar thing about a
+Hoopoe is his crown of tawny feathers, a tall crown for so small a bird.
+And this is the story of the Hoopoe's crown.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One day when Solomon was journeying across the desert, he was sorely
+distressed by the heat of the sun, until he came near to fainting. Just
+then he spied a flock of his friends the Hoopoes flying past, and
+calling to them feebly he begged them to shelter him from the burning
+rays.
+
+The King of the Hoopoes gathered together his whole nation and caused
+them to fly in a thick cloud over the head of Solomon while he
+continued his journey. In gratitude the wise King offered to give his
+feathered friends whatever reward they might ask.
+
+For a whole day the Hoopoes talked the matter over among themselves,
+then their King came to Solomon and said to him,--
+
+"We have considered your offer, O generous King, and we have decided
+that what we most desire is to have, each of us, a golden crown on his
+head."
+
+King Solomon smiled and answered, "Crowns of gold shall you have. But
+you are foolish birds, my Hoopoes; and when the evil days shall come
+upon you and you see the folly of your desire, return here to me and I
+will help you yet again."
+
+So the King of the Hoopoes left King Solomon with a beautiful golden
+crown upon his head. And soon all the Hoopoes were wearing golden
+crowns. Thereupon they grew very proud and haughty. They went down by
+the lakes and pools and strutted there that they might admire themselves
+in the water mirrors. And the Queen of the Hoopoes became very airy, and
+refused to speak to her own cousin and to the other birds who had once
+been her friends.
+
+There was a certain fowler who used to set traps for birds. He put a
+piece of broken mirror into his trap, and a Hoopoe spying it went in to
+admire herself, and was caught. The fowler looked at the shining crown
+upon her head and said, "What have we here! I never saw a crown like
+this upon any bird. I must ask about this."
+
+So he took the crown to Issachar, the worker in metal, and asked him
+what it was. Issachar examined it carefully, and his eyes stuck out of
+his head. But he said carelessly, "It is a crown of brass, my friend. I
+will give you a quarter of a shekel for it; and if you find any more
+bring them to me. But be sure to tell no other man of the matter." (A
+shekel was about sixty-two cents.)
+
+After this the fowler caught many Hoopoes in the same way, and sold
+their crowns to Issachar. But one day as he was on his way to the
+metalworker's shop he met a jeweler, and to him he showed one of the
+Hoopoes' crowns.
+
+"What is this, and where did you find it?" exclaimed the jeweler. "It is
+pure gold. I will give you a golden talent for every four you bring me."
+(A talent was worth three hundred shekels.)
+
+Now when the value of the Hoopoes' crowns was known, every one turned
+fowler and began to hunt the precious birds. In all the land of Israel
+was heard the twang of bows and the whirling of slings. Bird lime was
+made in every town, and the price of traps rose in the market so that
+the trap-makers became rich men. Not a Hoopoe could show his unlucky
+head without being slain or taken captive, and the days of the Hoopoes
+were numbered. It seemed that soon there would be no more Hoopoes left
+to bewail their sad fate.
+
+At last the few who still lived gathered together and held a meeting to
+consider what should be done, for their minds were filled with sorrow
+and dismay. And they decided to appeal once more to King Solomon, who
+had granted their foolish prayer.
+
+Flying by stealth through the loneliest ways, the unhappy King of the
+Hoopoes came at last to the court of the King, and stood once more
+before the steps of his golden throne. With tears and groans he related
+the sad fortune which had befallen his golden-crowned race.
+
+King Solomon looked kindly upon the King of the Hoopoes and said,
+"Behold, did I not warn you of your folly in desiring to have crowns of
+gold? Vanity and pride have been your ruin. But now, that there may be a
+memorial of the service which once you did me, your crowns of gold shall
+be changed into crowns of feathers, and with them you may walk unharmed
+upon the earth."
+
+In this way the remaining Hoopoes were saved. For when the fowlers saw
+that they no longer wore crowns of gold upon their heads, they ceased to
+hunt them as they had been doing. And from that time forth the family of
+the Hoopoes have flourished and increased in peace, even to the present
+day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Solomon was ever seeking to grow even wiser. The better to know the
+wonders of God's world and the ways of all creatures, he undertook many
+journeys,--not as we ordinary poor mortals travel, in heavy wagons or
+clumsy boats, by dusty roads or stormy waves. It was in no such
+troublous ways that Solomon the all-powerful traversed space and reached
+the uttermost corners of the earth. Thanks to his great knowledge, he
+had discovered a means of locomotion compared to which the most
+magnificent railway coaches and the richest palanquins of Indian princes
+would seem poor indeed. He had caused his Genii to make a silken carpet
+of four leagues in extent. In the midst of this carpet was placed a
+magnificent throne for the royal traveler himself; and around it were
+seats of gold, of silver, of wood, for the multitude of persons of
+different rank whom he took with him. There was also no lack of the most
+gorgeous furniture and the necessary provisions for a king's traveling
+banquet.
+
+When all was ready Solomon was wont to seat himself upon his throne, and
+would command the winds to do their duty. Immediately they gently lifted
+the carpet and bore it rapidly through the air to the appointed spot.
+During the journey, above the aerial caravan fluttered a cloud of birds,
+who with their wings formed a splendid canopy to shield their beloved
+lord from the sun's heat, as the Hoopoes had first done.
+
+One day, while on such a journey, Solomon was shocked to feel a ray of
+sunlight piercing through this plumy dais which overhung his head.
+Shading his eyes, the King glanced up and perceived that there was an
+opening in the canopy. One bird was missing from its post. In great
+displeasure Solomon demanded of the Eagle the name of the truant.
+Anxiously the Eagle called the roll of all the birds in his company; and
+he was horrified to find that it was Solomon's favorite, the Hoopoe, who
+was missing. With terror he announced the bird's desertion to the most
+wise King.
+
+"Soar aloft," commanded Solomon sternly, "and find the Hoopoe that I may
+punish him. I will pluck off his feathers that he may feel the
+scorching heat of the sun as his carelessness has caused me to do."
+
+The Eagle soared heavenward, until the earth beneath him looked like a
+bowl turned upside down. Then he poised on level wings and looked around
+in every direction to discover the truant. Soon he espied the Hoopoe
+flying swiftly from the south. The Eagle swooped down and would have
+seized the culprit roughly in his strong talons, but the Hoopoe begged
+him for Solomon's sake to be gentle.
+
+"For Solomon's sake!" cried the Eagle. "Do you dare to name the King
+whom you have injured? He has discovered your absence and in his
+righteous anger will punish you severely."
+
+"Lead me to him," replied the Hoopoe. "I know that he will forgive me
+when he hears where I have been and what I have to tell him."
+
+The Eagle led him to the King, who with a wrathful face was sitting on
+his throne. The Hoopoe trembled and drooped his feathers humbly, but
+when Solomon would have crushed him in his mighty fist the bird cried,--
+
+"Remember, King, that one day you also must give an account of your
+sins. Let me not therefore be condemned unheard."
+
+"And if I hear you, what excuse can you have to offer?" answered
+Solomon, frowning. But this was his favorite bird and he hoped that
+there might be some reason for sparing him.
+
+"Well," said the Hoopoe, "at Mecca I met a Hoopoe of my acquaintance who
+told me so wonderful a tale of the marvelous Kingdom of Sheba in Arabia
+that I could not resist the temptation to visit that country of gold and
+precious stones. And there, indeed, I saw the most prodigious treasures;
+but best of all, O King, more glorious than gold, more precious than
+rare jewels, I saw Queen Balkis, the most beautiful of queens."
+
+"Tell me of this Queen," said Solomon, loosening his rough grasp upon
+the Hoopoe. So it was, say the Mussulmans, that a bird told Solomon of
+the great Queen whose journey to Jerusalem is described in the Bible.
+
+The Hoopoe told of her power and glory, her riches, her wisdom, and her
+beauty, until Solomon sighed a great sigh and said, "It seems too good
+to be true! But we shall see."
+
+So the King wrote a letter to Balkis, bidding her follow the guidance of
+fate and come to the court of the wise King. This note he sealed with
+musk, stamped with his great signet, and gave to the Hoopoe, saying,--
+
+"If now you have spoken truth, take this letter to Queen Balkis; then
+come away."
+
+The Hoopoe did as he was bid, darting off towards the south like an
+arrow. And the next day he came to the palace of the Queen of Sheba,
+where she sat in all her splendor among her counselors. He hopped into
+the hall and dropped the letter into her lap, then flew away.
+
+Queen Balkis stared and stared at the great King's seal upon the
+mysterious letter, and when she had read the brief invitation she stared
+and stared again. But she had heard the fame of Solomon and was eager to
+ask him some of her clever questions to prove his wisdom. So she decided
+to accept his invitation and come to Jerusalem.
+
+She came with a great train of attendants, with camels that bore spices
+and treasures of gold and precious stones, gifts for the most wise King.
+And she asked him more questions than any woman had ever asked him
+before, though he knew a great many ladies, and they were all
+inquisitive.
+
+But Solomon was so wise that he answered all her questions without any
+trouble.
+
+And she said to him, "It was a true report that I heard of you in my own
+land, of your wisdom and of your glory. Only that which now I know and
+see is greater than what I heard. Happy are thy men and happy are thy
+servants who stand continually before thee and hear thy wisdom."
+
+And she gave the King a hundred and twenty talents of gold, which was a
+very rich treasure, besides great store of spices, and the most precious
+gifts; no one had ever seen such gifts as the Queen of Sheba gave to
+Solomon.
+
+But he in turn was even more generous. For he gave to the fair Balkis
+all that she desired and everything she asked, because he admired so
+much this splendid Queen of whom the Hoopoe had first told him.
+
+And so, the Bible says, the Queen of Sheba turned and went to her own
+country, she and her servants. But the Mussulmans' tales say that in
+later days she married Solomon and they lived happily ever after. And it
+was all the work of that little Hoopoe with a yellow crown, whom after
+that we may be sure Solomon loved better than ever.
+
+
+
+
+THE PIOUS ROBIN
+
+
+    "Art thou the bird whom man loves best,
+    The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
+         Our little English Robin?"
+                                      WORDSWORTH.
+
+The English Robin is not precisely like our little American friend whom
+we call by that name, although, as the lines of poetry quoted above will
+show, in two ways he is the same as ours: he has a red breast, and he is
+the bird whom every one loves. Of all the little brothers of the air, in
+every land and clime, the pretty, jolly, neighborly Robin Redbreast is
+the favorite.
+
+There are many stories about him: some which tell how he came by his
+scarlet breast, others which explain why he has always been best beloved
+of the birds. I have already told how he helped the Wren to bring fire
+to men. Every one knows how tenderly he covered with leaves the poor
+Babes in the Wood, when they had been deserted even by their nearest of
+kin. Some have heard about Saint Kentigern, and how he restored to life
+the pious Robin of his master Servan,--the dear little bird who used to
+sing psalms every morning in the Saint's company. Some also know about
+the Robin who brought the wheat-ear in his bill to the poor brothers in
+Brittany who had no grain to plant for their future harvest. All these
+tales show the Robin's generous heart, cheerful nature, and pious
+devotion, which make him beloved by men. But perhaps you do not know why
+he is called God's own bird.
+
+    "The Robin and the Wren
+    Are God's cock and hen,"
+
+sing the little English children, and they think it is very wicked to
+injure one of the holy birds or make her unhappy by robbing her nest of
+its pretty eggs.
+
+This is why the Robin is called the good bird, God's bird. The oldest
+stories say that the little Christ-child used to feed most tenderly the
+Robins who hopped about the door of His mother's house, for they were
+dearest of all to His baby heart. Perhaps He thus early learned to love
+them because His mother had told Him of the service which the dear
+little birds had once performed for her.
+
+For it is said that once upon a time, when Mary was a little girl, as
+she was going along the gusty road a bit of straw blew into her eye and
+pained her terribly. She sat down upon a stone and began to cry. Now a
+Robin was sitting on a branch close by, singing with all the power of
+his little throat when the maiden passed, for she was very sweet to see
+and the Robin loved her looks. But when he saw the blessed Mary begin to
+cry and rub her eye with her chubby hand, he stopped his gay song and
+became very sad, wondering what he could do to help her.
+
+What he did was to fly away and tell his friend the Swallow all about
+it, asking her aid. After that he fluttered to a little fountain which
+bubbled up close by and brought thence in his bill a drop of water.
+Then, perching on Mary's forehead, he gently dropped this into the
+suffering eye. At the same time the Swallow softly brushed her long
+tail-feathers under the maiden's eyelid, and the hateful straw was wiped
+away. Thus the little Mary was relieved, and when once more she could
+look up happily with her pretty eyes she smiled upon the two kind birds
+and blessed them for their aid.
+
+Of course, if the little Christ heard His mother tell this pretty story
+He would have been sure to love the Robin, just as she did. And so these
+little birds became His boyhood friends.
+
+Those were happy times. But in the after years, in the dreadful day
+when the Saviour was so cruelly done to death by His enemies, the little
+Robin once more proved his generous and pious heart, so the legends say.
+
+The Saviour hung upon the cross, suffering and sad, while the world was
+veiled with darkness and all good creatures mourned. Two birds perched
+upon the cross beside His weary, drooping head. One was the faithful
+Robin, who was then a plain and dark-colored bird with the scorched
+feathers of a fire-bringer upon his breast. The other was the Magpie,
+who at that time was among the most gorgeous and beautiful of all the
+birds. She had a tuft of bright feathers on her head, and her plumage
+outshone even that of the Peacock, who has the hundred gleaming eyes of
+Argus set in his fan-like tail. But the Magpie, in spite of her beauty,
+was at heart a wicked bird. Think of it! She mocked the dying Saviour in
+His agony and seemed to rejoice in His suffering!
+
+But the Robin fluttered about the holy figure, timidly uttering chirps
+of sorrow and longing to help the Master who had fed him tenderly for so
+many years. With his soft wings he wiped away the tears which flowed
+from the Lord's eyes, while with his beak he tugged at the cruel thorns
+which pierced His brow, trying to relieve Him.
+
+Suddenly a drop of blood fell from Christ's forehead upon the Robin's
+breast and tinged with bright crimson the rusty reddish feathers.
+
+"Blessed be thou," said the Lord, "thou sharer of my suffering. Wherever
+thou goest happiness and joy shall follow thee. Blue as the heaven shall
+be thy eggs, and from henceforth thou shalt be the Bird of God, the
+bearer of good tidings. But thou," He added, addressing the Magpie
+sorrowfully, "thou art accursed. No longer shall the brilliant tuft and
+bright feathers of which thou art so proud and so unworthy adorn thee.
+Thy color shall be the streaked black and white of shadows, thy life a
+hard one. And thy nest, however well builded, shall be open to the
+storm."
+
+These were almost the last words which the Saviour spoke. After that,
+when the Lord was laid in the sepulchre, the faithful Robin still
+watched beside Him for those three dread days until He rose on Easter
+morning, when the little bird rejoiced with all nature at the wondrous
+happening. And again on Ascension Day he paid his last tribute to the
+risen Master, joining his little song with the chorus of the angels
+themselves in the gladdest Hosanna which the universe had ever heard.
+
+This explains how the Magpie became a restless, noisy, black-and-white
+bird as we know her to this day, having lost all her brilliant beauty
+through the wickedness of her heart. But the pious Robin still wears
+upon his breast the beautiful feathers stained red with his Master's
+blood. And all that the Saviour foretold of him has come true. He is the
+blessed bird whom children everywhere love and of whom they still repeat
+these old verses:--
+
+    "The Robin and the Redbreast,
+       The Robin and the Wren,
+    If ye take out of the nest
+       Ye'll never thrive again.
+    The Robin and the Redbreast,
+       The Martin and the Swallow,
+    If ye touch one of their eggs
+       Bad luck is sure to follow."
+
+
+
+
+THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN
+
+
+The name of Robin makes us think at once of the jolliest and most
+sociable of all our little brother birds. In every land the name is a
+favorite, and wherever he goes he brings happiness and kind feeling.
+
+The American Robin is not the same bird as his English cousin, though
+both have red breasts.
+
+It was in a different manner that our little American friend came to
+have the ruddy waistcoat which we know so well.
+
+There was a time, so the Indians say, a very early time, long, long
+before Columbus discovered America,--even before histories began to be
+written,--when there were no Robins.
+
+In those days in the land of the Ojibways, which is far in the north of
+the cold country, there lived an old Indian chief who had one son, named
+Iadilla. Now among the Ojibways, when a boy was almost big enough to
+become a warrior, before he could go out with the other braves to the
+hunt or to war, there was a great trial which he must undergo. Other
+lands and peoples have known similar customs. You remember how, in
+early Christian times, long, long ago, Galahad and other boys had to
+fast and watch by their armor during the long night hours before they
+could become knights, to wear spurs and shield and sword? In just the
+same way a brown Ojibway lad had to make a long fast in order to win the
+love of his Guardian Spirit, who would after that watch over him to make
+him brave and strong. It was a very important event in a boy's life,
+like graduation from school or college nowadays. For this meant the
+graduation from boyhood into manhood, the winning of a warrior's
+diploma.
+
+The father of Iadilla was a brave warrior, a famous chief. But he wished
+his son to become even better, wiser, greater than he had been. He
+resolved that the boy should fast longer and harder than ever a lad had
+fasted before. For he believed that this was the way to make him the
+noblest of his race. Iadilla was a fine handsome lad, but he was the
+youngest one who had ever made the trial, and there were many bigger
+boys than he who were not yet warriors. The other chiefs said that he
+was not yet old and strong enough.
+
+But Iadilla's father declared that it was time, and bade his son gather
+courage and pride for the ordeal. "For," he said, "it will be no easy
+matter, my son, to become the greatest chief of the Ojibways."
+
+"My father," replied Iadilla, humbly, "I will do as you wish. I will do
+what I can. But my strength is not the strength of the bigger boys; and
+I think it is yet early to talk of my becoming greatest of the Ojibways.
+Yet make trial of me, if you wish."
+
+The father of Iadilla had made a little tent of skins where the boy was
+to live during his fasting time; where he was to lie without food or
+drink for twelve long days, waiting for a message from the Guardian
+Spirit whose love was to be the reward of such a trial.
+
+When the time came, the old man led Iadilla to the lodge and bade him
+lie down on the bed of skins which had been prepared for him. And
+Iadilla did as he was bid, for he was a brave and obedient lad.
+
+The days crept by, the long, long days of waiting, while Iadilla lay in
+the lodge bearing hunger and thirst such as no Ojibway lad had ever
+before known. All day and all night he lay still and spoke never a word.
+But a dreadful fear was in his heart lest he should not be able to
+endure the fast for the twelve days which his father had set.
+
+Every morning his father came to the lodge to praise and to encourage
+him, and to rejoice in one more day checked from the long time of
+fasting. So eight days passed, and the old man was proud and happy.
+Already his dear son had done more than any Ojibway lad, and the whole
+tribe was praising Iadilla, saying what a great chief he would be in the
+days to come.
+
+But on the ninth morning, when the father peeped into the lodge to see
+how bravely his son was faring, the boy turned his head toward the door
+and spoke for the first time in all those long days. He was very thin
+and pale, and his voice sounded weak.
+
+"My father," he said, "I have slept, and my dreams were sad. I have
+slept, and my dreams were of failure and weakness. The time does not
+please my Guardian Spirit. It is not now that I can become a warrior. I
+am not yet strong and old enough. O my father, I cannot bear the fast
+longer! I am so hungry, so thirsty, so faint! Let me break my fast, and
+try again in another year."
+
+But the father sternly refused, for he was ambitious. "Nay, lad," he
+cried, frowningly. "Would you fail me now? Think of the glory, think of
+being the greatest of Ojibways. It is but a few short days now. Courage,
+Iadilla, be a man in strength and patience."
+
+Iadilla said no more. He wrapped himself closer in his blanket and drew
+his belt tighter about his slender waist, trying to stifle the hunger
+gnawing there. So he lay silently until the eleventh day. That morning
+his father came to the lodge, beaming proudly.
+
+"Bravo, my Iadilla!" he cried. "Only one day more, and you will be
+released from your fast." But Iadilla clasped his hands beseechingly.
+
+"My father," gasped the poor boy. "I cannot bear it another day. I am
+not fit to be a great chief. I have failed. Give me food, or I die!"
+
+But again the father refused. "It is but a day now," he said, "but a few
+short hours. Bear a little longer, Iadilla. To-morrow I myself will
+bring you the finest breakfast that ever a lad ate. Courage, boy, for
+the few hours that remain."
+
+Iadilla was too weak to answer. He lay motionless, with only a gentle
+heaving of his breast to show that he still lived. His father left him
+for the last time, and went to prepare the morrow's goodly breakfast,
+while the tribe planned a fine festival in honor of the young hero.
+
+Early on the morrow came Iadilla's father to the tent, proudly bearing
+the breakfast for his brave boy, and smiling to think how gladly he
+would be received. But he stopped outside the tent door surprised to
+hear some one talking within. Stooping to a little hole in the skin of
+the tent he peeped in to find who the speaker might be. Imagine his
+surprise to find Iadilla standing upright in the middle of the tent
+painting his breast a brilliant red, as Indians do in war time. And as
+he daubed on the colors he talked to himself. He spoke softly, yet not
+with the weak voice of a starving lad; and his face was very beautiful
+to see, despite its pale thinness.
+
+"My father has ended my Indian life," he said. "My father, too
+ambitious, has put upon me more than my strength could bear. He would
+not listen to my prayer of weakness. But I knew, I knew! And my kind
+Guardian Spirit knew also that it was more than I could bear. He has
+shown pity, seeing that I was obedient to my father and did my best to
+please him. Now I am to be no longer an Indian boy. I must take the
+shape which the Spirit has given me, and go away."
+
+At these strange words the father broke into the tent, exclaiming in
+terror,--
+
+"My son, my dear son! Do not leave me!"
+
+But, even as he spoke, Iadilla changed into a beautiful Robin Redbreast
+with soft feathers and strong, firm wings. And, fluttering up to the
+ridgepole of the tent, he looked down with pity and tenderness upon the
+heart-broken chief.
+
+"Do not grieve, father," he sang. "I shall be so much happier as a bird,
+free from human pain and sorrow. I will cheer you with my merry songs.
+Oh, I have been hungry; but now I shall get my food so easily, so
+pleasantly on mountains and in the fields. Oh, once I was thirsty; but
+now the dew is mine and the little springs. Once I traced my way
+painfully by forest paths through bog and brake and tangled brier. But
+now my pathways are in the bright, clear air, where never thorn can tear
+nor beast can follow. Farewell, dear father! I am so happy!"
+
+He stretched his brown wings as easily as if he had worn them all his
+life, and, singing a sweet song, fluttered away to the neighboring
+woods, where he built his nest, and lived happily ever after.
+
+And since that day the glad little Robins have lived as that first one
+promised, close by the homes of men, and have done all they could to
+cheer us and make us happy. For they remember how, once upon a time,
+their ancestor was a human boy.
+
+
+
+
+THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN
+
+
+There was once a woman who was so very inquisitive that she wished to
+know everything. She was never happy unless she was poking her nose into
+some mystery, and the less a matter concerned her the more curious she
+was about it.
+
+One day the Lord gathered together all the insects in the world, all the
+beetles, bugs, bees, mosquitoes, ants, locusts, grasshoppers, and other
+creatures who fly or hop or crawl, and shut them up in a huge sack well
+tied at the end. What a queer, squirming, muffled-buzzing bundle it
+made, to be sure!
+
+Then the Lord called the woman to him and said, "Woman, I would have you
+take this sack and throw it into the sea. But be sure and do not untie
+the end of it to look inside; for the sack must on no account be opened,
+even for a single minute."
+
+The woman took the sack, wondering very much at the queer size and shape
+and feeling of it, and especially at the strange noises which came from
+the inside.
+
+"What can be in the sack?" she said to herself. "Oh, I wish I knew! Oh,
+_how_ I wish I knew! Oh, how very, _very_ much I wish I knew!" Her
+curiosity increased every minute as she went step by step towards the
+sea, until when she had gone scarcely a hundred paces she stopped short
+and said, "I must know what is inside this sack before I go any farther.
+I will take just one tiny little peep, and He will never know it."
+
+Very carefully she untied the neck of the sack. Buzz! Whirr! Hum! Zim!
+She had opened it but a tiny little crack when out crawled and hopped
+and flew the millions and swarms and colonies of all kinds of insects,
+and away they scattered in every direction. Such a noise as filled the
+air about the astonished woman's head! Such a wriggling and squirming
+and hopping in the grass about her feet!
+
+"Oh, now I know what was in the sack!" she cried. "But I wish I had not
+looked. Oh, whatever shall I do? He told me to throw the bag into the
+ocean without looking in. But now the horrid creatures have escaped
+everywhere and He will know what I have done. Oh, what will He do to
+punish me?"
+
+She began to run hither and yon like a crazy woman, picking up the bugs
+and jumping for the fluttering insects, trying to put them back into the
+bag. They stung her and bit her and got into her eyes until she screamed
+with pain. As fast as she caught one another escaped, and she soon saw
+that it was a hopeless task. She could never catch the millions of
+creatures who had scattered away to their homes in every corner of the
+world.
+
+Then the Lord came to her and said very sternly, "O Woman, you have
+disobeyed me, just as did the very first woman of all. And you must be
+punished both for your disobedience and for your inquisitiveness which
+has led you into the worse sin. Not until you have gathered up every one
+of these insects which you have permitted to escape back into the world
+shall you be happy. But I will give you wings to help you in the task.
+You shall become a Woodpecker, and it shall be your task to hunt, hunt
+for the insects which hide away so slyly at your approach. Not till the
+last one of these is gobbled up from the earth shall you return to your
+own shape and be a woman once more."
+
+Then the Lord changed the inquisitive woman into a restless Woodpecker,
+and with a "tut-tut!" she darted away in pursuit of the insects which
+had brought her into such trouble.
+
+And that is why to this day one sees the Woodpecker pecking so
+frantically on the tree trunks, anxious lest a single insect should
+escape. For she is very tired of being a bird, and is longing to become
+a woman once more. But it will be a very long time, I fear, before she
+gathers up all the wriggling, squirming, hopping, buzzing, stinging,
+biting things that make life in the country so varied, exciting, and
+musical.
+
+
+
+
+WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES
+
+
+When the other birds are sound asleep in their nests, with their little
+heads tucked comfortably under their feathers, Sister Nightingale, they
+say, may not rest, but still sounds the notes of her beautiful song in
+grove and thicket.
+
+Why does she sing thus, all night long as well as through the day? It is
+because she dares not go to sleep on account of the Blindworm, who is
+waiting to catch her with her eyes closed.
+
+Once upon a time, when the world was very new, the Blindworm was not
+quite blind, but had one good eye. Moreover, in those days the
+Nightingale also had but one eye. As for the Blindworm, it mattered very
+little; for he was a homely creature, content to crawl about in the dark
+underground, or under wood and leaves, where nobody saw him and nobody
+cared. But the Nightingale's case was really quite too pitiful! Fancy
+the sweetest singer among all the birds, the favorite chorister, going
+about with but one eye, while every one else, even the tiniest little
+Humming Bird of all, had two.
+
+The Nightingale felt very sore about this matter, and tried to conceal
+her misfortune from the other birds. She managed to cock her head the
+other way whenever she met a friend, and she always flew past any
+stranger so fast that he never saw the empty socket where her other
+pretty eye should be.
+
+But one day there was great excitement among the birds. Miss Jenny Wren
+was going to be married to young Cock Robin. There was to be a grand
+wedding; every one was invited, and of course the Nightingale was needed
+to lead the bridal chorus of feathered songsters. But the poor
+Nightingale was set in a flutter of anxiety by the news.
+
+"Oh, dear me!" she said, "I do want to go to Jenny's wedding, oh, of
+course I do! But how can I go? If I do, the other birds will discover
+that I have but one eye, and then how the disagreeable creatures will
+laugh at me. Oh dear, oh dear! What shall I do? I cannot go, no, I
+really cannot. But what excuse can I give? Oh, it is not right that the
+sweetest singer in all Birdland should be laughed at, merely because she
+has the misfortune to lack one poor little eye!"
+
+The Nightingale sat on the branch, singing so mournfully that all the
+creatures on the ground below went sorrowfully about their daily
+business. Just then the Nightingale spied a silvery gleam among the dead
+leaves. It was the Blindworm, a spotted gray streak, writhing
+noiselessly along towards the decayed wood of a fallen tree, in which he
+loved to burrow. And the Blindworm was not sad like the others, neither
+seemed he to care in the least about the Nightingale's music. Worms
+think little of sweet sounds. He cocked his one eye up towards the
+Nightingale and winked maliciously. He alone of all creatures knew the
+Nightingale's secret.
+
+"Good-day, Sister Nightingale," he said. "How is your eye this morning?
+We have a goodly pair between us; though I think that mine is rather the
+better of the two."
+
+Then he disappeared into a tiny opening. For though the Blindworm is
+nearly a foot long he is so smooth and slippery that he can enter a hole
+which is almost smaller than himself.
+
+The Nightingale was very indignant at being addressed in this familiar
+way by a miserable, crawling creature who not only could not fly, but
+who could not sing a note, and did not know _do_ from _fa_.
+Besides, it made her angry to think that he knew her secret and talked
+aloud about it so that any one might hear.
+
+"The idea!" she cried. "It is bad enough that I cannot go to the wedding
+of my dear friend Jenny. But to be jeered at by this creature, it is
+more than I can bear. Ha! I have an idea. I will punish him and help
+myself at the same time. I will steal his one eye and wear it to Jenny
+Wren's wedding; then no one will ever discover my misfortune."
+
+Now this was an excellent scheme, but it was not so easy to carry it out
+as the Nightingale had thought. For the Blindworm was very timid and
+kept himself carefully hidden in his burrow of soft soil, as if he half
+suspected the Nightingale's plans. Day after day the Nightingale kept
+eager watch upon his movements, and at last, on the very eve of the
+wedding, when she had almost given up hope, she spied the Blindworm
+sound asleep on the moss under a tall tree.
+
+"Ha!" said the Nightingale to herself very softly. "Now is my chance!"
+She fluttered into the top of the oak tree, and from there hopped down
+from branch to branch, from twig to twig, until she was directly over
+the sleeper's ugly head, over the one closed eye. Then _whirr_! Down
+she pounced upon the Blindworm. And before the creature had a chance to
+know what was happening, the Nightingale had stolen his eye, and had
+popped it into place in the empty socket on the other side of her beak.
+
+"Ha, ha!" she sang merrily. "Now I have two bright eyes, as good as any
+one's. Now I can go to Jenny Wren's wedding as gayly as I please, and no
+one shall see more of the ceremony than I. I shall be able to tell just
+exactly how the bride is dressed, how every little feather is arranged,
+and how she looks after Parson Crow has pronounced the blessing. Oh, how
+happy I am!"
+
+But the poor Blindworm, blind indeed from that day forth, began to cry
+and lament, begging the Nightingale to give him back his eye.
+
+"Nay," said the Nightingale, "did you not laugh at me when you saw me
+sadly sitting on the tree, mourning because I could not go to the
+wedding? Now I have stolen your eye, and I can see famously. But you
+will never again see me sitting sadly on the tree."
+
+Then the Blindworm grew very angry. "I will get the eye back!" he cried.
+"I will steal it from you, as you stole it from me, some time when you
+are asleep. I will climb up into your nest some night, and I will take
+both your eyes of which you are so proud. Then you will be blind,
+wholly blind as I am now."
+
+At these threatening words the Nightingale ceased to sing and became
+silent with fear. For she knew that the Blindworm would do as he said.
+But again a brilliant thought came to her.
+
+"Nay!" she trilled gladly. "That you shall never do. I will never sleep
+again. I will keep awake always, night and day, with my two bright eyes
+ever looking out for danger. Yes, yes, yes! No one shall ever catch me
+napping."
+
+"You cannot help yourself," said the Blindworm. "You cannot keep awake.
+You will drowse in spite of everything. I shall yet find you asleep some
+night, and then beware!"
+
+"Nay, nay!" warbled the Nightingale, as she flew away to make herself
+fine for the wedding. "I shall sing, sing, sing night and day henceforth
+to keep myself awake. And thus I need not fear. Farewell-well-well!"
+
+And so the Nightingale went to the wedding and sang more sweetly in the
+bridal chorus than she had ever sung before. And after that, although
+she was weary, oh, so weary! she sang all night long, and all the next
+night and the next. And so she has continued to sing ever since in the
+lands which are blessed by her presence. For she dares not go to sleep
+even for a single moment, knowing that the Blindworm is ever ready to
+pounce upon her and take away the eyes which she is now enjoying.
+
+
+
+
+MRS. PARTRIDGE'S BABIES
+
+
+Long, long ago, when the world was very young indeed, the Birds and
+Animals used to send their children to school, to Mother Magpie's
+kindergarten. All the morning long the babies learned their lessons
+which it was needful for them to know. And when the noon hour came their
+various mammas came to the school bringing lunches for the children. You
+can imagine how gladly they were received by the hungry little scholars.
+
+One day Mrs. Partridge was very busy with her house-cleaning, and when
+the noontime came she could not leave her work to go to the school with
+her babies' lunch.
+
+"Dear me," she said, looking out of the nest, "here it is noon and the
+little Partridges will be so very hungry. But I really cannot leave home
+now. What shall I do? If only some other mamma were going that way."
+
+She craned her neck and looked eagerly in every direction. And finally
+she spied Madame Tortoise plodding along towards the school, with the
+lunch for her little Turtlets.
+
+"Oho, neighbor, oho! Stop a minute!" cried Mrs. Partridge, waving a wing
+at Tortoise. "Are you going schoolward, as I think? Oh, dear Madame
+Tortoise, if you knew how busy I am to-day. I don't think any one was
+ever so busy as I am with my house-cleaning. Will you do me a favor,
+please?"
+
+The Tortoise sniffed. "Well, I am a busy woman myself," she said, "but I
+am willing to oblige a neighbor. What is it you wish, ma'am?"
+
+"Oh, thank you so much!" cried the Partridge. "Dear Madame Tortoise, I
+shall never forget your kindness. Now, will you take this bunch of nice
+wiggly worms to my little ones for their lunch? I shall be so very
+grateful."
+
+"Don't mention it," snapped the Tortoise, who was rather tired of
+hearing Mrs. Partridge's shrill thanks. "I'm perfectly willing to take
+the lunch, since I am going to the same place. But I don't know your
+babies. What do they look like, ma'am?"
+
+"Oh, that is easily told," cried Mrs. Partridge. "They are the most
+beautiful little creatures in the school. They are said greatly to
+resemble me. You will have no trouble in recognizing them. When you
+come to the school just look around at all the children, and pick out
+the three most beautiful of all. Those are certain to be mine. Give them
+the wiggly worms, please, with my love. And oh, _thank_ you, Madame
+Tortoise, so very much! Some time I will do as much for you. So
+neighborly! Thank you!"
+
+[Illustration: _Here are some nice fat wiggly worms!_]
+
+"Don't mention it!" snapped the Tortoise again, very much bored by all
+this chatter. She sniffed as she moved slowly along towards the school,
+with the second lunch carried carefully on her broad shell-back. "They
+are nice fat worms," she said.
+
+Now when the Tortoise came to the school it was high noon, and all the
+children were waiting open-mouthed for their mammas and the lunches
+which they expected. Such rows and rows of wide hungry mouths! Madame
+Tortoise moved slowly up and down and round and round, eyeing the
+various children who begged for the nice wiggly worms. "H'm!" she said
+to herself, "hungry children seem to look considerably alike, and none
+of them are so wondrously beautiful when their mouths are wide open
+greedily. I wonder which are Mrs. Partridge's children. She told me to
+give this lunch to the handsomest babies here. Well, I will, and if I
+make a mistake it will not be my fault. Hello! Here are my dear little
+Turtlets! Bless the babies, how pretty they are! Why, I declare, I never
+realized that they were so handsome. Certainly, they are the
+best-looking children in the school. Then I must give them Mrs.
+Partridge's luncheon, for so I promised. Yes, my little ones, here is
+your lunch which I brought for you. And when you have finished that,
+here is another, some nice, fat, wiggly worms which mother collected on
+the way,--a prize for the handsomest children in the school."
+
+So the little Turtlets fared wonderfully well that day; but the poor
+little Partridges went hungry, and had dreadful headaches, and went home
+peeping sadly to their silly mother. And Mrs. Partridge had no more
+sense than to be angry with Madame Tortoise, which I think was very
+unfair, don't you? For the latter had only done as she was bidden by her
+silly and conceited neighbor.
+
+But after that the Tortoise and the Partridge never spoke to each other,
+and their children would not play together at school.
+
+
+
+
+THE EARLY GIRL
+
+
+There were once two girls who were very dear friends, Zaïca and
+Tourtourelle. One morning Zaïca woke up and said, "O Tourtourelle! Last
+night I had such a strange dream!"
+
+"And so did I!" cried Tourtourelle. "Let us tell each other the dreams.
+But you first, Zaïca."
+
+Zaïca began to laugh. "I dreamed I was a pretty bird with a tuft of
+feathers on my head. I could fly, and, O Tourtourelle! it was great fun!
+But the most amusing thing of all was that I could sing so finely, and
+mock all the birds of the forest. Nay, I could even imitate the sounds
+of animals. I cannot help laughing when I think what a jolly time I
+had."
+
+"Why, Zaïca!" cried Tourtourelle, wondering, "I dreamed the very same
+thing. I too was a pretty little bird, and I too could imitate all kinds
+of sounds as I fluttered in the tree-tops. Surely, the dream will come
+true for one of us. How fine that would be!"
+
+"Yes, let it be for the one of us who first rises to-morrow morning,"
+said Zaïca. And so the two friends agreed.
+
+Now when it came night-time Zaïca went to bed very early, like a wise
+little girl who wants to rise with the sun. But Tourtourelle said to
+herself, "I know what I will do, I will not go to sleep. I will sit up
+all night, and then I am sure to be the first to rise."
+
+So Tourtourelle perched herself on a high-backed chair and stretched her
+eyes wide open. For hours and hours she sat there, growing more sleepy
+every minute. Towards morning she began to nod; she could hardly keep
+her eyes open, though she tried to prop the lids with her finger tips.
+Finally, whether she would or no, she fell fast asleep, poor little
+Tourtourelle, worn out with her long vigil.
+
+When the first morning sunbeam peeped into the chamber Zaïca opened her
+eyes, refreshed and smiling. She sat up in bed remembering the dream,
+and then jumped lightly to the floor. As she did so she glanced at her
+feet, which felt queer. Wonderful! They were little bird claws! She
+looked down at herself. She was covered with soft feathers. She tried to
+move her arms, and when she did so she rose lightly from the floor and
+skimmed out of the window into the garden. Zaïca had become a pretty
+little bird, just as she had dreamed. Oh, how happy she was! She heard a
+Lark singing far up in the sky. Opening her mouth, she warbled and
+trilled as well as he, until he dropped down quickly to the earth,
+thinking it must be his mate who sang so sweetly. She spied a Chicken
+strayed too far from the mother Hen; and chuckling to herself
+mischievously she imitated the warning cry of a Hawk, till the Chick ran
+squawking back to the shelter of his mother's wing. She heard a hound
+baying afar off, and with little trouble echoed the sound so perfectly
+that a groom came running out of the stable, whistling for the dog which
+he feared was straying from the kennel. Zaïca found that as in her dream
+she could imitate all the sounds which she heard; and she was so pleased
+that she sang and sang and sang, hopping from tree to tree, teasing the
+other birds with her mockery, and puzzling them, too.
+
+As for poor Tourtourelle, when she waked it was very late. She yawned
+and rubbed her eyes languidly, for she was still sleepy. Then looking
+across to Zaïca's bed she saw that it was empty. Her heart gave a great
+thump, for she longed and longed to be a bird, but now she feared that
+she was too late. In her white gown she ran out into the garden looking
+for Zaïca. But first she saw an old man leading his cow to the pasture.
+And to the cow he said, "Coo-roo, coo-roo!" coaxing her to hasten.
+
+"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" cried Tourtourelle, imitating him, she knew not why.
+And as she said it she wondered at the strange feeling which came over
+her. For her body felt very light and it seemed as if she could fly. She
+looked down and saw that she was no longer covered with a little white
+gown but with soft feathers of ashy gray, while wings sprouted from her
+shoulders.
+
+"Oh, I have become a bird!" she tried to say, but all she uttered
+was--"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" For Tourtourelle was become a beautiful
+Turtle-Dove, and that is all a Turtle-Dove can say.
+
+"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" mocked a voice from the tree. And cocking her little
+reddish eye Tourtourelle saw a brilliant Jay hopping in the branches,
+imitating a Dove. Then it was the song of a Wren that she heard, then a
+Lark, then a Thrush, then a Sparrow-Hawk,--all these sounds coming from
+the one little throat of the happy bird on that bough. Tourtourelle
+tried to do likewise, but all she could sing was "Coo-roo! coo-roo!" And
+she said mournfully to herself:--
+
+"It is Zaïca. She was wiser than I, and earlier, and the dream came
+true for her. Oh dear! Oh dear!" And to this day Turtle-Dove flies about
+sadly uttering her monotonous cry, and listening with a longing that
+would be envy, were she not so good a little bird, to the chatter of her
+friend the Jay.
+
+For Zaïca the Jay is always merry, hopping from tree to tree, playing
+her jokes upon the other birds whom she deceives with her wonderful
+voice. And she leads a life so gay and exciting that she never finds
+time to be sad, even over the disappointment of her dear friend, poor
+little Tourtourelle.
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT
+
+
+Once upon a time, our friend Blackbird, who comes first of the feathered
+brothers in the spring, was not black at all. No, indeed; he was
+white--white as feather-snow new fallen in the meadow. There are very
+few birds who have been thought worthy to dress all in beautiful white,
+for that is the greatest honor which a bird can have. So, like the Swan
+and the Dove, Master Whitebird--for that is what they called him
+then--was very proud of his spotless coat.
+
+He was very proud and happy, and he sang all day long, the jolliest
+songs. But you see he did not really deserve this honor, because he was
+at heart a greedy bird; and therefore a great shame came upon him, and
+after that he was never proud nor happy any more. I shall tell you the
+story of how the Whitebird grew grimy and gloomy as we know him, almost
+as black and solemn as old Daddy Crow.
+
+Once upon a time, then, Master Whitebird was teetering on a rose-bush,
+ruffling his beautiful white feathers and singing little bits of poetry
+about himself to any one who would listen.
+
+    "Ho-ho, ho-hee,
+    Just look at me!"
+
+he piped, and cocked his little eyes about in every direction, to see
+who might be admiring his wondrous whiteness.
+
+But all on a sudden his song gurgled down into his throat and choked
+itself still, and his eyes fixed themselves upon a tree close by. It was
+a dead old tree, and there was a hole in the trunk halfway up to the
+lowest limb, a round little hole about as big as your two fists.
+
+Whitebird had seen something black pop into that hole in a sly and
+secret way, and he began to wonder; for he was inquisitive, as most
+birds are. He sat quite still on his rose-bush and watched and watched.
+Presently out of the hole popped a black head, bigger than Whitebird's,
+with two wise little twinkling eyes.
+
+"Oho!" said Whitebird to himself, "it is Mother Magpie up to her old
+tricks, hiding, hiding. Maybe she has a treasure hidden there. I will
+watch, and perhaps I shall find out something worth knowing."
+
+Mother Magpie was the wisest and the slyest of all the birds, and it was
+always worth while, as Whitebird knew, to take lessons of her. So he sat
+perfectly still until she came cautiously back carrying something in her
+beak. It was round and white and glinted like moonlight. Whitebird's
+eyes stuck out greedily.
+
+"It is a piece of silver!" he thought, but he sat perfectly still until
+the Magpie had stowed the coin safely in the hollow tree and had hopped
+away as if upon an unfinished errand. "Aha! there is more then. I will
+watch to see what comes next," said Whitebird. And he waited.
+
+Sure enough. In a little while the Magpie returned, this time bringing
+something which glowed yellow like sunlight.
+
+"It is a piece of gold!" gasped Whitebird, and his eyes bulged out like
+those of lobsters, he was so jealous of her luck. But he silently
+watched her disappear into her tree-cupboard and then hastily depart as
+before toward the mountain. "What comes next?" muttered Whitebird to
+himself. "I am dying to peep into that hole. I cannot wait much longer."
+
+Then, after a while, a third time came back the Magpie to the dead tree.
+And lo, what she carried in her beak twinkled and trembled and shone in
+many colors, like a drop of dew on a velvet flower-cheek. When
+Whitebird saw this sight, he nearly tumbled off his perch with
+excitement.
+
+"It is a diamond!" he cried aloud; "oh, it is a real diamond!"
+
+At this sudden noise from the rose-bush Mother Magpie's nerves were so
+shocked that she dropped the diamond helter-skelter into the hole. And
+in a moment she fell in after it, out of sight. She hoped that no one
+had seen her, but little Whitebird knew the place. He hopped after her
+and, perching on the edge of the hole, peered down into the hollow tree.
+And there he saw a great heap of silver and gold and precious stones,
+which Mother Magpie was trying to cover with her wings.
+
+"Oh, what a treasure! What a treasure!" he piped greedily. "Mother
+Magpie, you must tell me where you found it, that I may go and get some
+for myself."
+
+But Mother Magpie refused to tell.
+
+"Oho!" chirped Whitebird, angrily; "we shall see about that! Then I will
+call in the fierce birds, Robber Hawk and Fighting Falcon and the bloody
+Butcher Bird, and they will take your treasure from you, and kill you,
+too, into the bargain. What do you think of that, Mother Magpie?"
+
+Then she was afraid, for she knew those bad birds; and she saw that she
+must trust her secret with Whitebird, since he had already discovered
+half the truth.
+
+"Well, if you will promise me not to let any one else know, not even
+King Eagle, I will tell you," she said. So Whitebird promised.
+
+"Listen," said the Magpie. "You must find the cave which is near the
+tallest oak on the mountain, under the flat stone. In a corner there is
+a tiny hole, just big enough for you or me to pass. And this is the
+entrance to a passage which leads down into the cellars of the earth.
+And when you have gone down and down, farther than any one except myself
+ever went before, you will come to the palace of the King of Riches. It
+is full of gold and silver and precious stones like these you see here.
+Each chamber is more beautiful and more tempting than the last. But you
+must not touch a stone or a single coin, or even a little bit of
+gold-dust, until you have seen the King. For first you must offer
+yourself to be his servant, and then he will be generous; then he will
+let you carry away as much treasure as your beak will hold. That is all
+there is to it. But beware, greedy Whitebird! Take my advice, and do not
+touch a grain of treasure before you see the King, or great evil will
+befall you."
+
+Whitebird promised to do as she said. And then away he flew to the blue
+mountain and its tallest oak. Close by the great oak, in a lonely spot,
+he found the flat rock, and under it was the cave where once a bear had
+lived. Whitebird hopped in eagerly, and away back in one corner of the
+cave he found a little round hole, as the Magpie had said; a hole not
+much bigger than an apple. It must have been a tight squeeze for fat
+Mother Magpie!
+
+Whitebird hopped through the hole and found himself in a long, narrow
+passage which led down, down, down into places where his eyes were of no
+use at all. For he was not like Master Owl, who can see better in the
+dark than anywhere else. Blindly he hopped on and on, till he came into
+a great cavern, bright with a white radiance, as if the moonlight
+filtered in from somewhere. It was the first room of the King's palace
+of treasure; and it was all of silver, paved with silver, heaped with
+silver, shining with silver. Whitebird's eyes glittered and he wanted to
+stop and take some for himself. But just in time he remembered the wise
+warning of Mother Magpie; and so he hopped on over the silver pebbles
+through a silver door into a second room. And this was flooded with
+yellow light as of sunshine, so dazzling that for a moment Whitebird's
+yellow eyes could see nothing at all. When he could see, the place
+seemed full of yellow eyes like his own, great yellow eyes heaped up
+from floor to ceiling. And when he became used to this he looked again
+and saw that these were golden coins, and that this was a cavern all of
+gold.
+
+Oh, such a wonderful sight! Oh, such a golden dream! The floor on which
+he stood was deep with gold dust, which squished between his toes like
+yellow sand on a sea beach. And then Whitebird lost his head and went
+quite mad, forgetting the words of wise Mother Magpie.
+
+"Gold dust, gold dust, a treasure for me!" he sang, hopping up and down
+on one leg. "I can carry away a great beakful of the yellow seeds, and
+each one will blossom into a golden flower for me--for me--for me!" He
+was wholly crazy, as you see.
+
+He thrust his bill deep into the gold dust of the floor, and greedily
+filled it more than full, till it dropped over his white, white feathers
+and splashed his coat so that he was no longer a white bird but a yellow
+bird. Oh, the silly, greedy thing! But there are worse fates than being
+a yellow bird.
+
+Just at this moment a dreadful roar echoed through the caverns till they
+rumbled like an earthquake, and into the golden chamber crashed a
+horrible dragon-creature, the guardian of the King's treasure. His eyes
+blazed red like coals, and from his mouth came smoke and flame so that
+the gold melted before his breath. He rushed straight upon poor little
+Whitebird to gobble him up, and as he came he roared: "Thief, thief! who
+steals my master's treasure? I scorch you with my eye! I burn you with
+my breath! I swallow you into the furnace of my throat. Gr-r-r-r!"
+
+There seemed no chance for Whitebird to escape, the creature was so
+near. But with a cry of terror he fluttered and hopped away as fast as
+he could toward the narrow passage, through the gold chamber and the
+silver chamber, leaving all the treasure behind. (Oh, don't you wish we
+could have known how the diamond chamber looked, with its rainbow
+light?)
+
+Whitebird hopped and fluttered, fluttered and hopped, feeling the
+dragon's hot breath close behind frizzling his feathers and blinding his
+eyes with smoke. He seemed like to be roasted alive in this horrible
+underground oven. But oh, there was the hole close before him! Pouf!
+With a terrible roar the dragon snapped at him as Whitebird popped
+through the hole; but he got only a mouthful of burnt tail-feathers.
+Whitebird was safe, safe in the narrow passage where the dragon could
+not follow. Up and up and up and up he feebly fluttered into the light
+of the dear outside world, and then he gave a chirp of joy to find that
+he really had escaped. But oh, how tired and frightened he was!
+
+Mother Magpie was sitting on a bush waiting for him, for she had guessed
+what would happen to the greedy bird. And when she saw him she gave a
+squawk of laughter.
+
+"O Whitebird," she chuckled, "what a sight! what a sight! Your lovely
+coat, your spotless feathers! Oh, you greedy, greedy _Blackbird_!"
+
+Then he who had been Whitebird looked down at himself and saw what a
+dreadful thing had happened. And he closed his eyes and gave a hoarse,
+sad croak. For the smoke and flame of the dragon's breath had smirched
+and scorched him from top to toe, so that he was no longer white, but
+thenceforth and forever Blackbird.
+
+I think Mother Magpie must have told the story to her children,
+chuckling over the greedy fellow's failure. And they told it to the
+children of sunny France, from whom I got the tale for you. So now you
+know why the Blackbird looks so solemn and so sulky in his suit of rusty
+black; and why his nerves are so weak that if one suddenly surprises
+him, picking up seeds in the field, he gives a terrible scream of
+fright. For he thinks one is that dreadful dragon-creature who chased
+him and so nearly gobbled him on that unlucky day, long ago.
+
+Poor Brother Blackbird! Don't let him know I told you all this; it would
+make him so very much ashamed.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLACKBIRD AND THE FOX
+
+
+One day Madame Fox, who was strolling along under the hedge, heard a
+Blackbird trilling on a branch. Quick as thought she jumped and seized
+the little fellow, and was about to gobble him down then and there. But
+the Blackbird began to chirp piteously:--
+
+"Oh, oh, Madame Fox! What are you thinking of? Just see, I am such a
+tiny mouthful! And when I am gone--I am gone. Only let me free and I
+will tell you something. Look! Here come some peasant women with eggs
+and cheese which they are carrying to the market at Verrières. That
+would be a meal worth having! Only let me go, and I will help you,
+Master Fox."
+
+The Fox saw that this might be a good plan which the bird proposed, so
+she let him go.
+
+And what do you think the Blackbird did? He began to hop, hop, hop
+toward the women, dragging his wing behind him as if it were broken,
+which is a trick some birds know very well.
+
+"Look!" cried one of the women, when she caught sight of him. "Oh, look
+at the little Blackbird there! His wing is broken and he cannot fly. I
+shall try to catch him." And she ran as fast as she could, making her
+hands into a little cage to put over him. The other women, too, set down
+their baskets, for convenience--set them down right in the middle of the
+road--and joined the chase after the poor little Blackbird, so lame, so
+lame! But always, as they came close to him, he managed to flutter out
+of reach.
+
+Meanwhile, Madame Fox went round about by the hedge and came all quietly
+and unseen to the place where the baskets waited in the road. And oh!
+what a good dinner she found there; chickens and eggs and fresh cheese
+nicely done up for the market. And the greedy old lady ate them all--all
+the chickens and the eggs and the cheeses. My! How fat she was when all
+was done.
+
+Now the Blackbird hopped on and on for a long, long way, until, by
+cocking his eye, he saw that Madame Fox had finished her dinner. And
+then, houff! Up he flew, with a jolly chirp of laughter, right over the
+heads of the astonished women. What of his broken wing now? He began to
+whistle, to sing, to chirrup like a crazy bird up there in the air. The
+women looked at one another sheepishly.
+
+"Ah, the wicked Blackbird!" they said. "One would have thought that he
+could not fly at all. But look at him, the sly creature! Oho, it is a
+pretty trick he has played us!"
+
+They turned back to where they had left their baskets, intending to
+start on for the market. But when they came there--well, well! What a
+shame!--they found the eggs, the chickens, the cheeses all gone--eaten
+up by the greedy Fox. And then they began to scold and cry.
+
+"Oh, what misfortune!" they wailed. "We have lost our eggs, our
+chickens, and our cheeses, and there is nothing left to carry to market.
+We have not even a Blackbird to show for our morning's work. Oh dear! oh
+dear! It is all the fault of that wicked, deceitful little bird."
+
+And, instead of going on to Verrières, they turned about with their
+empty baskets and went back home, a sorry party, scolding and crying all
+the way. But long before they reached their homes and their angry
+husbands Madame Fox was comfortably snoozing her after-dinner nap under
+the hedge; while the happy Blackbird picked up juicy bugs in the
+neighboring meadow, with one eye cocked to guard against being surprised
+a second time by any bushy-tailed rogue.
+
+[Illustration: _He managed to flutter out of reach_]
+
+
+
+
+THE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH
+
+
+The Dove and the wrinkled little Bat once went on a journey together.
+When it came towards night a storm arose, and the two companions sought
+everywhere for a shelter. But all the birds were sound asleep in their
+nests and the animals in their holes and dens. They could find no
+welcome anywhere until they came to the hollow tree where old Master Owl
+lived, wide awake in the dark.
+
+"Let us knock here," said the shrewd Bat, "I know the old fellow is not
+asleep. This is his prowling hour, and but that it is a stormy night he
+would be abroad hunting.--What ho, Master Owl!" he squeaked, "will you
+let in two storm-tossed travelers for a night's lodging?"
+
+Gruffly the selfish old Owl bade them enter, and grudgingly invited them
+to share his supper. The poor Dove was so tired that she could scarcely
+eat, but the greedy Bat's spirits rose as soon as he saw the viands
+spread before him. He was a sly fellow, and immediately began to flatter
+his host into good humor. He praised the Owl's wisdom and his courage,
+his gallantry and his generosity; though every one knew that however
+wise old Master Owl might be, he was neither brave nor gallant. As for
+his generosity,--both the Dove and the Bat well remembered his
+selfishness towards the poor Wren, when the Owl alone of all the birds
+refused to give the little fire-bringer a feather to help cover his
+scorched and shivering body.
+
+All this flattery pleased the Owl. He puffed and ruffled himself, trying
+to look as wise, gallant, and brave as possible. He pressed the Bat to
+help himself more generously to the viands, which invitation the sly
+fellow was not slow to accept.
+
+During this time the Dove had not uttered a word. She sat quite still
+staring at the Bat and wondering to hear such insincere speeches of
+flattery. Suddenly the Owl turned to her.
+
+"As for you, Miss Pink-eyes," he said gruffly, "you keep careful
+silence. You are a dull table-companion. Pray, have you nothing to say
+for yourself?"
+
+"Yes," exclaimed the mischievous Bat, "have you no words of praise for
+our kind host? Methinks he deserves some return for this wonderfully
+generous, agreeable, tasteful, well-appointed, luxurious, elegant, and
+altogether acceptable banquet. What have you to say, O little Dove?"
+
+But the Dove hung her head, ashamed of her companion, and said very
+simply:--
+
+"O Master Owl, I can only thank you with all my heart for the
+hospitality and shelter which you have given me this night. I was beaten
+by the storm, and you took me in. I was hungry, and you gave me your
+best to eat. I cannot flatter nor make pretty speeches like the Bat. I
+never learned such manners. But I thank you."
+
+"What!" cried the Bat, pretending to be shocked. "Is that all you have
+to say to our obliging host? Is he not the wisest, bravest, most gallant
+and generous of gentlemen? Have you no praise for his noble character as
+well as for his goodness to us? I am ashamed of you! You do not deserve
+such hospitality. You do not deserve this shelter."
+
+The Dove remained silent. Like Cordelia in the play, she could not speak
+untruths even for her own happiness.
+
+"Truly, you are an unamiable guest," snarled the Owl, his yellow eyes
+growing keen and fierce with anger and mortified pride. "You are an
+ungrateful bird, Miss, and the Bat is right. You do not deserve this
+generous hospitality which I have offered, this goodly shelter which you
+asked. Away with you! Leave my dwelling! Pack off into the storm and see
+whether or not your silence will soothe the rain and the wind. Be off, I
+say!"
+
+"Yes, away with her!" echoed the Bat, flapping his leathery wings. And
+the two heartless creatures fell upon the poor little Dove and drove her
+out into the dark and stormy night.
+
+Poor little Dove! All night she was tossed and beaten about shelterless
+in the storm, because she had been too truthful to flatter the vain old
+Owl. But when the bright morning dawned, draggled and weary as she was,
+she flew to the court of King Eagle and told him all her trouble. Great
+was the indignation of that noble bird.
+
+"For his flattery and his cruelty let the Bat never presume to fly
+abroad until the sun goes down," he cried. "As for the Owl, I have
+already doomed him to this punishment for his treatment of the Wren. But
+henceforth let no bird have anything to do with either of them, the Bat
+or the Owl. Let them be outcasts and night-prowlers, enemies to be
+attacked and punished if they appear among us, to be avoided by all in
+their loneliness. Flattery and inhospitality, deceit and cruelty,--what
+are more hideous than these? Let them cover themselves in darkness and
+shun the happy light of day. As for you, little Dove, let this be a
+lesson to you to shun the company of flatterers, who are sure to get you
+into trouble. But you shall always be loved for your simplicity and
+truth. And as a token of our affection your name shall be used by poets
+as long as the world shall last to rhyme with _love_."
+
+The words of the wise King Eagle are true to this day. So now you know
+why a great many poems came to be written in which the rhymes _dove_ and
+_love_ have not seemed to make any particular sense.
+
+
+
+
+THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE
+
+
+Once upon a time old Lady Fox was very hungry, but she had nothing to
+eat, and there was no sign of a dinner to be had anywhere.
+
+"What shall I do, what shall I do?" whined the Fox. "I am so faint and
+hungry, but all the birds and all the fowls are afraid of me and will
+not venture near enough for me to consult them about a dinner. I have so
+bad a name that no one will trust me. What can I do to win back the
+respect of the community and earn a square meal? Ah, I have it! I will
+turn pious and go upon a pilgrimage. That ought to make me popular once
+more."
+
+So the Fox started upon the pilgrimage. She had not gone very far when
+she met a Cock, but he knew the character of Madame Fox too well to
+trust himself near. He flew up into a tree, and from that safe perch
+crowed jauntily, "Good morning, Madame Fox. Whither away so fast?"
+
+The Fox drew down the corners of her mouth, trying to look pious, and
+rolled up her eyes as she answered in a hollow voice, "Oh, Master Cock,
+I am going on a pious pilgrimage. I am sorry for my wicked life, and now
+I am going to be good."
+
+"Ah," said the Cock, "I am indeed glad to hear that! Going on a
+pilgrimage, are you? Well, in that case I will go with you."
+
+"Do, Master Cock, do," answered the Fox fervently. "It will do you good.
+Come sit upon my broad back and I will carry you."
+
+The Cock thanked her and climbed upon her back, and so they proceeded on
+their pilgrimage together. After a while they came upon a Dove, which
+fluttered away hastily when she saw old Lady Fox, knowing too well her
+wicked tricks. But the Fox called to her in a gentle voice:--
+
+"Do not be afraid, O Dove. I know why you start at my approach. But I
+have repented of my former sins and have turned pilgrim. My friend, the
+Cock, and I have just started upon our pious journey. Will you join us?"
+
+When the innocent Dove saw the Cock upon the Fox's back she thought that
+certainly everything must be safe, so she answered:--
+
+"Yes, Madame Fox, I will go with you."
+
+"Jump right up on my back; there is plenty of room beside the Cock,"
+said the Fox cordially.
+
+A little further on they met a wild Duck, who waddled away quacking
+wildly when he saw the Fox trotting towards him. But the sly old lady
+called out to him, smiling:--
+
+"Be calm, little brother. I have given up my former unkind tricks, for
+which I sadly repent, and now I am going on a pious pilgrimage. See,
+your friends the Cock and the Dove are my companions."
+
+"In that case I will go along, too," said the Duck, "for you have a
+goodly party."
+
+"That is right," replied the Fox approvingly. "I thought you would go.
+Kindly take a back seat with the others."
+
+Now when these queer pilgrims had traveled for some time they came to a
+cave in the rocks, a deep dark cave which looked like a den. And here
+the Fox stopped, saying:--
+
+"Dear brothers, it is time that we paused and thought more carefully
+about our sins. We must cross seas and rivers, and Heaven knows when we
+shall reach the end of our journey. Let us listen to one another's
+confessions, for I am sure we have all been miserable sinners. Come, Mr.
+Cock, come into the cave with me and I will hear you first."
+
+The Cock followed her into the cave, saying with some surprise, "Why,
+Madame Fox, what have I done that is wicked?"
+
+"Do you not know?" answered the Fox sternly. "Why, do you not begin to
+crow at midnight and wake poor tired people out of their first sleep? Go
+to! You ought to be ashamed! Then again you crow at the most
+inconveniently early hour in the morning and make the caravans mistake
+the true time, so that they start upon their journeys long before the
+proper hour and fall into the hands of robbers who prowl about before
+light. These are dreadful sins, Mr. Cock, and you deserve to be
+punished." So the wicked old Fox seized the Cock and ate him all up.
+
+After the Fox had finished him she came to the entrance of the cave and
+called, "Now you come, little Dove, and tell me what you have done that
+is naughty."
+
+"But I have done nothing," said the innocent Dove, wondering very much;
+"of what evil do you accuse me, Madame Fox?"
+
+"When the farmers sow their grain you dig up the yellow kernels and eat
+them for your dinner. That is stealing, which is a wicked, wicked sin,
+and must be severely punished," cried the hungry Fox. And thereupon she
+seized the poor little Dove and ate her up.
+
+Once more the Fox stood at the door of the cave, stealthily licking her
+chops, and she called out to the Duck, "Come in, Mr. Duck, and I will
+hear what you have to say."
+
+"Well, I have not done anything wrong," said the Duck positively, "and
+you cannot say that I have; can you now, Madame Fox?"
+
+"Oh, indeed and indeed!" exclaimed the Fox. "Have you not stolen the
+king's gold crown, and do you not wear it on your head, you wicked
+creature?"
+
+"Indeed and indeed I have done no such thing. It is not true, Madame
+Fox, as I can prove. Wait a bit and I will bring witnesses."
+
+So the Duck went out and flew up and down in front of the cave, waiting.
+Presently along came a Hunter with a gun, who espied the Duck and aimed
+the weapon at him.
+
+"Don't shoot me," cried the Duck. "What have you against me, O Hunter? I
+can tell you where to find worthier game. Come with me and I will show
+you a wicked old Fox who eats innocent birds."
+
+"Very well," said the Hunter, putting up his gun, "show me the place and
+I will spare you."
+
+The Duck led him softly to the entrance of the cave, and pausing there
+cried out to the Fox inside, "Come out, Madame Fox, I have brought the
+witness."
+
+"Let him come in, let him come in!" cried the Fox, for she had grown
+very hungry indeed and hoped for a double meal.
+
+"No indeed," answered the Duck; "he insists that you must come out." So
+the Fox crept stealthily to the door, but as soon as she popped out her
+wicked old head the Hunter was ready for her, and Bang! That was the end
+of the Fox's pilgrimage.
+
+The Duck also had had enough of being a pilgrim. He went home with the
+Hunter and became a tame Duck, and lived happily ever after on the pond
+near the Hunter's house.
+
+
+
+
+THE GROUND-PIGEON
+
+
+Once upon a time there was a little Malay maiden who lived in the forest
+with her father and mother and baby sister. They dwelt very happily
+together, until one day Coora's father decided to clear the ground on
+the edge of the forest and have a rice plantation, as many of his
+neighbors were doing.
+
+So one morning early after breakfast he started out with his axe on his
+shoulder to cut down the trees and make a clearing.
+
+"O Father, let me go with you!" begged Coora. "I do so want to see the
+plantation grow from the very beginning."
+
+But her father said No, she must stay at home until the trees were
+felled.
+
+"And after that may I go with you?" asked Coora. And her father promised
+that it should be so.
+
+The days went by and at last the trees were all felled in the clearing.
+When Coora heard this she jumped up and down on her little bare brown
+feet until her anklets tinkled, and cried, "O Father! Now I may go with
+you to the clearing, may I not? For so you promised."
+
+But again her father shook his head and said, "No, Coora, not yet. You
+must wait until the fallen timber has been burned off. Then you shall go
+with your mother and me to the planting of the rice."
+
+Coora was very much disappointed, and the big tears stood in her eyes.
+But she only said, "Do you promise that I may help plant the rice,
+really and truly?"
+
+And he called back over his shoulder, "I promise!"
+
+At last the fallen timber was burned away, and the ground was ready for
+planting. One morning Coora saw her father and mother making ready to go
+out together. "Oh, where are you going, Father and Mother?" she asked.
+
+"We go to the planting of the rice," answered her father, slinging a big
+bag over his shoulder.
+
+"But you promised that I should go with you when that time came?" cried
+Coora wistfully. "Please, please may I not be your little helper?"
+
+"No, no, Coora," answered her mother impatiently. "Do not tease us so.
+You must stay at home to take care of your little sister. Be a good
+girl this time, and when the rice is well grown we will all go together
+and harvest it. That will be great fun!"
+
+"Shall I really go? Do you promise, Mother?" asked poor Coora hopefully,
+for she felt sure that her mother would not deceive her.
+
+"I promise," said the mother, not looking her in the eyes; and the
+parents went away through the forest to plant the rice.
+
+Time went by until the rice had grown tall and was ready for the
+harvest. Now Coora heard her parents talking of the matter, and she was
+very gay, for now she expected a happy, happy day. She dressed herself
+and made ready to go to the harvesting, as her parents had promised. But
+when she joined them, smiling joyfully, they turned upon her frowning
+and bade her return to the house and take care of everything until their
+home-coming. Then poor little Coora burst into tears and said, "O my
+Father and O my Mother, I have obeyed you without a word every time you
+broke your promise to me. And still you continue to put me off from day
+to day, when this is the thing I long to do so much that it seems as if
+my heart would break. Think of it! The clearing has been made, the
+timber burned, the rice planted and grown, and now it is ready for the
+harvest. But I have not even seen the place where all this has
+happened. O Father and Mother, why are you so unkind to me?"
+
+"There, there!" cried her father and mother together, "do not make a
+fuss over so small a matter. You cannot go to-day; but wait until the
+rice is gathered and it is time to tread it out. Then we will let you
+help us, you may be sure. We promise, Coora, that you shall really and
+truly go."
+
+"You promise!" echoed Coora bitterly. "You have promised me before and
+nothing came of it." But even while she spoke the unkind parents were
+gone.
+
+Then Coora fell to weeping most sorely, for she knew that she could not
+trust the word of her father and mother; and that is a most terrible
+thing. At last she rose and wiped away the tears and looked about the
+little cottage where she had been patient through so many
+disappointments. And she said to herself, "I can bear it no longer. It
+is not right that I should be made to suffer like this when a little
+thing would make me so happy. I must see the rice field; I will go
+to-day."
+
+Coora tidied the cottage, putting everything in its place and making it
+look as beautiful as she could. Then she took up the little sister who
+had fallen asleep on the floor, and kissing her tenderly placed her in
+the hammock which swung from wall to wall of the hut. Lastly Coora took
+off the golden bracelets and earrings and the tinkling anklets which she
+wore like other little Malay girls, and left them in a shining heap
+behind the door. But she kept her necklace about her pretty little neck.
+
+Now Coora had learned a little magic from a witch, just enough magic to
+serve her turn. She went out and picked two palm leaves which she
+fastened on her shoulders and changed herself into a bird, a bright,
+beautiful Ground-Pigeon, with many-colored metallic feathers. But the
+necklace still made a band about her pretty little neck, as you may see
+on every Ground-Pigeon to this day.
+
+Coora the Ground-Pigeon fluttered away through the forest until she came
+to the rice plantation where her parents were at work. She alighted on a
+dead tree close by them and called out, "Mother, O Mother! I have left
+my earrings and bracelets behind the door and have put my little sister
+in the hammock."
+
+Astonished at these words her mother looked up, but saw no one, only a
+Ground-Pigeon perched on the tree over her head. "Father," she cried to
+her husband who was at work beside her, "did you not hear Coora's voice
+just now?"
+
+"Yes, I thought so," answered the father angrily. "The wicked girl must
+have disobeyed me and have followed us here after all. I will punish her
+if this is so." They called to her, "Coora, Coora!" until the forest
+reëchoed. But no one appeared or answered.
+
+"I will go home and see if she is there," said the mother. "Either I
+heard Coora speak or there is some magic in the forest." And she
+hastened back to the cottage. There she found the baby in the hammock
+and the bracelets and earrings in a shining heap behind the door, as the
+voice had said, but there was no Coora anywhere. Surprised and anxious,
+once more the mother ran back to the plantation.
+
+"Coora is gone, husband!" she cried. "It must have been her own voice
+which we heard just now. Hark! She speaks again!"
+
+Again from the tree they heard a sweet voice calling, "Mother, O Mother,
+I have left my earrings and bracelets behind the door and my little
+sister in the hammock. Good-by, Coo-o-o-ra!" As she spoke her own name
+Coora's voice warbled and crooned into the soft _coo_ of a
+Ground-Pigeon's note, and her parents glancing up saw that this bird
+must be their child, their Coora, magically changed.
+
+"Let us cut down the tree and catch the wicked girl!" cried the father.
+And seizing his axe he chopped away lustily until the tree fell with a
+crash. But even at that moment the Pigeon fluttered away to another
+tree, crooning again the soft syllables which she has spoken ever since,
+"Coo-ra, coo-ra, coo!"
+
+From tree to tree about the rice plantation the distracted parents
+pursued the Pigeon; but it was in vain to try to capture her. Ever she
+escaped them when they seemed about to lay hands upon her soft feathers.
+After following her flight for many miles they were obliged to return
+home, sad and sorry and repentant. For they knew now that it was their
+own unkindness and their broken promises which had driven their daughter
+away from the cottage, never to return.
+
+The beautiful Ground-Pigeon still lingers near the rice plantations
+which she had so longed to visit. Still she plaintively calls her name,
+and still she wears the necklace about her pretty little neck. And the
+little Malay maidens love her very dearly because she was once a girl
+like them.
+
+
+
+
+SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE
+
+
+The Crocodile is one of the hungriest bodies that ever lived. When he is
+looking for a dinner he will eat almost anything that comes within
+reach. Sometimes the greedy fellow swallows great stones and chunks of
+wood, in his hurry mistaking them for something more digestible. And
+when he is smacking his great jaws over his food he makes such a greedy,
+terrible noise that the other animals steal away nervously and hide
+until it shall be Master Crocodile's sleepy-time. He is too lazy to
+waddle in search of a dinner far from the river where he lives. But any
+animal or even a man-swimmer had best be careful how he ventures into
+the water near the Crocodile's haunts. For what seems to be a
+greenish-brown, knobby log of wood floating on the water, has little
+bright eyes which are on the lookout for anything which moves. And below
+the water two great jaws are ready to open and swallow in the prey of
+Mr. Hungry-Mouth.
+
+But no matter how hungry the Crocodile may be, he will not touch the
+Hen, even if she should venture into his very jaws; at least, that is
+what the Black Men of the Congo River will tell you. And surely, as they
+are the nearest neighbors of the big reptile they ought to know if any
+one does. Now this is the story which they tell to explain why the
+Crocodile will not eat the Hen.
+
+Once upon a time there was a Hen, a common, plump, clucky mother Hen,
+who used every day to go down to the river and pick up bits of food on
+the moist banks, where luscious insects were many. She did not know that
+this Congo River was the home of the Crocodile, the biggest, fiercest,
+scaliest, hungriest Crocodile in all Africa. But one day when she went
+down to the water as usual she hopped out onto what looked like a mossy
+log, saying to herself:--
+
+"Aha! This is a fine old timber-house. It is full of juicy bugs, I know.
+I shall have a great feast!"
+
+Tap-tap! Pick-pick! The Hen began to scratch and peck upon the rough
+bark of the log, but Oh dear me! suddenly she began to feel very
+seasick. The log was rolling over! The log was teetering up on end like
+a boat in a storm! And before she knew what was really happening the
+poor Hen found herself floundering in the water in the very jaws of the
+terrible Crocodile.
+
+"Ha, ha!" cried the Crocodile in his harsh voice. "You took me for a
+log, just as the other silly creatures do. But I am no log, Mrs. Hen, as
+you shall soon see. I am Hungry Crocodile, and you will make the fifth
+dinner which I have had this evening."
+
+The Hen was frightened almost to death, but she kept her presence of
+mind and gasped frantically as she saw the great jaws opening to swallow
+her:--
+
+"O _Brother_, don't!"
+
+Now the Crocodile was so surprised at hearing the Hen call him Brother
+that he kept his jaws wide open and forgot to swallow his dinner. He
+kept them open for some time, gaping foolishly, wondering what the Hen
+could mean, and how he could possibly be her brother. And by the time he
+had remembered how hungry he was, there was nothing for him to eat. For
+the Hen had skipped away just as fast as her feet would take her.
+
+"Pouf!" snorted the Crocodile. "Her brother, indeed! I am not her
+brother, and she knows it very well. What a fool I was to be caught by
+such a word! Just wait till I catch her again and we will see. I will
+_brother_ her!" And he swam sulkily away to hide his mortification in
+the Congo mud, with only the end of his long nose poking out as a
+ventilator for his breathing.
+
+Now, though the Hen had had so narrow an escape, it had not sufficiently
+taught her a lesson. A few days afterwards once more she went down to
+the river, for she could not resist the temptation of the bug-dinner
+which she knew she should find there. But she kept her eyes open sharply
+for any greeny log which might be floating on the water, saying to
+herself, "Old Hungry-Mouth shall not catch me napping this time. I know
+his wicked tricks!"
+
+But this time the Crocodile was not floating on the water like a greeny
+log. He was lying still as still, sunning himself on the river bank
+behind some tall reeds. Mrs. Hen came trotting down to the water, a
+plump and tempting sight, cocking her head knowingly on one side as she
+spied a real log floating out beyond, which she took to be her enemy.
+And as she scratched in the soft mud, chuckling to think how sly she
+was, with a rush and a rustle down pounced the Crocodile upon her, and
+once more, before she knew it, she found herself in the horrid gateway
+of his jaws, threatened by the double rows of long, white teeth.
+
+[Illustration: "_O Brother, don't!_"]
+
+"Oho!" snapped the Crocodile. "You shall not escape me this time. I
+am a log, am I? Look at me again, Mrs. Hen. Am I a log?" And he came at
+her to swallow her at once.
+
+But again the Hen squawked, "O _Brother_, don't!"
+
+Again the Crocodile paused, thunderstruck by this extraordinary word.
+"Oh, bother the Hen!" he cried, "what can she mean, really? How can I be
+her brother? She lives in a town on the land, and I live in my kingdom
+of mud and water. How could two creatures possibly be more unlike?
+How"--but while he had been thinking of these hows, once more the Hen
+had managed to escape, and was pelting back to her barnyard as fast as
+she could go.
+
+Then indeed the Crocodile was angry. He determined to go and see Nzambi,
+the wise witch princess, about the matter. She would tell him what it
+all meant. But it was a long journey to her palace and he was awkward
+and slow in traveling upon land. Before he had gone very far he was
+tired and out of breath, and stopped to rest under a banana tree.
+
+As he lay panting in the shade he saw his friend Mbambi, the great
+Lizard, hurrying past through the jungle.
+
+"Oh, Mbambi!" cried old Hungry-Mouth, "stop a moment. I want to speak
+with you. I am in great trouble."
+
+So the Lizard drew near, wagging her head wisely, for it pleased her to
+be consulted by the big Crocodile. "What can it be, dear friend, that is
+troubling you this day?" she said amiably. "Surely, no one would be so
+rude or rash as to offend the King of Congo River. But tell me your
+trouble and perhaps I can advise you."
+
+"Listen to me, then," said the Crocodile. "Almost every day a nice fat
+Hen,--Oh, Mbambi! so delightfully fat and tempting!--comes to my river
+to feed. Well, why don't I make her my dinner? you ask. Now hearken:
+each time, just as I am about to catch her and carry her to my home she
+startles me by calling me '_Brother_.' Did you ever hear of anything so
+maddening? Twice I have let her escape because of the word. But I can
+stand it no longer, and I am on the way to Princess Nzambi to hold a
+palaver about it." (By "palaver" the slangy Crocodile meant a long,
+serious talk.)
+
+"Silly idiot!" cried the Mbambi, not very politely. "Do nothing of the
+kind. You will only get the worst of the palaver and show your ignorance
+before the wise Nzambi. Now listen to me. Don't you know, dear
+Crocodile, that the Duck lives on the water, though she is neither a
+fish nor a reptile? And the Duck lays eggs. The Turtle does the same,
+though she is no bird. The Hen lays eggs, just as I do; and I am Mbambi,
+the great Lizard. As for you, dear old Hungry-Mouth, you know that at
+this moment"--here she whispered discreetly, looking around to see that
+no one was listening,--"at this moment in a snug nest dug out of the
+sand on the banks of the Congo, Mrs. Crocodile has covered with leaves
+to hide them from your enemies sixty smooth white eggs. And in a few
+weeks out of these will scamper sixty little wiggly Crocodiles, your
+dear, homely, scaly, hungry-mouthed children. Yes, we all lay eggs, my
+silly friend, and so in a sense we are all brothers, as the Hen has
+said."
+
+"Sh!" whispered the Crocodile, nervously. "Don't mention those eggs of
+mine, I beg of you. Some one might overhear. What you say is undoubtedly
+true," he added pensively, after thinking a few moments. "Then I suppose
+I must give up my tempting dinner of Hen. I cannot eat my Sister, can
+I?"
+
+"Of course you cannot," said the Mbambi, as he rustled away through the
+jungle. "We can't have everything we want in this world."
+
+"No, I see we cannot," sighed the Crocodile, as he waddled back towards
+the banks of the Congo. Now in the same old spot he found the Hen, who
+had been improving his absence by greedily stuffing herself on
+beetle-bugs, flies, and mosquitoes until she was so fat that she could
+not run away at the Crocodile's approach. She could only stand and
+squawk feebly, fluttering her ridiculous wings.
+
+But the Crocodile only said, "Good evening, Sister," very politely, and
+passing her by with a wag of his enormous tail sank with a plop into the
+waters of the Congo.
+
+And ever since that time the Hen has eaten her dinner in tranquil peace,
+undisturbed by the sight of floating log or basking shape of knobby
+green. For she knows that old Hungry-Mouth will not eat his Sister, the
+Hen.
+
+
+
+
+THE THRUSH AND THE CUCKOO
+
+
+In the wonderful days of old it is said that Christ and Saint Peter went
+together upon a journey. It was a beautiful day in March, and the earth
+was just beginning to put on her summer gorgeousness. As the two
+travelers were passing near a great forest they spied a Thrush sitting
+on a tree singing and singing as hard as he could. And he cocked his
+head as if he was very proud of something.
+
+Saint Peter stopped at the foot of the tree and said, "I wish you a good
+day, Thrush!"
+
+"I have no time to thank you," chirped the Thrush pertly.
+
+"Why not, pretty Thrush?" asked Saint Peter in surprise. "You have all
+the time in the world and nothing to do but sing."
+
+"You mistake," cried the Thrush. "I am making the summer! It is I, I, I
+who make the green grass grow and the flowers bud. Look, how even now
+the world is growing beautiful in answer to my song." And the conceited
+little bird continued to warble as hard as he could,--
+
+    "To-day I shall marry, I and no other!
+    To-morrow my brother."
+
+Christ and Saint Peter looked at each other and smiled, then went upon
+their way without another word, leaving the Thrush to continue his task
+of making the summer.
+
+This was in the morning. But before midday the clouds gathered and the
+sky darkened, and at noon a cold rain began to drip. The poor Thrush
+ceased his jubilant song and began to shiver in the March wind. By night
+the snow was felling thick and fast, and where there had been a green
+carpet on the earth was now spread a coverlet of snowy white. Shivering
+and like to die of cold the Thrush took refuge under the tree in the
+moss and dead leaves. He thought no more of his marriage, nor of his
+brother's, but only of the danger which threatened him, and of the
+discomfort.
+
+The next morning Christ and Saint Peter, plodding through the
+snow-drifts, came upon him again, and Saint Peter said as before, "I
+wish you good day, Thrush."
+
+"Thank you," answered the Thrush humbly, and his voice was shaky with
+cold and sorrow.
+
+"What do you here on the cold ground, O Thrush-who-make-the-summer, and
+why are you so sad?" asked Saint Peter. And the Thrush piped feebly,--
+
+    "To-day I must die, I and no other!
+    To-morrow my brother."
+
+"O foolish little bird," said Saint Peter. "You boasted that you made
+the summer. But see! The Lord's will has sent us back to the middle of
+winter, to punish your boasting. You shall not die, he will send the sun
+again to warm you. But hereafter beware how you take too much credit for
+your little efforts."
+
+Since that time March has ever been a treacherous and a changeful month.
+Then the Thrush thinks not of marriage, but of his lesson learned in
+past days, and wraps himself in his warmest feathers, waiting for the
+Lord's will to be done. He is no longer boastful in his song, but sings
+it humbly and sweetly to the Lord's glory, thanking him for the summer
+which his goodness sends every year to happy bird and beast and child of
+man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now after this adventure with the Thrush, Christ and Saint Peter went
+upon their journey for many miles. At last, weary and hungry, they
+passed a Baker's shop. From the window came the smell of new warm bread
+baking in the oven, and Christ sent Saint Peter to ask the Baker for a
+loaf. But the Baker, who was a stingy fellow, refused.
+
+"Go away with you!" he cried. "I give no bread to lazy beggars!"
+
+"I ask it for my Master, who has traveled many miles and is most faint
+and weary," said Saint Peter. But the Baker frowned and shook his head,
+then strode into the inner shop, banging the door after him.
+
+The Baker's wife and six daughters were standing at one side when these
+things happened, and they heard all that took place. They were generous
+and kind-hearted bodies, and tears stood in their eyes at the Baker's
+rough words. As soon as he had gone out they wrapped up the loaf and
+gave it stealthily to Saint Peter saying,--
+
+"Take the loaf for your Master, good man, and may he be refreshed by
+it."
+
+Saint Peter thanked and blessed them and took the loaf to Christ. And
+for their charity the Lord set these good women in the sky as the Seven
+Stars,--you may see them to this day shining in love upon the sleeping
+world. But the wicked Baker he changed into a Cuckoo; and as long as he
+sings his dreary song, "Coo-coo! Coo-coo!" in the spring, so long the
+Seven Stars are visible in the heaven, so folk say.
+
+
+
+
+THE OWL AND THE MOON
+
+
+When the moon is round and full, if you look very carefully at the
+golden disk you can see in shadowy outline the profile of a beautiful
+lady. She is leaning forward as if looking down upon our earth, and
+there is a little smile upon her sweet lips. This fair dame is Putri
+Balan, the Princess of the Moon, and she smiles because she remembers
+how once upon a time she cheated old Mr. Owl, her tiresome lover.
+
+Putri Balan, so they tell you in Malay, was always very, very beautiful,
+as we see her now. Like all the Malay women, Putri Balan loved to chew
+the spicy betel-nut which turns one's lips a bright scarlet. It is
+better, so they say, than any kind of candy, and it is considered much
+nicer and more respectable than chewing-gum. So Putri Balan was not
+unladylike, although she chewed her betel-nut all night long.
+
+Now, ever since the day when Mr. Owl carelessly let the naughty little
+Wren escape from prison, the shamed and sorry old fellow had never
+dared to show his face abroad in daylight. Gradually his eyes grew
+blurred and blinky, till now he could not see anything by day, even if
+he were to try.
+
+So it happens that there are many delightful things about which old Mr.
+Owl does not know,--things which take place while the beautiful sun is
+shining. But also there are marvelous sights, unknown to early-sleeping
+birds, which he enjoys all by himself. For at night his queer eyes are
+wonderfully strong and bright. All day long he sits in his hollow tree,
+but when the other feathered folk are drowsing upon their roosts, or are
+snugly rolled up in their little nests, with their heads tucked under
+their downy wings, old Mr. Owl puts on his round spectacles and goes
+a-prowling up and down the world through the woods and meadows (like
+Haroun-al-Rashid in the streets of Bagdad), spying all sorts of queer
+doings.
+
+And this is how old Mr. Owl happened to see the fair Princess Putri
+Balan, smiling down from her moon upon the sleeping world of birds who
+had never seen her and never would see her in all her loveliness.
+
+How beautiful she was! How bright and wonderful! Old Mr. Owl stared up
+in wide-eyed astonishment, and then and there fell in love with her,
+and resolved to ask her to be his wife.
+
+Cramming on his spectacles more tightly and ruffling the feathers about
+his neck, he flew up and up and up, as high as ever he dared to go,
+until he was within hailing distance of the moon. Then he called out in
+his softest tones,--which were harsh enough to any ears,--
+
+"O fair Moon-Maiden, O beautiful Princess, will you marry me? For I love
+you very dearly."
+
+The Princess Putri Balan stopped chewing her betel-nut for a moment and
+looked down to see what daring creature might thus be addressing her.
+Soon she spied Mr. Owl with his goggle-eyes looking up at her adoringly.
+He was such a ridiculous old creature, and his spectacles glinted so
+queerly in the moonlight, that Putri Balan began to laugh and answered
+him not at all. She laughed so hard that she almost swallowed her
+betel-nut, which might have been a serious matter.
+
+Mr. Owl continued to stare, for he saw nothing funny in the situation.
+Again he repeated in his hoarse voice, "O fair Moon-Maiden, O beautiful
+Princess, will you marry me? For I love you very dearly."
+
+Again the Princess laughed, for she thought it a tremendous joke; and
+again she nearly choked. Mr. Owl waited, but she made him no other
+answer. However, he was a persistent lover. All night long he went on
+asking the same question, over and over again, until the Princess Putri
+Balan was quite worn out trying not to choke with laughter while she
+chewed the betel-nut. At last she said impatiently,--
+
+"O Mr. Goggle-Eyes! Do give me a moment's peace! You make me laugh so
+that I cannot chew my betel-nut. Yes, I will say _yes_, if you will only
+leave me to finish my betel-nut undisturbed. I will marry you. But you
+must go away until I have quite done."
+
+Then Mr. Owl was filled with joy. "Thanks, thanks, O most gracious
+lady!" he said. "I will go away and leave you to finish your betel-nut
+undisturbed. But I shall come again to-morrow night, and by that time
+you will have done with it, and then you will be mine!"
+
+Mr. Owl flew back to his home in the hollow tree, for it was almost
+morning, and already he was growing so blind that he could hardly find
+the way. But the Princess Putri Balan went on chewing the betel-nut, and
+to herself she said,--
+
+[Illustration: _Putri Balan began to laugh_]
+
+"How am I to rid myself of this bore? I cannot chew this little
+betel-nut forever; there must be an end to it before long. Mr. Owl
+will certainly come again to-morrow night, and then, according to my
+promise, I must become his wife. I cannot marry old Goggle-Eyes. Oh
+dear! What shall I do?"
+
+As she chewed her betel-nut the Princess Putri Balan hit upon a plan.
+She would manage to cheat old Mr. Owl after all. She would never finish
+the betel-nut! She took the little bit that remained,--and it was a
+dangerously little bit, for the Princess had been chewing all night
+long, except when she was laughing,--and reaching out from the moon she
+tossed it down, down, down upon the earth. At the same time she said a
+magic moon-charm: and when the bit of betel-nut reached the earth, it
+became a little bird,--the same which the Malay people call the Honey
+Bird, with brilliant, beautiful plumage. And the Princess Putri Balan
+cried out to it from her golden house,--
+
+"Fly away, pretty little bright bird! Fly as far and as fast as ever you
+can, and keep out of Mr. Owl's way. For it is you who must save me from
+becoming his unhappy wife."
+
+So the Honey Bird flew away, a brilliant streak, through the Malay
+woods, and hid himself in a little nest.
+
+When night came out stole Mr. Owl, with his spectacles in place, and up
+he flew to his Princess, whom he now hoped to call his very own.
+
+"Good evening, my beautiful Princess!" he cried. "Have you finished your
+betel-nut at last, and are you ready to keep your promise?"
+
+But the Princess Putri Balan looked down at him, pretending to be sad,
+though there was a twinkle in her beautiful eye; and she said,--
+
+"Alas! Mr. Owl, a dreadful thing has happened. I lost my betel-nut,
+before it was quite finished. It fell down, down, down, until I think it
+reached the earth. And I cannot marry you, according to my promise,
+until it is finished."
+
+"Then it must be found!" cried Mr. Owl. "I will find it. My eyes are
+sharp at night and nothing escapes them. Shine kindly on me, Princess,
+and I will find the betel-nut for you, and you shall yet be mine."
+
+"Go then, Mr. Owl," said the Princess, smiling to herself. "Go and look
+for the betel-nut which I must finish before I marry you. Search
+carefully and you may find it soon."
+
+Poor Mr. Owl searched carefully, but he could not find the bit of
+betel-nut. Of course he could not find it, when it had changed and flown
+away as a beautiful, many-colored bird! All that night he sought, till
+the sun sent him blinking to his tree. And all the next night he
+sought, and the next, and the next. And he kept on seeking for days and
+months and years, while the Princess Putri Balan smiled down upon him
+and was happy at heart because of her clever scheme.
+
+Old Mr. Owl never found out the trick, nor suspected the innocent little
+Honey Bird, whom indeed he scarcely ever saw, because it was a
+sunset-sleeping bird, while he was a wistful, lonely, sad night-prowler.
+Up and down, up and down the world he goes, still looking for the
+betel-nut of the Princess Putri Balan, which he will never find. And as
+he flies in the moonlight he glances ever longingly at the beautiful
+lady in the moon, and sobs "Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!" in grief and despair. For
+after all these centuries he begins to fear that she will never be his
+wife.
+
+
+
+
+THE TUFTED CAP
+
+
+One dark night Master Owl left his hollow tree and went prowling about
+the world as usual upon his hopeless hunt for the Princess's betel-nut.
+As soon as he was out of hearing a long, lean, hungry Rat crept to the
+house and stole the dainties which the lonely old bachelor had stored
+away for the morrow's dinner. The thief dragged them away to his own
+hole and had a splendid feast with his wife and little ones. But the Owl
+returned sooner than the Rat had expected, and by the crumbs which he
+had dropped upon the way tracked him to the hole.
+
+"Come out, thief!" cried the Owl, "or I will surely kill you. Come out
+and return to me my morrow's dinner." The Rat trembled with fear at
+these threatening words.
+
+"Alas!" he squeaked, "I cannot do that, for already the dinner is eaten.
+My wife and hungry little ones have eaten it. Pity us, for we were
+starving!"
+
+"Bah!" screamed the Owl, "I care little for that. It is for my dinner
+alone that I care. Since you have eaten it you shall certainly die," and
+he began to scratch fiercely at the mouth of the hole. The Rat trembled
+more than ever. But suddenly he had an idea which made his whiskers
+twitch.
+
+"Hold!" he cried. "Dear, good Master Owl, permit me to live and I will
+give you something which is worth many dinners, something that
+men-creatures value very highly, and which with great labor and pain I
+brought away from one of their dens."
+
+"Umph!" grumbled the Owl. "Let us see what it is."
+
+The Rat crawled timidly out of his hole with the peace-offering; and
+what do you think it was? Why, a gimlet! Just a plain, ordinary,
+well-sharpened gimlet for boring holes.
+
+"Hoo!" cried the Owl. "I don't think much of _that_. What is it good
+for?" Now the Rat had not the faintest idea as to what the gimlet really
+was, but he had another idea instead.
+
+"That? Why--that--oh, _that_! That is a very valuable thing. It is able
+to give you the keenest delight. I will show you how it works. But you
+must do just as I say, or it will be of no use."
+
+"Hoo!" cried the Owl. "Continue with the directions."
+
+"Well, first you must stick the thing point upwards in the ground at the
+foot of this tree."
+
+"Very good," said the Owl, doing as was suggested, and waiting
+expectantly for the next move.
+
+"Now you must mount to the top of the tree and slide down the trunk,"
+said the Rat solemnly. Old Master Owl was certainly very far from wise
+that night, for he obeyed the Rat's word without a suspicion. He flew to
+the top of the tree, and then, sitting back and giving a warning cry of
+"Hoo-hoo!" coasted down the trunk with the speed of lightning. But
+midway down he struck a knot in the tree and rolled heels over head. And
+when he reached the ground of course he landed fast upon the sharp point
+of the gimlet, just as the Rat had planned.
+
+With bloody head, and hooting with pain, the Owl started off in pursuit
+of the Rat, resolved this time to kill him without fail. The Rat was
+nimble, and his fear added to his speed, but at last the Owl caught him.
+Ruffled and ferocious, the great bird was about to tear him in pieces,
+when the Rat once more begged his life.
+
+"It was only a joke," he cried. "Only a silly joke. Spare me this once,
+dear Master Owl, and I will give you something that you really need.
+Look at your bleeding head. You cannot go about the world with that
+exposed. Spare my life, and I will give you a lovely cap of tufted
+feathers to hide the bite of the wicked sharp-thing-made-by-man. Pray,
+let me go, dear Master Owl."
+
+The Owl considered for a moment, and then decided to accept the bargain.
+For he thought of Putri Balan, the Princess of the Moon, and knew that
+he should lose his last chance to win her if she happened to see him
+with this ridiculous wound in his head.
+
+So the Rat gave him a nice cap of tufted feathers, which he wears to
+this day; and the Owl let the thief go free. But after that there was a
+coolness between them, as you may well imagine.
+
+
+
+
+THE GOOD HUNTER
+
+
+Once upon a time there was an Indian who was a famous hunter. But he did
+not hunt for fun; he took no pleasure in killing the little wild
+creatures, birds and beasts and fishes, and did so only when it was
+necessary for him to have food or skins for his clothing. He was a very
+kind and generous man, and loved all the wood-creatures dearly, often
+feeding them from his own larder, and protecting them from their
+enemies. So the animals and birds loved him as their best friend, and he
+was known as the Good Hunter.
+
+The Good Hunter was very brave, and often went to war with the fierce
+savages who were the enemies of his tribe. One sad day he set forth with
+a war party, and they had a terrible battle, in which the Good Hunter
+was slain, and his enemies took away his scalp, leaving him lying dead
+in the forest.
+
+The Good Hunter had not remained long cold and lifeless in the shadowy
+stillness, when the Fox came trotting through the woods. "Alack and
+alas!" cried the Fox, spying the body stretched on the leaves. "Here is
+our dear friend, the Good Hunter, slain! Alack and alas! what shall we
+do now that our dear friend and protector is gone?"
+
+The Fox ran out into the forest crying the death lament, which was the
+signal to all the beasts that something most sorrowful had happened.
+Soon they came flocking to the spot, all the animals of the forest. By
+hundreds they came, and surrounding the body of their friend raised the
+most doleful howls. For, though they rubbed him with their warm noses,
+and licked him with their warm tongues, and nestled against him with
+their warm fur, they could not bring him back to warm life.
+
+They called upon Brother Bear to speak and tell them what to do; for he
+was the nearest relative to man. The Bear sat up on his haunches and
+spoke to the sad assembly with tears in his eyes, begging each animal to
+look carefully through his medicine-box and see whether there might not
+be some balm which would restore the Good Hunter to life. Then each
+animal looked carefully through his medicine-box of herbs and healing
+roots, bark and magic leaves, and they tried every remedy that they
+knew. But nothing brought the color to their friend's pale cheeks, nor
+light into his eyes. He who had helped them so often was helpless now,
+and they could not aid him. Again the kind beasts sank back on their
+haunches and raised a mighty howl, a requiem for the dead.
+
+Wild and piercing and long-drawn, the sound swept through the forest,
+such a sound of sorrow as had never been heard before. The Oriole, who
+was flying overhead, heard and was surprised. Soon his brightness came
+flashing down through the leafy boughs like a ray of sunlight into the
+gloom and darkness of the forest.
+
+"What has happened, O four-footed friends," he asked, "that you mourn so
+mightily?" Then they showed him the body of the Good Hunter lying in the
+midst of their sad company, and the Oriole joined his voice of sorrow to
+theirs.
+
+"O friend of the birds," he cried, "is there no bird who can aid you
+now, you who have fed us so many times from the door of your generous
+wigwam? I will call all the feathered tribes, and we will do our best."
+
+So the Oriole went forth and summoned the birds to the forest council.
+There was a great flapping of wings, a great twittering and chirping,
+questioning and exclamation when the birds assembled to hear the sad
+news. Every one was there, from the tiny Humming Bird to the great
+Eagle of the Iroquois, who left his lonely eyrie to pay his respects to
+the Good Hunter's memory. The poor little birds tried everything in
+their power to bring back to life their dear friend. With beak and claw
+and tender wing they strove, but all their efforts were in vain. Their
+Good Hunter was dead, and his scalp was gone.
+
+Then the great Eagle, whose head was white with years of wisdom and
+experience, spoke to the despairing assemblage of creatures. From his
+lofty perch above the world the Eagle had looked down upon centuries of
+change and decay. He knew every force of nature and all the strange
+things of life. The hoary-headed sage said that the Good Hunter could
+not be restored until his scalp was found. Then all the animals clamored
+that they might be allowed to go and seek for the missing scalp. But to
+the Fox was given this honor, because he had first found the body of the
+Good Hunter in the forest. The Fox set out upon his search, in his foxy
+way. He visited every hen-roost and every bird's-nest, but no scalp did
+he find. "Of course not!" screamed the birds when he returned from his
+fruitless quest, "Of course no bird has taken the Good Hunter's scalp.
+You should have known better than that, Master Fox."
+
+So the next time a bird was sent upon the search. The Pigeon Hawk went
+forth, confident that she should be successful. But she was in such a
+hurry and flew so fast that she saw nothing, and she too returned
+without that for which she sought. Then the White Heron begged that he
+might be allowed to try. "For," said he, "you all know how slowly I fly,
+and how careful I am to see everything."
+
+"Yes, especially if it be something good to eat," chirped the saucy Jay,
+"do not trust him, birds, he is too greedy."
+
+Yet the Heron was allowed to go. He flapped away, slowly and sedately,
+and the Council sat down to await his return. But the Heron had not gone
+far when he came to a field of luscious wild beans; and he stopped to
+take a mouthful or two. He ate, and he ate, and he ate, the greedy
+fellow! until he could eat no more. And then he was sleepy, so that he
+slept and slept and slept. And when he awoke he was so hungry that he
+fell to eating again, while the Council waited and wondered and waited.
+At last they grew impatient and began to suspect that the Jay had been
+right, which was indeed the case. They decided to wait no longer for the
+Heron, who did not return. Then the Crow stepped forward and said, "Let
+me go, I pray you, for I think I know where the scalp may be found; not
+in the nest of a bird, not in the den of any animal, not in the watery
+haunt of a fish. For all the creatures of earth, air, and water are
+friends of the Good Hunter. It is men who are most cruel to men:
+therefore in the tents of men must we look for the missing scalp. Let me
+go to seek it there, for men are used to see me flying near and will not
+suspect why I come."
+
+The Crow flew forth upon his errand, and before long came to the wigwam
+where lived the warrior who had slain the Good Hunter. And sure enough,
+there, outside the tent, was the scalp of the Good Hunter, stretched on
+a pole to dry. The Crow flew near, and the warrior saw him, but thought
+nothing of it, for he was used to seeing crows about the camp. Presently
+when no one was looking the skillful thief managed to steal the scalp,
+and away he flew with it to the Council in the forest. Great was the
+rejoicing of the birds and beasts when they saw that the Crow had been
+successful, and they said more kind things to him than he had heard for
+many moons. At once they put the scalp upon the Good Hunter's head, but
+it had grown so dry in the smoke of the warrior's wigwam that it would
+not fit. Here was a new trouble. What was to be done to make the scalp
+soft and flexible once more? The animals did their best, but their
+efforts were of no avail.
+
+Once more the great Eagle came forward and bade them listen.
+
+"My children," he said, "my wings are never furled. Night and day for
+hundreds of years the dews of heaven have been collecting upon my back
+as I sit on my throne above the clouds. Perhaps this dew may have a
+healing power such as no earthly fountain holds. We will see."
+
+Gravely the Eagle plucked a long feather, and dipping it in the dew
+which moistened his plumage, applied it to the stiffened scalp.
+Immediately it became soft, and could be fitted to the head of the Good
+Hunter closely as when it had first grown there. The birds and animals
+hurried away and brought leaves and flowers, bark and berries and roots,
+which they made into a mighty healing balsam to bathe the poor head
+which had been so cruelly treated. And presently great was their joy to
+see a soft color come into the pale cheeks of the Good Hunter, and light
+into his eyes. He breathed, he stirred, he sat up and looked around him
+in surprise.
+
+"Where am I? What has happened?" he asked.
+
+"You slept and your friends have wakened you," said the great Eagle
+tenderly. "Stand up, Good Hunter, that they may see you walk once more."
+
+The Good Hunter stood up and walked, rather unsteadily at first, back to
+his own wigwam, followed by a great company of happy forest creatures,
+who made the sky ring with their noises of rejoicing. And long, long
+after that, the Good Hunter lived to love and protect them.
+
+
+
+
+THE COURTSHIP OF MR. STORK AND MISS HERON
+
+
+This is a very good story to read at night just before going to sleep.
+And if you ask why, I must only tell you that you will find out before
+you reach the end of the tale.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was once a Heron, a pretty, long-legged, slender lady Heron, who
+lived in the mushy-squshy, wady-shady swamp. The lady Heron lived in her
+swamp all alone, earning her living by catching little fish; and she was
+very happy, never dreaming that she was lonesome, for no one had told
+her what lonesome was. She loved to go wading in the cool waters; she
+loved to catch the little fish who swam by unsuspectingly while she
+stood still upon one leg pretending to think about something a thousand
+miles away. And she loved to look at her slender, long-legged blue
+reflection in the water; for the lady Heron was just a little bit vain.
+
+Now one day Mr. Stork came flying over the mushy-squshy, wady-shady
+swamp where the Heron lived, and he too saw the reflection in the water.
+And he said to himself, "My! How pretty she is! I wonder I never noticed
+her before. And how lonesome she must be there all by herself in such a
+nasty, moist, mushy-squshy old swamp! I will invite her to come and
+share my nice, warm, dry nest on the chimney-top. For to tell the truth,
+I am growing lonely up there all by myself. Why should we not make a
+match of it, we two long-legged creatures?"
+
+Mr. Stork went home to his house, which he set prettily in order: for he
+never dreamed but that the lady Heron would accept his offer at the very
+first croak. He preened his feathers and made himself as lovely as he
+could, and forthwith off he flew with his long legs dangling, straight
+to the wady-shady swamp where Miss Heron was standing on one leg waiting
+for her supper to get itself caught.
+
+"Ahem!" croaked Mr. Stork, waving his wing politely. "Good evening, Miss
+Heron. Fine weather we are having, eh? But how horribly moist it is down
+here! I should think that your nice straight legs would grow crooked
+with rheumatism. Now I have a comfortable, dry house on the roof."
+
+"Pouf!" grunted Miss Heron disdainfully.
+
+But Mr. Stork pretended not to hear, and went on with his remarks,--"a
+nice dry house which I should be glad to have you share with me. Come,
+Miss Heron! Here I am a lonely old bachelor, and here are you a lonely
+old maid"--
+
+"Lonely old maid, indeed!" screamed the Heron interrupting him. "I don't
+know what it is to be lonely. Go along with you!" and she splashed water
+on him with her wings, she was so indignant.
+
+Poor Mr. Stork felt very crestfallen at this reception of his
+well-meaning invitation. He turned about and stalked away towards his
+nest upon the roof, without so much as saying good-by to the lady.
+
+But no sooner was he out of sight than Miss Heron began to think. He had
+said that she was lonely; was she lonely? Well, perhaps he ought to know
+better than she, for he was a very wise bird. Perhaps she was lonely,
+now that she came to think of it. However, there was no reason why she
+should go to live in that stupid, dry, old nest on the house-top. Why
+could he not come to dwell in her lovely, mushy-squshy, wady-shady
+swamp? That would be very pleasant, for he was a good sort of fellow
+with nice long legs; and there were fish enough in the water for two.
+Besides, he could then do the fishing for the family; and, moreover,
+there would then be two to admire her reflection in the water. Yes; her
+mind was made up. She would invite him. She glanced down at her
+reflection and settled some of the feathers which her fit of temper had
+ruffled out of order. Then off she started in pursuit of Mr. Stork.
+
+Mr. Stork had not gone very far, for a sad, rejected lover is a dawdling
+creature. And so she came up with him long before he was in sight of his
+nest.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Stork," said the lady nervously. "I--I have been
+thinking over what you said to me just now, and I have concluded that
+perhaps I was a bit hasty. To tell you the truth, sir, I _am_ a trifle
+lonely, now that you suggest the thought to me. And it would be very
+agreeable to have pleasant company. I am ready, sir, to agree to your
+proposal. But of course I cannot think of changing my abode. My swamp is
+the most beautiful home that a maiden ever knew, and I could not give it
+up for any one. As for your ugly old nest on the chimney-top, bah! I
+cannot endure the idea with patience."
+
+Mr. Stork was gradually stiffening into an angry attitude, but she did
+not notice. "Now you can come and live in my swamp," Miss Heron went on
+warmly, "and you will be very welcome to catch fish for me, and to look
+in my mirror. It will be very nice indeed!"
+
+"Nice!" croaked the Stork, "I should say as much! What can you be
+thinking of, Miss? I to give up my comfortable home on the house-top,
+close by the warm chimney, and go to live in that disgusting
+mushy-squshy bog of yours! Ha-ha! That is really too ridiculous! I bid
+you good morning." And with an elaborate bow he turned his back and flew
+away.
+
+Miss Heron flounced back to her swamp, mortified because she had left it
+to propose terms to so ungallant a fellow. But hardly had she begun her
+tardy supper when once more Mr. Stork's shadow darkened the mirror
+before her, and once more she heard his apologetic croak.
+
+"Ahem, ahem!" he began. "I hope I find you well, Miss Heron? I have
+been--ha hum!--considering your last most condescending words, and I
+find that I have been hasty. You are so good as to express a belief that
+I should make a pleasant companion. So I should! so I should! And as for
+you," he bowed gallantly, "one can readily imagine the charm of your
+society. Come, then, Miss Heron, why should we not make a happy couple,
+if we can only arrange this one little foolish matter? Be my wife: come
+live with me in my lovely nest."
+
+But at this word Miss Heron uttered a little scream and cried, "Be off
+with you, you villain! Leave my premises instantly!" and she waved her
+wings so fiercely that once more Mr. Stork took to his and flapped away
+to his home.
+
+Now when he had gone Miss Heron found that she had been bad-tempered,
+and she thought how pleasantly they might have arranged the matter if
+only she had been more moderate. So she spread her beautiful blue wings
+and flew to the housetop where Mr. Stork lived, and, perching on the
+chimney, she said,--
+
+"Oh, Mr. Stork, I was bad-tempered and impolite, and I beg your pardon.
+Let us be friends once more. Leave this hot old stupid house-top and
+come live in my cool, moist, wady-shady swamp, and I will be your very
+loving little wife."
+
+But the Stork arose in his nest, flapping his wings crossly, and cried,
+"Be off, you baggage! Don't come here to insult my beautiful house. Be
+off, I say, to your mushy-squshy, rheumaticky bog. I want no more of
+you!"
+
+So the Heron flew back disconsolately to the watery swamp, where she
+began to feel very lonely indeed. And the Stork, too, began to feel very
+lonely indeed; and he was sorry that he had been rude to a lady.
+Presently, once more he came flapping to the mushy-squshy marsh, where
+he found Miss Heron just ready to go to sleep.
+
+"Oh, dear Miss Heron!" he cried. "I made a great mistake, and said
+things for which I am truly sorry. Do come to be my loving wife, as you
+promised, and we will live happily ever after on the chimney-top, far
+above the other birds. And I will never be cross again."
+
+But the Heron answered, "Away with you! I want to go to sleep. I am
+tired of your croaking voice. Leave me alone!" So the Stork flew away in
+a huff.
+
+But the Heron could not sleep, she was so lonely. So she rose, and,
+flying through the still night air, came again to the Stork's high-built
+nest.
+
+"Come, Storkie dear," she said in her sweetest tone, "come home to your
+dear wife's house in the wady-shady, mushy-squshy marsh, and I will be
+good."
+
+But the Stork pretended to be asleep, and only snored in reply. So the
+Heron flew home in a huff. But the Stork could not truly sleep, he was
+so lonely. So he rose, and, flying through the still night air, came
+again to the Heron's home in the marsh.
+
+"Come, my dear," he said. "Come home to your dear husband's house, and I
+will be good."
+
+But the Heron made no answer, pretending to be asleep. So the Stork flew
+home in a huff. But the Heron could not truly sleep, she was so lonely.
+So she rose at break of day, and, flying through the cool morning air,
+came again to the Stork's nest.
+
+"Come, Storkie dear," she said, "come home to your dear wife's house,
+and I will be good."
+
+But the Stork did not answer, he was so angry. So the Heron flew home in
+a huff.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And if you are not asleep when you get as far as this, you may go on
+with the story by yourself, perfectly well. You may go on just as long
+as you can keep awake. For the tale has no end, no end at all. It is
+still going on to this very day. The Stork still lives lonely on his
+house-top, and the Heron still lives lonely in her marsh, growing
+lonelier and lonelier, both of them. But because they have no tact, they
+are never able to agree to the same thing at the same time. And they
+keep flying back and forth, saying the same things over, and over, and
+over, and over....
+
+
+
+
+THE PHOENIX
+
+
+On the top of a palm tree, in an oasis of the Arabian desert, sat the
+Phoenix, glowering moodily upon the world below. He was alone, quite
+alone, in his old age, as he had been alone in his youth, and in his
+middle years; for the Phoenix has neither mate nor children, and there
+is never but one of his kind upon the earth.
+
+Once he had been proud of his solitariness and of his unusual beauty,
+which caused such wonder when he went abroad. But now he was old and
+weak and weary, and he was lonely, oh! so lonely! He had lived too long,
+he thought.
+
+For years and years and years, afar and apart, he had watched the coming
+and going of things in the world. He had seen the other birds created,
+and had watched them undergo strange changes in form and color until
+they became as they are to-day. He had seen the hundred bright eyes of
+Argus, the watchman, set in the Peacock's tail. He had seen the flaming
+heart of the volcano tamed and quieted until it became the flaming
+little Humming-Bird. He had seen the Crow turn black and the Goldfinch
+become a gaudy bird, and he knew how and why all these things had come
+to pass. For centuries, how many he knew not, he had watched the birds
+hatch out of their little eggs, flutter their feeble little wings, fly
+away to build nests for their little mates, and finally die and
+disappear as birds do, leaving no trace behind.
+
+But the Phoenix did not die. He was of different clay from these
+ordinary feathered creatures. He was the glorious bird of the Sun, the
+only one, the gold-and-crimson one, who when he went abroad filled all
+creatures with awe of his beauty and wisdom and mystery, so that they
+dared not come near, but followed him afar off, hushing their song and
+adoring silently. The Phoenix fed not on flowers or fruit or
+disgusting insect-fry, but on precious frankincense and myrrh and
+odoriferous gums. And the Sun himself loved to caress his plumage of
+gold and crimson.
+
+As for men, they also had adored him in time past, and had built temples
+in his honor. They also were puny mortals, scarcely longer of life than
+the birds themselves. The Phoenix had seen many generations of men
+grow up, do good or evil deeds, and die, sometimes leaving grand
+monuments upon the earth, sometimes disappearing from knowledge like
+the very birds, leaving scarcely a trace behind.
+
+In his time great kings had lived and reigned and turned to dust.
+Prophets had grown hoary, said their word, and passed away, leaving no
+echo. Poets had sung and had died singing. But the Phoenix, looking
+down from the palms of his desert, saw it all and did not die.
+
+All this had been his pride and honor. How he had enjoyed his strength,
+his beauty, his wisdom, and the knowledge that he was honored and adored
+by thousands who had never even seen his glory! But now, now all was
+changed. He was grown old and tired. He felt his loneliness and he
+longed to die.
+
+His wings were feeble. Of late he had not dared to venture far from the
+desert. He dreaded the curious gaze of the other birds, who would find
+his beauty dimmed, and would scorn, perchance, the faded glory which
+they had once held in awe. For years he had not ventured within sight of
+men, and he knew that most of them had forgotten his existence, nay,
+even denied that he had ever lived. He feared that there might not be a
+single heart in all the world that thrilled to his name.
+
+Thinking thus mournfully, the Phoenix sat upon the top of the tallest
+palm. His plumage of crimson and gold glowed in the last rays of the
+setting sun. His head was drooping, and his eye lustreless. The joy of
+life was gone. Slowly the Sun sank towards the horizon, a red eye fixed
+upon the Phoenix steadily. Suddenly across the gray waste of sand
+dotted a beam of light, intensely bright. A single ray from that
+watchful Eye seemed to flame as it reached the palm tree and pierced to
+the very heart of the Phoenix. A thrill ran through his body. He drew
+himself together, and his eye gleamed with new lustre as he fixed it
+steadily upon the dazzling disk just touching the horizon. Dark stood
+the palm against the desert, but the Phoenix was bathed in sudden
+light. It was the signal, the signal for which he had been waiting,
+though he knew it not. The five hundred years were ended. The mystery of
+his life was about to be solved.
+
+As the sun sank below the horizon, eagerly the Phoenix set about the
+task which was before him. At last he might build the nest which till
+now he had never known. On the top of the highest palm he would build
+it, that it might receive from the blessed East the first beam of the
+morning sun. Marvelously strengthened for the task, back and forth to
+the ends of the earth his wings of crimson and gold bore the Phoenix
+that night. For this was to be no nest of sticks and straw. Of precious
+things must it be made, and well he knew where such were to be found. Of
+silky leaves and grass interwoven with splinters of sandal-wood were the
+walls. Then on the bottom of the nest he laid, bit by bit, a pile of
+sweet-smelling gums, cinnamon and spice, spikenard, myrrh, camphor,
+ambergris, and frankincense, with no meaner choice.
+
+All night he labored, beak and talon, until the nest was ready. And as
+the first tints of dawn began to streak the east, the Phoenix rose
+once, high into the air, gazing with wistful eyes over the world which
+he had loved; then, slowly sinking to the palm, he poised his gorgeous
+body upon the fragrant nest. With wings spread wide, and eyes fixed
+eagerly upon the spot where the Sun was sure to rise, he waited, waited.
+
+At last the golden Eye appeared. As on the night before, one radiant
+beam seemed to single out the lonely palm. One shaft of flame pierced to
+the nest whereon the Phoenix sat. It was the final signal to the Bird
+of the Sun. Immediately the great bird began to fan the sweet-smelling
+mass with his wings. The burning ray grew brighter,--a pungent,
+wonderful aroma of mingled fragrances filled the air. Gradually the Sun
+rose, great and glorious, and as it advanced into the heaven a thin
+cloud of smoke floated from the palm tree, and wound away across the
+desert towards the east. Faster and faster fanned the great wings of the
+Phoenix, until when the Sun shone full down through the palm tree top,
+the whole mass burst into flame, in the midst of which the Phoenix
+blended crimson and gold. High in the air rose the fire, diffusing
+abroad all the sweet odors of Araby the blest. For a little while it
+glowed, then gradually sank, lower and lower, until but a pile of ashes
+remained at the bottom of the nest.
+
+But lo! Was the Phoenix dead? What was this creature risen in youth
+and beauty from the ashes? A bird like the Eagle in shape, but nobler,
+larger, stronger, more gracious even than the King of Birds, a brilliant
+vision of crimson and gold, rose like a flame from the nest, hung for a
+moment above the palm, looking eagerly at the Sun, which baptized him in
+its splendor. A new Phoenix lived in the world. Once more the ancient
+glory was renewed. Once more youth, joy, and hope sprang from the
+Phoenix's ashes and rejoiced in the centuries of sunshine before him.
+Death was indeed worth dying to make this life worth living!
+
+Slowly the young Phoenix descended to the nest which had been at once
+a sepulchre and a cradle. Tenderly careful of the parent ashes which it
+held, with lusty beak and talon he tore the nest bodily from the
+branches, and set out upon his pious journey. He knew not where he went,
+nor why, but the Sun drew him to the East.
+
+As he sped, through the sky, a flash of gold and crimson, the lesser
+birds gathered to wonder and admire. Flocks of them followed at a
+distance, a train of worshipers, chorusing the glory of the new-born
+wonder. He bore his head high with its burden, and his heart was filled
+with pious joy. It was good to be a Phoenix, good, good!
+
+At last he reached the place which unknowingly he sought. The Sun alone
+had been his guide. To the city of Heliopolis in Egypt he came; to the
+great Temple of the Sun, brightly adorned with crimson and gold, the
+Phoenix colors.
+
+There upon the altar he laid the precious ashes. And lo! There were folk
+waiting to receive them,--many little children, and some elders of
+childlike heart, who took the ashes and laid them reverently in the
+shrine. The Phoenix was not forgotten; he was never to be forgotten so
+long as the world should last.
+
+The new Phoenix flew back to the Arabian desert to live his five
+hundred years as each of his race had done, sacred, afar, and apart, but
+not forgotten, though in his old age he might come to deem so. For in
+the bright Temple of the Sun there are always folk of childlike sympathy
+who delight to honor the eternal Phoenix of romance and mystery,--the
+dear, undying memory of a time long past.
+
+
+
+
+The Riverside Press
+_Electrotyped and printed by H.O. Houghton & Co._
+_Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A._
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Curious Book of Birds, by Abbie Farwell Brown
+
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Curious Book Of Birds, by Abbie Farwell Brown.
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+
+Project Gutenberg's The Curious Book of Birds, by Abbie Farwell Brown
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Curious Book of Birds
+
+Author: Abbie Farwell Brown
+
+Illustrator: E. Boyd Smith
+
+Release Date: June 27, 2005 [EBook #16140]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Julia Miller and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/img1-full.jpg"><img src="./images/img1.jpg" alt="The CURIOUS Book of Birds" title="The CURIOUS Book of Birds" /></a><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/img2-full.jpg" name="img2" id="img2"><img src="./images/img2.jpg" alt="Mr. Stork and Miss Heron (page 178)" title="Mr. Stork and Miss Heron (page 178)" /></a><br />
+<i>Mr. Stork and Miss Heron (page 178)</i></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+
+<h1>The Curious Book of Birds<br /></h1>
+
+<p class="center"><br />
+By Abbie Farwell Brown<br /></p>
+
+<p class="center"><br /><i>With Illustrations</i><br />
+<i>By E. Boyd Smith</i></p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><br /><img src="./images/tpicon.png" alt="Title page icon" title="Title page icon" /></p>
+
+<p class="center"><br />BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br />
+HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY<br />
+The Riverside Press, Cambridge<br />
+1903</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p class="center"><i>Published October, 1903.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><i>There are many books written nowadays which will tell you about birds
+as folk of the twentieth century see them. They describe carefully the
+singer's house, his habits, the number of his little wife's eggs, and
+the color of every tiny feather on her pretty wings. But these books
+tell you nothing at all about bird-history; about what birds have meant
+to all the generations of men, women, and children since the world
+began. You would think, to read the words of the bird-book men, that
+they were the very first folk to see any bird, and that what they think
+they have seen is the only matter worth the knowing.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Now the interesting facts about birds we have always with us. We can
+find them out for ourselves, which is a very pleasant thing to do, or we
+can take the word of others, of which there is no lack. But it is the
+quaint fancies about birds which are in danger of being lost. The
+long-time fancies which the world's children in all lands have been
+taught are quite as important as the every-day facts. They show what the
+little feathered brothers have been to the children of men; how we have
+come to like some and to dislike others as we do; why the poets have
+called them by certain nicknames which we ought to know; and why a great
+many strange things are so, in the minds of childlike people.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Facts are not what one looks for in a Curious Book. Yet it may be that
+some facts have crept in among the ancient fancies of this volume, just
+as bookworms will crawl into the nicest books; but they do not belong
+there, and it is for these that the Book apologizes to the children. It
+has no apology to offer those grown folks who insist that facts, never
+fancies, are what children need.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents" width="600">
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Disobedient Woodpecker</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_DISOBEDIENT_WOODPECKER">1<br /></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>French</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mother Magpie's Kindergarten</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#MOTHER_MAGPIES_KINDERGARTEN">6<br /></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Isle of Wight</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Gorgeous Goldfinch</td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_GORGEOUS_GOLDFINCH">14</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Roumanian</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">King of the Birds</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#KING_OF_THE_BIRDS">18</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Gascon</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Halcyone</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#HALCYONE">27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Greek</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Forgetful Kingfisher</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_FORGETFUL_KINGFISHER">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>German</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Wren who brought Fire</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_WREN_WHO_BROUGHT_FIRE">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>French</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How the Bluebird crossed</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#HOW_THE_BLUEBIRD_CROSSED">45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Samoan</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Peacock's Cousin</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_PEACOCKS_COUSIN">49</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Arabic, Malay</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Masquerading Crow</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_MASQUERADING_CROW">59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Russian</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">King Solomon and the Birds</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#KING_SOLOMON_AND_THE_BIRDS">69</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Arabic</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Pious Robin</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_PIOUS_ROBIN">81</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Breton, Basque, Greek</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Robin who was an Indian</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_ROBIN_WHO_WAS_AN_INDIAN">87</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Ojibway</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Inquisitive Woman</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_INQUISITIVE_WOMAN">94</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Roumanian</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why the Nightingale wakes</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#WHY_THE_NIGHTINGALE_WAKES">98</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>French</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Partridge's Babies</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#MRS_PARTRIDGES_BABIES">105</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Greek</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Early Girl</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_EARLY_GIRL">109</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Roumanian</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How the Blackbird spoiled his Coat</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#HOW_THE_BLACKBIRD_SPOILED_HIS_COAT">114</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>French</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Blackbird and the Fox</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_BLACKBIRD_AND_THE_FOX">124</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>French</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Dove who spoke Truth</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_DOVE_WHO_SPOKE_TRUTH">127</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Welsh</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Fowls on Pilgrimage</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_FOWLS_ON_PILGRIMAGE">132</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Greek</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Ground-Pigeon</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_GROUND-PIGEON">138</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Malay</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sister Hen and the Crocodile</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#SISTER_HEN_AND_THE_CROCODILE">145</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Congo Negro</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Thrush and the Cuckoo</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_THRUSH_AND_THE_CUCKOO">153</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Roumanian, German</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Owl and the Moon</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_OWL_AND_THE_MOON">157</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Malay</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Tufted Cap</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_TUFTED_CAP">164</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Ainu, Japanese Islands</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Good Hunter</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_GOOD_HUNTER">168</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Iroquois</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Courtship of Mr. Stork and Miss Heron</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_COURTSHIP_OF_MR_STORK_AND_MISS_HERON">176</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Russian</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Ph&oelig;nix</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#THE_PHOENIX">184</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="indlangs">(<i>Egyptian</i>)</span></td><td align='right'></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><br />
+Seven of these tales appeared originally in <i>The Churchman</i> and two in
+<i>The Congregationalist</i>. They are reprinted by the courteous permission
+of the publishers of those magazines.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="List of illustrations" width="600">
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mr. Stork and Miss Heron</span> (page 178)</td><td align='right'><a href="#img2"><span class="smcap">Frontispiece</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"Next you must lay a Feather"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#img3">10</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Such a Gorgeous Coat!</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#img4">16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"Bless me!" he exclaimed, "Whom have we here?"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#img5">64</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Here are Some Nice Fat Wiggly Worms</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#img6">106</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">He managed to flutter out of Reach</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#img7">126</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"O Brother, don't!"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#img8">148</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Putri Balan began to laugh</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#img9">160</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1>The Curious Book of Birds</h1>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Whitman poem" >
+<tr><td align='left'>"Not you alone, proud truths of the world,<br />
+Not you alone, ye facts of modern science,<br />
+But myths and fables of eld, Asia's, Africa's fables."</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><i>Whitman.</i></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1>The Curious Book of Birds</h1>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_DISOBEDIENT_WOODPECKER" id="THE_DISOBEDIENT_WOODPECKER"></a><img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+
+<h2>THE DISOBEDIENT WOODPECKER</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-l.png" alt="L" title="L" />ONG, long ago, at the beginning of things, they say that the Lord made
+the world smooth and round like an apple. There were no hills nor
+mountains: nor were there any hollows or valleys to hold the seas and
+rivers, fountains and pools, which the world of men would need. It must,
+indeed, have been a stupid and ugly earth in those days, with no chance
+for swimming or sailing, rowing or fishing. But as yet there was no one
+to think anything about it, no one who would long to swim, sail, row,
+and fish. For this was long before men were created.</p>
+
+<p>The Lord looked about Him at the flocks of newly made birds, who were
+preening their wings and wondering at their own bright feathers, and
+said to Himself,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I will make these pretty creatures useful, from the very beginning, so
+that in after time men shall love them dearly. Come, my birds," He
+cried, "come hither to me, and with the beaks which I have given you
+hollow me out <i>here</i>, and <i>here</i>, and <i>here</i>, basins for
+the lakes and pools which I intend to fill with water for men and for
+you, their friends. Come, little brothers, busy yourselves as you would
+wish to be happy hereafter."</p>
+
+<p>Then there was a twittering and fluttering as the good birds set to work
+with a will, singing happily over the work which their dear Lord had
+given them to do. They pecked and they pecked with their sharp little
+bills; they scratched and they scratched with their sharp little claws,
+till in the proper places they had hollowed out great basins and valleys
+and long river beds, and little holes in the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Lord sent great rains upon the earth until the hollows which
+the birds had made were filled with water, and so became rivers and
+lakes, little brooks and fountains, just as we see them to-day. Now it
+was a beautiful, beautiful world, and the good birds sang happily and
+rejoiced in the work which they had helped, and in the sparkling water
+which was sweet to their taste.</p>
+
+<p>All were happy except one. The Woodpecker had taken no part with the
+other busy birds. She was a lazy, disobedient creature, and when she
+heard the Lord's commands she had only said, "Tut tut!" and sat still on
+the branch where she had perched, preening her pretty feathers and
+admiring her silver stockings. "You can toil if you want to," she said
+to the other birds who wondered at her, "but I shall do no such dirty
+work. My clothes are too fine."</p>
+
+<p>Now when the world was quite finished and the beautiful water sparkled
+and glinted here and there, cool and refreshing, the Lord called the
+birds to Him and thanked them for their help, praising them for their
+industry and zeal. But to the Woodpecker He said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"As for you, O Woodpecker, I observe that your feathers are unruffled by
+work and that there is no spot of soil upon your beak and claws. How did
+you manage to keep so neat?"</p>
+
+<p>The Woodpecker looked sulky and stood upon one leg.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a good thing to be neat," said the Lord, "but not if it comes
+from shirking a duty. It is good to be dainty, but not from laziness.
+Have you not worked with your brothers as I commanded you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was such very dirty work," piped the Woodpecker crossly; "I was
+afraid of spoiling my pretty bright coat and my silver shining hose."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, vain and lazy bird!" said the Lord sadly. "Have you nothing to do
+but show off your fine clothes and give yourself airs? You are no more
+beautiful than many of your brothers, yet they all obeyed me willingly.
+Look at the snow-white Dove, and the gorgeous Bird of Paradise, and the
+pretty Grosbeak. They have worked nobly, yet their plumage is not
+injured. I fear that you must be punished for your disobedience, little
+Woodpecker. Henceforth you shall wear stockings of sooty black instead
+of the shining silver ones of which you are so proud. You who were too
+fine to dig in the earth shall ever be pecking at dusty wood. And as you
+declined to help in building the water-basins of the world, so you shall
+never sip from them when you are thirsty. Never shall you thrust beak
+into lake or river, little rippling brook or cool, sweet fountain.
+Raindrops falling scantily from the leaves shall be your drink, and your
+voice shall be heard only when other creatures are hiding themselves
+from the approaching storm."</p>
+
+<p>It was a sad punishment for the Woodpecker, but she certainly deserved
+it. Ever since that time, whenever we hear a little tap-tapping in the
+tree city, we know that it is the poor Woodpecker digging at the dusty
+wood, as the Lord said she should do. And when we spy her, a dusty
+little body with black stockings, clinging upright to the tree trunk, we
+see that she is creeping, climbing, looking up eagerly toward the sky,
+longing for the rain to fall into her thirsty beak. She is always hoping
+for the storm to come, and plaintively pipes, "<i>Plui-plui!</i> Rain, O
+Rain!" until the drops begin to patter on the leaves.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="MOTHER_MAGPIES_KINDERGARTEN" id="MOTHER_MAGPIES_KINDERGARTEN"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-d.png" alt="D" title="D" />ID
+you ever notice how different are the nests which the birds build in
+springtime, in tree or bush or sandy bank or hidden in the grass? Some
+are wonderfully wrought, pretty little homes for birdikins. But others
+are clumsy, and carelessly fastened to the bough, most unsafe cradles
+for the feathered baby on the treetop. Sometimes after a heavy wind you
+find on the ground under the nest poor little broken eggs which rolled
+out and lost their chance of turning into birds with safe, safe wings of
+their own. Now such sad things as this happen because in their youth the
+lazy father and mother birds did not learn their lesson when Mother
+Magpie had her class in nest-making. The clumsiest nest of all is that
+which the Wood-Pigeon tries to build. Indeed, it is not a nest at all,
+only the beginning of one. And there is an old story about this, which I
+shall tell you.</p>
+
+<p>In the early springtime of the world, when birds were first made, none
+of them&mdash;except Mother Magpie&mdash;knew how to build a nest. In that lovely
+garden where they lived the birds went fluttering about trying their new
+wings, so interested in this wonderful game of flying that they forgot
+all about preparing a home for the baby birds who were to come. When the
+time came to lay their eggs the parents knew not what to do. There was
+no place safe from the four-legged creatures who cannot fly, and they
+began to twitter helplessly: "Oh, how I wish I had a nice warm nest for
+my eggs!" "Oh, what shall we do for a home?" "Dear me! I don't know
+anything about housekeeping." And the poor silly things ruffled up their
+feathers and looked miserable as only a little bird can look when it is
+unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>All except Mother Magpie! She was not the best&mdash;oh, no!&mdash;but she was the
+cleverest and wisest of all the birds; it seemed as if she knew
+everything that a bird could know. Already she had found out a way, and
+was busily building a famous nest for herself. She was indeed a clever
+bird! She gathered turf and sticks, and with clay bound them firmly
+together in a stout elm tree. About her house she built a fence of
+thorns to keep away the burglar birds who had already begun mischief
+among their peaceful neighbors. Thus she had a snug and cosy dwelling
+finished before the others even suspected what she was doing. She popped
+into her new house and sat there comfortably, peering out through the
+window-slits with her sharp little eyes. And she saw the other birds
+hopping about and twittering helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>"What silly birds they are!" she croaked. "Ha, ha! What would they not
+give for a nest like mine!"</p>
+
+<p>But presently a sharp-eyed Sparrow spied Mother Magpie sitting in her
+nest.</p>
+
+<p>"Oho! Look there!" he cried. "Mother Magpie has found a way. Let us ask
+her to teach us."</p>
+
+<p>Then all the other birds chirped eagerly, "Yes, yes! Let us ask her to
+teach us!"</p>
+
+<p>So, in a great company, they came fluttering, hopping, twittering up to
+the elm tree where Mother Magpie nestled comfortably in her new house.</p>
+
+<p>"O wise Mother Magpie, dear Mother Magpie," they cried, "teach us how to
+build our nests like yours, for it is growing night, and we are tired
+and sleepy."</p>
+
+<p>The Magpie said she would teach them if they would be a patient,
+diligent, obedient class of little birds. And they all promised that
+they would.</p>
+
+<p>She made them perch about her in a great circle, some on the lower
+branches of the trees, some on the bushes, and some on the ground among
+the grass and flowers. And where each bird perched, there it was to
+build its nest. Then Mother Magpie found clay and bits of twigs and moss
+and grass&mdash;everything a bird could need to build a nest; and there is
+scarcely anything you can think of which some bird would not find very
+useful. When these things were all piled up before her she told every
+bird to do just as she did. It was like a great big kindergarten of
+birds playing at a new building game, with Mother Magpie for the
+teacher.</p>
+
+<p>She began to show them how to weave the bits of things together into
+nests, as they should be made. And some of the birds, who were attentive
+and careful, soon saw how it was done, and started nice homes for
+themselves. You have seen what wonderful swinging baskets the Oriole
+makes for his baby-cradle? Well, it was the Magpie who taught him how,
+and he was the prize pupil, to be sure. But some of the birds were not
+like him, nor like the patient little Wren. Some of them were lazy and
+stupid and envious of Mother Magpie's cosy nest, which was already
+finished, while theirs was yet to do.</p>
+
+<p>As Mother Magpie worked, showing them how, it seemed so very simple that
+they were ashamed not to have discovered it for themselves. So, as she
+went on bit by bit, the silly things pretended that they had known all
+about it from the first&mdash;which was very unpleasant for their teacher.</p>
+
+<p>Mother Magpie took two sticks in her beak and began like this: "First of
+all, my friends, you must lay two sticks crosswise for a foundation,
+thus," and she placed them carefully on the branch before her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, oh yes!" croaked old Daddy Crow, interrupting her rudely. "I
+thought that was the way to begin."</p>
+
+<p>Mother Magpie snapped her eyes at him and went on, "Next you must lay a
+feather on a bit of moss, to start the walls."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, of course," screamed the Jackdaw. "I knew that came next.
+That is what I told the Parrot but a moment since."</p>
+
+<p>Mother Magpie looked at him impatiently, but she did not say anything.
+"Then, my friends, you must place on your foundation moss, hair,
+feathers, sticks, and grass&mdash;whatever you choose for your house. You
+must place them like <i>this</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," cried the Starling, "sticks and grass, every one knows how
+to do that! Of course, of course! Tell us something new."</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/img3-full.jpg" name="img3" id="img3">
+<img src="./images/img3.jpg" alt="Next you must lay a feather" title="Next you must lay a feather" /></a><br />
+<i>"Next you must lay a feather"</i></p>
+
+<p>Now Mother Magpie was very angry, but she kept on with her lesson in
+spite of these rude and silly interruptions. She turned toward the
+Wood-Pigeon, who was a rattle-pated young thing, and who was not having
+any success with the sticks which she was trying to place.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, Wood-Pigeon," said Mother Magpie, "you must place those sticks
+through and across, criss-cross, criss-cross, <i>so</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Criss-cross, criss-cross, so," interrupted the Wood-Pigeon. "I know.
+That will do-o-o, that will do-o-o!"</p>
+
+<p>Mother Magpie hopped up and down on one leg, so angry she could hardly
+croak.</p>
+
+<p>"You silly Pigeon," she sputtered, "not <i>so</i>. You are spoiling your
+nest. Place the sticks <i>so</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know, I know! That will do-o-o, that will do-o-o!" cooed the
+Wood-Pigeon obstinately in her soft, foolish little voice, without
+paying the least attention to Mother Magpie's directions.</p>
+
+<p>"We all know that&mdash;anything more?" chirped the chorus of birds, trying
+to conceal how anxious they were to know what came next, for the nests
+were only half finished.</p>
+
+<p>But Mother Magpie was thoroughly disgusted, and refused to go on with
+the lesson which had been so rudely interrupted by her pupils.</p>
+
+<p>"You are all so wise, friends," she said, "that surely you do not need
+any help from me. You say you know all about it,&mdash;then go on and finish
+your nests by yourselves. Much luck may you have!" And away she flew to
+her own cosy nest in the elm tree, where she was soon fast asleep,
+forgetting all about the matter.</p>
+
+<p>But oh! What a pickle the other birds were in! The lesson was but half
+finished, and most of them had not the slightest idea what to do next.
+That is why to this day many of the birds have never learned to build a
+perfect nest. Some do better than others, but none build like Mother
+Magpie.</p>
+
+<p>But the Wood-Pigeon was in the worst case of them all. For she had only
+the foundation laid criss-cross as the Magpie had shown her. And so, if
+you find in the woods the most shiftless, silly kind of nest that you
+can imagine&mdash;just a platform of sticks laid flat across a branch, with
+no railing to keep the eggs from rolling out, no roof to keep the rain
+from soaking in&mdash;when you see that foolishness, you will know that it is
+the nest of little Mistress Wood-Pigeon, who was too stupid to learn the
+lesson which Mother Magpie was ready to teach.</p>
+
+<p>And the queerest part of all is that the birds blamed the Magpie for the
+whole matter, and have never liked her since. But, as you may have
+found out for yourselves, that is often the fate of wise folk who make
+discoveries or who do things better than others.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_GORGEOUS_GOLDFINCH" id="THE_GORGEOUS_GOLDFINCH"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-t.png" alt="T" title="T" />HE
+Goldfinch who lives in Europe is one of the gaudiest of the little
+feathered brothers. He is a very Joseph of birds in his coat of many
+colors, and folk often wonder how he came to have feathers so much more
+gorgeous than his kindred. But after you have read this tale you will
+wonder no longer.</p>
+
+<p>You must know that when the Father first made all the birds they were
+dressed alike in plumage of sober gray. But this dull uniform pleased
+Him no more than it did the birds themselves, who begged that they might
+wear each the particular style which was most becoming, and by which
+they could be recognized afar.</p>
+
+<p>So the Father called the birds to Him, one by one, as they stood in
+line, and dipping His brush in the rainbow color-box painted each
+appropriately in the colors which it wears to-day. (Except, indeed, that
+some had later adventures which altered their original hues, as you
+shall hear in due season.)</p>
+
+<p>But the Goldfinch did not come with the other birds. That tardy little
+fellow was busy elsewhere on his own affairs and heeded not the Father's
+command to fall in line and wait his turn for being made beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>So it happened that not until the painting was finished and all the
+birds had flown away to admire themselves in the water-mirrors of the
+earth, did the Goldfinch present himself at the Father's feet out of
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>"O Father!" he panted, "I am late. But I was so busy! Pray forgive me
+and permit me to have a pretty coat like the others."</p>
+
+<p>"You are late indeed," said the Father reproachfully, "and all the
+coloring has been done. You should have come when I bade you. Do you not
+know that it is the prompt bird who fares best? My rainbow color-box has
+been generously used, and I have but little of each tint left. Yet I
+will paint you with the colors that I have, and if the result be ill you
+have only yourself to blame."</p>
+
+<p>The Father smiled gently as He took up the brush which He had laid down,
+and dipped it in the first color which came to hand. This He used until
+there was no more, when He began with another shade, and so continued
+until the Goldfinch was completely colored from head to foot. Such a
+gorgeous coat! His forehead and throat were of the most brilliant
+crimson. His cap and sailor collar were black. His back was brown and
+yellow, his breast white, his wings golden set off with velvet black,
+and his tail was black with white-tipped feathers. Certainly there was
+no danger of his being mistaken for any other bird.</p>
+
+<p>When the Goldfinch looked down into a pool and saw the reflection of his
+gorgeous coat, he burst out into a song of joy. "I like it, oh, I like
+it!" he warbled, and his song was very sweet. "Oh, I am glad that I was
+late, indeed I am, dear Father!"</p>
+
+<p>But the kind Father sighed and shook His head as He put away the brush,
+exclaiming, "Poor little Goldfinch! You are indeed a beautiful bird. But
+I fear that the gorgeous coat which you wear, and which is the best that
+I could give you, because you came so late, will cause you more sorrow
+than joy. Because of it you will be chased and captured and kept in
+captivity; and your life will be spent in mourning for the days when you
+were a plain gray bird."</p>
+
+<p>And so it happened. For to this day the Goldfinch is persecuted by human
+folk who admire his wonderful plumage and his beautiful song. He is
+kept captive in a cage, while his less gorgeous brothers fly freely in
+the beautiful world out of doors.</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/img4-full.jpg" name="img4" id="img4">
+<img src="./images/img4.jpg" alt="Such a gorgeous coat!" title="Such a gorgeous coat!" /></a><br />
+<i>Such a gorgeous coat!</i></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="KING_OF_THE_BIRDS" id="KING_OF_THE_BIRDS"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>KING OF THE BIRDS</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-o.png" alt="O" title="O" />NCE
+upon a time, when the world was very new and when the birds had
+just learned from Mother Magpie how to build their nests, some one said,
+"We ought to have a king. Oh, we need a king of the birds very much!"</p>
+
+<p>For you see, already in the Garden of Birds trouble had begun. There
+were disputes every morning as to which was the earliest bird who was
+entitled to the worm. There were quarrels over the best places for
+nest-building and over the fattest bug or beetle; and there was no one
+to settle these difficulties. Moreover, the robber birds were growing
+too bold, and there was no one to rule and punish them. There was no
+doubt about it; the birds needed a king to keep them in order and peace.</p>
+
+<p>So the whisper went about, "We must have a king. Whom shall we choose
+for our king?"</p>
+
+<p>They decided to hold a great meeting for the election. And because the
+especial talent of a bird is for flying, they agreed that the bird who
+could fly highest up into the blue sky, straight toward the sun, should
+be their king, king of all the feathered tribes of the air.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore, after breakfast one beautiful morning, the birds met in the
+garden to choose their king. All the birds were there, from the largest
+to the smallest, chirping, twittering, singing on every bush and tree
+and bit of dry grass, till the noise was almost as great as nowadays at
+an election of two-legged folk without feathers. They swooped down in
+great clouds, till the sky was black with them, and they were dotted on
+the grass like punctuation marks on a green page. There were so many
+that not even wise Mother Magpie or old Master Owl could count them, and
+they all talked at the same time, like ladies at an afternoon tea, which
+was very confusing.</p>
+
+<p>Little Robin Redbreast was there, hopping about and saying pleasant
+things to every one, for he was a great favorite. Gorgeous Goldfinch was
+there, in fine feather; and little Blackbird, who was then as white as
+snow. There were the proud Peacock and the silly Ostrich, the awkward
+Penguin and the Dodo, whom no man living has ever seen. Likewise there
+were the Jubjub Bird and the Dinky Bird, and many other curious
+varieties that one never finds described in the wise Bird Books,&mdash;which
+is very strange, and sad, too, I think. Yes, all the birds were there
+for the choosing of their king, both the birds who could fly, and those
+who could not. (But for what were they given wings, if not to fly? How
+silly an Ostrich must feel!)</p>
+
+<p>Now the Eagle expected to be king. He felt sure that he could fly higher
+than any one else. He sat apart on a tall pine tree, looking very
+dignified and noble, as a future king should look. And the birds glanced
+at one another, nodded their heads, and whispered, "He is sure to be
+elected king. He can fly straight up toward the sun without winking, and
+his great wings are so strong, so strong! He never grows tired. He is
+sure to be king."</p>
+
+<p>Thus they whispered among themselves, and the Eagle heard them, and was
+pleased. But the little brown Wren heard also, and he was not pleased.
+The absurd little bird! He wanted to be king himself, although he was
+one of the tiniest birds there, who could never be a protector to the
+others, nor stop trouble when it began. No, indeed! Fancy him stepping
+as a peacemaker between a robber Hawk and a bloody Falcon. It was they
+who would make pieces of him. But he was a conceited little creature,
+and saw no reason why he should not make a noble sovereign.</p>
+
+<p>"I am cleverer than the Eagle," he said to himself, "though he is so
+much bigger. I will be king in spite of him. Ha-ha! We shall see what we
+shall see!" For the Wren had a great idea in his wee little head&mdash;an
+idea bigger than the head itself, if you can explain how that could be.
+He ruffled up his feathers to make himself as huge as possible, and
+hopped over to the branch where the Eagle was sitting.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Eagle," said the Wren pompously, "I suppose you expect to be
+king, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The Eagle stared hard at him with his great bright eyes. "Well, if I do,
+what of that?" he said. "Who will dispute me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall," said the Wren, bobbing his little brown head and wriggling
+his tail saucily.</p>
+
+<p>"You!" said the Eagle. "Do <i>you</i> expect to fly higher than I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," chirped the Wren, "I do. Yes, I do, do, do!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ho!" said the Eagle scornfully. "I am big and strong and brave. I can
+fly higher than the clouds. You, poor little thing, are no bigger than a
+bean. You will be out of breath before we have gone twice this tree's
+height."</p>
+
+<p>"Little as I am, I can mount higher than you," said the Wren.</p>
+
+<p>"What will you wager, Wren?" asked the Eagle. "What will you give me if
+I win?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you win you will be king," said the Wren. "But beside that, if you
+win I will give you my fat little body to eat for your breakfast. But if
+I win, Sir, I shall be king, and you must promise never, never, never,
+to hurt me or any of my people."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. I promise," said the Eagle haughtily. "Come now, it is time
+for the trial, you poor little foolish creature."</p>
+
+<p>The birds were flapping their wings and singing eagerly, "Let us
+begin&mdash;begin. We want to see who is to be king. Come, birds, to the
+trial. Who can fly the highest? Come!"</p>
+
+<p>Then the Eagle spread his great wings and mounted leisurely into the
+air, straight toward the noonday sun. And after him rose a number of
+other birds who wanted to be king,&mdash;the wicked Hawk, the bold Albatross,
+and the Skylark singing his wonderful song. The long-legged Stork
+started also, but that was only for a joke. "Fancy me for a king!" he
+cried, and he laughed so that he had to come down again in a minute. But
+the Wren was nowhere to be seen. The truth was, he had hopped ever so
+lightly upon the Eagle's head, where he sat like a tiny crest. But the
+Eagle did not know he was there.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the Hawk and the Albatross and even the brave little Skylark fell
+behind, and the Eagle began to chuckle to himself at his easy victory.
+"Where are you, poor little Wren?" he cried very loudly, for he fancied
+that the tiny bird must be left far, far below.</p>
+
+<p>"Here I am, here I am, away up above you, Master Eagle!" piped the Wren
+in a weak little voice. And the Eagle fancied the Wren was so far up in
+the air that even his sharp eyes could not spy the tiny creature. "Dear
+me!" said he to himself. "How extraordinary that he has passed me." So
+he redoubled his speed and flew on, higher, higher.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he called out again in a tremendous voice, "Well, where are
+you now? Where are you now, poor little Wren?"</p>
+
+<p>Once more he heard the tiny shrill voice from somewhere above piping,
+"Here I am, here I am, nearer the sun than you, Master Eagle. Will you
+give up now?"</p>
+
+<p>Of course the Eagle would not give up yet. He flew on, higher and
+higher, till the garden and its flock of patient birds waiting for their
+king grew dim and blurry below. And at last even the mighty wings of the
+Eagle were weary, for he was far above the clouds. "Surely," he thought,
+"now the Wren is left miles behind." He gave a scream of triumph and
+cried, "Where are you now, poor little Wren? Can you hear me at all,
+down below there?"</p>
+
+<p>But what was his amazement to hear the same little voice above his head
+shrilling, "Here I am, here I am, Sir Eagle. Look up and see me, look!"
+And there, sure enough, he was fluttering above the Eagle's head. "And
+now, since I have mounted so much higher than you, will you agree that I
+have won?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you have won, little Wren. Let us descend together, for I am weary
+enough," cried the Eagle, much mortified; and down he swooped, on heavy,
+discouraged wings.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, let us descend together," murmured the Wren, once more perching
+comfortably on the Eagle's head. And so down he rode on this convenient
+elevator, which was the first one invented in this world.</p>
+
+<p>When the Eagle nearly reached the ground, the other birds set up a cry
+of greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"Hail, King Eagle!" they sang. "How high you flew! How near the sun! Did
+he not scorch your Majesty's feathers? Hail, mighty king!" and they made
+a deafening chorus. But the Eagle stopped them.</p>
+
+<p>"The Wren is your king, not I," he said. "He mounted higher than I did."</p>
+
+<p>"The Wren? Ha-ha! The <i>Wren</i>! We can't believe that The Wren flew
+higher than you? No, no!" they all shouted. But just then the Eagle
+lighted on a tree, and from the top of his head hopped the little Wren,
+cocking his head and ruffling himself proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I mounted higher than he," he cried, "for I was perched on his
+head all the while, ha-ha! And now, therefore, I am king, small though I
+be."</p>
+
+<p>Now the Eagle was very angry when he saw the trick that had been played
+upon him, and he swooped upon the sly Wren to punish him. But the Wren
+screamed, "Remember, remember your promise never to injure me or mine!"
+Then the Eagle stopped, for he was a noble bird and never forgot a
+promise. He folded his wings and turned away in disgust.</p>
+
+<p>"Be king, then, O cheat and trickster!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheat and trickster!" echoed the other birds. "We will have no such
+fellow for our king. Cheat and trickster he is, and he shall be
+punished. You shall be king, brave Eagle, for without your strength he
+could never have flown so high. It is you whom we want for our
+protector and lawmaker, not this sly fellow no bigger than a bean."</p>
+
+<p>So the Eagle became their king, after all; and a noble bird he is, as
+you must understand, or he would never have been chosen to guard our
+nation's coat of arms. And besides this you may see his picture on many
+a banner and crest and coin of gold or silver, so famous has he become.</p>
+
+<p>But the Wren was to be punished. And while the birds were trying to
+decide what should be done with him, they put him in prison in a
+mouse-hole and set Master Owl to guard the door. Now while the judges
+were putting their heads together the lazy Owl fell fast asleep, and out
+of prison stole the little Wren and was far away before any one could
+catch him. So he was never punished after all, as he richly deserved to
+be.</p>
+
+<p>The birds were so angry with old Master Owl for his carelessness that he
+has never since dared to show his face abroad in daytime, but hides away
+in his hollow tree. And only at night he wanders alone in the woods,
+sorry and ashamed.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="HALCYONE" id="HALCYONE"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>HALCYONE</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-t.png" alt="T" title="T" />HE
+story of the first Kingfisher is a sad one, and you need not read it
+unless for a very little while you wish to feel sorry.</p>
+
+<p>Long, long ago when the world was new, there lived a beautiful princess
+named Halcyone. She was the daughter of old &AElig;olus, King of the Winds,
+and lived with him on his happy island, where it was his chief business
+to keep in order the four boisterous brothers, Boreas, the North Wind,
+Zephyrus, the West Wind, Auster, the South Wind, and Eurus, the East
+Wind. Sometimes, indeed, &AElig;olus had a hard time of it; for the Winds
+would escape from his control and rush out upon the sea for their
+terrible games, which were sure to bring death and destruction to the
+sailors and their ships. Knowing them so well, for she had grown up with
+these rough playmates, Halcyone came to dread more than anything else
+the cruelties which they practiced at every opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>One day the Prince Ceyx came to the island of King &AElig;olus. He was the son
+of Hesperus, the Evening Star, and he was the king of the great land of
+Thessaly. Ceyx and Halcyone grew to love each other dearly, and at last
+with the consent of good King &AElig;olus, but to the wrath of the four Winds,
+the beautiful princess went away to be the wife of Ceyx and Queen of
+Thessaly.</p>
+
+<p>For a long time they lived happily in their peaceful kingdom, but
+finally came a day when Ceyx must take a long voyage on the sea, to
+visit a temple in a far country. Halcyone could not bear to have him go,
+for she feared the dangers of the great deep, knowing well the cruelty
+of the Winds, whom King &AElig;olus had such difficulty in keeping within
+bounds. She knew how the mischievous brothers loved to rush down upon
+venturesome sailors and blow them into danger, and she knew that they
+especially hated her husband because he had carried her away from the
+island where she had watched the Winds at their terrible play. She
+begged Ceyx not to go, but he said that it was necessary. Then she
+prayed that if he must go he would take her with him, for she could not
+bear to remain behind dreading what might happen.</p>
+
+<p>But Ceyx was resolved that Halcyone should not go. The good king longed
+to take her with him; no more than she could he smile at the thought of
+separation. But he also feared the sea, not on his own account, but for
+his dear wife. In spite of her entreaties he remained firm. If all went
+well he promised to return in two months' time. But Halcyone knew that
+she should never see him again as now he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>The day of separation came. Standing heart-broken upon the shore,
+Halcyone watched the vessel sail away into the East, until as a little
+speck it dropped below the horizon; then sobbing bitterly she returned
+to the palace.</p>
+
+<p>Now the king and his men had completed but half their journey when a
+terrible storm arose. The wicked Winds had escaped from the control of
+good old &AElig;olus and were rushing down upon the ocean to punish Ceyx for
+carrying away the beautiful Halcyone. Fiercely they blew, the lightning
+flashed, and the sea ran high; and in the midst of the horrible tumult
+the good ship went to the bottom with all on board. Thus the fears of
+Halcyone were proved true, and far from his dear wife poor Ceyx perished
+in the cruel waves.</p>
+
+<p>That very night when the shipwreck occurred, the sad and fearful
+Halcyone, sleeping lonely at home, knew in a dream the very calamity
+which had happened. She seemed to see the storm and the shipwreck, and
+the form of Ceyx appeared, saying a sad farewell to her. As soon as it
+was light she rose and hastened to the seashore, trembling with a
+horrible dread. Standing on the very spot whence she had last seen the
+fated ship, she looked wistfully over the waste of stormy waters. At
+last she spied a dark something tossing on the waves. The object floated
+nearer and nearer, until a huge breaker cast before her on the sand the
+body of her drowned husband.</p>
+
+<p>"O dearest Ceyx!" she cried. "Is it thus that you return to me?"
+Stretching out her arms toward him, she leaped upon the sea wall as if
+she would throw herself into the ocean, which advanced and retreated,
+seething around his body. But a different fate was to be hers. As she
+leaped forward two strong wings sprouted from her shoulders, and before
+she knew it she found herself skimming lightly as a bird over the water.
+From her throat came sounds of sobbing, which changed as she flew into
+the shrill piping of a bird. Soft feathers now covered her body, and a
+crest rose above the forehead which had once been so fair. Halcyone was
+become a Kingfisher, the first Kingfisher who ever flew lamenting above
+the waters of the world.</p>
+
+<p>The sad bird fluttered through the spray straight to the body that was
+tossed upon the surf. As her wings touched the wet shoulders, and as her
+horny beak sought the dumb lips in an attempt to kiss what was once so
+dear, the body of Ceyx began to receive new life. The limbs stirred, a
+faint color returned to the cheeks. At the same moment a change like
+that which had transformed Halcyone began to pass over her husband. He
+too was becoming a Kingfisher. He too felt the thrill of wings upon his
+shoulders, wings which were to bear him up and away out of the sea which
+had been his death. He too was clad in soft plumage with a kingly crest
+upon his kingly head. With a faint cry, half of sorrow for what had
+happened, half of joy for the future in which these two loving ones were
+at least to be together, Ceyx rose from the surf-swept sand where his
+lifeless limbs had lain and went skimming over the waves beside Halcyone
+his wife.</p>
+
+<p>So those unhappy mortals became the first kingfishers, happy at last in
+being reunited. So we see them still, flying up and down over the waters
+of the world, royal forms with royal crests upon their heads.</p>
+
+<p>They built their nest of the bones of fish, a stout and well-joined
+basket which floated on the waves as safely as any little boat. And
+while their children, the baby Halcyons, lay in this rocking cradle, for
+seven days in the heart of winter, no storms ever troubled the ocean
+and mariners could set out upon their voyages without fear.</p>
+
+<p>For while his little grandchildren rocked in their basket, the good King
+&AElig;olus, pitying the sorrows of his daughter Halcyone, was always
+especially careful to chain up in prison those wicked brothers the
+Winds, so that they could do no mischief of any kind.</p>
+
+<p>And that is why a halcyon time has come to mean a season of peace and
+safety.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_FORGETFUL_KINGFISHER" id="THE_FORGETFUL_KINGFISHER"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE FORGETFUL KINGFISHER</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-i.png" alt="I" title="I" />N
+these days the Kingfisher is a sad and solitary bird, caring not to
+venture far from the water where she finds her food. Up and down the
+river banks she goes, uttering a peculiar plaintive cry. What is she
+saying, and why is she so restless? The American Kingfisher is gray, but
+her cousin of Europe is a bird of brilliant azure with a breast of rusty
+red. Therefore it must have been the foreign Kingfisher who was
+forgetful, as you shall hear.</p>
+
+<p>Long, long after the sorrows of Halcyone, the first Kingfisher, were
+ended, came the great storm which lasted forty days and forty nights,
+causing the worst flood which the world has ever known. That was a
+terrible time. When Father Noah hastened to build his ark, inviting the
+animals and birds to take refuge with him, the Kingfisher herself was
+glad to go aboard. For even she, protected by &AElig;olus from the fury of
+winds and waters, was not safe while there was no place in all the world
+for her to rest foot and weary wing. So the Kingfisher fluttered in with
+the other birds and animals, a strange company! And there they lived
+all together, Noah and his arkful of pets, for many weary days, while
+the waters raged and the winds howled outside, and all the earth was
+covered fathoms deep out of sight below the waves.</p>
+
+<p>But after long weeks the storm ceased, and Father Noah opened the little
+window in the ark and sent forth the Dove to see whether or not there
+was land visible on which the ark might find rest. Now after he had sent
+out the Dove, Noah looked about him at the other birds and animals which
+crowded around him eagerly, for they were growing very restless from
+their long confinement, and he said, "Which of you is bravest, and will
+dare follow our friend the Dove out into the watery world? Ah, here is
+the Kingfisher. Little mother, you at least, reared among the winds and
+waters, will not be afraid. Take wing, O Kingfisher, and see if the
+earth be visible. Then return quickly and bring me faithful word of what
+you find out yonder."</p>
+
+<p>Day was just beginning to dawn when the Kingfisher, who was then as gray
+as gray, flew out from the little window of the ark whence the Dove had
+preceded her. But hardly had she left the safe shelter of Father Noah's
+floating home, when there came a tremendous whirlwind which blew her
+about and buffeted her until she was almost beaten into the waves,
+which rolled endlessly over the face of the whole earth, covering the
+high hills and the very mountains. The Kingfisher was greatly
+frightened. She could not go back into the ark, for the little window
+was closed, and there was no land anywhere on which she could take
+refuge. Just think for a moment what a dreadful situation it was! There
+was nothing for her to do but to fly up, straight up, out of reach from
+the tossing waves and dashing spray.</p>
+
+<p>The Kingfisher was fresh and vigorous, and her wings were strong and
+powerful, for she had been resting long days in the quiet ark, eating
+the provisions which Father Noah had thoughtfully prepared for his many
+guests. So up, up she soared, above the very clouds, on into the blue
+ether which lies beyond. And lo! as she did so, her sober gray dress
+became a brilliant blue, the color caught from the azure of those clear
+heights. Higher and higher she flew, feeling so free and happy after her
+long captivity, that she quite forgot Father Noah and the errand upon
+which she had been sent. Up and up she went, higher than the sun, until
+at last she saw him rising far beneath her, a beautiful ball of fire,
+more dazzling, more wonderful than she had ever guessed.</p>
+
+<p>"Hola!" she cried, beside herself with joy at the sight. "There is the
+dear sun, whom I have not seen for many days. And how near, how
+beautiful he is! I will fly closer still, now that I have come so near.
+I will observe him in all his splendor, as no other bird, not even the
+high-flying, sharp-eyed Eagle, has ever seen him."</p>
+
+<p>And with that the foolish Kingfisher turned her course downward, with
+such mad, headlong speed that she had scarcely time to feel what
+terrible, increasing heat shot from the sun's rays, until she was so
+close upon him that it was too late to escape. Oh, but that was a
+dreadful moment! The feathers on her poor little breast were scorched
+and set afire, and she seemed in danger not only of spoiling her
+beautiful new blue dress but of being burned into a wretched little
+cinder. Horribly frightened at her danger, the Kingfisher turned once
+more, but this time toward the rolling waters which covered the earth.
+Down, down she swooped, until with the hiss of burning feathers she
+splashed into the cold wetness, putting out the fire which threatened to
+consume her. Once, twice, thrice, she dipped into the grateful coolness,
+flirting the drops from her blue plumage, now alas! sadly scorched.</p>
+
+<p>When the pain of her burns was somewhat relieved she had time to think
+what next she should do. She longed for rest, for refuge, for Father
+Noah's gentle, caressing hand to which she had grown accustomed during
+those stormy weeks of companionship in the ark. But where was Father
+Noah? Where was the ark? On all the rolling sea of water there was no
+movement of life, no sign of any human presence. Then the Kingfisher
+remembered her errand, and how carelessly she had performed it. She had
+been bidden to return quickly; but she had wasted many hours&mdash;she could
+not tell how many&mdash;in her forgetful flight. And now she was to be
+punished indeed, if she could not find her master and the ark of refuge.</p>
+
+<p>The poor Kingfisher looked wildly about. She fluttered here and there,
+backward and forward, over the weary stretch of waves, crying piteously
+for her master. He did not answer; there was no ark to be found. The sun
+set and the night came on, but still she sought eagerly from east to
+west, from north to south, always in vain. She could never find what she
+had so carelessly lost.</p>
+
+<p>The truth is that during her absence the Dove, who had done her errand
+faithfully, returned at last with the olive leaf which told of one spot
+upon the earth's surface at last uncovered by the waves. Then the ark,
+blown hither and thither by the same storm which had driven the
+Kingfisher to fly upward into the ether-blue, had drifted far and far
+to Mount Ararat, where it ran aground. And Father Noah, disembarking
+with his family and all the assembled animals, had broken up the ark,
+intending there to build him a house out of the materials from which it
+was made. But this was many, many leagues from the place where the poor
+Kingfisher, lonely and frightened, hovered about, crying piteously for
+her master.</p>
+
+<p>And even when the waters dried away, uncovering the earth in many
+places, so that the Kingfisher could alight and build herself a nest,
+she was never happy nor content, but to this day flies up and down the
+water-ways of the world piping sadly, looking eagerly for her dear
+master and for some traces of the ark which sheltered her. And the
+reflection which she makes in the water below shows an azure-blue body,
+like a reflection of the sky above, with some of the breast-feathers
+scorched to a rusty red. And now you know how it all came about.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_WREN_WHO_BROUGHT_FIRE" id="THE_WREN_WHO_BROUGHT_FIRE"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-c.png" alt="C" title="C" />ENTURIES
+and centuries ago, when men were first made, there was no such
+thing as fire known in all the world. Folk had no fire with which to
+cook their food, and so they were obliged to eat it raw; which was very
+unpleasant, as you may imagine! There were no cheery fireplaces about
+which to sit and tell stories, or make candy or pop corn. There was no
+light in the darkness at night except the sun and moon and stars. There
+were not even candles in those days, to say nothing of gas lamps or
+electric lights. It is strange to think of such a world where even the
+grown folks, like the children and the birds, had to go to bed at dusk,
+because there was nothing else to do.</p>
+
+<p>But the little birds, who lived nearer heaven than men, knew of the fire
+in the sun, and knew also what a fine thing it would be for the tribes
+without feathers if they could have some of the magic element.</p>
+
+<p>One day the birds held a solemn meeting, when it was decided that men
+must have fire. Then some one must fly up to the sun and bring a
+firebrand thence. Who would undertake this dangerous errand? Already by
+sad experience the Kingfisher had felt the force of the sun's heat,
+while the Eagle and the Wren, in the famous flight which they had taken
+together, had learned the same thing. The assembly of birds looked at
+one another, and there was a silence.</p>
+
+<p>"I dare not go," said the Kingfisher, trembling at the idea; "I have
+been up there once, and the warning I received was enough to last me for
+some time."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot go," said the Peacock, "for my plumage is too precious to
+risk."</p>
+
+<p>"I ought not to go," said the Lark, "for the heat might injure my pretty
+voice."</p>
+
+<p>"I must not go," said the Stork, "for I have promised to bring a baby to
+the King's palace this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot go," said the Dove, "for I have a nestful of little ones who
+depend upon me for food."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I," said the Sparrow, "for I am afraid." "Nor I!" "Nor I!" "Nor I!"
+echoed the other birds.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>will</i> not go," croaked the Owl, "for I simply do not wish to."</p>
+
+<p>Then up spoke the little Wren, who had been keeping in the background
+of late, because he was despised for his attempt to deceive the birds
+into electing him their king.</p>
+
+<p>"I will go," said the Wren. "I will go and bring fire to men. I am of
+little use here. No one loves me. Every one despises me because of the
+trick which I played the Eagle, our King. No one will care if I am
+injured in the attempt. I will go and try."</p>
+
+<p>"Bravely spoken, little friend," said the Eagle kindly. "I myself would
+go but that I am the King, and kings must not risk the lives upon which
+hangs the welfare of their people. Go you, little Wren, and if you are
+successful you will win back the respect of your brothers which you have
+forfeited."</p>
+
+<p>The brave little bird set out upon his errand without further words. And
+weak and delicate though he was, he flew and he flew up and up so
+sturdily that at last he reached the sun, whence he plucked a firebrand
+and bore it swiftly in his beak back toward the earth. Like a falling
+star the bright speck flashed through the air, drawing ever nearer and
+nearer to the cool waters of Birdland and the safety which awaited him
+there. The other birds gathered in a flock about their king and
+anxiously watched the Wren's approach.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the Robin cried out, "Alas! He burns! He has caught fire!" And
+off darted the faithful little friend to help the Wren. Sure enough, a
+spark from the blazing brand had fallen upon the plumage of the Wren,
+and his poor little wings were burning as he fluttered piteously down,
+still holding the fire in his beak.</p>
+
+<p>The Robin flew up to him and said, "Well done, brother! You have
+succeeded. Now give me the fire and I will relieve you while you drop
+into the lake below us to quench the flame which threatens your life."</p>
+
+<p>So the Robin in his turn seized the firebrand in his beak and started
+down with it. But, like the Wren, he too was soon fluttering in the
+blaze of his own burning plumage, a little living firework, falling
+toward the earth.</p>
+
+<p>Then up came the Lark, who had been watching the two unselfish birds.
+"Give me the brand, brother Robin," she cried, "for your pretty feathers
+are all ablaze and your life is in danger."</p>
+
+<p>So it was the Lark who finally brought the fire safely to the earth and
+gave it to mankind. But the Robin and the Wren, when they had put out
+the flame which burned their feathers, appeared in the assembly of the
+birds, and were greeted with great applause as the heroes of the day.
+The Robin's breast was scorched a brilliant red, but the poor, brave
+little Wren was wholly bare of plumage. All his pretty feathers had been
+burned away, and he stood before them shivering and piteous.</p>
+
+<p>"Bravo! little Wren," cried King Eagle. "A noble deed you have done this
+day, and nobly have you won back the respect of your brother birds and
+earned the everlasting gratitude of men. Now what shall we do to help
+you in your sorry plight?" After a moment's thought he turned to the
+other birds and said, "Who will give a feather to help patch a covering
+for our brave friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"I!" and "I!" and "I!" and "I!" chorused the generous birds. And in turn
+each came forward with a plume or a bit of down from his breast. The
+Robin first, who had shared his peril, brought a feather sadly scorched,
+but precious; the Lark next, who had helped in the time of need. The
+Eagle bestowed a kingly feather, the Thrush, the Nightingale,&mdash;every
+bird contributed except the Owl.</p>
+
+<p>But the selfish Owl said, "I see no reason why I should give a feather.
+Hoot! No! The Wren brought me into trouble once, and I will not help him
+now. Let him go bare, for all my aid."</p>
+
+<p>"Shame! Shame!" cried the birds indignantly. "Old Master Owl, you ought
+to be ashamed. But if you are so selfish we will not have you in our
+society. Go back to your hollow tree!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, go back to your hollow tree," cried the Eagle sternly; "and when
+winter comes may you shiver with cold as you would have left the brave
+little Wren to shiver this day. You shall ruffle your feathers as much
+as you like, but you will always feel cold at heart, because your heart
+is selfish."</p>
+
+<p>And indeed, since that day for all his feathers the Owl has never been
+able to keep warm enough in his lonely hollow tree.</p>
+
+<p>But the Wren became one of the happiest of all the birds, and a favorite
+both with his feathered brothers and with men, because of his brave
+deed, and because of the great fire-gift which he had brought from the
+sun.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="HOW_THE_BLUEBIRD_CROSSED" id="HOW_THE_BLUEBIRD_CROSSED"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>HOW THE BLUEBIRD CROSSED</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-o.png" alt="O" title="O" />F
+course every one knows that the Bluebird was made from a piece of the
+azure sky itself. One has only to match his wonderful color against the
+April heaven to be sure of that. Therefore the little Bluebird was
+especially dear to the Spirit of the sky, the Father in Heaven.</p>
+
+<p>One day this venturesome little bird started out upon a long journey
+across the wide Pacific Ocean toward this New World which neither
+Columbus nor any other man had yet discovered. Under him tossed the
+wide, wide sea, rolling for miles in every direction, with no land
+visible anywhere on which a little bird might rest his foot. For this
+was also before there were any islands in all that stretch of waters.
+Soon the poor little Bluebird became very weary and wished he had not
+ventured upon so long a flight. His wings began to droop and he sank
+lower and lower toward the sea which seemed eager to overwhelm his
+blueness with its own. He had come so far over the salty wastes that he
+was very thirsty; but with water, water everywhere there was not a drop
+to drink. The poor little bird glanced despairingly up toward the blue
+sky from which he had been made and cried,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"O Spirit of the blue sky, O my Father in Heaven, help your child the
+Bluebird! Give me, I pray you, a place to rest and refreshment for my
+thirsty throat, or I perish in the cruel blue waters!"</p>
+
+<p>At these sorrowful words the kind Father took pity upon his little
+Bluebird. And what do you think? He made a baby earthquake which heaved
+a rocky point of land up through the waves, just big enough for a little
+bird's perch. It was a tiny reef, and a crack in the rock held but a few
+drops of the rain which began to fall; but it meant at least a moment's
+safety and draught of life for the weary bird, and glad enough he was to
+reach it.</p>
+
+<p>He had not been there long, however, when a big wave almost washed him
+away. He was not yet safe. Still he lacked the rest and refreshment
+which he so sorely needed. For the raindrops were soon turned brackish
+by the waves which dashed upon the reef from all sides, and the Bluebird
+had to keep hopping up and down to avoid being drowned in the tossing
+spray. He was more tired than ever, and this continuous exercise made
+him even more thirsty. Once more he prayed to the Father for help. And
+once more the kind Spirit of the Sky heard him from the blueness.</p>
+
+<p>This time there was a terrible earthquake, until the sea boiled and
+rolled into huge waves as if churned by a mighty churn at the very
+bottom of things, and with a terrified scream the Bluebird flew high
+into the air.</p>
+
+<p>But when the noise and the rumbling died away and once more the sea lay
+calm and still, what do you think the Bluebird saw? The great ocean
+which had once stretched an unbroken sheet of blue as far as the eye
+could see was now dotted here and there by islands, big islands and
+little islands, groups and archipelagoes of them, just as on the map one
+sees them to-day peppering the Pacific Ocean. Samoa came up, and Tonga,
+and Tulima, and many others with names quite as bad, if not worse. From
+one island to another the Bluebird flew, finding rest and refreshment on
+each, until he reached the mainland in safety. And there the islands
+remain to this day for other travelers to visit, breaking their journey
+from west to east or from east to west. There are forests and cascades,
+springs of fresh and pleasant water, delicious fruits, wonderful birds
+and animals, and finally a race of strange, dark men. (But they came
+long, long after.)</p>
+
+<p>So the Bluebird crossed the Pacific, folk tell. Was it not wonderful how
+the kind Father came to scatter those many islands in the Pacific
+Ocean,&mdash;stepping-stones for a tiny little Bluebird so that he need not
+wet his feet in crossing that wide salty river?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_PEACOCKS_COUSIN" id="THE_PEACOCKS_COUSIN"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-l.png" alt="L" title="L" />ONG,
+long ago in the days of wise King Solomon, the Crow and the
+Pheasant were the best of friends, and were always seen going about
+together, wing in wing. Now the Pheasant was the Peacock's own
+cousin,&mdash;a great honor, many thought, for the Peacock was the most
+gorgeous of all the birds. But it was not altogether pleasant for the
+Pheasant, because at that time he wore such plain and shabby old
+garments that his proud relative was ashamed of him, and did not like to
+be reminded that they were of the same family. When the Peacock went
+strutting about with his wonderful tail spread fan-wise, and with his
+vain little eyes peering to see who might be admiring his beauty, the
+Peacock's cousin and his friend the Crow, who was then a plain <i>white</i>
+bird, would slink aside and hide behind a tree, whence they would peep
+enviously until the Peacock had passed by. Then the Peacock's cousin
+would say,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how beautiful, how grand, how noble he is! How came such a lordly
+bird to have for a cousin so homely a creature as I?"</p>
+
+<p>But the Crow would answer, trying to comfort his friend, "Yes, he is
+gorgeous. But listen, what a harsh and disagreeable voice he has! And
+see how vain he is. I would not be so vain had I so scandalous a tale in
+my family history."</p>
+
+<p>Then the Crow told the Peacock's cousin how his proud relative came to
+have so unmusical a voice.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>When Adam and Eve were living peacefully in their fair garden, while
+Satan was still seeking in vain a way to enter there, the Peacock was
+the most beautiful of all the companions who surrounded the happy pair.
+His plumage shone like pearl and emerald, and his voice was so melodious
+that he was selected to sing the Lord's praises every day in the streets
+of heaven. But he was then, as now, very, very vain; and Satan, prowling
+about outside the wall of Paradise, saw this.</p>
+
+<p>"Aha!" he said to himself, "here is the vainest creature in all the
+world. He is the one I must flatter in order to win entrance to the
+garden, where I am to work my mischief. Let me approach the Peacock."</p>
+
+<p>Satan stole softly to the gate and in a wheedling voice called to the
+Peacock,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"O most wonderful and beautiful bird! Are you one of the birds of
+Paradise?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am one of the dwellers in the happy garden," answered the
+Peacock, strutting. "But who are you who slink about so secretly, as if
+afraid of some one?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am one of the cherubim who are appointed to sing the Lord's praises,"
+answered the wicked Satan. "I have stopped for a moment to visit the
+Paradise which He has prepared for the blest, and I find as my first
+glimpse of its glories you, O most lovely bird! Will you conceal me
+under your rainbow wings and bring me within the walls?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dare not," answered the Peacock. "The Lord allows none to enter here.
+He will be angry and will punish me."</p>
+
+<p>"O charming bird!" went on Satan with his smooth tongue, "take me with
+you, and I will teach you three mysterious words which shall preserve
+you forever from sickness, age, and death."</p>
+
+<p>At this promise the Peacock was greatly tempted and began to hesitate in
+his refusals. And at last he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I dare not myself let you in, O stranger, but if you keep your promise
+I will send the Serpent, who is wiser than I and who may more easily
+find some way to let you enter unobserved."</p>
+
+<p>So it was through the Peacock that Satan met the vile Serpent, whose
+shape he assumed in order to enter the garden and tempt Eve with the
+apple. And for the Peacock's share in the doings of that dreadful day
+the Lord took away his beautiful voice and sent him forth from the
+pleasant garden to chatter harshly in this workaday world, where his
+gorgeousness and his vanity are but a reminder to men of the shame which
+he brought upon their ancestors.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"And therefore," said the Crow, concluding his gossip, "therefore, dear
+Pheasant, I see no reason why we should envy your cousin. We are very
+plain citizens of Birdland, but we are at least respectable. I like you
+much better, having nothing to make you vain, nothing of which to be
+ashamed."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>So the Crow spoke, in the wisdom which he had learned from Solomon. But
+the Peacock's cousin refused to be comforted. The shabbiness of his coat
+preyed upon his mind, and he fancied that the other birds jeered at him
+because in such old clothes he dared to be the Peacock's cousin. It
+seemed to him that every day the Peacock himself grew more haughty and
+more patronizing.</p>
+
+<p>One day the Crow and the Peacock's cousin were sauntering through the
+Malay woods when they met the Peacock face to face. The Crow looked
+defiant and stood jauntily; but the Pheasant tried to shrink out of
+sight. The Peacock, however, had spied his poor relative, and was filled
+with cousinly resentment at his appearance.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped short. He stood upon one leg. He puffed and ruffled himself,
+spreading out his thousand-eyed tail so that its colors flashed
+wonderfully in the sunshine. He frilled his neck feathers and snapped
+his mean little eyes maliciously; then turning his back on the shabby
+couple said, as he stepped airily away,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I have dropped some of my old feathers back there a little way. You
+can have them if you like, Pheasant. They will freshen you up a bit; you
+really are looking shockingly seedy. But for mercy's sake don't wear
+them in my presence! I can't bear to see any one parading in my cast-off
+elegance." Then the Peacock minced away.</p>
+
+<p>The Peacock's cousin stamped on the ground and flapped his wings with
+rage. If he had been a girl he would have burst into tears. "I cannot
+stand this," he cried. "To be treated as if I were a beggar! To be given
+old clothes to wear! Crow, Crow, if you were any kind of friend you
+would help me. But you stand staring there and see me insulted, without
+turning a feather! What is the use of all your wisdom that you learned
+from King Solomon if you cannot help a friend in need? I tell you, I
+must have some better garments, or I shall die of mortification."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be excited," said the Crow soothingly. "I have been thinking the
+matter over, and I believe I can do something. Listen. Yesterday I found
+brushes and a box of colors in a room of the King's palace. They
+belonged to the Court Painter. Now they belong to me, for I have hidden
+them away in a hollow tree where no one else can find them. I thought
+they might be useful, and I think so still."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well! What do you propose to do with paints and brushes?" cried
+the Peacock's cousin impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"I propose to paint you, to varnish you, to gild you," patiently
+answered the Crow.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you dear Crow!" exclaimed the other, clapping his wings. "You will
+make me brilliant and beautiful! You will make me worthy of the
+Peacock, will you not? How clever of you to think of such a thing!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied the Crow; "I watched the Court Painter at work in the
+garden one day, and I know how it is done. I will make you as gorgeous
+as you wish. But you must return the compliment. If you are to be an
+ornament of fashion, so must I be; for are we not inseparable cronies?
+And when you become beautiful it would not do for you to be seen with
+such a dowdy as I am."</p>
+
+<p>"You dear creature!" said the Peacock's cousin affectionately; "of
+course we will share alike. I will paint you as soon as I see how you
+succeed with me. Ah, I know your skill in everything. You will be a fine
+artist, my friend! But come, let us get to work at once."</p>
+
+<p>So the flattered Crow led him to the hollow tree where he had concealed
+the brushes and the gilding and the India ink, and all the gorgeous
+changeable tints which an Eastern artist uses in his paintings. "Here we
+are," said the Crow. "Now let us see what we shall see, when Master Crow
+turns painter."</p>
+
+<p>The Crow set to work with a will, splashing on the colors generously,
+gold and green and bronze iridescence. He had the Peacock in mind, and
+though he did not exactly copy the plumage of that wonderful bird, he
+managed to suggest the cousinship of the Pheasant in the golden eyes of
+his long and beautiful tail. When he had finished, the Crow was
+delighted with his work.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" he cried. "Now bend over this fountain, my dear friend, and
+observe yourself. I think you do credit to my skill as an artist, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The Peacock's cousin hurried down to the water-pool, all in a flutter of
+excitement. And when he saw his image he cried, "How beautiful, how
+truly beautiful, I am! Why, I am quite as handsome as Peacock himself.
+Surely, now he need not be ashamed to call me cousin. I shall move in
+the most fashionable circles. Heavens! Look at my lovely tail! Look at
+my burnished feathers! I must go immediately and show my new dress to
+Cousin Peacock. I should not be surprised if he became jealous of my
+gorgeousness." And off he started as fast as he could go.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on!" cried the Crow. "Don't run away so quickly. You have
+forgotten something. Don't you remember that you promised to paint me
+beautiful like yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, bother!" answered the ungrateful friend, tossing his head. "I have
+no time now for such business. I must hasten to my cousin, for this is a
+matter of family pride. Run along like a good creature; and by the way,
+you may as well gather the feathers which Peacock mentioned. I am sure
+they will make you look quite respectable. Besides, I will give you some
+of mine when I have worn them a little. Ta-ta!" And he stepped airily
+away.</p>
+
+<p>But the Crow strode after him, shaking his wings and crying, "Come back,
+come back and perform your part of the bargain, you selfish, ungrateful
+creature!" And he caught the Pheasant by one of his long tail-feathers.</p>
+
+<p>"Let go my train, impertinent wretch!" shrieked the Peacock's cousin,
+turning upon him fiercely. "I tell you I have no time to spend in such
+nonsense. I must be presenting myself in high society."</p>
+
+<p>"Villain!" croaked the Crow, and he rushed forward fiercely, intending
+to tear out the beautiful feathers which he had painted for his
+ungrateful friend. Thereupon the Pheasant exclaimed,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You want to be painted, do you? Well, take <i>that</i>!" and, seizing the
+bottle of India ink which was in the Eastern artist's paint-box, he
+hurled it at the poor Crow, deluging with blackness his spotless
+feathers. Then laughing harshly, away he flew to his cousin the Peacock,
+who received him with proud affection, because they were now really
+birds of a feather. For the Peacock's cousin was become one of the most
+beautiful birds in the world.</p>
+
+<p>But the poor Crow was now a sombre, black bird, wearing the
+seedy-looking, inky coat which we know so well to-day. His heart was
+broken by his friend's faithlessness, and he became a sour cynic who can
+see no good in anything. He flies about crying "Caw! Caw!" in the most
+disagreeable, sarcastic tone, as if sneering at the mean action of that
+Malay bird, which he can never forget.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_MASQUERADING_CROW" id="THE_MASQUERADING_CROW"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE MASQUERADING CROW</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-t.png" alt="T" title="T" />HE
+Crow became very sour and disagreeable after his friend the
+Peacock's cousin deserted him for more gorgeous company. Though he
+pretended not to care because the Pheasant was now a proud,
+beautifully-coated dandy, while he was the shabbiest of all the birds in
+his coat of rusty black, yet in truth he did care very much. He could
+not forget how the Peacock's cousin had dyed him this sombre hue, after
+promising to paint him bright and wonderful, like himself. He could not
+help thinking how fine he would have looked in similar plumage of a
+rainbow tint, or how becoming a long swallow-tail would be to his style
+of beauty. He wished that there was a tailor in Birdland to whom he
+could go for a new suit of clothes. But alas! There seemed no way but
+for him to remain ugly old Crow to the end of the chapter.</p>
+
+<p>The Crow went moping about most unhappily while this was preying on his
+mind, until he really became somewhat crazy upon the subject. The only
+thing about which he could think was clothes&mdash;clothes&mdash;clothes; and
+that is indeed a foolish matter to absorb one's mind. One word of the
+Peacock's cousin remained in his memory and refused to be forgotten. He
+had advised the Crow to gather up the feathers which had fallen from the
+Peacock's plumage and to make himself fine with them. First the Crow
+remembered these words sadly, because they showed the unkind heart of
+his old friend. Next he remembered them with scorn, because they showed
+vanity. Then he remembered them with interest because they gave him an
+idea. And that idea gradually grew bigger and bigger until it became a
+plan.</p>
+
+<p>The plan came to him completely one day while he was sitting moodily on
+a tree watching the Peacock and his cousin sweeping proudly over the
+velvet lawn of the King's garden. For nowadays the Pheasant moved in the
+most courtly circles, as he had promised himself. As they passed under
+the Crow two beautiful feathers fell behind them and lay on the grass
+shining in the sunlight with a hundred colors.</p>
+
+<p>"Once more the cast-off plumage of the Peacock family is left for me!"
+croaked the Crow to himself. "Am I only to be made beautiful by
+borrowing from others? Perhaps I might collect feathers enough from all
+the birds to conceal my inky coat. Aha! I have it." And this was the
+plan of the Crow. He would steal from every dweller in Birdland a
+feather, and see whether he could not make himself more beautiful than
+the Peacock's cousin himself.</p>
+
+<p>Now the Crow was a skilful thief. He could steal the silver off the
+King's table from under the steward's very nose. He could steal a maid's
+thimble from her finger as she nodded sleepily over her work. He could
+steal the pen from behind a scribe's ear, as he paused to scratch his
+head and think over the spelling of a word. So the Crow felt sure that
+he could steal their feathers from the birds without any trouble.</p>
+
+<p>When the Peacock and his cousin had passed by, the Crow swooped down and
+carried off the two feathers which were to begin his collection. He hid
+them in his treasure-house in the hollow tree, and started out for more.</p>
+
+<p>It was great fun for the Crow, and he almost forgot to be miserable. He
+followed old lady Ostrich about for some time before he dared tweak a
+handful of feathers from her tail. But finally he succeeded; and though
+she squawked horribly and turned, quick as a flash, she was not quick
+enough to catch the nimble thief, who was already hidden under a bush.
+In the same way he secured some lovely plumes from the Bird of
+Paradise, the Parrot, and the Cock. He robbed the Redbreast of his ruddy
+vest, the Hoopoe of his crown, and he secured a swallow-tail which he
+had long coveted. He took some rosy-redness from the Flamingo, the
+gilding of the Goldfinch, the gray down of an Eider-Duck. He burgled the
+Bluebird and the Redbird and the Yellowbird; and not one single
+feathered creature escaped his clever beak. At last his hole in the tree
+was brimming with feathers of every color, length, and degree of
+softness, a gorgeous feather-bed on which it would dazzle one to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Crow set to work to make himself a coat of many colors, like
+Joseph's. He was a very clever bird, and a wondrous coat it turned out
+to be. It had no particular cut nor style; it was not like the coat
+which any bird had ever before worn. The feathers were placed in any
+fashion that happened to please his original fancy. Some pointed up and
+some down; some were straight and some were curled; some drooped about
+his feet and others curved gracefully over his head; some trailed far
+behind. He was completely covered from top to toe, so that not one blot
+of his own inky feathers showed through the gorgeousness. A red vest he
+wore, and a swallow-tail, of course, and there was a crown of feathers
+on his head. Never was there seen a more extraordinary bird nor one more
+gaudy. Perhaps he was not in the best of taste, but at least he was
+striking.</p>
+
+<p>When all was finished the Crow went and looked at himself in the
+fountain mirror; and he was much pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"Well now!" he cried. "How am I for a bird? I believe no one will know
+me, and that is just as well; for now I am so fine that I shall myself
+refuse to know any one. Ho! This ought to give some ideas to that
+conceited Peacock family! I am a self-made man. I am an artist who knows
+how to adapt his materials. I am a genius. King Solomon himself will
+wonder at my glory. And as for the Eagle, King of the Birds, he will
+grow pale with envy. King of the Birds, indeed! It is now I who should
+rightfully be King. No other ever wore clothes so fine as mine. By right
+of them I ought to be King of the Birds. I <i>will</i> be King of the Birds!"</p>
+
+<p>You see the poor old Crow was quite crazy with his one idea.</p>
+
+<p>Forth he stalked into Birdland to show his gorgeous plumage and to get
+himself elected King of the Birds. The first persons he met were the
+Peacock and his cousin,&mdash;he who was once the Crow's best friend. The
+Crow ruffled himself his prettiest when he saw them coming.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious! Who is that extraordinary fowl?" drawled the Peacock.
+"He must be some great noble from a far country."</p>
+
+<p>"How beautiful!" murmured his silly cousin. "How odd! How fascinating!
+How distinguished! I wish the Crow had painted me like that!" The Crow
+heard these words and swelled with pride, casting a scornful glance at
+his old friend as he swept by.</p>
+
+<p>Next he met a little Sparrow who was picking bugs from the grass. "Out
+of my way, Birdling!" cried the Crow haughtily. "I am the King."</p>
+
+<p>"The King!" gasped the Sparrow, nearly choking over a fat bug, he was so
+surprised. "I did not know that the King wore such a robe. How
+gorgeous&mdash;but how queer!"</p>
+
+<p>Next the Crow met Mr. Stork, standing gravely on one leg and thinking of
+the little baby which he was going to bring that night to the cottage by
+the lake. The Stork looked up in surprise as the wonderful stranger
+approached.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless me!" he exclaimed, "whom have we here? I thought I knew all
+Birdland, but I never before saw such a freak as this!"</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/img5-full.jpg" name="img5" id="img5">
+<img src="./images/img5.jpg" alt="Bless me! he exclaimed, whom have we here?" title="Bless me! he exclaimed, whom have we here?" /></a><br />
+<i>"Bless me!" he exclaimed, "whom have we here?"</i></p>
+
+<p>"I am the King. I am to be the new King," announced the Crow. "Is
+there any bird more gorgeous than I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Truly, I hope not," said the Stork gravely. "Yet the Woodcock is a very
+foolish bird. One never knows what he will do next. If he should try to
+be fashionable"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But the Crow had passed on without listening to the Stork's sarcasm.</p>
+
+<p>As he went through Birdland he drew behind him a following of feathered
+citizens, chattering, screaming, tittering all together like the crowd
+after a circus procession. All the birds, big and little, plain and
+pretty, flocked to see this wonderful stranger who because of his fine
+clothes was coming to have himself named King. Some of them thought him
+truly beautiful, some thought him ridiculous; some envied him, some
+jeered. But they all stared; and the more they stared the more conceited
+became the Crow, the more sure that the kingdom was to be his.</p>
+
+<p>At last they came into the presence of the Eagle himself. That royal
+bird was perched upon his eyrie far up on the cliff. Below him gathered
+the dense flock of birds, waiting to see what would happen when the Crow
+demanded to be made King in the Eagle's place. The Eagle had been warned
+of the matter by the little Humming-Bird, and was looking very majestic
+and scornful. But the Swallow flew round and round in great circles,
+twittering excitedly, and in each circle sweeping nearer and nearer to
+the ground. The Swallow was angry because some one had stolen his
+beautiful swallow-tail.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the Crow swaggered forth, and cocking his impertinent eye
+towards the Eagle he croaked,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Hello there, Old High-perch! Give me your crown and sceptre, for I am
+King of the Birds, not you. Look at my gorgeous clothes; look at your
+own dull plumage. Am I not kingly?&mdash;look at me."</p>
+
+<p>The King made no reply, merely gazing sternly at the Crow. But the
+Swallow took up the word.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at him, look at him indeed, O King!" he screamed. "There is
+something strange about his kingly plumage. That swallow-tail is mine, I
+know it!" And with a vicious tweak the Swallow pulled out the long
+forked feathers of which the Crow was especially proud. Oh, what a
+shriek of rage the mad old bird gave! At that moment the Hoopoe came up
+and said, "Ha! Methinks I too recognize my property. This is my crown,"
+and forthwith he snatched the plumes from the Crow's forehead, leaving
+it quite ugly and bare. Next the gentle Redbreast claimed his vest, and
+the Bluebird her azure feathers, and the Ostrich her train which she had
+sorely missed. Each of the birds in turn came up and with much
+chattering and scolding twitched away the property of which he or she
+had been robbed, until the Crow stood before them in his customary suit
+of solemn black, a bird ashamed and sore. For they had pecked him with
+their bills and beaten him with their wings and scratched him with their
+claws until even his own plain old coat was frayed and rent.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh ho, oh ho! It is only old Daddy Crow, after all!" screamed the birds
+in chorus. And then, because the Eagle burst out laughing, they saw that
+it was really funny. Since the King did not mind being robbed for a time
+of his title, surely they need not mourn over the few feathers which the
+thief had borrowed, especially since each now had his own. Chattering
+with glee they all flew home to their various nests, leaving the Crow
+alone with his shame and soreness.</p>
+
+<p>Just at this moment the Peacock and his cousin came hurrying up out of
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what is it? What is the matter? What was all that noise just now?"
+asked the Peacock.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what has become of the beautiful, noble, splendid, remarkable,
+graceful, gorgeous, stylish, long-tailed, kingly stranger?" questioned
+the Peacock's cousin, speaking affably to the Crow, for the first time
+since his adoption into high society.</p>
+
+<p>The Crow looked at him sideways, and all his madness went away as he saw
+how very, very silly this creature was.</p>
+
+<p>"He was a fool in fools' feathers," he croaked. "He is no more. But
+before the end he bade me return these to you, saying, 'Fine feathers do
+not make fine birds.'" Speaking thus, he presented to the pair their two
+long feathers with which he had started his collection and which were
+the only ones now remaining to the masquerading Crow.</p>
+
+<p>Then with a harsh <i>Caw</i>! he flew away to his tree. He is not a happy
+bird, but since that time he has never been so mad as to think that
+clothes are the chief thing in the world.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="KING_SOLOMON_AND_THE_BIRDS" id="KING_SOLOMON_AND_THE_BIRDS"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-k.png" alt="K" title="K" />ING
+SOLOMON was wiser than all men, and his fame was in all nations
+round about Jerusalem. He was so wise that he knew every spoken
+language; yes, but more than this, he could talk with everything that
+lived, trees and flowers, beasts and fowls, creeping things and fishes.
+What a very pleasant thing that was for Solomon, to be sure! And how
+glad one would be nowadays to have such knowledge!</p>
+
+<p>Solomon was especially fond of birds, and loved to talk with them
+because their voices were so sweet and they spoke such beautiful words.
+One day the wise King was chatting pleasantly with the birds who lived
+in his wonderful garden, and these are some of the things which he heard
+them say. The Nightingale, the sweetest singer of all, chanted,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Contentment is the greatest happiness."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be better for most people never to have been born," crooned
+the melancholy Turtle-Dove.</p>
+
+<p>The happy little Swallow gave her opinion,&mdash;"Do good and you will be
+rewarded hereafter."</p>
+
+<p>The harsh cry of the Peacock meant, "As thou judgest so shalt thou be
+judged."</p>
+
+<p>The Hoopoe said, "He who has no pity for others will find none for
+himself."</p>
+
+<p>The cynical old Crow croaked disagreeably, "The further away from men I
+am, the better I am pleased."</p>
+
+<p>Last of all the Cock who sings in the morning chanted his joyous
+song,&mdash;"Think of your Creator, O foolish creatures!"</p>
+
+<p>When they had finished talking King Solomon softly stroked the head of
+the pretty little Dove and bade her cheer up, for life was not so
+dreadful a thing, after all. And he gave her permission to build her
+nest under the walls of the great Temple which he was building, the most
+beautiful, golden house in the whole world. Some years afterward the
+Doves had so increased in numbers that with their extended wings they
+formed a veil over the numberless pilgrims who came to Jerusalem to
+visit the wonderful Temple.</p>
+
+<p>But of all the winged singers who spoke that day in the garden, the wise
+King chose to have ever near him the Cock, because he had spoken words
+of piety, and the nimble Hoopoe, because he was able to plunge his
+clear gaze into the depths of the earth as if it were made of
+transparent glass and discover the places where springs of living water
+were hidden under the soil. It was very convenient for Solomon, when he
+was traveling, to have some one with him who was able to find water in
+whatsoever place he might be resting.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the Cock and the Hoopoe became Solomon's closest companions; but of
+the two the Hoopoe was his favorite. The Hoopoe is an Eastern bird and
+we do not see him in America. He is about as big as a Jay, colored a
+beautiful reddish gray, with feathers of purple, brown, and white, and
+his black wings are banded with white. But the peculiar thing about a
+Hoopoe is his crown of tawny feathers, a tall crown for so small a bird.
+And this is the story of the Hoopoe's crown.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>One day when Solomon was journeying across the desert, he was sorely
+distressed by the heat of the sun, until he came near to fainting. Just
+then he spied a flock of his friends the Hoopoes flying past, and
+calling to them feebly he begged them to shelter him from the burning
+rays.</p>
+
+<p>The King of the Hoopoes gathered together his whole nation and caused
+them to fly in a thick cloud over the head of Solomon while he
+continued his journey. In gratitude the wise King offered to give his
+feathered friends whatever reward they might ask.</p>
+
+<p>For a whole day the Hoopoes talked the matter over among themselves,
+then their King came to Solomon and said to him,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"We have considered your offer, O generous King, and we have decided
+that what we most desire is to have, each of us, a golden crown on his
+head."</p>
+
+<p>King Solomon smiled and answered, "Crowns of gold shall you have. But
+you are foolish birds, my Hoopoes; and when the evil days shall come
+upon you and you see the folly of your desire, return here to me and I
+will help you yet again."</p>
+
+<p>So the King of the Hoopoes left King Solomon with a beautiful golden
+crown upon his head. And soon all the Hoopoes were wearing golden
+crowns. Thereupon they grew very proud and haughty. They went down by
+the lakes and pools and strutted there that they might admire themselves
+in the water mirrors. And the Queen of the Hoopoes became very airy, and
+refused to speak to her own cousin and to the other birds who had once
+been her friends.</p>
+
+<p>There was a certain fowler who used to set traps for birds. He put a
+piece of broken mirror into his trap, and a Hoopoe spying it went in to
+admire herself, and was caught. The fowler looked at the shining crown
+upon her head and said, "What have we here! I never saw a crown like
+this upon any bird. I must ask about this."</p>
+
+<p>So he took the crown to Issachar, the worker in metal, and asked him
+what it was. Issachar examined it carefully, and his eyes stuck out of
+his head. But he said carelessly, "It is a crown of brass, my friend. I
+will give you a quarter of a shekel for it; and if you find any more
+bring them to me. But be sure to tell no other man of the matter." (A
+shekel was about sixty-two cents.)</p>
+
+<p>After this the fowler caught many Hoopoes in the same way, and sold
+their crowns to Issachar. But one day as he was on his way to the
+metalworker's shop he met a jeweler, and to him he showed one of the
+Hoopoes' crowns.</p>
+
+<p>"What is this, and where did you find it?" exclaimed the jeweler. "It is
+pure gold. I will give you a golden talent for every four you bring me."
+(A talent was worth three hundred shekels.)</p>
+
+<p>Now when the value of the Hoopoes' crowns was known, every one turned
+fowler and began to hunt the precious birds. In all the land of Israel
+was heard the twang of bows and the whirling of slings. Bird lime was
+made in every town, and the price of traps rose in the market so that
+the trap-makers became rich men. Not a Hoopoe could show his unlucky
+head without being slain or taken captive, and the days of the Hoopoes
+were numbered. It seemed that soon there would be no more Hoopoes left
+to bewail their sad fate.</p>
+
+<p>At last the few who still lived gathered together and held a meeting to
+consider what should be done, for their minds were filled with sorrow
+and dismay. And they decided to appeal once more to King Solomon, who
+had granted their foolish prayer.</p>
+
+<p>Flying by stealth through the loneliest ways, the unhappy King of the
+Hoopoes came at last to the court of the King, and stood once more
+before the steps of his golden throne. With tears and groans he related
+the sad fortune which had befallen his golden-crowned race.</p>
+
+<p>King Solomon looked kindly upon the King of the Hoopoes and said,
+"Behold, did I not warn you of your folly in desiring to have crowns of
+gold? Vanity and pride have been your ruin. But now, that there may be a
+memorial of the service which once you did me, your crowns of gold shall
+be changed into crowns of feathers, and with them you may walk unharmed
+upon the earth."</p>
+
+<p>In this way the remaining Hoopoes were saved. For when the fowlers saw
+that they no longer wore crowns of gold upon their heads, they ceased to
+hunt them as they had been doing. And from that time forth the family of
+the Hoopoes have flourished and increased in peace, even to the present
+day.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Solomon was ever seeking to grow even wiser. The better to know the
+wonders of God's world and the ways of all creatures, he undertook many
+journeys,&mdash;not as we ordinary poor mortals travel, in heavy wagons or
+clumsy boats, by dusty roads or stormy waves. It was in no such
+troublous ways that Solomon the all-powerful traversed space and reached
+the uttermost corners of the earth. Thanks to his great knowledge, he
+had discovered a means of locomotion compared to which the most
+magnificent railway coaches and the richest palanquins of Indian princes
+would seem poor indeed. He had caused his Genii to make a silken carpet
+of four leagues in extent. In the midst of this carpet was placed a
+magnificent throne for the royal traveler himself; and around it were
+seats of gold, of silver, of wood, for the multitude of persons of
+different rank whom he took with him. There was also no lack of the most
+gorgeous furniture and the necessary provisions for a king's traveling
+banquet.</p>
+
+<p>When all was ready Solomon was wont to seat himself upon his throne, and
+would command the winds to do their duty. Immediately they gently lifted
+the carpet and bore it rapidly through the air to the appointed spot.
+During the journey, above the aerial caravan fluttered a cloud of birds,
+who with their wings formed a splendid canopy to shield their beloved
+lord from the sun's heat, as the Hoopoes had first done.</p>
+
+<p>One day, while on such a journey, Solomon was shocked to feel a ray of
+sunlight piercing through this plumy dais which overhung his head.
+Shading his eyes, the King glanced up and perceived that there was an
+opening in the canopy. One bird was missing from its post. In great
+displeasure Solomon demanded of the Eagle the name of the truant.
+Anxiously the Eagle called the roll of all the birds in his company; and
+he was horrified to find that it was Solomon's favorite, the Hoopoe, who
+was missing. With terror he announced the bird's desertion to the most
+wise King.</p>
+
+<p>"Soar aloft," commanded Solomon sternly, "and find the Hoopoe that I may
+punish him. I will pluck off his feathers that he may feel the
+scorching heat of the sun as his carelessness has caused me to do."</p>
+
+<p>The Eagle soared heavenward, until the earth beneath him looked like a
+bowl turned upside down. Then he poised on level wings and looked around
+in every direction to discover the truant. Soon he espied the Hoopoe
+flying swiftly from the south. The Eagle swooped down and would have
+seized the culprit roughly in his strong talons, but the Hoopoe begged
+him for Solomon's sake to be gentle.</p>
+
+<p>"For Solomon's sake!" cried the Eagle. "Do you dare to name the King
+whom you have injured? He has discovered your absence and in his
+righteous anger will punish you severely."</p>
+
+<p>"Lead me to him," replied the Hoopoe. "I know that he will forgive me
+when he hears where I have been and what I have to tell him."</p>
+
+<p>The Eagle led him to the King, who with a wrathful face was sitting on
+his throne. The Hoopoe trembled and drooped his feathers humbly, but
+when Solomon would have crushed him in his mighty fist the bird cried,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Remember, King, that one day you also must give an account of your
+sins. Let me not therefore be condemned unheard."</p>
+
+<p>"And if I hear you, what excuse can you have to offer?" answered
+Solomon, frowning. But this was his favorite bird and he hoped that
+there might be some reason for sparing him.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the Hoopoe, "at Mecca I met a Hoopoe of my acquaintance who
+told me so wonderful a tale of the marvelous Kingdom of Sheba in Arabia
+that I could not resist the temptation to visit that country of gold and
+precious stones. And there, indeed, I saw the most prodigious treasures;
+but best of all, O King, more glorious than gold, more precious than
+rare jewels, I saw Queen Balkis, the most beautiful of queens."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me of this Queen," said Solomon, loosening his rough grasp upon
+the Hoopoe. So it was, say the Mussulmans, that a bird told Solomon of
+the great Queen whose journey to Jerusalem is described in the Bible.</p>
+
+<p>The Hoopoe told of her power and glory, her riches, her wisdom, and her
+beauty, until Solomon sighed a great sigh and said, "It seems too good
+to be true! But we shall see."</p>
+
+<p>So the King wrote a letter to Balkis, bidding her follow the guidance of
+fate and come to the court of the wise King. This note he sealed with
+musk, stamped with his great signet, and gave to the Hoopoe, saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"If now you have spoken truth, take this letter to Queen Balkis; then
+come away."</p>
+
+<p>The Hoopoe did as he was bid, darting off towards the south like an
+arrow. And the next day he came to the palace of the Queen of Sheba,
+where she sat in all her splendor among her counselors. He hopped into
+the hall and dropped the letter into her lap, then flew away.</p>
+
+<p>Queen Balkis stared and stared at the great King's seal upon the
+mysterious letter, and when she had read the brief invitation she stared
+and stared again. But she had heard the fame of Solomon and was eager to
+ask him some of her clever questions to prove his wisdom. So she decided
+to accept his invitation and come to Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>She came with a great train of attendants, with camels that bore spices
+and treasures of gold and precious stones, gifts for the most wise King.
+And she asked him more questions than any woman had ever asked him
+before, though he knew a great many ladies, and they were all
+inquisitive.</p>
+
+<p>But Solomon was so wise that he answered all her questions without any
+trouble.</p>
+
+<p>And she said to him, "It was a true report that I heard of you in my own
+land, of your wisdom and of your glory. Only that which now I know and
+see is greater than what I heard. Happy are thy men and happy are thy
+servants who stand continually before thee and hear thy wisdom."</p>
+
+<p>And she gave the King a hundred and twenty talents of gold, which was a
+very rich treasure, besides great store of spices, and the most precious
+gifts; no one had ever seen such gifts as the Queen of Sheba gave to
+Solomon.</p>
+
+<p>But he in turn was even more generous. For he gave to the fair Balkis
+all that she desired and everything she asked, because he admired so
+much this splendid Queen of whom the Hoopoe had first told him.</p>
+
+<p>And so, the Bible says, the Queen of Sheba turned and went to her own
+country, she and her servants. But the Mussulmans' tales say that in
+later days she married Solomon and they lived happily ever after. And it
+was all the work of that little Hoopoe with a yellow crown, whom after
+that we may be sure Solomon loved better than ever.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_PIOUS_ROBIN" id="THE_PIOUS_ROBIN"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE PIOUS ROBIN</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Wordsworth poem" >
+<tr><td align='left'>"Art thou the bird whom man loves best,<br />
+The pious bird with the scarlet breast,<br />
+<span class="poemind2">Our little English Robin?"</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Wordsworth.</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-t.png" alt="T" title="T" />HE
+English Robin is not precisely like our little American friend whom
+we call by that name, although, as the lines of poetry quoted above will
+show, in two ways he is the same as ours: he has a red breast, and he is
+the bird whom every one loves. Of all the little brothers of the air, in
+every land and clime, the pretty, jolly, neighborly Robin Redbreast is
+the favorite.</p>
+
+<p>There are many stories about him: some which tell how he came by his
+scarlet breast, others which explain why he has always been best beloved
+of the birds. I have already told how he helped the Wren to bring fire
+to men. Every one knows how tenderly he covered with leaves the poor
+Babes in the Wood, when they had been deserted even by their nearest of
+kin. Some have heard about Saint Kentigern, and how he restored to life
+the pious Robin of his master Servan,&mdash;the dear little bird who used to
+sing psalms every morning in the Saint's company. Some also know about
+the Robin who brought the wheat-ear in his bill to the poor brothers in
+Brittany who had no grain to plant for their future harvest. All these
+tales show the Robin's generous heart, cheerful nature, and pious
+devotion, which make him beloved by men. But perhaps you do not know why
+he is called God's own bird.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Verse 1" >
+<tr><td align='left'>"The Robin and the Wren<br />
+Are God's cock and hen,"</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>sing the little English children, and they think it is very wicked to
+injure one of the holy birds or make her unhappy by robbing her nest of
+its pretty eggs.</p>
+
+<p>This is why the Robin is called the good bird, God's bird. The oldest
+stories say that the little Christ-child used to feed most tenderly the
+Robins who hopped about the door of His mother's house, for they were
+dearest of all to His baby heart. Perhaps He thus early learned to love
+them because His mother had told Him of the service which the dear
+little birds had once performed for her.</p>
+
+<p>For it is said that once upon a time, when Mary was a little girl, as
+she was going along the gusty road a bit of straw blew into her eye and
+pained her terribly. She sat down upon a stone and began to cry. Now a
+Robin was sitting on a branch close by, singing with all the power of
+his little throat when the maiden passed, for she was very sweet to see
+and the Robin loved her looks. But when he saw the blessed Mary begin to
+cry and rub her eye with her chubby hand, he stopped his gay song and
+became very sad, wondering what he could do to help her.</p>
+
+<p>What he did was to fly away and tell his friend the Swallow all about
+it, asking her aid. After that he fluttered to a little fountain which
+bubbled up close by and brought thence in his bill a drop of water.
+Then, perching on Mary's forehead, he gently dropped this into the
+suffering eye. At the same time the Swallow softly brushed her long
+tail-feathers under the maiden's eyelid, and the hateful straw was wiped
+away. Thus the little Mary was relieved, and when once more she could
+look up happily with her pretty eyes she smiled upon the two kind birds
+and blessed them for their aid.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, if the little Christ heard His mother tell this pretty story
+He would have been sure to love the Robin, just as she did. And so these
+little birds became His boyhood friends.</p>
+
+<p>Those were happy times. But in the after years, in the dreadful day
+when the Saviour was so cruelly done to death by His enemies, the little
+Robin once more proved his generous and pious heart, so the legends say.</p>
+
+<p>The Saviour hung upon the cross, suffering and sad, while the world was
+veiled with darkness and all good creatures mourned. Two birds perched
+upon the cross beside His weary, drooping head. One was the faithful
+Robin, who was then a plain and dark-colored bird with the scorched
+feathers of a fire-bringer upon his breast. The other was the Magpie,
+who at that time was among the most gorgeous and beautiful of all the
+birds. She had a tuft of bright feathers on her head, and her plumage
+outshone even that of the Peacock, who has the hundred gleaming eyes of
+Argus set in his fan-like tail. But the Magpie, in spite of her beauty,
+was at heart a wicked bird. Think of it! She mocked the dying Saviour in
+His agony and seemed to rejoice in His suffering!</p>
+
+<p>But the Robin fluttered about the holy figure, timidly uttering chirps
+of sorrow and longing to help the Master who had fed him tenderly for so
+many years. With his soft wings he wiped away the tears which flowed
+from the Lord's eyes, while with his beak he tugged at the cruel thorns
+which pierced His brow, trying to relieve Him.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a drop of blood fell from Christ's forehead upon the Robin's
+breast and tinged with bright crimson the rusty reddish feathers.</p>
+
+<p>"Blessed be thou," said the Lord, "thou sharer of my suffering. Wherever
+thou goest happiness and joy shall follow thee. Blue as the heaven shall
+be thy eggs, and from henceforth thou shalt be the Bird of God, the
+bearer of good tidings. But thou," He added, addressing the Magpie
+sorrowfully, "thou art accursed. No longer shall the brilliant tuft and
+bright feathers of which thou art so proud and so unworthy adorn thee.
+Thy color shall be the streaked black and white of shadows, thy life a
+hard one. And thy nest, however well builded, shall be open to the
+storm."</p>
+
+<p>These were almost the last words which the Saviour spoke. After that,
+when the Lord was laid in the sepulchre, the faithful Robin still
+watched beside Him for those three dread days until He rose on Easter
+morning, when the little bird rejoiced with all nature at the wondrous
+happening. And again on Ascension Day he paid his last tribute to the
+risen Master, joining his little song with the chorus of the angels
+themselves in the gladdest Hosanna which the universe had ever heard.</p>
+
+<p>This explains how the Magpie became a restless, noisy, black-and-white
+bird as we know her to this day, having lost all her brilliant beauty
+through the wickedness of her heart. But the pious Robin still wears
+upon his breast the beautiful feathers stained red with his Master's
+blood. And all that the Saviour foretold of him has come true. He is the
+blessed bird whom children everywhere love and of whom they still repeat
+these old verses:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Verse 2" >
+<tr><td align='left'>"The Robin and the Redbreast,<br />
+<span class="poemind1">The Robin and the Wren,</span><br />
+If ye take out of the nest<br />
+<span class="poemind1">Ye'll never thrive again.</span><br />
+The Robin and the Redbreast,<br />
+<span class="poemind1">The Martin and the Swallow,</span><br />
+If ye touch one of their eggs<br />
+<span class="poemind1">Bad luck is sure to follow."</span><br /></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_ROBIN_WHO_WAS_AN_INDIAN" id="THE_ROBIN_WHO_WAS_AN_INDIAN"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-t.png" alt="T" title="T" />HE
+name of Robin makes us think at once of the jolliest and most
+sociable of all our little brother birds. In every land the name is a
+favorite, and wherever he goes he brings happiness and kind feeling.</p>
+
+<p>The American Robin is not the same bird as his English cousin, though
+both have red breasts.</p>
+
+<p>It was in a different manner that our little American friend came to
+have the ruddy waistcoat which we know so well.</p>
+
+<p>There was a time, so the Indians say, a very early time, long, long
+before Columbus discovered America,&mdash;even before histories began to be
+written,&mdash;when there were no Robins.</p>
+
+<p>In those days in the land of the Ojibways, which is far in the north of
+the cold country, there lived an old Indian chief who had one son, named
+Iadilla. Now among the Ojibways, when a boy was almost big enough to
+become a warrior, before he could go out with the other braves to the
+hunt or to war, there was a great trial which he must undergo. Other
+lands and peoples have known similar customs. You remember how, in
+early Christian times, long, long ago, Galahad and other boys had to
+fast and watch by their armor during the long night hours before they
+could become knights, to wear spurs and shield and sword? In just the
+same way a brown Ojibway lad had to make a long fast in order to win the
+love of his Guardian Spirit, who would after that watch over him to make
+him brave and strong. It was a very important event in a boy's life,
+like graduation from school or college nowadays. For this meant the
+graduation from boyhood into manhood, the winning of a warrior's
+diploma.</p>
+
+<p>The father of Iadilla was a brave warrior, a famous chief. But he wished
+his son to become even better, wiser, greater than he had been. He
+resolved that the boy should fast longer and harder than ever a lad had
+fasted before. For he believed that this was the way to make him the
+noblest of his race. Iadilla was a fine handsome lad, but he was the
+youngest one who had ever made the trial, and there were many bigger
+boys than he who were not yet warriors. The other chiefs said that he
+was not yet old and strong enough.</p>
+
+<p>But Iadilla's father declared that it was time, and bade his son gather
+courage and pride for the ordeal. "For," he said, "it will be no easy
+matter, my son, to become the greatest chief of the Ojibways."</p>
+
+<p>"My father," replied Iadilla, humbly, "I will do as you wish. I will do
+what I can. But my strength is not the strength of the bigger boys; and
+I think it is yet early to talk of my becoming greatest of the Ojibways.
+Yet make trial of me, if you wish."</p>
+
+<p>The father of Iadilla had made a little tent of skins where the boy was
+to live during his fasting time; where he was to lie without food or
+drink for twelve long days, waiting for a message from the Guardian
+Spirit whose love was to be the reward of such a trial.</p>
+
+<p>When the time came, the old man led Iadilla to the lodge and bade him
+lie down on the bed of skins which had been prepared for him. And
+Iadilla did as he was bid, for he was a brave and obedient lad.</p>
+
+<p>The days crept by, the long, long days of waiting, while Iadilla lay in
+the lodge bearing hunger and thirst such as no Ojibway lad had ever
+before known. All day and all night he lay still and spoke never a word.
+But a dreadful fear was in his heart lest he should not be able to
+endure the fast for the twelve days which his father had set.</p>
+
+<p>Every morning his father came to the lodge to praise and to encourage
+him, and to rejoice in one more day checked from the long time of
+fasting. So eight days passed, and the old man was proud and happy.
+Already his dear son had done more than any Ojibway lad, and the whole
+tribe was praising Iadilla, saying what a great chief he would be in the
+days to come.</p>
+
+<p>But on the ninth morning, when the father peeped into the lodge to see
+how bravely his son was faring, the boy turned his head toward the door
+and spoke for the first time in all those long days. He was very thin
+and pale, and his voice sounded weak.</p>
+
+<p>"My father," he said, "I have slept, and my dreams were sad. I have
+slept, and my dreams were of failure and weakness. The time does not
+please my Guardian Spirit. It is not now that I can become a warrior. I
+am not yet strong and old enough. O my father, I cannot bear the fast
+longer! I am so hungry, so thirsty, so faint! Let me break my fast, and
+try again in another year."</p>
+
+<p>But the father sternly refused, for he was ambitious. "Nay, lad," he
+cried, frowningly. "Would you fail me now? Think of the glory, think of
+being the greatest of Ojibways. It is but a few short days now. Courage,
+Iadilla, be a man in strength and patience."</p>
+
+<p>Iadilla said no more. He wrapped himself closer in his blanket and drew
+his belt tighter about his slender waist, trying to stifle the hunger
+gnawing there. So he lay silently until the eleventh day. That morning
+his father came to the lodge, beaming proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Bravo, my Iadilla!" he cried. "Only one day more, and you will be
+released from your fast." But Iadilla clasped his hands beseechingly.</p>
+
+<p>"My father," gasped the poor boy. "I cannot bear it another day. I am
+not fit to be a great chief. I have failed. Give me food, or I die!"</p>
+
+<p>But again the father refused. "It is but a day now," he said, "but a few
+short hours. Bear a little longer, Iadilla. To-morrow I myself will
+bring you the finest breakfast that ever a lad ate. Courage, boy, for
+the few hours that remain."</p>
+
+<p>Iadilla was too weak to answer. He lay motionless, with only a gentle
+heaving of his breast to show that he still lived. His father left him
+for the last time, and went to prepare the morrow's goodly breakfast,
+while the tribe planned a fine festival in honor of the young hero.</p>
+
+<p>Early on the morrow came Iadilla's father to the tent, proudly bearing
+the breakfast for his brave boy, and smiling to think how gladly he
+would be received. But he stopped outside the tent door surprised to
+hear some one talking within. Stooping to a little hole in the skin of
+the tent he peeped in to find who the speaker might be. Imagine his
+surprise to find Iadilla standing upright in the middle of the tent
+painting his breast a brilliant red, as Indians do in war time. And as
+he daubed on the colors he talked to himself. He spoke softly, yet not
+with the weak voice of a starving lad; and his face was very beautiful
+to see, despite its pale thinness.</p>
+
+<p>"My father has ended my Indian life," he said. "My father, too
+ambitious, has put upon me more than my strength could bear. He would
+not listen to my prayer of weakness. But I knew, I knew! And my kind
+Guardian Spirit knew also that it was more than I could bear. He has
+shown pity, seeing that I was obedient to my father and did my best to
+please him. Now I am to be no longer an Indian boy. I must take the
+shape which the Spirit has given me, and go away."</p>
+
+<p>At these strange words the father broke into the tent, exclaiming in
+terror,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"My son, my dear son! Do not leave me!"</p>
+
+<p>But, even as he spoke, Iadilla changed into a beautiful Robin Redbreast
+with soft feathers and strong, firm wings. And, fluttering up to the
+ridgepole of the tent, he looked down with pity and tenderness upon the
+heart-broken chief.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not grieve, father," he sang. "I shall be so much happier as a bird,
+free from human pain and sorrow. I will cheer you with my merry songs.
+Oh, I have been hungry; but now I shall get my food so easily, so
+pleasantly on mountains and in the fields. Oh, once I was thirsty; but
+now the dew is mine and the little springs. Once I traced my way
+painfully by forest paths through bog and brake and tangled brier. But
+now my pathways are in the bright, clear air, where never thorn can tear
+nor beast can follow. Farewell, dear father! I am so happy!"</p>
+
+<p>He stretched his brown wings as easily as if he had worn them all his
+life, and, singing a sweet song, fluttered away to the neighboring
+woods, where he built his nest, and lived happily ever after.</p>
+
+<p>And since that day the glad little Robins have lived as that first one
+promised, close by the homes of men, and have done all they could to
+cheer us and make us happy. For they remember how, once upon a time,
+their ancestor was a human boy.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_INQUISITIVE_WOMAN" id="THE_INQUISITIVE_WOMAN"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-t.png" alt="T" title="T" />HERE
+was once a woman who was so very inquisitive that she wished to
+know everything. She was never happy unless she was poking her nose into
+some mystery, and the less a matter concerned her the more curious she
+was about it.</p>
+
+<p>One day the Lord gathered together all the insects in the world, all the
+beetles, bugs, bees, mosquitoes, ants, locusts, grasshoppers, and other
+creatures who fly or hop or crawl, and shut them up in a huge sack well
+tied at the end. What a queer, squirming, muffled-buzzing bundle it
+made, to be sure!</p>
+
+<p>Then the Lord called the woman to him and said, "Woman, I would have you
+take this sack and throw it into the sea. But be sure and do not untie
+the end of it to look inside; for the sack must on no account be opened,
+even for a single minute."</p>
+
+<p>The woman took the sack, wondering very much at the queer size and shape
+and feeling of it, and especially at the strange noises which came from
+the inside.</p>
+
+<p>"What can be in the sack?" she said to herself. "Oh, I wish I knew! Oh,
+<i>how</i> I wish I knew! Oh, how very, <i>very</i> much I wish I knew!" Her
+curiosity increased every minute as she went step by step towards the
+sea, until when she had gone scarcely a hundred paces she stopped short
+and said, "I must know what is inside this sack before I go any farther.
+I will take just one tiny little peep, and He will never know it."</p>
+
+<p>Very carefully she untied the neck of the sack. Buzz! Whirr! Hum! Zim!
+She had opened it but a tiny little crack when out crawled and hopped
+and flew the millions and swarms and colonies of all kinds of insects,
+and away they scattered in every direction. Such a noise as filled the
+air about the astonished woman's head! Such a wriggling and squirming
+and hopping in the grass about her feet!</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, now I know what was in the sack!" she cried. "But I wish I had not
+looked. Oh, whatever shall I do? He told me to throw the bag into the
+ocean without looking in. But now the horrid creatures have escaped
+everywhere and He will know what I have done. Oh, what will He do to
+punish me?"</p>
+
+<p>She began to run hither and yon like a crazy woman, picking up the bugs
+and jumping for the fluttering insects, trying to put them back into the
+bag. They stung her and bit her and got into her eyes until she screamed
+with pain. As fast as she caught one another escaped, and she soon saw
+that it was a hopeless task. She could never catch the millions of
+creatures who had scattered away to their homes in every corner of the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Lord came to her and said very sternly, "O Woman, you have
+disobeyed me, just as did the very first woman of all. And you must be
+punished both for your disobedience and for your inquisitiveness which
+has led you into the worse sin. Not until you have gathered up every one
+of these insects which you have permitted to escape back into the world
+shall you be happy. But I will give you wings to help you in the task.
+You shall become a Woodpecker, and it shall be your task to hunt, hunt
+for the insects which hide away so slyly at your approach. Not till the
+last one of these is gobbled up from the earth shall you return to your
+own shape and be a woman once more."</p>
+
+<p>Then the Lord changed the inquisitive woman into a restless Woodpecker,
+and with a "tut-tut!" she darted away in pursuit of the insects which
+had brought her into such trouble.</p>
+
+<p>And that is why to this day one sees the Woodpecker pecking so
+frantically on the tree trunks, anxious lest a single insect should
+escape. For she is very tired of being a bird, and is longing to become
+a woman once more. But it will be a very long time, I fear, before she
+gathers up all the wriggling, squirming, hopping, buzzing, stinging,
+biting things that make life in the country so varied, exciting, and
+musical.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="WHY_THE_NIGHTINGALE_WAKES" id="WHY_THE_NIGHTINGALE_WAKES"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-w.png" alt="W" title="W" />HEN
+the other birds are sound asleep in their nests, with their little
+heads tucked comfortably under their feathers, Sister Nightingale, they
+say, may not rest, but still sounds the notes of her beautiful song in
+grove and thicket.</p>
+
+<p>Why does she sing thus, all night long as well as through the day? It is
+because she dares not go to sleep on account of the Blindworm, who is
+waiting to catch her with her eyes closed.</p>
+
+<p>Once upon a time, when the world was very new, the Blindworm was not
+quite blind, but had one good eye. Moreover, in those days the
+Nightingale also had but one eye. As for the Blindworm, it mattered very
+little; for he was a homely creature, content to crawl about in the dark
+underground, or under wood and leaves, where nobody saw him and nobody
+cared. But the Nightingale's case was really quite too pitiful! Fancy
+the sweetest singer among all the birds, the favorite chorister, going
+about with but one eye, while every one else, even the tiniest little
+Humming Bird of all, had two.</p>
+
+<p>The Nightingale felt very sore about this matter, and tried to conceal
+her misfortune from the other birds. She managed to cock her head the
+other way whenever she met a friend, and she always flew past any
+stranger so fast that he never saw the empty socket where her other
+pretty eye should be.</p>
+
+<p>But one day there was great excitement among the birds. Miss Jenny Wren
+was going to be married to young Cock Robin. There was to be a grand
+wedding; every one was invited, and of course the Nightingale was needed
+to lead the bridal chorus of feathered songsters. But the poor
+Nightingale was set in a flutter of anxiety by the news.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear me!" she said, "I do want to go to Jenny's wedding, oh, of
+course I do! But how can I go? If I do, the other birds will discover
+that I have but one eye, and then how the disagreeable creatures will
+laugh at me. Oh dear, oh dear! What shall I do? I cannot go, no, I
+really cannot. But what excuse can I give? Oh, it is not right that the
+sweetest singer in all Birdland should be laughed at, merely because she
+has the misfortune to lack one poor little eye!"</p>
+
+<p>The Nightingale sat on the branch, singing so mournfully that all the
+creatures on the ground below went sorrowfully about their daily
+business. Just then the Nightingale spied a silvery gleam among the dead
+leaves. It was the Blindworm, a spotted gray streak, writhing
+noiselessly along towards the decayed wood of a fallen tree, in which he
+loved to burrow. And the Blindworm was not sad like the others, neither
+seemed he to care in the least about the Nightingale's music. Worms
+think little of sweet sounds. He cocked his one eye up towards the
+Nightingale and winked maliciously. He alone of all creatures knew the
+Nightingale's secret.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-day, Sister Nightingale," he said. "How is your eye this morning?
+We have a goodly pair between us; though I think that mine is rather the
+better of the two."</p>
+
+<p>Then he disappeared into a tiny opening. For though the Blindworm is
+nearly a foot long he is so smooth and slippery that he can enter a hole
+which is almost smaller than himself.</p>
+
+<p>The Nightingale was very indignant at being addressed in this familiar
+way by a miserable, crawling creature who not only could not fly, but
+who could not sing a note, and did not know <i>do</i> from <i>fa</i>.
+Besides, it made her angry to think that he knew her secret and talked
+aloud about it so that any one might hear.</p>
+
+<p>"The idea!" she cried. "It is bad enough that I cannot go to the wedding
+of my dear friend Jenny. But to be jeered at by this creature, it is
+more than I can bear. Ha! I have an idea. I will punish him and help
+myself at the same time. I will steal his one eye and wear it to Jenny
+Wren's wedding; then no one will ever discover my misfortune."</p>
+
+<p>Now this was an excellent scheme, but it was not so easy to carry it out
+as the Nightingale had thought. For the Blindworm was very timid and
+kept himself carefully hidden in his burrow of soft soil, as if he half
+suspected the Nightingale's plans. Day after day the Nightingale kept
+eager watch upon his movements, and at last, on the very eve of the
+wedding, when she had almost given up hope, she spied the Blindworm
+sound asleep on the moss under a tall tree.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha!" said the Nightingale to herself very softly. "Now is my chance!"
+She fluttered into the top of the oak tree, and from there hopped down
+from branch to branch, from twig to twig, until she was directly over
+the sleeper's ugly head, over the one closed eye. Then <i>whirr</i>! Down
+she pounced upon the Blindworm. And before the creature had a chance to
+know what was happening, the Nightingale had stolen his eye, and had
+popped it into place in the empty socket on the other side of her beak.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha, ha!" she sang merrily. "Now I have two bright eyes, as good as any
+one's. Now I can go to Jenny Wren's wedding as gayly as I please, and no
+one shall see more of the ceremony than I. I shall be able to tell just
+exactly how the bride is dressed, how every little feather is arranged,
+and how she looks after Parson Crow has pronounced the blessing. Oh, how
+happy I am!"</p>
+
+<p>But the poor Blindworm, blind indeed from that day forth, began to cry
+and lament, begging the Nightingale to give him back his eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," said the Nightingale, "did you not laugh at me when you saw me
+sadly sitting on the tree, mourning because I could not go to the
+wedding? Now I have stolen your eye, and I can see famously. But you
+will never again see me sitting sadly on the tree."</p>
+
+<p>Then the Blindworm grew very angry. "I will get the eye back!" he cried.
+"I will steal it from you, as you stole it from me, some time when you
+are asleep. I will climb up into your nest some night, and I will take
+both your eyes of which you are so proud. Then you will be blind,
+wholly blind as I am now."</p>
+
+<p>At these threatening words the Nightingale ceased to sing and became
+silent with fear. For she knew that the Blindworm would do as he said.
+But again a brilliant thought came to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay!" she trilled gladly. "That you shall never do. I will never sleep
+again. I will keep awake always, night and day, with my two bright eyes
+ever looking out for danger. Yes, yes, yes! No one shall ever catch me
+napping."</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot help yourself," said the Blindworm. "You cannot keep awake.
+You will drowse in spite of everything. I shall yet find you asleep some
+night, and then beware!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, nay!" warbled the Nightingale, as she flew away to make herself
+fine for the wedding. "I shall sing, sing, sing night and day henceforth
+to keep myself awake. And thus I need not fear. Farewell-well-well!"</p>
+
+<p>And so the Nightingale went to the wedding and sang more sweetly in the
+bridal chorus than she had ever sung before. And after that, although
+she was weary, oh, so weary! she sang all night long, and all the next
+night and the next. And so she has continued to sing ever since in the
+lands which are blessed by her presence. For she dares not go to sleep
+even for a single moment, knowing that the Blindworm is ever ready to
+pounce upon her and take away the eyes which she is now enjoying.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="MRS_PARTRIDGES_BABIES" id="MRS_PARTRIDGES_BABIES"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>MRS. PARTRIDGE'S BABIES</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-l.png" alt="L" title="L" />ONG,
+long ago, when the world was very young indeed, the Birds and
+Animals used to send their children to school, to Mother Magpie's
+kindergarten. All the morning long the babies learned their lessons
+which it was needful for them to know. And when the noon hour came their
+various mammas came to the school bringing lunches for the children. You
+can imagine how gladly they were received by the hungry little scholars.</p>
+
+<p>One day Mrs. Partridge was very busy with her house-cleaning, and when
+the noontime came she could not leave her work to go to the school with
+her babies' lunch.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me," she said, looking out of the nest, "here it is noon and the
+little Partridges will be so very hungry. But I really cannot leave home
+now. What shall I do? If only some other mamma were going that way."</p>
+
+<p>She craned her neck and looked eagerly in every direction. And finally
+she spied Madame Tortoise plodding along towards the school, with the
+lunch for her little Turtlets.</p>
+
+<p>"Oho, neighbor, oho! Stop a minute!" cried Mrs. Partridge, waving a wing
+at Tortoise. "Are you going schoolward, as I think? Oh, dear Madame
+Tortoise, if you knew how busy I am to-day. I don't think any one was
+ever so busy as I am with my house-cleaning. Will you do me a favor,
+please?"</p>
+
+<p>The Tortoise sniffed. "Well, I am a busy woman myself," she said, "but I
+am willing to oblige a neighbor. What is it you wish, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you so much!" cried the Partridge. "Dear Madame Tortoise, I
+shall never forget your kindness. Now, will you take this bunch of nice
+wiggly worms to my little ones for their lunch? I shall be so very
+grateful."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention it," snapped the Tortoise, who was rather tired of
+hearing Mrs. Partridge's shrill thanks. "I'm perfectly willing to take
+the lunch, since I am going to the same place. But I don't know your
+babies. What do they look like, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that is easily told," cried Mrs. Partridge. "They are the most
+beautiful little creatures in the school. They are said greatly to
+resemble me. You will have no trouble in recognizing them. When you
+come to the school just look around at all the children, and pick out
+the three most beautiful of all. Those are certain to be mine. Give them
+the wiggly worms, please, with my love. And oh, <i>thank</i> you, Madame
+Tortoise, so very much! Some time I will do as much for you. So
+neighborly! Thank you!"</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/img6-full.jpg" name="img6" id="img6">
+<img src="./images/img6.jpg" alt="Here are some nice fat wiggly worms!" title="Here are some nice fat wiggly worms!" /></a><br />
+<i>Here are some nice fat wiggly worms!</i></p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention it!" snapped the Tortoise again, very much bored by all
+this chatter. She sniffed as she moved slowly along towards the school,
+with the second lunch carried carefully on her broad shell-back. "They
+are nice fat worms," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Now when the Tortoise came to the school it was high noon, and all the
+children were waiting open-mouthed for their mammas and the lunches
+which they expected. Such rows and rows of wide hungry mouths! Madame
+Tortoise moved slowly up and down and round and round, eyeing the
+various children who begged for the nice wiggly worms. "H'm!" she said
+to herself, "hungry children seem to look considerably alike, and none
+of them are so wondrously beautiful when their mouths are wide open
+greedily. I wonder which are Mrs. Partridge's children. She told me to
+give this lunch to the handsomest babies here. Well, I will, and if I
+make a mistake it will not be my fault. Hello! Here are my dear little
+Turtlets! Bless the babies, how pretty they are! Why, I declare, I never
+realized that they were so handsome. Certainly, they are the
+best-looking children in the school. Then I must give them Mrs.
+Partridge's luncheon, for so I promised. Yes, my little ones, here is
+your lunch which I brought for you. And when you have finished that,
+here is another, some nice, fat, wiggly worms which mother collected on
+the way,&mdash;a prize for the handsomest children in the school."</p>
+
+<p>So the little Turtlets fared wonderfully well that day; but the poor
+little Partridges went hungry, and had dreadful headaches, and went home
+peeping sadly to their silly mother. And Mrs. Partridge had no more
+sense than to be angry with Madame Tortoise, which I think was very
+unfair, don't you? For the latter had only done as she was bidden by her
+silly and conceited neighbor.</p>
+
+<p>But after that the Tortoise and the Partridge never spoke to each other,
+and their children would not play together at school.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_EARLY_GIRL" id="THE_EARLY_GIRL"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE EARLY GIRL</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-t.png" alt="T" title="T" />HERE
+were once two girls who were very dear friends, Za&iuml;ca and
+Tourtourelle. One morning Za&iuml;ca woke up and said, "O Tourtourelle! Last
+night I had such a strange dream!"</p>
+
+<p>"And so did I!" cried Tourtourelle. "Let us tell each other the dreams.
+But you first, Za&iuml;ca."</p>
+
+<p>Za&iuml;ca began to laugh. "I dreamed I was a pretty bird with a tuft of
+feathers on my head. I could fly, and, O Tourtourelle! it was great fun!
+But the most amusing thing of all was that I could sing so finely, and
+mock all the birds of the forest. Nay, I could even imitate the sounds
+of animals. I cannot help laughing when I think what a jolly time I
+had."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Za&iuml;ca!" cried Tourtourelle, wondering, "I dreamed the very same
+thing. I too was a pretty little bird, and I too could imitate all kinds
+of sounds as I fluttered in the tree-tops. Surely, the dream will come
+true for one of us. How fine that would be!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, let it be for the one of us who first rises to-morrow morning,"
+said Za&iuml;ca. And so the two friends agreed.</p>
+
+<p>Now when it came night-time Za&iuml;ca went to bed very early, like a wise
+little girl who wants to rise with the sun. But Tourtourelle said to
+herself, "I know what I will do, I will not go to sleep. I will sit up
+all night, and then I am sure to be the first to rise."</p>
+
+<p>So Tourtourelle perched herself on a high-backed chair and stretched her
+eyes wide open. For hours and hours she sat there, growing more sleepy
+every minute. Towards morning she began to nod; she could hardly keep
+her eyes open, though she tried to prop the lids with her finger tips.
+Finally, whether she would or no, she fell fast asleep, poor little
+Tourtourelle, worn out with her long vigil.</p>
+
+<p>When the first morning sunbeam peeped into the chamber Za&iuml;ca opened her
+eyes, refreshed and smiling. She sat up in bed remembering the dream,
+and then jumped lightly to the floor. As she did so she glanced at her
+feet, which felt queer. Wonderful! They were little bird claws! She
+looked down at herself. She was covered with soft feathers. She tried to
+move her arms, and when she did so she rose lightly from the floor and
+skimmed out of the window into the garden. Za&iuml;ca had become a pretty
+little bird, just as she had dreamed. Oh, how happy she was! She heard a
+Lark singing far up in the sky. Opening her mouth, she warbled and
+trilled as well as he, until he dropped down quickly to the earth,
+thinking it must be his mate who sang so sweetly. She spied a Chicken
+strayed too far from the mother Hen; and chuckling to herself
+mischievously she imitated the warning cry of a Hawk, till the Chick ran
+squawking back to the shelter of his mother's wing. She heard a hound
+baying afar off, and with little trouble echoed the sound so perfectly
+that a groom came running out of the stable, whistling for the dog which
+he feared was straying from the kennel. Za&iuml;ca found that as in her dream
+she could imitate all the sounds which she heard; and she was so pleased
+that she sang and sang and sang, hopping from tree to tree, teasing the
+other birds with her mockery, and puzzling them, too.</p>
+
+<p>As for poor Tourtourelle, when she waked it was very late. She yawned
+and rubbed her eyes languidly, for she was still sleepy. Then looking
+across to Za&iuml;ca's bed she saw that it was empty. Her heart gave a great
+thump, for she longed and longed to be a bird, but now she feared that
+she was too late. In her white gown she ran out into the garden looking
+for Za&iuml;ca. But first she saw an old man leading his cow to the pasture.
+And to the cow he said, "Coo-roo, coo-roo!" coaxing her to hasten.</p>
+
+<p>"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" cried Tourtourelle, imitating him, she knew not why.
+And as she said it she wondered at the strange feeling which came over
+her. For her body felt very light and it seemed as if she could fly. She
+looked down and saw that she was no longer covered with a little white
+gown but with soft feathers of ashy gray, while wings sprouted from her
+shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I have become a bird!" she tried to say, but all she uttered
+was&mdash;"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" For Tourtourelle was become a beautiful
+Turtle-Dove, and that is all a Turtle-Dove can say.</p>
+
+<p>"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" mocked a voice from the tree. And cocking her little
+reddish eye Tourtourelle saw a brilliant Jay hopping in the branches,
+imitating a Dove. Then it was the song of a Wren that she heard, then a
+Lark, then a Thrush, then a Sparrow-Hawk,&mdash;all these sounds coming from
+the one little throat of the happy bird on that bough. Tourtourelle
+tried to do likewise, but all she could sing was "Coo-roo! coo-roo!" And
+she said mournfully to herself:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It is Za&iuml;ca. She was wiser than I, and earlier, and the dream came
+true for her. Oh dear! Oh dear!" And to this day Turtle-Dove flies about
+sadly uttering her monotonous cry, and listening with a longing that
+would be envy, were she not so good a little bird, to the chatter of her
+friend the Jay.</p>
+
+<p>For Za&iuml;ca the Jay is always merry, hopping from tree to tree, playing
+her jokes upon the other birds whom she deceives with her wonderful
+voice. And she leads a life so gay and exciting that she never finds
+time to be sad, even over the disappointment of her dear friend, poor
+little Tourtourelle.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="HOW_THE_BLACKBIRD_SPOILED_HIS_COAT" id="HOW_THE_BLACKBIRD_SPOILED_HIS_COAT"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>HOW THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-o.png" alt="O" title="O" />NCE
+upon a time, our friend Blackbird, who comes first of the feathered
+brothers in the spring, was not black at all. No, indeed; he was
+white&mdash;white as feather-snow new fallen in the meadow. There are very
+few birds who have been thought worthy to dress all in beautiful white,
+for that is the greatest honor which a bird can have. So, like the Swan
+and the Dove, Master Whitebird&mdash;for that is what they called him
+then&mdash;was very proud of his spotless coat.</p>
+
+<p>He was very proud and happy, and he sang all day long, the jolliest
+songs. But you see he did not really deserve this honor, because he was
+at heart a greedy bird; and therefore a great shame came upon him, and
+after that he was never proud nor happy any more. I shall tell you the
+story of how the Whitebird grew grimy and gloomy as we know him, almost
+as black and solemn as old Daddy Crow.</p>
+
+<p>Once upon a time, then, Master Whitebird was teetering on a rose-bush,
+ruffling his beautiful white feathers and singing little bits of poetry
+about himself to any one who would listen.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Verse 3" >
+<tr><td align='left'>"Ho-ho, ho-hee,<br />
+Just look at me!"</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>he piped, and cocked his little eyes about in every direction, to see
+who might be admiring his wondrous whiteness.</p>
+
+<p>But all on a sudden his song gurgled down into his throat and choked
+itself still, and his eyes fixed themselves upon a tree close by. It was
+a dead old tree, and there was a hole in the trunk halfway up to the
+lowest limb, a round little hole about as big as your two fists.</p>
+
+<p>Whitebird had seen something black pop into that hole in a sly and
+secret way, and he began to wonder; for he was inquisitive, as most
+birds are. He sat quite still on his rose-bush and watched and watched.
+Presently out of the hole popped a black head, bigger than Whitebird's,
+with two wise little twinkling eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oho!" said Whitebird to himself, "it is Mother Magpie up to her old
+tricks, hiding, hiding. Maybe she has a treasure hidden there. I will
+watch, and perhaps I shall find out something worth knowing."</p>
+
+<p>Mother Magpie was the wisest and the slyest of all the birds, and it was
+always worth while, as Whitebird knew, to take lessons of her. So he sat
+perfectly still until she came cautiously back carrying something in her
+beak. It was round and white and glinted like moonlight. Whitebird's
+eyes stuck out greedily.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a piece of silver!" he thought, but he sat perfectly still until
+the Magpie had stowed the coin safely in the hollow tree and had hopped
+away as if upon an unfinished errand. "Aha! there is more then. I will
+watch to see what comes next," said Whitebird. And he waited.</p>
+
+<p>Sure enough. In a little while the Magpie returned, this time bringing
+something which glowed yellow like sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a piece of gold!" gasped Whitebird, and his eyes bulged out like
+those of lobsters, he was so jealous of her luck. But he silently
+watched her disappear into her tree-cupboard and then hastily depart as
+before toward the mountain. "What comes next?" muttered Whitebird to
+himself. "I am dying to peep into that hole. I cannot wait much longer."</p>
+
+<p>Then, after a while, a third time came back the Magpie to the dead tree.
+And lo, what she carried in her beak twinkled and trembled and shone in
+many colors, like a drop of dew on a velvet flower-cheek. When
+Whitebird saw this sight, he nearly tumbled off his perch with
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a diamond!" he cried aloud; "oh, it is a real diamond!"</p>
+
+<p>At this sudden noise from the rose-bush Mother Magpie's nerves were so
+shocked that she dropped the diamond helter-skelter into the hole. And
+in a moment she fell in after it, out of sight. She hoped that no one
+had seen her, but little Whitebird knew the place. He hopped after her
+and, perching on the edge of the hole, peered down into the hollow tree.
+And there he saw a great heap of silver and gold and precious stones,
+which Mother Magpie was trying to cover with her wings.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what a treasure! What a treasure!" he piped greedily. "Mother
+Magpie, you must tell me where you found it, that I may go and get some
+for myself."</p>
+
+<p>But Mother Magpie refused to tell.</p>
+
+<p>"Oho!" chirped Whitebird, angrily; "we shall see about that! Then I will
+call in the fierce birds, Robber Hawk and Fighting Falcon and the bloody
+Butcher Bird, and they will take your treasure from you, and kill you,
+too, into the bargain. What do you think of that, Mother Magpie?"</p>
+
+<p>Then she was afraid, for she knew those bad birds; and she saw that she
+must trust her secret with Whitebird, since he had already discovered
+half the truth.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you will promise me not to let any one else know, not even
+King Eagle, I will tell you," she said. So Whitebird promised.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," said the Magpie. "You must find the cave which is near the
+tallest oak on the mountain, under the flat stone. In a corner there is
+a tiny hole, just big enough for you or me to pass. And this is the
+entrance to a passage which leads down into the cellars of the earth.
+And when you have gone down and down, farther than any one except myself
+ever went before, you will come to the palace of the King of Riches. It
+is full of gold and silver and precious stones like these you see here.
+Each chamber is more beautiful and more tempting than the last. But you
+must not touch a stone or a single coin, or even a little bit of
+gold-dust, until you have seen the King. For first you must offer
+yourself to be his servant, and then he will be generous; then he will
+let you carry away as much treasure as your beak will hold. That is all
+there is to it. But beware, greedy Whitebird! Take my advice, and do not
+touch a grain of treasure before you see the King, or great evil will
+befall you."</p>
+
+<p>Whitebird promised to do as she said. And then away he flew to the blue
+mountain and its tallest oak. Close by the great oak, in a lonely spot,
+he found the flat rock, and under it was the cave where once a bear had
+lived. Whitebird hopped in eagerly, and away back in one corner of the
+cave he found a little round hole, as the Magpie had said; a hole not
+much bigger than an apple. It must have been a tight squeeze for fat
+Mother Magpie!</p>
+
+<p>Whitebird hopped through the hole and found himself in a long, narrow
+passage which led down, down, down into places where his eyes were of no
+use at all. For he was not like Master Owl, who can see better in the
+dark than anywhere else. Blindly he hopped on and on, till he came into
+a great cavern, bright with a white radiance, as if the moonlight
+filtered in from somewhere. It was the first room of the King's palace
+of treasure; and it was all of silver, paved with silver, heaped with
+silver, shining with silver. Whitebird's eyes glittered and he wanted to
+stop and take some for himself. But just in time he remembered the wise
+warning of Mother Magpie; and so he hopped on over the silver pebbles
+through a silver door into a second room. And this was flooded with
+yellow light as of sunshine, so dazzling that for a moment Whitebird's
+yellow eyes could see nothing at all. When he could see, the place
+seemed full of yellow eyes like his own, great yellow eyes heaped up
+from floor to ceiling. And when he became used to this he looked again
+and saw that these were golden coins, and that this was a cavern all of
+gold.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, such a wonderful sight! Oh, such a golden dream! The floor on which
+he stood was deep with gold dust, which squished between his toes like
+yellow sand on a sea beach. And then Whitebird lost his head and went
+quite mad, forgetting the words of wise Mother Magpie.</p>
+
+<p>"Gold dust, gold dust, a treasure for me!" he sang, hopping up and down
+on one leg. "I can carry away a great beakful of the yellow seeds, and
+each one will blossom into a golden flower for me&mdash;for me&mdash;for me!" He
+was wholly crazy, as you see.</p>
+
+<p>He thrust his bill deep into the gold dust of the floor, and greedily
+filled it more than full, till it dropped over his white, white feathers
+and splashed his coat so that he was no longer a white bird but a yellow
+bird. Oh, the silly, greedy thing! But there are worse fates than being
+a yellow bird.</p>
+
+<p>Just at this moment a dreadful roar echoed through the caverns till they
+rumbled like an earthquake, and into the golden chamber crashed a
+horrible dragon-creature, the guardian of the King's treasure. His eyes
+blazed red like coals, and from his mouth came smoke and flame so that
+the gold melted before his breath. He rushed straight upon poor little
+Whitebird to gobble him up, and as he came he roared: "Thief, thief! who
+steals my master's treasure? I scorch you with my eye! I burn you with
+my breath! I swallow you into the furnace of my throat. Gr-r-r-r!"</p>
+
+<p>There seemed no chance for Whitebird to escape, the creature was so
+near. But with a cry of terror he fluttered and hopped away as fast as
+he could toward the narrow passage, through the gold chamber and the
+silver chamber, leaving all the treasure behind. (Oh, don't you wish we
+could have known how the diamond chamber looked, with its rainbow
+light?)</p>
+
+<p>Whitebird hopped and fluttered, fluttered and hopped, feeling the
+dragon's hot breath close behind frizzling his feathers and blinding his
+eyes with smoke. He seemed like to be roasted alive in this horrible
+underground oven. But oh, there was the hole close before him! Pouf!
+With a terrible roar the dragon snapped at him as Whitebird popped
+through the hole; but he got only a mouthful of burnt tail-feathers.
+Whitebird was safe, safe in the narrow passage where the dragon could
+not follow. Up and up and up and up he feebly fluttered into the light
+of the dear outside world, and then he gave a chirp of joy to find that
+he really had escaped. But oh, how tired and frightened he was!</p>
+
+<p>Mother Magpie was sitting on a bush waiting for him, for she had guessed
+what would happen to the greedy bird. And when she saw him she gave a
+squawk of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"O Whitebird," she chuckled, "what a sight! what a sight! Your lovely
+coat, your spotless feathers! Oh, you greedy, greedy <i>Blackbird</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>Then he who had been Whitebird looked down at himself and saw what a
+dreadful thing had happened. And he closed his eyes and gave a hoarse,
+sad croak. For the smoke and flame of the dragon's breath had smirched
+and scorched him from top to toe, so that he was no longer white, but
+thenceforth and forever Blackbird.</p>
+
+<p>I think Mother Magpie must have told the story to her children,
+chuckling over the greedy fellow's failure. And they told it to the
+children of sunny France, from whom I got the tale for you. So now you
+know why the Blackbird looks so solemn and so sulky in his suit of rusty
+black; and why his nerves are so weak that if one suddenly surprises
+him, picking up seeds in the field, he gives a terrible scream of
+fright. For he thinks one is that dreadful dragon-creature who chased
+him and so nearly gobbled him on that unlucky day, long ago.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Brother Blackbird! Don't let him know I told you all this; it would
+make him so very much ashamed.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_BLACKBIRD_AND_THE_FOX" id="THE_BLACKBIRD_AND_THE_FOX"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE BLACKBIRD AND THE FOX</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-o.png" alt="O" title="O" />NE
+day Madame Fox, who was strolling along under the hedge, heard a
+Blackbird trilling on a branch. Quick as thought she jumped and seized
+the little fellow, and was about to gobble him down then and there. But
+the Blackbird began to chirp piteously:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, oh, Madame Fox! What are you thinking of? Just see, I am such a
+tiny mouthful! And when I am gone&mdash;I am gone. Only let me free and I
+will tell you something. Look! Here come some peasant women with eggs
+and cheese which they are carrying to the market at Verri&egrave;res. That
+would be a meal worth having! Only let me go, and I will help you,
+Master Fox."</p>
+
+<p>The Fox saw that this might be a good plan which the bird proposed, so
+she let him go.</p>
+
+<p>And what do you think the Blackbird did? He began to hop, hop, hop
+toward the women, dragging his wing behind him as if it were broken,
+which is a trick some birds know very well.</p>
+
+<p>"Look!" cried one of the women, when she caught sight of him. "Oh, look
+at the little Blackbird there! His wing is broken and he cannot fly. I
+shall try to catch him." And she ran as fast as she could, making her
+hands into a little cage to put over him. The other women, too, set down
+their baskets, for convenience&mdash;set them down right in the middle of the
+road&mdash;and joined the chase after the poor little Blackbird, so lame, so
+lame! But always, as they came close to him, he managed to flutter out
+of reach.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Madame Fox went round about by the hedge and came all quietly
+and unseen to the place where the baskets waited in the road. And oh!
+what a good dinner she found there; chickens and eggs and fresh cheese
+nicely done up for the market. And the greedy old lady ate them all&mdash;all
+the chickens and the eggs and the cheeses. My! How fat she was when all
+was done.</p>
+
+<p>Now the Blackbird hopped on and on for a long, long way, until, by
+cocking his eye, he saw that Madame Fox had finished her dinner. And
+then, houff! Up he flew, with a jolly chirp of laughter, right over the
+heads of the astonished women. What of his broken wing now? He began to
+whistle, to sing, to chirrup like a crazy bird up there in the air. The
+women looked at one another sheepishly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, the wicked Blackbird!" they said. "One would have thought that he
+could not fly at all. But look at him, the sly creature! Oho, it is a
+pretty trick he has played us!"</p>
+
+<p>They turned back to where they had left their baskets, intending to
+start on for the market. But when they came there&mdash;well, well! What a
+shame!&mdash;they found the eggs, the chickens, the cheeses all gone&mdash;eaten
+up by the greedy Fox. And then they began to scold and cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what misfortune!" they wailed. "We have lost our eggs, our
+chickens, and our cheeses, and there is nothing left to carry to market.
+We have not even a Blackbird to show for our morning's work. Oh dear! oh
+dear! It is all the fault of that wicked, deceitful little bird."</p>
+
+<p>And, instead of going on to Verri&egrave;res, they turned about with their
+empty baskets and went back home, a sorry party, scolding and crying all
+the way. But long before they reached their homes and their angry
+husbands Madame Fox was comfortably snoozing her after-dinner nap under
+the hedge; while the happy Blackbird picked up juicy bugs in the
+neighboring meadow, with one eye cocked to guard against being surprised
+a second time by any bushy-tailed rogue.</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/img7-full.jpg" name="img7" id="img7">
+<img src="./images/img7.jpg" alt="He managed to flutter out of reach" title="He managed to flutter out of reach" /></a><br />
+<i>He managed to flutter out of reach</i></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_DOVE_WHO_SPOKE_TRUTH" id="THE_DOVE_WHO_SPOKE_TRUTH"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-t.png" alt="T" title="T" />HE
+Dove and the wrinkled little Bat once went on a journey together.
+When it came towards night a storm arose, and the two companions sought
+everywhere for a shelter. But all the birds were sound asleep in their
+nests and the animals in their holes and dens. They could find no
+welcome anywhere until they came to the hollow tree where old Master Owl
+lived, wide awake in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us knock here," said the shrewd Bat, "I know the old fellow is not
+asleep. This is his prowling hour, and but that it is a stormy night he
+would be abroad hunting.&mdash;What ho, Master Owl!" he squeaked, "will you
+let in two storm-tossed travelers for a night's lodging?"</p>
+
+<p>Gruffly the selfish old Owl bade them enter, and grudgingly invited them
+to share his supper. The poor Dove was so tired that she could scarcely
+eat, but the greedy Bat's spirits rose as soon as he saw the viands
+spread before him. He was a sly fellow, and immediately began to flatter
+his host into good humor. He praised the Owl's wisdom and his courage,
+his gallantry and his generosity; though every one knew that however
+wise old Master Owl might be, he was neither brave nor gallant. As for
+his generosity,&mdash;both the Dove and the Bat well remembered his
+selfishness towards the poor Wren, when the Owl alone of all the birds
+refused to give the little fire-bringer a feather to help cover his
+scorched and shivering body.</p>
+
+<p>All this flattery pleased the Owl. He puffed and ruffled himself, trying
+to look as wise, gallant, and brave as possible. He pressed the Bat to
+help himself more generously to the viands, which invitation the sly
+fellow was not slow to accept.</p>
+
+<p>During this time the Dove had not uttered a word. She sat quite still
+staring at the Bat and wondering to hear such insincere speeches of
+flattery. Suddenly the Owl turned to her.</p>
+
+<p>"As for you, Miss Pink-eyes," he said gruffly, "you keep careful
+silence. You are a dull table-companion. Pray, have you nothing to say
+for yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," exclaimed the mischievous Bat, "have you no words of praise for
+our kind host? Methinks he deserves some return for this wonderfully
+generous, agreeable, tasteful, well-appointed, luxurious, elegant, and
+altogether acceptable banquet. What have you to say, O little Dove?"</p>
+
+<p>But the Dove hung her head, ashamed of her companion, and said very
+simply:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"O Master Owl, I can only thank you with all my heart for the
+hospitality and shelter which you have given me this night. I was beaten
+by the storm, and you took me in. I was hungry, and you gave me your
+best to eat. I cannot flatter nor make pretty speeches like the Bat. I
+never learned such manners. But I thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" cried the Bat, pretending to be shocked. "Is that all you have
+to say to our obliging host? Is he not the wisest, bravest, most gallant
+and generous of gentlemen? Have you no praise for his noble character as
+well as for his goodness to us? I am ashamed of you! You do not deserve
+such hospitality. You do not deserve this shelter."</p>
+
+<p>The Dove remained silent. Like Cordelia in the play, she could not speak
+untruths even for her own happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"Truly, you are an unamiable guest," snarled the Owl, his yellow eyes
+growing keen and fierce with anger and mortified pride. "You are an
+ungrateful bird, Miss, and the Bat is right. You do not deserve this
+generous hospitality which I have offered, this goodly shelter which you
+asked. Away with you! Leave my dwelling! Pack off into the storm and see
+whether or not your silence will soothe the rain and the wind. Be off, I
+say!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, away with her!" echoed the Bat, flapping his leathery wings. And
+the two heartless creatures fell upon the poor little Dove and drove her
+out into the dark and stormy night.</p>
+
+<p>Poor little Dove! All night she was tossed and beaten about shelterless
+in the storm, because she had been too truthful to flatter the vain old
+Owl. But when the bright morning dawned, draggled and weary as she was,
+she flew to the court of King Eagle and told him all her trouble. Great
+was the indignation of that noble bird.</p>
+
+<p>"For his flattery and his cruelty let the Bat never presume to fly
+abroad until the sun goes down," he cried. "As for the Owl, I have
+already doomed him to this punishment for his treatment of the Wren. But
+henceforth let no bird have anything to do with either of them, the Bat
+or the Owl. Let them be outcasts and night-prowlers, enemies to be
+attacked and punished if they appear among us, to be avoided by all in
+their loneliness. Flattery and inhospitality, deceit and cruelty,&mdash;what
+are more hideous than these? Let them cover themselves in darkness and
+shun the happy light of day. As for you, little Dove, let this be a
+lesson to you to shun the company of flatterers, who are sure to get you
+into trouble. But you shall always be loved for your simplicity and
+truth. And as a token of our affection your name shall be used by poets
+as long as the world shall last to rhyme with <i>love</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The words of the wise King Eagle are true to this day. So now you know
+why a great many poems came to be written in which the rhymes <i>dove</i> and
+<i>love</i> have not seemed to make any particular sense.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_FOWLS_ON_PILGRIMAGE" id="THE_FOWLS_ON_PILGRIMAGE"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-o.png" alt="O" title="O" />NCE
+upon a time old Lady Fox was very hungry, but she had nothing to
+eat, and there was no sign of a dinner to be had anywhere.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I do, what shall I do?" whined the Fox. "I am so faint and
+hungry, but all the birds and all the fowls are afraid of me and will
+not venture near enough for me to consult them about a dinner. I have so
+bad a name that no one will trust me. What can I do to win back the
+respect of the community and earn a square meal? Ah, I have it! I will
+turn pious and go upon a pilgrimage. That ought to make me popular once
+more."</p>
+
+<p>So the Fox started upon the pilgrimage. She had not gone very far when
+she met a Cock, but he knew the character of Madame Fox too well to
+trust himself near. He flew up into a tree, and from that safe perch
+crowed jauntily, "Good morning, Madame Fox. Whither away so fast?"</p>
+
+<p>The Fox drew down the corners of her mouth, trying to look pious, and
+rolled up her eyes as she answered in a hollow voice, "Oh, Master Cock,
+I am going on a pious pilgrimage. I am sorry for my wicked life, and now
+I am going to be good."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said the Cock, "I am indeed glad to hear that! Going on a
+pilgrimage, are you? Well, in that case I will go with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Do, Master Cock, do," answered the Fox fervently. "It will do you good.
+Come sit upon my broad back and I will carry you."</p>
+
+<p>The Cock thanked her and climbed upon her back, and so they proceeded on
+their pilgrimage together. After a while they came upon a Dove, which
+fluttered away hastily when she saw old Lady Fox, knowing too well her
+wicked tricks. But the Fox called to her in a gentle voice:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Do not be afraid, O Dove. I know why you start at my approach. But I
+have repented of my former sins and have turned pilgrim. My friend, the
+Cock, and I have just started upon our pious journey. Will you join us?"</p>
+
+<p>When the innocent Dove saw the Cock upon the Fox's back she thought that
+certainly everything must be safe, so she answered:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Madame Fox, I will go with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Jump right up on my back; there is plenty of room beside the Cock,"
+said the Fox cordially.</p>
+
+<p>A little further on they met a wild Duck, who waddled away quacking
+wildly when he saw the Fox trotting towards him. But the sly old lady
+called out to him, smiling:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Be calm, little brother. I have given up my former unkind tricks, for
+which I sadly repent, and now I am going on a pious pilgrimage. See,
+your friends the Cock and the Dove are my companions."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case I will go along, too," said the Duck, "for you have a
+goodly party."</p>
+
+<p>"That is right," replied the Fox approvingly. "I thought you would go.
+Kindly take a back seat with the others."</p>
+
+<p>Now when these queer pilgrims had traveled for some time they came to a
+cave in the rocks, a deep dark cave which looked like a den. And here
+the Fox stopped, saying:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Dear brothers, it is time that we paused and thought more carefully
+about our sins. We must cross seas and rivers, and Heaven knows when we
+shall reach the end of our journey. Let us listen to one another's
+confessions, for I am sure we have all been miserable sinners. Come, Mr.
+Cock, come into the cave with me and I will hear you first."</p>
+
+<p>The Cock followed her into the cave, saying with some surprise, "Why,
+Madame Fox, what have I done that is wicked?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not know?" answered the Fox sternly. "Why, do you not begin to
+crow at midnight and wake poor tired people out of their first sleep? Go
+to! You ought to be ashamed! Then again you crow at the most
+inconveniently early hour in the morning and make the caravans mistake
+the true time, so that they start upon their journeys long before the
+proper hour and fall into the hands of robbers who prowl about before
+light. These are dreadful sins, Mr. Cock, and you deserve to be
+punished." So the wicked old Fox seized the Cock and ate him all up.</p>
+
+<p>After the Fox had finished him she came to the entrance of the cave and
+called, "Now you come, little Dove, and tell me what you have done that
+is naughty."</p>
+
+<p>"But I have done nothing," said the innocent Dove, wondering very much;
+"of what evil do you accuse me, Madame Fox?"</p>
+
+<p>"When the farmers sow their grain you dig up the yellow kernels and eat
+them for your dinner. That is stealing, which is a wicked, wicked sin,
+and must be severely punished," cried the hungry Fox. And thereupon she
+seized the poor little Dove and ate her up.</p>
+
+<p>Once more the Fox stood at the door of the cave, stealthily licking her
+chops, and she called out to the Duck, "Come in, Mr. Duck, and I will
+hear what you have to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I have not done anything wrong," said the Duck positively, "and
+you cannot say that I have; can you now, Madame Fox?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed and indeed!" exclaimed the Fox. "Have you not stolen the
+king's gold crown, and do you not wear it on your head, you wicked
+creature?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed and indeed I have done no such thing. It is not true, Madame
+Fox, as I can prove. Wait a bit and I will bring witnesses."</p>
+
+<p>So the Duck went out and flew up and down in front of the cave, waiting.
+Presently along came a Hunter with a gun, who espied the Duck and aimed
+the weapon at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't shoot me," cried the Duck. "What have you against me, O Hunter? I
+can tell you where to find worthier game. Come with me and I will show
+you a wicked old Fox who eats innocent birds."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said the Hunter, putting up his gun, "show me the place and
+I will spare you."</p>
+
+<p>The Duck led him softly to the entrance of the cave, and pausing there
+cried out to the Fox inside, "Come out, Madame Fox, I have brought the
+witness."</p>
+
+<p>"Let him come in, let him come in!" cried the Fox, for she had grown
+very hungry indeed and hoped for a double meal.</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed," answered the Duck; "he insists that you must come out." So
+the Fox crept stealthily to the door, but as soon as she popped out her
+wicked old head the Hunter was ready for her, and Bang! That was the end
+of the Fox's pilgrimage.</p>
+
+<p>The Duck also had had enough of being a pilgrim. He went home with the
+Hunter and became a tame Duck, and lived happily ever after on the pond
+near the Hunter's house.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_GROUND-PIGEON" id="THE_GROUND-PIGEON"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE GROUND-PIGEON</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-o.png" alt="O" title="O" />NCE
+upon a time there was a little Malay maiden who lived in the forest
+with her father and mother and baby sister. They dwelt very happily
+together, until one day Coora's father decided to clear the ground on
+the edge of the forest and have a rice plantation, as many of his
+neighbors were doing.</p>
+
+<p>So one morning early after breakfast he started out with his axe on his
+shoulder to cut down the trees and make a clearing.</p>
+
+<p>"O Father, let me go with you!" begged Coora. "I do so want to see the
+plantation grow from the very beginning."</p>
+
+<p>But her father said No, she must stay at home until the trees were
+felled.</p>
+
+<p>"And after that may I go with you?" asked Coora. And her father promised
+that it should be so.</p>
+
+<p>The days went by and at last the trees were all felled in the clearing.
+When Coora heard this she jumped up and down on her little bare brown
+feet until her anklets tinkled, and cried, "O Father! Now I may go with
+you to the clearing, may I not? For so you promised."</p>
+
+<p>But again her father shook his head and said, "No, Coora, not yet. You
+must wait until the fallen timber has been burned off. Then you shall go
+with your mother and me to the planting of the rice."</p>
+
+<p>Coora was very much disappointed, and the big tears stood in her eyes.
+But she only said, "Do you promise that I may help plant the rice,
+really and truly?"</p>
+
+<p>And he called back over his shoulder, "I promise!"</p>
+
+<p>At last the fallen timber was burned away, and the ground was ready for
+planting. One morning Coora saw her father and mother making ready to go
+out together. "Oh, where are you going, Father and Mother?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"We go to the planting of the rice," answered her father, slinging a big
+bag over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"But you promised that I should go with you when that time came?" cried
+Coora wistfully. "Please, please may I not be your little helper?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Coora," answered her mother impatiently. "Do not tease us so.
+You must stay at home to take care of your little sister. Be a good
+girl this time, and when the rice is well grown we will all go together
+and harvest it. That will be great fun!"</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I really go? Do you promise, Mother?" asked poor Coora hopefully,
+for she felt sure that her mother would not deceive her.</p>
+
+<p>"I promise," said the mother, not looking her in the eyes; and the
+parents went away through the forest to plant the rice.</p>
+
+<p>Time went by until the rice had grown tall and was ready for the
+harvest. Now Coora heard her parents talking of the matter, and she was
+very gay, for now she expected a happy, happy day. She dressed herself
+and made ready to go to the harvesting, as her parents had promised. But
+when she joined them, smiling joyfully, they turned upon her frowning
+and bade her return to the house and take care of everything until their
+home-coming. Then poor little Coora burst into tears and said, "O my
+Father and O my Mother, I have obeyed you without a word every time you
+broke your promise to me. And still you continue to put me off from day
+to day, when this is the thing I long to do so much that it seems as if
+my heart would break. Think of it! The clearing has been made, the
+timber burned, the rice planted and grown, and now it is ready for the
+harvest. But I have not even seen the place where all this has
+happened. O Father and Mother, why are you so unkind to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"There, there!" cried her father and mother together, "do not make a
+fuss over so small a matter. You cannot go to-day; but wait until the
+rice is gathered and it is time to tread it out. Then we will let you
+help us, you may be sure. We promise, Coora, that you shall really and
+truly go."</p>
+
+<p>"You promise!" echoed Coora bitterly. "You have promised me before and
+nothing came of it." But even while she spoke the unkind parents were
+gone.</p>
+
+<p>Then Coora fell to weeping most sorely, for she knew that she could not
+trust the word of her father and mother; and that is a most terrible
+thing. At last she rose and wiped away the tears and looked about the
+little cottage where she had been patient through so many
+disappointments. And she said to herself, "I can bear it no longer. It
+is not right that I should be made to suffer like this when a little
+thing would make me so happy. I must see the rice field; I will go
+to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Coora tidied the cottage, putting everything in its place and making it
+look as beautiful as she could. Then she took up the little sister who
+had fallen asleep on the floor, and kissing her tenderly placed her in
+the hammock which swung from wall to wall of the hut. Lastly Coora took
+off the golden bracelets and earrings and the tinkling anklets which she
+wore like other little Malay girls, and left them in a shining heap
+behind the door. But she kept her necklace about her pretty little neck.</p>
+
+<p>Now Coora had learned a little magic from a witch, just enough magic to
+serve her turn. She went out and picked two palm leaves which she
+fastened on her shoulders and changed herself into a bird, a bright,
+beautiful Ground-Pigeon, with many-colored metallic feathers. But the
+necklace still made a band about her pretty little neck, as you may see
+on every Ground-Pigeon to this day.</p>
+
+<p>Coora the Ground-Pigeon fluttered away through the forest until she came
+to the rice plantation where her parents were at work. She alighted on a
+dead tree close by them and called out, "Mother, O Mother! I have left
+my earrings and bracelets behind the door and have put my little sister
+in the hammock."</p>
+
+<p>Astonished at these words her mother looked up, but saw no one, only a
+Ground-Pigeon perched on the tree over her head. "Father," she cried to
+her husband who was at work beside her, "did you not hear Coora's voice
+just now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I thought so," answered the father angrily. "The wicked girl must
+have disobeyed me and have followed us here after all. I will punish her
+if this is so." They called to her, "Coora, Coora!" until the forest
+re&euml;choed. But no one appeared or answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I will go home and see if she is there," said the mother. "Either I
+heard Coora speak or there is some magic in the forest." And she
+hastened back to the cottage. There she found the baby in the hammock
+and the bracelets and earrings in a shining heap behind the door, as the
+voice had said, but there was no Coora anywhere. Surprised and anxious,
+once more the mother ran back to the plantation.</p>
+
+<p>"Coora is gone, husband!" she cried. "It must have been her own voice
+which we heard just now. Hark! She speaks again!"</p>
+
+<p>Again from the tree they heard a sweet voice calling, "Mother, O Mother,
+I have left my earrings and bracelets behind the door and my little
+sister in the hammock. Good-by, Coo-o-o-ra!" As she spoke her own name
+Coora's voice warbled and crooned into the soft <i>coo</i> of a
+Ground-Pigeon's note, and her parents glancing up saw that this bird
+must be their child, their Coora, magically changed.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us cut down the tree and catch the wicked girl!" cried the father.
+And seizing his axe he chopped away lustily until the tree fell with a
+crash. But even at that moment the Pigeon fluttered away to another
+tree, crooning again the soft syllables which she has spoken ever since,
+"Coo-ra, coo-ra, coo!"</p>
+
+<p>From tree to tree about the rice plantation the distracted parents
+pursued the Pigeon; but it was in vain to try to capture her. Ever she
+escaped them when they seemed about to lay hands upon her soft feathers.
+After following her flight for many miles they were obliged to return
+home, sad and sorry and repentant. For they knew now that it was their
+own unkindness and their broken promises which had driven their daughter
+away from the cottage, never to return.</p>
+
+<p>The beautiful Ground-Pigeon still lingers near the rice plantations
+which she had so longed to visit. Still she plaintively calls her name,
+and still she wears the necklace about her pretty little neck. And the
+little Malay maidens love her very dearly because she was once a girl
+like them.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="SISTER_HEN_AND_THE_CROCODILE" id="SISTER_HEN_AND_THE_CROCODILE"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-t.png" alt="T" title="T" />HE
+Crocodile is one of the hungriest bodies that ever lived. When he is
+looking for a dinner he will eat almost anything that comes within
+reach. Sometimes the greedy fellow swallows great stones and chunks of
+wood, in his hurry mistaking them for something more digestible. And
+when he is smacking his great jaws over his food he makes such a greedy,
+terrible noise that the other animals steal away nervously and hide
+until it shall be Master Crocodile's sleepy-time. He is too lazy to
+waddle in search of a dinner far from the river where he lives. But any
+animal or even a man-swimmer had best be careful how he ventures into
+the water near the Crocodile's haunts. For what seems to be a
+greenish-brown, knobby log of wood floating on the water, has little
+bright eyes which are on the lookout for anything which moves. And below
+the water two great jaws are ready to open and swallow in the prey of
+Mr. Hungry-Mouth.</p>
+
+<p>But no matter how hungry the Crocodile may be, he will not touch the
+Hen, even if she should venture into his very jaws; at least, that is
+what the Black Men of the Congo River will tell you. And surely, as they
+are the nearest neighbors of the big reptile they ought to know if any
+one does. Now this is the story which they tell to explain why the
+Crocodile will not eat the Hen.</p>
+
+<p>Once upon a time there was a Hen, a common, plump, clucky mother Hen,
+who used every day to go down to the river and pick up bits of food on
+the moist banks, where luscious insects were many. She did not know that
+this Congo River was the home of the Crocodile, the biggest, fiercest,
+scaliest, hungriest Crocodile in all Africa. But one day when she went
+down to the water as usual she hopped out onto what looked like a mossy
+log, saying to herself:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Aha! This is a fine old timber-house. It is full of juicy bugs, I know.
+I shall have a great feast!"</p>
+
+<p>Tap-tap! Pick-pick! The Hen began to scratch and peck upon the rough
+bark of the log, but Oh dear me! suddenly she began to feel very
+seasick. The log was rolling over! The log was teetering up on end like
+a boat in a storm! And before she knew what was really happening the
+poor Hen found herself floundering in the water in the very jaws of the
+terrible Crocodile.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha, ha!" cried the Crocodile in his harsh voice. "You took me for a
+log, just as the other silly creatures do. But I am no log, Mrs. Hen, as
+you shall soon see. I am Hungry Crocodile, and you will make the fifth
+dinner which I have had this evening."</p>
+
+<p>The Hen was frightened almost to death, but she kept her presence of
+mind and gasped frantically as she saw the great jaws opening to swallow
+her:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"O <i>Brother</i>, don't!"</p>
+
+<p>Now the Crocodile was so surprised at hearing the Hen call him Brother
+that he kept his jaws wide open and forgot to swallow his dinner. He
+kept them open for some time, gaping foolishly, wondering what the Hen
+could mean, and how he could possibly be her brother. And by the time he
+had remembered how hungry he was, there was nothing for him to eat. For
+the Hen had skipped away just as fast as her feet would take her.</p>
+
+<p>"Pouf!" snorted the Crocodile. "Her brother, indeed! I am not her
+brother, and she knows it very well. What a fool I was to be caught by
+such a word! Just wait till I catch her again and we will see. I will
+<i>brother</i> her!" And he swam sulkily away to hide his mortification in
+the Congo mud, with only the end of his long nose poking out as a
+ventilator for his breathing.</p>
+
+<p>Now, though the Hen had had so narrow an escape, it had not sufficiently
+taught her a lesson. A few days afterwards once more she went down to
+the river, for she could not resist the temptation of the bug-dinner
+which she knew she should find there. But she kept her eyes open sharply
+for any greeny log which might be floating on the water, saying to
+herself, "Old Hungry-Mouth shall not catch me napping this time. I know
+his wicked tricks!"</p>
+
+<p>But this time the Crocodile was not floating on the water like a greeny
+log. He was lying still as still, sunning himself on the river bank
+behind some tall reeds. Mrs. Hen came trotting down to the water, a
+plump and tempting sight, cocking her head knowingly on one side as she
+spied a real log floating out beyond, which she took to be her enemy.
+And as she scratched in the soft mud, chuckling to think how sly she
+was, with a rush and a rustle down pounced the Crocodile upon her, and
+once more, before she knew it, she found herself in the horrid gateway
+of his jaws, threatened by the double rows of long, white teeth.</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/img8-full.jpg" name="img8" id="img8">
+<img src="./images/img8.jpg" alt="O Brother, don't!" title="O Brother, don't!" /></a><br />
+<i>O Brother, don't!</i></p>
+
+<p>"Oho!" snapped the Crocodile. "You shall not escape me this time. I
+am a log, am I? Look at me again, Mrs. Hen. Am I a log?" And he came at
+her to swallow her at once.</p>
+
+<p>But again the Hen squawked, "O <i>Brother</i>, don't!"</p>
+
+<p>Again the Crocodile paused, thunderstruck by this extraordinary word.
+"Oh, bother the Hen!" he cried, "what can she mean, really? How can I be
+her brother? She lives in a town on the land, and I live in my kingdom
+of mud and water. How could two creatures possibly be more unlike?
+How"&mdash;but while he had been thinking of these hows, once more the Hen
+had managed to escape, and was pelting back to her barnyard as fast as
+she could go.</p>
+
+<p>Then indeed the Crocodile was angry. He determined to go and see Nzambi,
+the wise witch princess, about the matter. She would tell him what it
+all meant. But it was a long journey to her palace and he was awkward
+and slow in traveling upon land. Before he had gone very far he was
+tired and out of breath, and stopped to rest under a banana tree.</p>
+
+<p>As he lay panting in the shade he saw his friend Mbambi, the great
+Lizard, hurrying past through the jungle.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mbambi!" cried old Hungry-Mouth, "stop a moment. I want to speak
+with you. I am in great trouble."</p>
+
+<p>So the Lizard drew near, wagging her head wisely, for it pleased her to
+be consulted by the big Crocodile. "What can it be, dear friend, that is
+troubling you this day?" she said amiably. "Surely, no one would be so
+rude or rash as to offend the King of Congo River. But tell me your
+trouble and perhaps I can advise you."</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me, then," said the Crocodile. "Almost every day a nice fat
+Hen,&mdash;Oh, Mbambi! so delightfully fat and tempting!&mdash;comes to my river
+to feed. Well, why don't I make her my dinner? you ask. Now hearken:
+each time, just as I am about to catch her and carry her to my home she
+startles me by calling me '<i>Brother</i>.' Did you ever hear of anything so
+maddening? Twice I have let her escape because of the word. But I can
+stand it no longer, and I am on the way to Princess Nzambi to hold a
+palaver about it." (By "palaver" the slangy Crocodile meant a long,
+serious talk.)</p>
+
+<p>"Silly idiot!" cried the Mbambi, not very politely. "Do nothing of the
+kind. You will only get the worst of the palaver and show your ignorance
+before the wise Nzambi. Now listen to me. Don't you know, dear
+Crocodile, that the Duck lives on the water, though she is neither a
+fish nor a reptile? And the Duck lays eggs. The Turtle does the same,
+though she is no bird. The Hen lays eggs, just as I do; and I am Mbambi,
+the great Lizard. As for you, dear old Hungry-Mouth, you know that at
+this moment"&mdash;here she whispered discreetly, looking around to see that
+no one was listening,&mdash;"at this moment in a snug nest dug out of the
+sand on the banks of the Congo, Mrs. Crocodile has covered with leaves
+to hide them from your enemies sixty smooth white eggs. And in a few
+weeks out of these will scamper sixty little wiggly Crocodiles, your
+dear, homely, scaly, hungry-mouthed children. Yes, we all lay eggs, my
+silly friend, and so in a sense we are all brothers, as the Hen has
+said."</p>
+
+<p>"Sh!" whispered the Crocodile, nervously. "Don't mention those eggs of
+mine, I beg of you. Some one might overhear. What you say is undoubtedly
+true," he added pensively, after thinking a few moments. "Then I suppose
+I must give up my tempting dinner of Hen. I cannot eat my Sister, can
+I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you cannot," said the Mbambi, as he rustled away through the
+jungle. "We can't have everything we want in this world."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I see we cannot," sighed the Crocodile, as he waddled back towards
+the banks of the Congo. Now in the same old spot he found the Hen, who
+had been improving his absence by greedily stuffing herself on
+beetle-bugs, flies, and mosquitoes until she was so fat that she could
+not run away at the Crocodile's approach. She could only stand and
+squawk feebly, fluttering her ridiculous wings.</p>
+
+<p>But the Crocodile only said, "Good evening, Sister," very politely, and
+passing her by with a wag of his enormous tail sank with a plop into the
+waters of the Congo.</p>
+
+<p>And ever since that time the Hen has eaten her dinner in tranquil peace,
+undisturbed by the sight of floating log or basking shape of knobby
+green. For she knows that old Hungry-Mouth will not eat his Sister, the
+Hen.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_THRUSH_AND_THE_CUCKOO" id="THE_THRUSH_AND_THE_CUCKOO"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE THRUSH AND THE CUCKOO</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-i.png" alt="I" title="I" />N
+the wonderful days of old it is said that Christ and Saint Peter went
+together upon a journey. It was a beautiful day in March, and the earth
+was just beginning to put on her summer gorgeousness. As the two
+travelers were passing near a great forest they spied a Thrush sitting
+on a tree singing and singing as hard as he could. And he cocked his
+head as if he was very proud of something.</p>
+
+<p>Saint Peter stopped at the foot of the tree and said, "I wish you a good
+day, Thrush!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no time to thank you," chirped the Thrush pertly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not, pretty Thrush?" asked Saint Peter in surprise. "You have all
+the time in the world and nothing to do but sing."</p>
+
+<p>"You mistake," cried the Thrush. "I am making the summer! It is I, I, I
+who make the green grass grow and the flowers bud. Look, how even now
+the world is growing beautiful in answer to my song." And the conceited
+little bird continued to warble as hard as he could,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Verse 4" >
+<tr><td align='left'>"To-day I shall marry, I and no other!<br />
+To-morrow my brother."</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>Christ and Saint Peter looked at each other and smiled, then went upon
+their way without another word, leaving the Thrush to continue his task
+of making the summer.</p>
+
+<p>This was in the morning. But before midday the clouds gathered and the
+sky darkened, and at noon a cold rain began to drip. The poor Thrush
+ceased his jubilant song and began to shiver in the March wind. By night
+the snow was felling thick and fast, and where there had been a green
+carpet on the earth was now spread a coverlet of snowy white. Shivering
+and like to die of cold the Thrush took refuge under the tree in the
+moss and dead leaves. He thought no more of his marriage, nor of his
+brother's, but only of the danger which threatened him, and of the
+discomfort.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Christ and Saint Peter, plodding through the
+snow-drifts, came upon him again, and Saint Peter said as before, "I
+wish you good day, Thrush."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," answered the Thrush humbly, and his voice was shaky with
+cold and sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you here on the cold ground, O Thrush-who-make-the-summer, and
+why are you so sad?" asked Saint Peter. And the Thrush piped feebly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Verse 4" >
+<tr><td align='left'>"To-day I must die, I and no other!<br />
+To-morrow my brother."</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>"O foolish little bird," said Saint Peter. "You boasted that you made
+the summer. But see! The Lord's will has sent us back to the middle of
+winter, to punish your boasting. You shall not die, he will send the sun
+again to warm you. But hereafter beware how you take too much credit for
+your little efforts."</p>
+
+<p>Since that time March has ever been a treacherous and a changeful month.
+Then the Thrush thinks not of marriage, but of his lesson learned in
+past days, and wraps himself in his warmest feathers, waiting for the
+Lord's will to be done. He is no longer boastful in his song, but sings
+it humbly and sweetly to the Lord's glory, thanking him for the summer
+which his goodness sends every year to happy bird and beast and child of
+man.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Now after this adventure with the Thrush, Christ and Saint Peter went
+upon their journey for many miles. At last, weary and hungry, they
+passed a Baker's shop. From the window came the smell of new warm bread
+baking in the oven, and Christ sent Saint Peter to ask the Baker for a
+loaf. But the Baker, who was a stingy fellow, refused.</p>
+
+<p>"Go away with you!" he cried. "I give no bread to lazy beggars!"</p>
+
+<p>"I ask it for my Master, who has traveled many miles and is most faint
+and weary," said Saint Peter. But the Baker frowned and shook his head,
+then strode into the inner shop, banging the door after him.</p>
+
+<p>The Baker's wife and six daughters were standing at one side when these
+things happened, and they heard all that took place. They were generous
+and kind-hearted bodies, and tears stood in their eyes at the Baker's
+rough words. As soon as he had gone out they wrapped up the loaf and
+gave it stealthily to Saint Peter saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Take the loaf for your Master, good man, and may he be refreshed by
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Saint Peter thanked and blessed them and took the loaf to Christ. And
+for their charity the Lord set these good women in the sky as the Seven
+Stars,&mdash;you may see them to this day shining in love upon the sleeping
+world. But the wicked Baker he changed into a Cuckoo; and as long as he
+sings his dreary song, "Coo-coo! Coo-coo!" in the spring, so long the
+Seven Stars are visible in the heaven, so folk say.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_OWL_AND_THE_MOON" id="THE_OWL_AND_THE_MOON"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE OWL AND THE MOON</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-w.png" alt="W" title="W" />HEN
+the moon is round and full, if you look very carefully at the
+golden disk you can see in shadowy outline the profile of a beautiful
+lady. She is leaning forward as if looking down upon our earth, and
+there is a little smile upon her sweet lips. This fair dame is Putri
+Balan, the Princess of the Moon, and she smiles because she remembers
+how once upon a time she cheated old Mr. Owl, her tiresome lover.</p>
+
+<p>Putri Balan, so they tell you in Malay, was always very, very beautiful,
+as we see her now. Like all the Malay women, Putri Balan loved to chew
+the spicy betel-nut which turns one's lips a bright scarlet. It is
+better, so they say, than any kind of candy, and it is considered much
+nicer and more respectable than chewing-gum. So Putri Balan was not
+unladylike, although she chewed her betel-nut all night long.</p>
+
+<p>Now, ever since the day when Mr. Owl carelessly let the naughty little
+Wren escape from prison, the shamed and sorry old fellow had never
+dared to show his face abroad in daylight. Gradually his eyes grew
+blurred and blinky, till now he could not see anything by day, even if
+he were to try.</p>
+
+<p>So it happens that there are many delightful things about which old Mr.
+Owl does not know,&mdash;things which take place while the beautiful sun is
+shining. But also there are marvelous sights, unknown to early-sleeping
+birds, which he enjoys all by himself. For at night his queer eyes are
+wonderfully strong and bright. All day long he sits in his hollow tree,
+but when the other feathered folk are drowsing upon their roosts, or are
+snugly rolled up in their little nests, with their heads tucked under
+their downy wings, old Mr. Owl puts on his round spectacles and goes
+a-prowling up and down the world through the woods and meadows (like
+Haroun-al-Rashid in the streets of Bagdad), spying all sorts of queer
+doings.</p>
+
+<p>And this is how old Mr. Owl happened to see the fair Princess Putri
+Balan, smiling down from her moon upon the sleeping world of birds who
+had never seen her and never would see her in all her loveliness.</p>
+
+<p>How beautiful she was! How bright and wonderful! Old Mr. Owl stared up
+in wide-eyed astonishment, and then and there fell in love with her,
+and resolved to ask her to be his wife.</p>
+
+<p>Cramming on his spectacles more tightly and ruffling the feathers about
+his neck, he flew up and up and up, as high as ever he dared to go,
+until he was within hailing distance of the moon. Then he called out in
+his softest tones,&mdash;which were harsh enough to any ears,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"O fair Moon-Maiden, O beautiful Princess, will you marry me? For I love
+you very dearly."</p>
+
+<p>The Princess Putri Balan stopped chewing her betel-nut for a moment and
+looked down to see what daring creature might thus be addressing her.
+Soon she spied Mr. Owl with his goggle-eyes looking up at her adoringly.
+He was such a ridiculous old creature, and his spectacles glinted so
+queerly in the moonlight, that Putri Balan began to laugh and answered
+him not at all. She laughed so hard that she almost swallowed her
+betel-nut, which might have been a serious matter.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Owl continued to stare, for he saw nothing funny in the situation.
+Again he repeated in his hoarse voice, "O fair Moon-Maiden, O beautiful
+Princess, will you marry me? For I love you very dearly."</p>
+
+<p>Again the Princess laughed, for she thought it a tremendous joke; and
+again she nearly choked. Mr. Owl waited, but she made him no other
+answer. However, he was a persistent lover. All night long he went on
+asking the same question, over and over again, until the Princess Putri
+Balan was quite worn out trying not to choke with laughter while she
+chewed the betel-nut. At last she said impatiently,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"O Mr. Goggle-Eyes! Do give me a moment's peace! You make me laugh so
+that I cannot chew my betel-nut. Yes, I will say <i>yes</i>, if you will only
+leave me to finish my betel-nut undisturbed. I will marry you. But you
+must go away until I have quite done."</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Owl was filled with joy. "Thanks, thanks, O most gracious
+lady!" he said. "I will go away and leave you to finish your betel-nut
+undisturbed. But I shall come again to-morrow night, and by that time
+you will have done with it, and then you will be mine!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Owl flew back to his home in the hollow tree, for it was almost
+morning, and already he was growing so blind that he could hardly find
+the way. But the Princess Putri Balan went on chewing the betel-nut, and
+to herself she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/img9-full.jpg" name="img9" id="img9">
+<img src="./images/img9.jpg" alt="Putri Balan began to laugh" title="Putri Balan began to laugh" /></a><br />
+<i>Putri Balan began to laugh</i></p>
+
+<p>"How am I to rid myself of this bore? I cannot chew this little
+betel-nut forever; there must be an end to it before long. Mr. Owl
+will certainly come again to-morrow night, and then, according to my
+promise, I must become his wife. I cannot marry old Goggle-Eyes. Oh
+dear! What shall I do?"</p>
+
+<p>As she chewed her betel-nut the Princess Putri Balan hit upon a plan.
+She would manage to cheat old Mr. Owl after all. She would never finish
+the betel-nut! She took the little bit that remained,&mdash;and it was a
+dangerously little bit, for the Princess had been chewing all night
+long, except when she was laughing,&mdash;and reaching out from the moon she
+tossed it down, down, down upon the earth. At the same time she said a
+magic moon-charm: and when the bit of betel-nut reached the earth, it
+became a little bird,&mdash;the same which the Malay people call the Honey
+Bird, with brilliant, beautiful plumage. And the Princess Putri Balan
+cried out to it from her golden house,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Fly away, pretty little bright bird! Fly as far and as fast as ever you
+can, and keep out of Mr. Owl's way. For it is you who must save me from
+becoming his unhappy wife."</p>
+
+<p>So the Honey Bird flew away, a brilliant streak, through the Malay
+woods, and hid himself in a little nest.</p>
+
+<p>When night came out stole Mr. Owl, with his spectacles in place, and up
+he flew to his Princess, whom he now hoped to call his very own.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, my beautiful Princess!" he cried. "Have you finished your
+betel-nut at last, and are you ready to keep your promise?"</p>
+
+<p>But the Princess Putri Balan looked down at him, pretending to be sad,
+though there was a twinkle in her beautiful eye; and she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Alas! Mr. Owl, a dreadful thing has happened. I lost my betel-nut,
+before it was quite finished. It fell down, down, down, until I think it
+reached the earth. And I cannot marry you, according to my promise,
+until it is finished."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it must be found!" cried Mr. Owl. "I will find it. My eyes are
+sharp at night and nothing escapes them. Shine kindly on me, Princess,
+and I will find the betel-nut for you, and you shall yet be mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Go then, Mr. Owl," said the Princess, smiling to herself. "Go and look
+for the betel-nut which I must finish before I marry you. Search
+carefully and you may find it soon."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mr. Owl searched carefully, but he could not find the bit of
+betel-nut. Of course he could not find it, when it had changed and flown
+away as a beautiful, many-colored bird! All that night he sought, till
+the sun sent him blinking to his tree. And all the next night he
+sought, and the next, and the next. And he kept on seeking for days and
+months and years, while the Princess Putri Balan smiled down upon him
+and was happy at heart because of her clever scheme.</p>
+
+<p>Old Mr. Owl never found out the trick, nor suspected the innocent little
+Honey Bird, whom indeed he scarcely ever saw, because it was a
+sunset-sleeping bird, while he was a wistful, lonely, sad night-prowler.
+Up and down, up and down the world he goes, still looking for the
+betel-nut of the Princess Putri Balan, which he will never find. And as
+he flies in the moonlight he glances ever longingly at the beautiful
+lady in the moon, and sobs "Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!" in grief and despair. For
+after all these centuries he begins to fear that she will never be his
+wife.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_TUFTED_CAP" id="THE_TUFTED_CAP"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE TUFTED CAP</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-o.png" alt="O" title="O" />NE
+dark night Master Owl left his hollow tree and went prowling about
+the world as usual upon his hopeless hunt for the Princess's betel-nut.
+As soon as he was out of hearing a long, lean, hungry Rat crept to the
+house and stole the dainties which the lonely old bachelor had stored
+away for the morrow's dinner. The thief dragged them away to his own
+hole and had a splendid feast with his wife and little ones. But the Owl
+returned sooner than the Rat had expected, and by the crumbs which he
+had dropped upon the way tracked him to the hole.</p>
+
+<p>"Come out, thief!" cried the Owl, "or I will surely kill you. Come out
+and return to me my morrow's dinner." The Rat trembled with fear at
+these threatening words.</p>
+
+<p>"Alas!" he squeaked, "I cannot do that, for already the dinner is eaten.
+My wife and hungry little ones have eaten it. Pity us, for we were
+starving!"</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" screamed the Owl, "I care little for that. It is for my dinner
+alone that I care. Since you have eaten it you shall certainly die," and
+he began to scratch fiercely at the mouth of the hole. The Rat trembled
+more than ever. But suddenly he had an idea which made his whiskers
+twitch.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold!" he cried. "Dear, good Master Owl, permit me to live and I will
+give you something which is worth many dinners, something that
+men-creatures value very highly, and which with great labor and pain I
+brought away from one of their dens."</p>
+
+<p>"Umph!" grumbled the Owl. "Let us see what it is."</p>
+
+<p>The Rat crawled timidly out of his hole with the peace-offering; and
+what do you think it was? Why, a gimlet! Just a plain, ordinary,
+well-sharpened gimlet for boring holes.</p>
+
+<p>"Hoo!" cried the Owl. "I don't think much of <i>that</i>. What is it good
+for?" Now the Rat had not the faintest idea as to what the gimlet really
+was, but he had another idea instead.</p>
+
+<p>"That? Why&mdash;that&mdash;oh, <i>that</i>! That is a very valuable thing. It is
+able to give you the keenest delight. I will show you how it works. But you
+must do just as I say, or it will be of no use."</p>
+
+<p>"Hoo!" cried the Owl. "Continue with the directions."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, first you must stick the thing point upwards in the ground at the
+foot of this tree."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good," said the Owl, doing as was suggested, and waiting
+expectantly for the next move.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you must mount to the top of the tree and slide down the trunk,"
+said the Rat solemnly. Old Master Owl was certainly very far from wise
+that night, for he obeyed the Rat's word without a suspicion. He flew to
+the top of the tree, and then, sitting back and giving a warning cry of
+"Hoo-hoo!" coasted down the trunk with the speed of lightning. But
+midway down he struck a knot in the tree and rolled heels over head. And
+when he reached the ground of course he landed fast upon the sharp point
+of the gimlet, just as the Rat had planned.</p>
+
+<p>With bloody head, and hooting with pain, the Owl started off in pursuit
+of the Rat, resolved this time to kill him without fail. The Rat was
+nimble, and his fear added to his speed, but at last the Owl caught him.
+Ruffled and ferocious, the great bird was about to tear him in pieces,
+when the Rat once more begged his life.</p>
+
+<p>"It was only a joke," he cried. "Only a silly joke. Spare me this once,
+dear Master Owl, and I will give you something that you really need.
+Look at your bleeding head. You cannot go about the world with that
+exposed. Spare my life, and I will give you a lovely cap of tufted
+feathers to hide the bite of the wicked sharp-thing-made-by-man. Pray,
+let me go, dear Master Owl."</p>
+
+<p>The Owl considered for a moment, and then decided to accept the bargain.
+For he thought of Putri Balan, the Princess of the Moon, and knew that
+he should lose his last chance to win her if she happened to see him
+with this ridiculous wound in his head.</p>
+
+<p>So the Rat gave him a nice cap of tufted feathers, which he wears to
+this day; and the Owl let the thief go free. But after that there was a
+coolness between them, as you may well imagine.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_GOOD_HUNTER" id="THE_GOOD_HUNTER"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE GOOD HUNTER</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-o.png" alt="O" title="O" />NCE
+upon a time there was an Indian who was a famous hunter. But he did
+not hunt for fun; he took no pleasure in killing the little wild
+creatures, birds and beasts and fishes, and did so only when it was
+necessary for him to have food or skins for his clothing. He was a very
+kind and generous man, and loved all the wood-creatures dearly, often
+feeding them from his own larder, and protecting them from their
+enemies. So the animals and birds loved him as their best friend, and he
+was known as the Good Hunter.</p>
+
+<p>The Good Hunter was very brave, and often went to war with the fierce
+savages who were the enemies of his tribe. One sad day he set forth with
+a war party, and they had a terrible battle, in which the Good Hunter
+was slain, and his enemies took away his scalp, leaving him lying dead
+in the forest.</p>
+
+<p>The Good Hunter had not remained long cold and lifeless in the shadowy
+stillness, when the Fox came trotting through the woods. "Alack and
+alas!" cried the Fox, spying the body stretched on the leaves. "Here is
+our dear friend, the Good Hunter, slain! Alack and alas! what shall we
+do now that our dear friend and protector is gone?"</p>
+
+<p>The Fox ran out into the forest crying the death lament, which was the
+signal to all the beasts that something most sorrowful had happened.
+Soon they came flocking to the spot, all the animals of the forest. By
+hundreds they came, and surrounding the body of their friend raised the
+most doleful howls. For, though they rubbed him with their warm noses,
+and licked him with their warm tongues, and nestled against him with
+their warm fur, they could not bring him back to warm life.</p>
+
+<p>They called upon Brother Bear to speak and tell them what to do; for he
+was the nearest relative to man. The Bear sat up on his haunches and
+spoke to the sad assembly with tears in his eyes, begging each animal to
+look carefully through his medicine-box and see whether there might not
+be some balm which would restore the Good Hunter to life. Then each
+animal looked carefully through his medicine-box of herbs and healing
+roots, bark and magic leaves, and they tried every remedy that they
+knew. But nothing brought the color to their friend's pale cheeks, nor
+light into his eyes. He who had helped them so often was helpless now,
+and they could not aid him. Again the kind beasts sank back on their
+haunches and raised a mighty howl, a requiem for the dead.</p>
+
+<p>Wild and piercing and long-drawn, the sound swept through the forest,
+such a sound of sorrow as had never been heard before. The Oriole, who
+was flying overhead, heard and was surprised. Soon his brightness came
+flashing down through the leafy boughs like a ray of sunlight into the
+gloom and darkness of the forest.</p>
+
+<p>"What has happened, O four-footed friends," he asked, "that you mourn so
+mightily?" Then they showed him the body of the Good Hunter lying in the
+midst of their sad company, and the Oriole joined his voice of sorrow to
+theirs.</p>
+
+<p>"O friend of the birds," he cried, "is there no bird who can aid you
+now, you who have fed us so many times from the door of your generous
+wigwam? I will call all the feathered tribes, and we will do our best."</p>
+
+<p>So the Oriole went forth and summoned the birds to the forest council.
+There was a great flapping of wings, a great twittering and chirping,
+questioning and exclamation when the birds assembled to hear the sad
+news. Every one was there, from the tiny Humming Bird to the great
+Eagle of the Iroquois, who left his lonely eyrie to pay his respects to
+the Good Hunter's memory. The poor little birds tried everything in
+their power to bring back to life their dear friend. With beak and claw
+and tender wing they strove, but all their efforts were in vain. Their
+Good Hunter was dead, and his scalp was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Then the great Eagle, whose head was white with years of wisdom and
+experience, spoke to the despairing assemblage of creatures. From his
+lofty perch above the world the Eagle had looked down upon centuries of
+change and decay. He knew every force of nature and all the strange
+things of life. The hoary-headed sage said that the Good Hunter could
+not be restored until his scalp was found. Then all the animals clamored
+that they might be allowed to go and seek for the missing scalp. But to
+the Fox was given this honor, because he had first found the body of the
+Good Hunter in the forest. The Fox set out upon his search, in his foxy
+way. He visited every hen-roost and every bird's-nest, but no scalp did
+he find. "Of course not!" screamed the birds when he returned from his
+fruitless quest, "Of course no bird has taken the Good Hunter's scalp.
+You should have known better than that, Master Fox."</p>
+
+<p>So the next time a bird was sent upon the search. The Pigeon Hawk went
+forth, confident that she should be successful. But she was in such a
+hurry and flew so fast that she saw nothing, and she too returned
+without that for which she sought. Then the White Heron begged that he
+might be allowed to try. "For," said he, "you all know how slowly I fly,
+and how careful I am to see everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, especially if it be something good to eat," chirped the saucy Jay,
+"do not trust him, birds, he is too greedy."</p>
+
+<p>Yet the Heron was allowed to go. He flapped away, slowly and sedately,
+and the Council sat down to await his return. But the Heron had not gone
+far when he came to a field of luscious wild beans; and he stopped to
+take a mouthful or two. He ate, and he ate, and he ate, the greedy
+fellow! until he could eat no more. And then he was sleepy, so that he
+slept and slept and slept. And when he awoke he was so hungry that he
+fell to eating again, while the Council waited and wondered and waited.
+At last they grew impatient and began to suspect that the Jay had been
+right, which was indeed the case. They decided to wait no longer for the
+Heron, who did not return. Then the Crow stepped forward and said, "Let
+me go, I pray you, for I think I know where the scalp may be found; not
+in the nest of a bird, not in the den of any animal, not in the watery
+haunt of a fish. For all the creatures of earth, air, and water are
+friends of the Good Hunter. It is men who are most cruel to men:
+therefore in the tents of men must we look for the missing scalp. Let me
+go to seek it there, for men are used to see me flying near and will not
+suspect why I come."</p>
+
+<p>The Crow flew forth upon his errand, and before long came to the wigwam
+where lived the warrior who had slain the Good Hunter. And sure enough,
+there, outside the tent, was the scalp of the Good Hunter, stretched on
+a pole to dry. The Crow flew near, and the warrior saw him, but thought
+nothing of it, for he was used to seeing crows about the camp. Presently
+when no one was looking the skillful thief managed to steal the scalp,
+and away he flew with it to the Council in the forest. Great was the
+rejoicing of the birds and beasts when they saw that the Crow had been
+successful, and they said more kind things to him than he had heard for
+many moons. At once they put the scalp upon the Good Hunter's head, but
+it had grown so dry in the smoke of the warrior's wigwam that it would
+not fit. Here was a new trouble. What was to be done to make the scalp
+soft and flexible once more? The animals did their best, but their
+efforts were of no avail.</p>
+
+<p>Once more the great Eagle came forward and bade them listen.</p>
+
+<p>"My children," he said, "my wings are never furled. Night and day for
+hundreds of years the dews of heaven have been collecting upon my back
+as I sit on my throne above the clouds. Perhaps this dew may have a
+healing power such as no earthly fountain holds. We will see."</p>
+
+<p>Gravely the Eagle plucked a long feather, and dipping it in the dew
+which moistened his plumage, applied it to the stiffened scalp.
+Immediately it became soft, and could be fitted to the head of the Good
+Hunter closely as when it had first grown there. The birds and animals
+hurried away and brought leaves and flowers, bark and berries and roots,
+which they made into a mighty healing balsam to bathe the poor head
+which had been so cruelly treated. And presently great was their joy to
+see a soft color come into the pale cheeks of the Good Hunter, and light
+into his eyes. He breathed, he stirred, he sat up and looked around him
+in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Where am I? What has happened?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You slept and your friends have wakened you," said the great Eagle
+tenderly. "Stand up, Good Hunter, that they may see you walk once more."</p>
+
+<p>The Good Hunter stood up and walked, rather unsteadily at first, back to
+his own wigwam, followed by a great company of happy forest creatures,
+who made the sky ring with their noises of rejoicing. And long, long
+after that, the Good Hunter lived to love and protect them.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_COURTSHIP_OF_MR_STORK_AND_MISS_HERON"
+id="THE_COURTSHIP_OF_MR_STORK_AND_MISS_HERON"></a><img src="./images/chapicon.png"
+alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE COURTSHIP OF MR. STORK AND MISS HERON</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-t.png" alt="T" title="T" />HIS
+is a very good story to read at night just before going to sleep.
+And if you ask why, I must only tell you that you will find out before
+you reach the end of the tale.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>There was once a Heron, a pretty, long-legged, slender lady Heron, who
+lived in the mushy-squshy, wady-shady swamp. The lady Heron lived in her
+swamp all alone, earning her living by catching little fish; and she was
+very happy, never dreaming that she was lonesome, for no one had told
+her what lonesome was. She loved to go wading in the cool waters; she
+loved to catch the little fish who swam by unsuspectingly while she
+stood still upon one leg pretending to think about something a thousand
+miles away. And she loved to look at her slender, long-legged blue
+reflection in the water; for the lady Heron was just a little bit vain.</p>
+
+<p>Now one day Mr. Stork came flying over the mushy-squshy, wady-shady
+swamp where the Heron lived, and he too saw the reflection in the water.
+And he said to himself, "My! How pretty she is! I wonder I never noticed
+her before. And how lonesome she must be there all by herself in such a
+nasty, moist, mushy-squshy old swamp! I will invite her to come and
+share my nice, warm, dry nest on the chimney-top. For to tell the truth,
+I am growing lonely up there all by myself. Why should we not make a
+match of it, we two long-legged creatures?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stork went home to his house, which he set prettily in order: for he
+never dreamed but that the lady Heron would accept his offer at the very
+first croak. He preened his feathers and made himself as lovely as he
+could, and forthwith off he flew with his long legs dangling, straight
+to the wady-shady swamp where Miss Heron was standing on one leg waiting
+for her supper to get itself caught.</p>
+
+<p>"Ahem!" croaked Mr. Stork, waving his wing politely. "Good evening, Miss
+Heron. Fine weather we are having, eh? But how horribly moist it is down
+here! I should think that your nice straight legs would grow crooked
+with rheumatism. Now I have a comfortable, dry house on the roof."</p>
+
+<p>"Pouf!" grunted Miss Heron disdainfully.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Stork pretended not to hear, and went on with his remarks,&mdash;"a
+nice dry house which I should be glad to have you share with me. Come,
+Miss Heron! Here I am a lonely old bachelor, and here are you a lonely
+old maid"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Lonely old maid, indeed!" screamed the Heron interrupting him. "I don't
+know what it is to be lonely. Go along with you!" and she splashed water
+on him with her wings, she was so indignant.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mr. Stork felt very crestfallen at this reception of his
+well-meaning invitation. He turned about and stalked away towards his
+nest upon the roof, without so much as saying good-by to the lady.</p>
+
+<p>But no sooner was he out of sight than Miss Heron began to think. He had
+said that she was lonely; was she lonely? Well, perhaps he ought to know
+better than she, for he was a very wise bird. Perhaps she was lonely,
+now that she came to think of it. However, there was no reason why she
+should go to live in that stupid, dry, old nest on the house-top. Why
+could he not come to dwell in her lovely, mushy-squshy, wady-shady
+swamp? That would be very pleasant, for he was a good sort of fellow
+with nice long legs; and there were fish enough in the water for two.
+Besides, he could then do the fishing for the family; and, moreover,
+there would then be two to admire her reflection in the water. Yes; her
+mind was made up. She would invite him. She glanced down at her
+reflection and settled some of the feathers which her fit of temper had
+ruffled out of order. Then off she started in pursuit of Mr. Stork.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stork had not gone very far, for a sad, rejected lover is a dawdling
+creature. And so she came up with him long before he was in sight of his
+nest.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, Mr. Stork," said the lady nervously. "I&mdash;I have been
+thinking over what you said to me just now, and I have concluded that
+perhaps I was a bit hasty. To tell you the truth, sir, I <i>am</i> a trifle
+lonely, now that you suggest the thought to me. And it would be very
+agreeable to have pleasant company. I am ready, sir, to agree to your
+proposal. But of course I cannot think of changing my abode. My swamp is
+the most beautiful home that a maiden ever knew, and I could not give it
+up for any one. As for your ugly old nest on the chimney-top, bah! I
+cannot endure the idea with patience."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stork was gradually stiffening into an angry attitude, but she did
+not notice. "Now you can come and live in my swamp," Miss Heron went on
+warmly, "and you will be very welcome to catch fish for me, and to look
+in my mirror. It will be very nice indeed!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nice!" croaked the Stork, "I should say as much! What can you be
+thinking of, Miss? I to give up my comfortable home on the house-top,
+close by the warm chimney, and go to live in that disgusting
+mushy-squshy bog of yours! Ha-ha! That is really too ridiculous! I bid
+you good morning." And with an elaborate bow he turned his back and flew
+away.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Heron flounced back to her swamp, mortified because she had left it
+to propose terms to so ungallant a fellow. But hardly had she begun her
+tardy supper when once more Mr. Stork's shadow darkened the mirror
+before her, and once more she heard his apologetic croak.</p>
+
+<p>"Ahem, ahem!" he began. "I hope I find you well, Miss Heron? I have
+been&mdash;ha hum!&mdash;considering your last most condescending words, and I
+find that I have been hasty. You are so good as to express a belief that
+I should make a pleasant companion. So I should! so I should! And as for
+you," he bowed gallantly, "one can readily imagine the charm of your
+society. Come, then, Miss Heron, why should we not make a happy couple,
+if we can only arrange this one little foolish matter? Be my wife: come
+live with me in my lovely nest."</p>
+
+<p>But at this word Miss Heron uttered a little scream and cried, "Be off
+with you, you villain! Leave my premises instantly!" and she waved her
+wings so fiercely that once more Mr. Stork took to his and flapped away
+to his home.</p>
+
+<p>Now when he had gone Miss Heron found that she had been bad-tempered,
+and she thought how pleasantly they might have arranged the matter if
+only she had been more moderate. So she spread her beautiful blue wings
+and flew to the housetop where Mr. Stork lived, and, perching on the
+chimney, she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Stork, I was bad-tempered and impolite, and I beg your pardon.
+Let us be friends once more. Leave this hot old stupid house-top and
+come live in my cool, moist, wady-shady swamp, and I will be your very
+loving little wife."</p>
+
+<p>But the Stork arose in his nest, flapping his wings crossly, and cried,
+"Be off, you baggage! Don't come here to insult my beautiful house. Be
+off, I say, to your mushy-squshy, rheumaticky bog. I want no more of
+you!"</p>
+
+<p>So the Heron flew back disconsolately to the watery swamp, where she
+began to feel very lonely indeed. And the Stork, too, began to feel very
+lonely indeed; and he was sorry that he had been rude to a lady.
+Presently, once more he came flapping to the mushy-squshy marsh, where
+he found Miss Heron just ready to go to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear Miss Heron!" he cried. "I made a great mistake, and said
+things for which I am truly sorry. Do come to be my loving wife, as you
+promised, and we will live happily ever after on the chimney-top, far
+above the other birds. And I will never be cross again."</p>
+
+<p>But the Heron answered, "Away with you! I want to go to sleep. I am
+tired of your croaking voice. Leave me alone!" So the Stork flew away in
+a huff.</p>
+
+<p>But the Heron could not sleep, she was so lonely. So she rose, and,
+flying through the still night air, came again to the Stork's high-built
+nest.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Storkie dear," she said in her sweetest tone, "come home to your
+dear wife's house in the wady-shady, mushy-squshy marsh, and I will be
+good."</p>
+
+<p>But the Stork pretended to be asleep, and only snored in reply. So the
+Heron flew home in a huff. But the Stork could not truly sleep, he was
+so lonely. So he rose, and, flying through the still night air, came
+again to the Heron's home in the marsh.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, my dear," he said. "Come home to your dear husband's house, and I
+will be good."</p>
+
+<p>But the Heron made no answer, pretending to be asleep. So the Stork flew
+home in a huff. But the Heron could not truly sleep, she was so lonely.
+So she rose at break of day, and, flying through the cool morning air,
+came again to the Stork's nest.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Storkie dear," she said, "come home to your dear wife's house,
+and I will be good."</p>
+
+<p>But the Stork did not answer, he was so angry. So the Heron flew home in
+a huff.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>And if you are not asleep when you get as far as this, you may go on
+with the story by yourself, perfectly well. You may go on just as long
+as you can keep awake. For the tale has no end, no end at all. It is
+still going on to this very day. The Stork still lives lonely on his
+house-top, and the Heron still lives lonely in her marsh, growing
+lonelier and lonelier, both of them. But because they have no tact, they
+are never able to agree to the same thing at the same time. And they
+keep flying back and forth, saying the same things over, and over, and
+over, and over....</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a name="THE_PHOENIX" id="THE_PHOENIX"></a>
+<img src="./images/chapicon.png" alt="Chapter icon" title="Chapter icon" /></p>
+
+<h2>THE PH&OElig;NIX</h2>
+
+
+<p><img class="letters" src="./images/letter-o.png" alt="O" title="O" />N
+the top of a palm tree, in an oasis of the Arabian desert, sat the
+Ph&oelig;nix, glowering moodily upon the world below. He was alone, quite
+alone, in his old age, as he had been alone in his youth, and in his
+middle years; for the Ph&oelig;nix has neither mate nor children, and there
+is never but one of his kind upon the earth.</p>
+
+<p>Once he had been proud of his solitariness and of his unusual beauty,
+which caused such wonder when he went abroad. But now he was old and
+weak and weary, and he was lonely, oh! so lonely! He had lived too long,
+he thought.</p>
+
+<p>For years and years and years, afar and apart, he had watched the coming
+and going of things in the world. He had seen the other birds created,
+and had watched them undergo strange changes in form and color until
+they became as they are to-day. He had seen the hundred bright eyes of
+Argus, the watchman, set in the Peacock's tail. He had seen the flaming
+heart of the volcano tamed and quieted until it became the flaming
+little Humming-Bird. He had seen the Crow turn black and the Goldfinch
+become a gaudy bird, and he knew how and why all these things had come
+to pass. For centuries, how many he knew not, he had watched the birds
+hatch out of their little eggs, flutter their feeble little wings, fly
+away to build nests for their little mates, and finally die and
+disappear as birds do, leaving no trace behind.</p>
+
+<p>But the Ph&oelig;nix did not die. He was of different clay from these
+ordinary feathered creatures. He was the glorious bird of the Sun, the
+only one, the gold-and-crimson one, who when he went abroad filled all
+creatures with awe of his beauty and wisdom and mystery, so that they
+dared not come near, but followed him afar off, hushing their song and
+adoring silently. The Ph&oelig;nix fed not on flowers or fruit or
+disgusting insect-fry, but on precious frankincense and myrrh and
+odoriferous gums. And the Sun himself loved to caress his plumage of
+gold and crimson.</p>
+
+<p>As for men, they also had adored him in time past, and had built temples
+in his honor. They also were puny mortals, scarcely longer of life than
+the birds themselves. The Ph&oelig;nix had seen many generations of men
+grow up, do good or evil deeds, and die, sometimes leaving grand
+monuments upon the earth, sometimes disappearing from knowledge like
+the very birds, leaving scarcely a trace behind.</p>
+
+<p>In his time great kings had lived and reigned and turned to dust.
+Prophets had grown hoary, said their word, and passed away, leaving no
+echo. Poets had sung and had died singing. But the Ph&oelig;nix, looking
+down from the palms of his desert, saw it all and did not die.</p>
+
+<p>All this had been his pride and honor. How he had enjoyed his strength,
+his beauty, his wisdom, and the knowledge that he was honored and adored
+by thousands who had never even seen his glory! But now, now all was
+changed. He was grown old and tired. He felt his loneliness and he
+longed to die.</p>
+
+<p>His wings were feeble. Of late he had not dared to venture far from the
+desert. He dreaded the curious gaze of the other birds, who would find
+his beauty dimmed, and would scorn, perchance, the faded glory which
+they had once held in awe. For years he had not ventured within sight of
+men, and he knew that most of them had forgotten his existence, nay,
+even denied that he had ever lived. He feared that there might not be a
+single heart in all the world that thrilled to his name.</p>
+
+<p>Thinking thus mournfully, the Ph&oelig;nix sat upon the top of the tallest
+palm. His plumage of crimson and gold glowed in the last rays of the
+setting sun. His head was drooping, and his eye lustreless. The joy of
+life was gone. Slowly the Sun sank towards the horizon, a red eye fixed
+upon the Ph&oelig;nix steadily. Suddenly across the gray waste of sand
+dotted a beam of light, intensely bright. A single ray from that
+watchful Eye seemed to flame as it reached the palm tree and pierced to
+the very heart of the Ph&oelig;nix. A thrill ran through his body. He drew
+himself together, and his eye gleamed with new lustre as he fixed it
+steadily upon the dazzling disk just touching the horizon. Dark stood
+the palm against the desert, but the Ph&oelig;nix was bathed in sudden
+light. It was the signal, the signal for which he had been waiting,
+though he knew it not. The five hundred years were ended. The mystery of
+his life was about to be solved.</p>
+
+<p>As the sun sank below the horizon, eagerly the Ph&oelig;nix set about the
+task which was before him. At last he might build the nest which till
+now he had never known. On the top of the highest palm he would build
+it, that it might receive from the blessed East the first beam of the
+morning sun. Marvelously strengthened for the task, back and forth to
+the ends of the earth his wings of crimson and gold bore the Ph&oelig;nix
+that night. For this was to be no nest of sticks and straw. Of precious
+things must it be made, and well he knew where such were to be found. Of
+silky leaves and grass interwoven with splinters of sandal-wood were the
+walls. Then on the bottom of the nest he laid, bit by bit, a pile of
+sweet-smelling gums, cinnamon and spice, spikenard, myrrh, camphor,
+ambergris, and frankincense, with no meaner choice.</p>
+
+<p>All night he labored, beak and talon, until the nest was ready. And as
+the first tints of dawn began to streak the east, the Ph&oelig;nix rose
+once, high into the air, gazing with wistful eyes over the world which
+he had loved; then, slowly sinking to the palm, he poised his gorgeous
+body upon the fragrant nest. With wings spread wide, and eyes fixed
+eagerly upon the spot where the Sun was sure to rise, he waited, waited.</p>
+
+<p>At last the golden Eye appeared. As on the night before, one radiant
+beam seemed to single out the lonely palm. One shaft of flame pierced to
+the nest whereon the Ph&oelig;nix sat. It was the final signal to the Bird
+of the Sun. Immediately the great bird began to fan the sweet-smelling
+mass with his wings. The burning ray grew brighter,&mdash;a pungent,
+wonderful aroma of mingled fragrances filled the air. Gradually the Sun
+rose, great and glorious, and as it advanced into the heaven a thin
+cloud of smoke floated from the palm tree, and wound away across the
+desert towards the east. Faster and faster fanned the great wings of the
+Ph&oelig;nix, until when the Sun shone full down through the palm tree top,
+the whole mass burst into flame, in the midst of which the Ph&oelig;nix
+blended crimson and gold. High in the air rose the fire, diffusing
+abroad all the sweet odors of Araby the blest. For a little while it
+glowed, then gradually sank, lower and lower, until but a pile of ashes
+remained at the bottom of the nest.</p>
+
+<p>But lo! Was the Ph&oelig;nix dead? What was this creature risen in youth
+and beauty from the ashes? A bird like the Eagle in shape, but nobler,
+larger, stronger, more gracious even than the King of Birds, a brilliant
+vision of crimson and gold, rose like a flame from the nest, hung for a
+moment above the palm, looking eagerly at the Sun, which baptized him in
+its splendor. A new Ph&oelig;nix lived in the world. Once more the ancient
+glory was renewed. Once more youth, joy, and hope sprang from the
+Ph&oelig;nix's ashes and rejoiced in the centuries of sunshine before him.
+Death was indeed worth dying to make this life worth living!</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the young Ph&oelig;nix descended to the nest which had been at once
+a sepulchre and a cradle. Tenderly careful of the parent ashes which it
+held, with lusty beak and talon he tore the nest bodily from the
+branches, and set out upon his pious journey. He knew not where he went,
+nor why, but the Sun drew him to the East.</p>
+
+<p>As he sped, through the sky, a flash of gold and crimson, the lesser
+birds gathered to wonder and admire. Flocks of them followed at a
+distance, a train of worshipers, chorusing the glory of the new-born
+wonder. He bore his head high with its burden, and his heart was filled
+with pious joy. It was good to be a Ph&oelig;nix, good, good!</p>
+
+<p>At last he reached the place which unknowingly he sought. The Sun alone
+had been his guide. To the city of Heliopolis in Egypt he came; to the
+great Temple of the Sun, brightly adorned with crimson and gold, the
+Ph&oelig;nix colors.</p>
+
+<p>There upon the altar he laid the precious ashes. And lo! There were folk
+waiting to receive them,&mdash;many little children, and some elders of
+childlike heart, who took the ashes and laid them reverently in the
+shrine. The Ph&oelig;nix was not forgotten; he was never to be forgotten so
+long as the world should last.</p>
+
+<p>The new Ph&oelig;nix flew back to the Arabian desert to live his five
+hundred years as each of his race had done, sacred, afar, and apart, but
+not forgotten, though in his old age he might come to deem so. For in
+the bright Temple of the Sun there are always folk of childlike sympathy
+who delight to honor the eternal Ph&oelig;nix of romance and mystery,&mdash;the
+dear, undying memory of a time long past.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="center">
+The Riverside Press<br />
+<i>Electrotyped and printed by H.O. Houghton &amp; Co.<br />
+Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Curious Book of Birds, by Abbie Farwell Brown
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+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg's The Curious Book of Birds, by Abbie Farwell Brown
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Curious Book of Birds
+
+Author: Abbie Farwell Brown
+
+Illustrator: E. Boyd Smith
+
+Release Date: June 27, 2005 [EBook #16140]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Julia Miller and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _Mr. Stork and Miss Heron (page 178)_]
+
+
+
+
+   The Curious Book of Birds
+
+    By Abbie Farwell Brown
+
+     _With Illustrations_
+
+      _By E. Boyd Smith_
+
+
+     BOSTON AND NEW YORK
+ HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
+The Riverside Press, Cambridge
+             1903
+
+
+
+
+_Published October, 1903._
+
+
+
+
+_There are many books written nowadays which will tell you about birds
+as folk of the twentieth century see them. They describe carefully the
+singer's house, his habits, the number of his little wife's eggs, and
+the color of every tiny feather on her pretty wings. But these books
+tell you nothing at all about bird-history; about what birds have meant
+to all the generations of men, women, and children since the world
+began. You would think, to read the words of the bird-book men, that
+they were the very first folk to see any bird, and that what they think
+they have seen is the only matter worth the knowing._
+
+_Now the interesting facts about birds we have always with us. We can
+find them out for ourselves, which is a very pleasant thing to do, or we
+can take the word of others, of which there is no lack. But it is the
+quaint fancies about birds which are in danger of being lost. The
+long-time fancies which the world's children in all lands have been
+taught are quite as important as the every-day facts. They show what the
+little feathered brothers have been to the children of men; how we have
+come to like some and to dislike others as we do; why the poets have
+called them by certain nicknames which we ought to know; and why a great
+many strange things are so, in the minds of childlike people._
+
+_Facts are not what one looks for in a Curious Book. Yet it may be that
+some facts have crept in among the ancient fancies of this volume, just
+as bookworms will crawl into the nicest books; but they do not belong
+there, and it is for these that the Book apologizes to the children. It
+has no apology to offer those grown folks who insist that facts, never
+fancies, are what children need._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                        PAGE
+
+THE DISOBEDIENT WOODPECKER                 1
+(_French_)
+
+MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN               6
+(_Isle of Wight_)
+
+THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH                    14
+(_Roumanian_)
+
+KING OF THE BIRDS                         18
+(_Gascon_)
+
+HALCYONE                                  27
+(_Greek_)
+
+THE FORGETFUL KINGFISHER                  33
+(_German_)
+
+THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE                 39
+(_French_)
+
+HOW THE BLUEBIRD CROSSED                  45
+(_Samoan_)
+
+THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN                      49
+(_Arabic, Malay_)
+
+THE MASQUERADING CROW                     59
+(_Russian_)
+
+KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS                69
+(_Arabic_)
+
+THE PIOUS ROBIN                           81
+(_Breton, Basque, Greek_)
+
+THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN               87
+(_Ojibway_)
+
+THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN                     94
+(_Roumanian_)
+
+WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES                 98
+(_French_)
+
+MRS. PARTRIDGE'S BABIES                  105
+(_Greek_)
+
+THE EARLY GIRL                           109
+(_Roumanian_)
+
+HOW THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT       114
+(_French_)
+
+THE BLACKBIRD AND THE FOX                124
+(_French_)
+
+THE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH                 127
+(_Welsh_)
+
+THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE                  132
+(_Greek_)
+
+THE GROUND-PIGEON                        138
+(_Malay_)
+
+SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE             145
+(_Congo Negro_)
+
+THE THRUSH AND THE CUCKOO                153
+(_Roumanian, German_)
+
+THE OWL AND THE MOON                     157
+(_Malay_)
+
+THE TUFTED CAP                           164
+(_Ainu, Japanese Islands_)
+
+THE GOOD HUNTER                          168
+(_Iroquois_)
+
+THE COURTSHIP OF MR. STORK AND MISS
+HERON                                    176
+(_Russian_)
+
+THE PHOENIX                              184
+(_Egyptian_)
+
+Seven of these tales appeared originally in _The Churchman_ and two in
+_The Congregationalist_. They are reprinted by the courteous permission
+of the publishers of those magazines.
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                        PAGE
+MR. STORK AND MISS HERON (page 178)
+                                Frontispiece
+
+"NEXT YOU MUST LAY A FEATHER"             10
+
+SUCH A GORGEOUS COAT!                     16
+
+"BLESS ME!" HE EXCLAIMED, "WHOM HAVE
+WE HERE?"                                 64
+
+HERE ARE SOME NICE FAT WIGGLY WORMS      106
+
+HE MANAGED TO FLUTTER OUT OF REACH       126
+
+"O BROTHER, DON'T!"                      148
+
+PUTRI BALAN BEGAN TO LAUGH               160
+
+
+
+
+The Curious Book of Birds
+
+
+
+
+    "Not you alone, proud truths of the world,
+    Not you alone, ye facts of modern science,
+    But myths and fables of eld, Asia's, Africa's fables."
+
+                                             _Whitman._
+
+
+
+
+The Curious Book of Birds
+
+
+
+
+THE DISOBEDIENT WOODPECKER
+
+
+Long, long ago, at the beginning of things, they say that the Lord made
+the world smooth and round like an apple. There were no hills nor
+mountains: nor were there any hollows or valleys to hold the seas and
+rivers, fountains and pools, which the world of men would need. It must,
+indeed, have been a stupid and ugly earth in those days, with no chance
+for swimming or sailing, rowing or fishing. But as yet there was no one
+to think anything about it, no one who would long to swim, sail, row,
+and fish. For this was long before men were created.
+
+The Lord looked about Him at the flocks of newly made birds, who were
+preening their wings and wondering at their own bright feathers, and
+said to Himself,--
+
+"I will make these pretty creatures useful, from the very beginning, so
+that in after time men shall love them dearly. Come, my birds," He
+cried, "come hither to me, and with the beaks which I have given you
+hollow me out _here_, and _here_, and _here_, basins for the lakes and
+pools which I intend to fill with water for men and for you, their
+friends. Come, little brothers, busy yourselves as you would wish to be
+happy hereafter."
+
+Then there was a twittering and fluttering as the good birds set to work
+with a will, singing happily over the work which their dear Lord had
+given them to do. They pecked and they pecked with their sharp little
+bills; they scratched and they scratched with their sharp little claws,
+till in the proper places they had hollowed out great basins and valleys
+and long river beds, and little holes in the ground.
+
+Then the Lord sent great rains upon the earth until the hollows which
+the birds had made were filled with water, and so became rivers and
+lakes, little brooks and fountains, just as we see them to-day. Now it
+was a beautiful, beautiful world, and the good birds sang happily and
+rejoiced in the work which they had helped, and in the sparkling water
+which was sweet to their taste.
+
+All were happy except one. The Woodpecker had taken no part with the
+other busy birds. She was a lazy, disobedient creature, and when she
+heard the Lord's commands she had only said, "Tut tut!" and sat still on
+the branch where she had perched, preening her pretty feathers and
+admiring her silver stockings. "You can toil if you want to," she said
+to the other birds who wondered at her, "but I shall do no such dirty
+work. My clothes are too fine."
+
+Now when the world was quite finished and the beautiful water sparkled
+and glinted here and there, cool and refreshing, the Lord called the
+birds to Him and thanked them for their help, praising them for their
+industry and zeal. But to the Woodpecker He said,--
+
+"As for you, O Woodpecker, I observe that your feathers are unruffled by
+work and that there is no spot of soil upon your beak and claws. How did
+you manage to keep so neat?"
+
+The Woodpecker looked sulky and stood upon one leg.
+
+"It is a good thing to be neat," said the Lord, "but not if it comes
+from shirking a duty. It is good to be dainty, but not from laziness.
+Have you not worked with your brothers as I commanded you?"
+
+"It was such very dirty work," piped the Woodpecker crossly; "I was
+afraid of spoiling my pretty bright coat and my silver shining hose."
+
+"Oh, vain and lazy bird!" said the Lord sadly. "Have you nothing to do
+but show off your fine clothes and give yourself airs? You are no more
+beautiful than many of your brothers, yet they all obeyed me willingly.
+Look at the snow-white Dove, and the gorgeous Bird of Paradise, and the
+pretty Grosbeak. They have worked nobly, yet their plumage is not
+injured. I fear that you must be punished for your disobedience, little
+Woodpecker. Henceforth you shall wear stockings of sooty black instead
+of the shining silver ones of which you are so proud. You who were too
+fine to dig in the earth shall ever be pecking at dusty wood. And as you
+declined to help in building the water-basins of the world, so you shall
+never sip from them when you are thirsty. Never shall you thrust beak
+into lake or river, little rippling brook or cool, sweet fountain.
+Raindrops falling scantily from the leaves shall be your drink, and your
+voice shall be heard only when other creatures are hiding themselves
+from the approaching storm."
+
+It was a sad punishment for the Woodpecker, but she certainly deserved
+it. Ever since that time, whenever we hear a little tap-tapping in the
+tree city, we know that it is the poor Woodpecker digging at the dusty
+wood, as the Lord said she should do. And when we spy her, a dusty
+little body with black stockings, clinging upright to the tree trunk, we
+see that she is creeping, climbing, looking up eagerly toward the sky,
+longing for the rain to fall into her thirsty beak. She is always hoping
+for the storm to come, and plaintively pipes, "_Plui-plui!_ Rain, O
+Rain!" until the drops begin to patter on the leaves.
+
+
+
+
+MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN
+
+
+Did you ever notice how different are the nests which the birds build in
+springtime, in tree or bush or sandy bank or hidden in the grass? Some
+are wonderfully wrought, pretty little homes for birdikins. But others
+are clumsy, and carelessly fastened to the bough, most unsafe cradles
+for the feathered baby on the treetop. Sometimes after a heavy wind you
+find on the ground under the nest poor little broken eggs which rolled
+out and lost their chance of turning into birds with safe, safe wings of
+their own. Now such sad things as this happen because in their youth the
+lazy father and mother birds did not learn their lesson when Mother
+Magpie had her class in nest-making. The clumsiest nest of all is that
+which the Wood-Pigeon tries to build. Indeed, it is not a nest at all,
+only the beginning of one. And there is an old story about this, which I
+shall tell you.
+
+In the early springtime of the world, when birds were first made, none
+of them--except Mother Magpie--knew how to build a nest. In that lovely
+garden where they lived the birds went fluttering about trying their new
+wings, so interested in this wonderful game of flying that they forgot
+all about preparing a home for the baby birds who were to come. When the
+time came to lay their eggs the parents knew not what to do. There was
+no place safe from the four-legged creatures who cannot fly, and they
+began to twitter helplessly: "Oh, how I wish I had a nice warm nest for
+my eggs!" "Oh, what shall we do for a home?" "Dear me! I don't know
+anything about housekeeping." And the poor silly things ruffled up their
+feathers and looked miserable as only a little bird can look when it is
+unhappy.
+
+All except Mother Magpie! She was not the best--oh, no!--but she was the
+cleverest and wisest of all the birds; it seemed as if she knew
+everything that a bird could know. Already she had found out a way, and
+was busily building a famous nest for herself. She was indeed a clever
+bird! She gathered turf and sticks, and with clay bound them firmly
+together in a stout elm tree. About her house she built a fence of
+thorns to keep away the burglar birds who had already begun mischief
+among their peaceful neighbors. Thus she had a snug and cosy dwelling
+finished before the others even suspected what she was doing. She popped
+into her new house and sat there comfortably, peering out through the
+window-slits with her sharp little eyes. And she saw the other birds
+hopping about and twittering helplessly.
+
+"What silly birds they are!" she croaked. "Ha, ha! What would they not
+give for a nest like mine!"
+
+But presently a sharp-eyed Sparrow spied Mother Magpie sitting in her
+nest.
+
+"Oho! Look there!" he cried. "Mother Magpie has found a way. Let us ask
+her to teach us."
+
+Then all the other birds chirped eagerly, "Yes, yes! Let us ask her to
+teach us!"
+
+So, in a great company, they came fluttering, hopping, twittering up to
+the elm tree where Mother Magpie nestled comfortably in her new house.
+
+"O wise Mother Magpie, dear Mother Magpie," they cried, "teach us how to
+build our nests like yours, for it is growing night, and we are tired
+and sleepy."
+
+The Magpie said she would teach them if they would be a patient,
+diligent, obedient class of little birds. And they all promised that
+they would.
+
+She made them perch about her in a great circle, some on the lower
+branches of the trees, some on the bushes, and some on the ground among
+the grass and flowers. And where each bird perched, there it was to
+build its nest. Then Mother Magpie found clay and bits of twigs and moss
+and grass--everything a bird could need to build a nest; and there is
+scarcely anything you can think of which some bird would not find very
+useful. When these things were all piled up before her she told every
+bird to do just as she did. It was like a great big kindergarten of
+birds playing at a new building game, with Mother Magpie for the
+teacher.
+
+She began to show them how to weave the bits of things together into
+nests, as they should be made. And some of the birds, who were attentive
+and careful, soon saw how it was done, and started nice homes for
+themselves. You have seen what wonderful swinging baskets the Oriole
+makes for his baby-cradle? Well, it was the Magpie who taught him how,
+and he was the prize pupil, to be sure. But some of the birds were not
+like him, nor like the patient little Wren. Some of them were lazy and
+stupid and envious of Mother Magpie's cosy nest, which was already
+finished, while theirs was yet to do.
+
+As Mother Magpie worked, showing them how, it seemed so very simple that
+they were ashamed not to have discovered it for themselves. So, as she
+went on bit by bit, the silly things pretended that they had known all
+about it from the first--which was very unpleasant for their teacher.
+
+Mother Magpie took two sticks in her beak and began like this: "First of
+all, my friends, you must lay two sticks crosswise for a foundation,
+thus," and she placed them carefully on the branch before her.
+
+"Oh yes, oh yes!" croaked old Daddy Crow, interrupting her rudely. "I
+thought that was the way to begin."
+
+Mother Magpie snapped her eyes at him and went on, "Next you must lay a
+feather on a bit of moss, to start the walls."
+
+"Certainly, of course," screamed the Jackdaw. "I knew that came next.
+That is what I told the Parrot but a moment since."
+
+Mother Magpie looked at him impatiently, but she did not say anything.
+"Then, my friends, you must place on your foundation moss, hair,
+feathers, sticks, and grass--whatever you choose for your house. You
+must place them like _this_."
+
+"Yes, yes," cried the Starling, "sticks and grass, every one knows how
+to do that! Of course, of course! Tell us something new."
+
+[Illustration: _"Next you must lay a feather"_]
+
+Now Mother Magpie was very angry, but she kept on with her lesson in
+spite of these rude and silly interruptions. She turned toward the
+Wood-Pigeon, who was a rattle-pated young thing, and who was not having
+any success with the sticks which she was trying to place.
+
+"Here, Wood-Pigeon," said Mother Magpie, "you must place those sticks
+through and across, criss-cross, criss-cross, _so_."
+
+"Criss-cross, criss-cross, so," interrupted the Wood-Pigeon. "I know.
+That will do-o-o, that will do-o-o!"
+
+Mother Magpie hopped up and down on one leg, so angry she could hardly
+croak.
+
+"You silly Pigeon," she sputtered, "not _so_. You are spoiling your
+nest. Place the sticks _so_!"
+
+"I know, I know! That will do-o-o, that will do-o-o!" cooed the
+Wood-Pigeon obstinately in her soft, foolish little voice, without
+paying the least attention to Mother Magpie's directions.
+
+"We all know that--anything more?" chirped the chorus of birds, trying
+to conceal how anxious they were to know what came next, for the nests
+were only half finished.
+
+But Mother Magpie was thoroughly disgusted, and refused to go on with
+the lesson which had been so rudely interrupted by her pupils.
+
+"You are all so wise, friends," she said, "that surely you do not need
+any help from me. You say you know all about it,--then go on and finish
+your nests by yourselves. Much luck may you have!" And away she flew to
+her own cosy nest in the elm tree, where she was soon fast asleep,
+forgetting all about the matter.
+
+But oh! What a pickle the other birds were in! The lesson was but half
+finished, and most of them had not the slightest idea what to do next.
+That is why to this day many of the birds have never learned to build a
+perfect nest. Some do better than others, but none build like Mother
+Magpie.
+
+But the Wood-Pigeon was in the worst case of them all. For she had only
+the foundation laid criss-cross as the Magpie had shown her. And so, if
+you find in the woods the most shiftless, silly kind of nest that you
+can imagine--just a platform of sticks laid flat across a branch, with
+no railing to keep the eggs from rolling out, no roof to keep the rain
+from soaking in--when you see that foolishness, you will know that it is
+the nest of little Mistress Wood-Pigeon, who was too stupid to learn the
+lesson which Mother Magpie was ready to teach.
+
+And the queerest part of all is that the birds blamed the Magpie for the
+whole matter, and have never liked her since. But, as you may have
+found out for yourselves, that is often the fate of wise folk who make
+discoveries or who do things better than others.
+
+
+
+
+THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH
+
+
+The Goldfinch who lives in Europe is one of the gaudiest of the little
+feathered brothers. He is a very Joseph of birds in his coat of many
+colors, and folk often wonder how he came to have feathers so much more
+gorgeous than his kindred. But after you have read this tale you will
+wonder no longer.
+
+You must know that when the Father first made all the birds they were
+dressed alike in plumage of sober gray. But this dull uniform pleased
+Him no more than it did the birds themselves, who begged that they might
+wear each the particular style which was most becoming, and by which
+they could be recognized afar.
+
+So the Father called the birds to Him, one by one, as they stood in
+line, and dipping His brush in the rainbow color-box painted each
+appropriately in the colors which it wears to-day. (Except, indeed, that
+some had later adventures which altered their original hues, as you
+shall hear in due season.)
+
+But the Goldfinch did not come with the other birds. That tardy little
+fellow was busy elsewhere on his own affairs and heeded not the Father's
+command to fall in line and wait his turn for being made beautiful.
+
+So it happened that not until the painting was finished and all the
+birds had flown away to admire themselves in the water-mirrors of the
+earth, did the Goldfinch present himself at the Father's feet out of
+breath.
+
+"O Father!" he panted, "I am late. But I was so busy! Pray forgive me
+and permit me to have a pretty coat like the others."
+
+"You are late indeed," said the Father reproachfully, "and all the
+coloring has been done. You should have come when I bade you. Do you not
+know that it is the prompt bird who fares best? My rainbow color-box has
+been generously used, and I have but little of each tint left. Yet I
+will paint you with the colors that I have, and if the result be ill you
+have only yourself to blame."
+
+The Father smiled gently as He took up the brush which He had laid down,
+and dipped it in the first color which came to hand. This He used until
+there was no more, when He began with another shade, and so continued
+until the Goldfinch was completely colored from head to foot. Such a
+gorgeous coat! His forehead and throat were of the most brilliant
+crimson. His cap and sailor collar were black. His back was brown and
+yellow, his breast white, his wings golden set off with velvet black,
+and his tail was black with white-tipped feathers. Certainly there was
+no danger of his being mistaken for any other bird.
+
+When the Goldfinch looked down into a pool and saw the reflection of his
+gorgeous coat, he burst out into a song of joy. "I like it, oh, I like
+it!" he warbled, and his song was very sweet. "Oh, I am glad that I was
+late, indeed I am, dear Father!"
+
+But the kind Father sighed and shook His head as He put away the brush,
+exclaiming, "Poor little Goldfinch! You are indeed a beautiful bird. But
+I fear that the gorgeous coat which you wear, and which is the best that
+I could give you, because you came so late, will cause you more sorrow
+than joy. Because of it you will be chased and captured and kept in
+captivity; and your life will be spent in mourning for the days when you
+were a plain gray bird."
+
+And so it happened. For to this day the Goldfinch is persecuted by human
+folk who admire his wonderful plumage and his beautiful song. He is
+kept captive in a cage, while his less gorgeous brothers fly freely in
+the beautiful world out of doors.
+
+[Illustration: _Such a gorgeous coat!_]
+
+
+
+
+KING OF THE BIRDS
+
+
+Once upon a time, when the world was very new and when the birds had
+just learned from Mother Magpie how to build their nests, some one said,
+"We ought to have a king. Oh, we need a king of the birds very much!"
+
+For you see, already in the Garden of Birds trouble had begun. There
+were disputes every morning as to which was the earliest bird who was
+entitled to the worm. There were quarrels over the best places for
+nest-building and over the fattest bug or beetle; and there was no one
+to settle these difficulties. Moreover, the robber birds were growing
+too bold, and there was no one to rule and punish them. There was no
+doubt about it; the birds needed a king to keep them in order and peace.
+
+So the whisper went about, "We must have a king. Whom shall we choose
+for our king?"
+
+They decided to hold a great meeting for the election. And because the
+especial talent of a bird is for flying, they agreed that the bird who
+could fly highest up into the blue sky, straight toward the sun, should
+be their king, king of all the feathered tribes of the air.
+
+Therefore, after breakfast one beautiful morning, the birds met in the
+garden to choose their king. All the birds were there, from the largest
+to the smallest, chirping, twittering, singing on every bush and tree
+and bit of dry grass, till the noise was almost as great as nowadays at
+an election of two-legged folk without feathers. They swooped down in
+great clouds, till the sky was black with them, and they were dotted on
+the grass like punctuation marks on a green page. There were so many
+that not even wise Mother Magpie or old Master Owl could count them, and
+they all talked at the same time, like ladies at an afternoon tea, which
+was very confusing.
+
+Little Robin Redbreast was there, hopping about and saying pleasant
+things to every one, for he was a great favorite. Gorgeous Goldfinch was
+there, in fine feather; and little Blackbird, who was then as white as
+snow. There were the proud Peacock and the silly Ostrich, the awkward
+Penguin and the Dodo, whom no man living has ever seen. Likewise there
+were the Jubjub Bird and the Dinky Bird, and many other curious
+varieties that one never finds described in the wise Bird Books,--which
+is very strange, and sad, too, I think. Yes, all the birds were there
+for the choosing of their king, both the birds who could fly, and those
+who could not. (But for what were they given wings, if not to fly? How
+silly an Ostrich must feel!)
+
+Now the Eagle expected to be king. He felt sure that he could fly higher
+than any one else. He sat apart on a tall pine tree, looking very
+dignified and noble, as a future king should look. And the birds glanced
+at one another, nodded their heads, and whispered, "He is sure to be
+elected king. He can fly straight up toward the sun without winking, and
+his great wings are so strong, so strong! He never grows tired. He is
+sure to be king."
+
+Thus they whispered among themselves, and the Eagle heard them, and was
+pleased. But the little brown Wren heard also, and he was not pleased.
+The absurd little bird! He wanted to be king himself, although he was
+one of the tiniest birds there, who could never be a protector to the
+others, nor stop trouble when it began. No, indeed! Fancy him stepping
+as a peacemaker between a robber Hawk and a bloody Falcon. It was they
+who would make pieces of him. But he was a conceited little creature,
+and saw no reason why he should not make a noble sovereign.
+
+"I am cleverer than the Eagle," he said to himself, "though he is so
+much bigger. I will be king in spite of him. Ha-ha! We shall see what we
+shall see!" For the Wren had a great idea in his wee little head--an
+idea bigger than the head itself, if you can explain how that could be.
+He ruffled up his feathers to make himself as huge as possible, and
+hopped over to the branch where the Eagle was sitting.
+
+"Well, Eagle," said the Wren pompously, "I suppose you expect to be
+king, eh?"
+
+The Eagle stared hard at him with his great bright eyes. "Well, if I do,
+what of that?" he said. "Who will dispute me?"
+
+"I shall," said the Wren, bobbing his little brown head and wriggling
+his tail saucily.
+
+"You!" said the Eagle. "Do _you_ expect to fly higher than I?"
+
+"Yes," chirped the Wren, "I do. Yes, I do, do, do!"
+
+"Ho!" said the Eagle scornfully. "I am big and strong and brave. I can
+fly higher than the clouds. You, poor little thing, are no bigger than a
+bean. You will be out of breath before we have gone twice this tree's
+height."
+
+"Little as I am, I can mount higher than you," said the Wren.
+
+"What will you wager, Wren?" asked the Eagle. "What will you give me if
+I win?"
+
+"If you win you will be king," said the Wren. "But beside that, if you
+win I will give you my fat little body to eat for your breakfast. But if
+I win, Sir, I shall be king, and you must promise never, never, never,
+to hurt me or any of my people."
+
+"Very well. I promise," said the Eagle haughtily. "Come now, it is time
+for the trial, you poor little foolish creature."
+
+The birds were flapping their wings and singing eagerly, "Let us
+begin--begin. We want to see who is to be king. Come, birds, to the
+trial. Who can fly the highest? Come!"
+
+Then the Eagle spread his great wings and mounted leisurely into the
+air, straight toward the noonday sun. And after him rose a number of
+other birds who wanted to be king,--the wicked Hawk, the bold Albatross,
+and the Skylark singing his wonderful song. The long-legged Stork
+started also, but that was only for a joke. "Fancy me for a king!" he
+cried, and he laughed so that he had to come down again in a minute. But
+the Wren was nowhere to be seen. The truth was, he had hopped ever so
+lightly upon the Eagle's head, where he sat like a tiny crest. But the
+Eagle did not know he was there.
+
+Soon the Hawk and the Albatross and even the brave little Skylark fell
+behind, and the Eagle began to chuckle to himself at his easy victory.
+"Where are you, poor little Wren?" he cried very loudly, for he fancied
+that the tiny bird must be left far, far below.
+
+"Here I am, here I am, away up above you, Master Eagle!" piped the Wren
+in a weak little voice. And the Eagle fancied the Wren was so far up in
+the air that even his sharp eyes could not spy the tiny creature. "Dear
+me!" said he to himself. "How extraordinary that he has passed me." So
+he redoubled his speed and flew on, higher, higher.
+
+Presently he called out again in a tremendous voice, "Well, where are
+you now? Where are you now, poor little Wren?"
+
+Once more he heard the tiny shrill voice from somewhere above piping,
+"Here I am, here I am, nearer the sun than you, Master Eagle. Will you
+give up now?"
+
+Of course the Eagle would not give up yet. He flew on, higher and
+higher, till the garden and its flock of patient birds waiting for their
+king grew dim and blurry below. And at last even the mighty wings of the
+Eagle were weary, for he was far above the clouds. "Surely," he thought,
+"now the Wren is left miles behind." He gave a scream of triumph and
+cried, "Where are you now, poor little Wren? Can you hear me at all,
+down below there?"
+
+But what was his amazement to hear the same little voice above his head
+shrilling, "Here I am, here I am, Sir Eagle. Look up and see me, look!"
+And there, sure enough, he was fluttering above the Eagle's head. "And
+now, since I have mounted so much higher than you, will you agree that I
+have won?"
+
+"Yes, you have won, little Wren. Let us descend together, for I am weary
+enough," cried the Eagle, much mortified; and down he swooped, on heavy,
+discouraged wings.
+
+"Yes, let us descend together," murmured the Wren, once more perching
+comfortably on the Eagle's head. And so down he rode on this convenient
+elevator, which was the first one invented in this world.
+
+When the Eagle nearly reached the ground, the other birds set up a cry
+of greeting.
+
+"Hail, King Eagle!" they sang. "How high you flew! How near the sun! Did
+he not scorch your Majesty's feathers? Hail, mighty king!" and they made
+a deafening chorus. But the Eagle stopped them.
+
+"The Wren is your king, not I," he said. "He mounted higher than I did."
+
+"The Wren? Ha-ha! The _Wren_! We can't believe that The Wren flew
+higher than you? No, no!" they all shouted. But just then the Eagle
+lighted on a tree, and from the top of his head hopped the little Wren,
+cocking his head and ruffling himself proudly.
+
+"Yes, I mounted higher than he," he cried, "for I was perched on his
+head all the while, ha-ha! And now, therefore, I am king, small though I
+be."
+
+Now the Eagle was very angry when he saw the trick that had been played
+upon him, and he swooped upon the sly Wren to punish him. But the Wren
+screamed, "Remember, remember your promise never to injure me or mine!"
+Then the Eagle stopped, for he was a noble bird and never forgot a
+promise. He folded his wings and turned away in disgust.
+
+"Be king, then, O cheat and trickster!" he said.
+
+"Cheat and trickster!" echoed the other birds. "We will have no such
+fellow for our king. Cheat and trickster he is, and he shall be
+punished. You shall be king, brave Eagle, for without your strength he
+could never have flown so high. It is you whom we want for our
+protector and lawmaker, not this sly fellow no bigger than a bean."
+
+So the Eagle became their king, after all; and a noble bird he is, as
+you must understand, or he would never have been chosen to guard our
+nation's coat of arms. And besides this you may see his picture on many
+a banner and crest and coin of gold or silver, so famous has he become.
+
+But the Wren was to be punished. And while the birds were trying to
+decide what should be done with him, they put him in prison in a
+mouse-hole and set Master Owl to guard the door. Now while the judges
+were putting their heads together the lazy Owl fell fast asleep, and out
+of prison stole the little Wren and was far away before any one could
+catch him. So he was never punished after all, as he richly deserved to
+be.
+
+The birds were so angry with old Master Owl for his carelessness that he
+has never since dared to show his face abroad in daytime, but hides away
+in his hollow tree. And only at night he wanders alone in the woods,
+sorry and ashamed.
+
+
+
+
+HALCYONE
+
+
+The story of the first Kingfisher is a sad one, and you need not read it
+unless for a very little while you wish to feel sorry.
+
+Long, long ago when the world was new, there lived a beautiful princess
+named Halcyone. She was the daughter of old AEolus, King of the Winds,
+and lived with him on his happy island, where it was his chief business
+to keep in order the four boisterous brothers, Boreas, the North Wind,
+Zephyrus, the West Wind, Auster, the South Wind, and Eurus, the East
+Wind. Sometimes, indeed, AEolus had a hard time of it; for the Winds
+would escape from his control and rush out upon the sea for their
+terrible games, which were sure to bring death and destruction to the
+sailors and their ships. Knowing them so well, for she had grown up with
+these rough playmates, Halcyone came to dread more than anything else
+the cruelties which they practiced at every opportunity.
+
+One day the Prince Ceyx came to the island of King AEolus. He was the son
+of Hesperus, the Evening Star, and he was the king of the great land of
+Thessaly. Ceyx and Halcyone grew to love each other dearly, and at last
+with the consent of good King AEolus, but to the wrath of the four Winds,
+the beautiful princess went away to be the wife of Ceyx and Queen of
+Thessaly.
+
+For a long time they lived happily in their peaceful kingdom, but
+finally came a day when Ceyx must take a long voyage on the sea, to
+visit a temple in a far country. Halcyone could not bear to have him go,
+for she feared the dangers of the great deep, knowing well the cruelty
+of the Winds, whom King AEolus had such difficulty in keeping within
+bounds. She knew how the mischievous brothers loved to rush down upon
+venturesome sailors and blow them into danger, and she knew that they
+especially hated her husband because he had carried her away from the
+island where she had watched the Winds at their terrible play. She
+begged Ceyx not to go, but he said that it was necessary. Then she
+prayed that if he must go he would take her with him, for she could not
+bear to remain behind dreading what might happen.
+
+But Ceyx was resolved that Halcyone should not go. The good king longed
+to take her with him; no more than she could he smile at the thought of
+separation. But he also feared the sea, not on his own account, but for
+his dear wife. In spite of her entreaties he remained firm. If all went
+well he promised to return in two months' time. But Halcyone knew that
+she should never see him again as now he spoke.
+
+The day of separation came. Standing heart-broken upon the shore,
+Halcyone watched the vessel sail away into the East, until as a little
+speck it dropped below the horizon; then sobbing bitterly she returned
+to the palace.
+
+Now the king and his men had completed but half their journey when a
+terrible storm arose. The wicked Winds had escaped from the control of
+good old AEolus and were rushing down upon the ocean to punish Ceyx for
+carrying away the beautiful Halcyone. Fiercely they blew, the lightning
+flashed, and the sea ran high; and in the midst of the horrible tumult
+the good ship went to the bottom with all on board. Thus the fears of
+Halcyone were proved true, and far from his dear wife poor Ceyx perished
+in the cruel waves.
+
+That very night when the shipwreck occurred, the sad and fearful
+Halcyone, sleeping lonely at home, knew in a dream the very calamity
+which had happened. She seemed to see the storm and the shipwreck, and
+the form of Ceyx appeared, saying a sad farewell to her. As soon as it
+was light she rose and hastened to the seashore, trembling with a
+horrible dread. Standing on the very spot whence she had last seen the
+fated ship, she looked wistfully over the waste of stormy waters. At
+last she spied a dark something tossing on the waves. The object floated
+nearer and nearer, until a huge breaker cast before her on the sand the
+body of her drowned husband.
+
+"O dearest Ceyx!" she cried. "Is it thus that you return to me?"
+Stretching out her arms toward him, she leaped upon the sea wall as if
+she would throw herself into the ocean, which advanced and retreated,
+seething around his body. But a different fate was to be hers. As she
+leaped forward two strong wings sprouted from her shoulders, and before
+she knew it she found herself skimming lightly as a bird over the water.
+From her throat came sounds of sobbing, which changed as she flew into
+the shrill piping of a bird. Soft feathers now covered her body, and a
+crest rose above the forehead which had once been so fair. Halcyone was
+become a Kingfisher, the first Kingfisher who ever flew lamenting above
+the waters of the world.
+
+The sad bird fluttered through the spray straight to the body that was
+tossed upon the surf. As her wings touched the wet shoulders, and as her
+horny beak sought the dumb lips in an attempt to kiss what was once so
+dear, the body of Ceyx began to receive new life. The limbs stirred, a
+faint color returned to the cheeks. At the same moment a change like
+that which had transformed Halcyone began to pass over her husband. He
+too was becoming a Kingfisher. He too felt the thrill of wings upon his
+shoulders, wings which were to bear him up and away out of the sea which
+had been his death. He too was clad in soft plumage with a kingly crest
+upon his kingly head. With a faint cry, half of sorrow for what had
+happened, half of joy for the future in which these two loving ones were
+at least to be together, Ceyx rose from the surf-swept sand where his
+lifeless limbs had lain and went skimming over the waves beside Halcyone
+his wife.
+
+So those unhappy mortals became the first kingfishers, happy at last in
+being reunited. So we see them still, flying up and down over the waters
+of the world, royal forms with royal crests upon their heads.
+
+They built their nest of the bones of fish, a stout and well-joined
+basket which floated on the waves as safely as any little boat. And
+while their children, the baby Halcyons, lay in this rocking cradle, for
+seven days in the heart of winter, no storms ever troubled the ocean
+and mariners could set out upon their voyages without fear.
+
+For while his little grandchildren rocked in their basket, the good King
+AEolus, pitying the sorrows of his daughter Halcyone, was always
+especially careful to chain up in prison those wicked brothers the
+Winds, so that they could do no mischief of any kind.
+
+And that is why a halcyon time has come to mean a season of peace and
+safety.
+
+
+
+
+THE FORGETFUL KINGFISHER
+
+
+In these days the Kingfisher is a sad and solitary bird, caring not to
+venture far from the water where she finds her food. Up and down the
+river banks she goes, uttering a peculiar plaintive cry. What is she
+saying, and why is she so restless? The American Kingfisher is gray, but
+her cousin of Europe is a bird of brilliant azure with a breast of rusty
+red. Therefore it must have been the foreign Kingfisher who was
+forgetful, as you shall hear.
+
+Long, long after the sorrows of Halcyone, the first Kingfisher, were
+ended, came the great storm which lasted forty days and forty nights,
+causing the worst flood which the world has ever known. That was a
+terrible time. When Father Noah hastened to build his ark, inviting the
+animals and birds to take refuge with him, the Kingfisher herself was
+glad to go aboard. For even she, protected by AEolus from the fury of
+winds and waters, was not safe while there was no place in all the world
+for her to rest foot and weary wing. So the Kingfisher fluttered in with
+the other birds and animals, a strange company! And there they lived
+all together, Noah and his arkful of pets, for many weary days, while
+the waters raged and the winds howled outside, and all the earth was
+covered fathoms deep out of sight below the waves.
+
+But after long weeks the storm ceased, and Father Noah opened the little
+window in the ark and sent forth the Dove to see whether or not there
+was land visible on which the ark might find rest. Now after he had sent
+out the Dove, Noah looked about him at the other birds and animals which
+crowded around him eagerly, for they were growing very restless from
+their long confinement, and he said, "Which of you is bravest, and will
+dare follow our friend the Dove out into the watery world? Ah, here is
+the Kingfisher. Little mother, you at least, reared among the winds and
+waters, will not be afraid. Take wing, O Kingfisher, and see if the
+earth be visible. Then return quickly and bring me faithful word of what
+you find out yonder."
+
+Day was just beginning to dawn when the Kingfisher, who was then as gray
+as gray, flew out from the little window of the ark whence the Dove had
+preceded her. But hardly had she left the safe shelter of Father Noah's
+floating home, when there came a tremendous whirlwind which blew her
+about and buffeted her until she was almost beaten into the waves,
+which rolled endlessly over the face of the whole earth, covering the
+high hills and the very mountains. The Kingfisher was greatly
+frightened. She could not go back into the ark, for the little window
+was closed, and there was no land anywhere on which she could take
+refuge. Just think for a moment what a dreadful situation it was! There
+was nothing for her to do but to fly up, straight up, out of reach from
+the tossing waves and dashing spray.
+
+The Kingfisher was fresh and vigorous, and her wings were strong and
+powerful, for she had been resting long days in the quiet ark, eating
+the provisions which Father Noah had thoughtfully prepared for his many
+guests. So up, up she soared, above the very clouds, on into the blue
+ether which lies beyond. And lo! as she did so, her sober gray dress
+became a brilliant blue, the color caught from the azure of those clear
+heights. Higher and higher she flew, feeling so free and happy after her
+long captivity, that she quite forgot Father Noah and the errand upon
+which she had been sent. Up and up she went, higher than the sun, until
+at last she saw him rising far beneath her, a beautiful ball of fire,
+more dazzling, more wonderful than she had ever guessed.
+
+"Hola!" she cried, beside herself with joy at the sight. "There is the
+dear sun, whom I have not seen for many days. And how near, how
+beautiful he is! I will fly closer still, now that I have come so near.
+I will observe him in all his splendor, as no other bird, not even the
+high-flying, sharp-eyed Eagle, has ever seen him."
+
+And with that the foolish Kingfisher turned her course downward, with
+such mad, headlong speed that she had scarcely time to feel what
+terrible, increasing heat shot from the sun's rays, until she was so
+close upon him that it was too late to escape. Oh, but that was a
+dreadful moment! The feathers on her poor little breast were scorched
+and set afire, and she seemed in danger not only of spoiling her
+beautiful new blue dress but of being burned into a wretched little
+cinder. Horribly frightened at her danger, the Kingfisher turned once
+more, but this time toward the rolling waters which covered the earth.
+Down, down she swooped, until with the hiss of burning feathers she
+splashed into the cold wetness, putting out the fire which threatened to
+consume her. Once, twice, thrice, she dipped into the grateful coolness,
+flirting the drops from her blue plumage, now alas! sadly scorched.
+
+When the pain of her burns was somewhat relieved she had time to think
+what next she should do. She longed for rest, for refuge, for Father
+Noah's gentle, caressing hand to which she had grown accustomed during
+those stormy weeks of companionship in the ark. But where was Father
+Noah? Where was the ark? On all the rolling sea of water there was no
+movement of life, no sign of any human presence. Then the Kingfisher
+remembered her errand, and how carelessly she had performed it. She had
+been bidden to return quickly; but she had wasted many hours--she could
+not tell how many--in her forgetful flight. And now she was to be
+punished indeed, if she could not find her master and the ark of refuge.
+
+The poor Kingfisher looked wildly about. She fluttered here and there,
+backward and forward, over the weary stretch of waves, crying piteously
+for her master. He did not answer; there was no ark to be found. The sun
+set and the night came on, but still she sought eagerly from east to
+west, from north to south, always in vain. She could never find what she
+had so carelessly lost.
+
+The truth is that during her absence the Dove, who had done her errand
+faithfully, returned at last with the olive leaf which told of one spot
+upon the earth's surface at last uncovered by the waves. Then the ark,
+blown hither and thither by the same storm which had driven the
+Kingfisher to fly upward into the ether-blue, had drifted far and far
+to Mount Ararat, where it ran aground. And Father Noah, disembarking
+with his family and all the assembled animals, had broken up the ark,
+intending there to build him a house out of the materials from which it
+was made. But this was many, many leagues from the place where the poor
+Kingfisher, lonely and frightened, hovered about, crying piteously for
+her master.
+
+And even when the waters dried away, uncovering the earth in many
+places, so that the Kingfisher could alight and build herself a nest,
+she was never happy nor content, but to this day flies up and down the
+water-ways of the world piping sadly, looking eagerly for her dear
+master and for some traces of the ark which sheltered her. And the
+reflection which she makes in the water below shows an azure-blue body,
+like a reflection of the sky above, with some of the breast-feathers
+scorched to a rusty red. And now you know how it all came about.
+
+
+
+
+THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE
+
+
+Centuries and centuries ago, when men were first made, there was no such
+thing as fire known in all the world. Folk had no fire with which to
+cook their food, and so they were obliged to eat it raw; which was very
+unpleasant, as you may imagine! There were no cheery fireplaces about
+which to sit and tell stories, or make candy or pop corn. There was no
+light in the darkness at night except the sun and moon and stars. There
+were not even candles in those days, to say nothing of gas lamps or
+electric lights. It is strange to think of such a world where even the
+grown folks, like the children and the birds, had to go to bed at dusk,
+because there was nothing else to do.
+
+But the little birds, who lived nearer heaven than men, knew of the fire
+in the sun, and knew also what a fine thing it would be for the tribes
+without feathers if they could have some of the magic element.
+
+One day the birds held a solemn meeting, when it was decided that men
+must have fire. Then some one must fly up to the sun and bring a
+firebrand thence. Who would undertake this dangerous errand? Already by
+sad experience the Kingfisher had felt the force of the sun's heat,
+while the Eagle and the Wren, in the famous flight which they had taken
+together, had learned the same thing. The assembly of birds looked at
+one another, and there was a silence.
+
+"I dare not go," said the Kingfisher, trembling at the idea; "I have
+been up there once, and the warning I received was enough to last me for
+some time."
+
+"I cannot go," said the Peacock, "for my plumage is too precious to
+risk."
+
+"I ought not to go," said the Lark, "for the heat might injure my pretty
+voice."
+
+"I must not go," said the Stork, "for I have promised to bring a baby to
+the King's palace this evening."
+
+"I cannot go," said the Dove, "for I have a nestful of little ones who
+depend upon me for food."
+
+"Nor I," said the Sparrow, "for I am afraid." "Nor I!" "Nor I!" "Nor I!"
+echoed the other birds.
+
+"I _will_ not go," croaked the Owl, "for I simply do not wish to."
+
+Then up spoke the little Wren, who had been keeping in the background
+of late, because he was despised for his attempt to deceive the birds
+into electing him their king.
+
+"I will go," said the Wren. "I will go and bring fire to men. I am of
+little use here. No one loves me. Every one despises me because of the
+trick which I played the Eagle, our King. No one will care if I am
+injured in the attempt. I will go and try."
+
+"Bravely spoken, little friend," said the Eagle kindly. "I myself would
+go but that I am the King, and kings must not risk the lives upon which
+hangs the welfare of their people. Go you, little Wren, and if you are
+successful you will win back the respect of your brothers which you have
+forfeited."
+
+The brave little bird set out upon his errand without further words. And
+weak and delicate though he was, he flew and he flew up and up so
+sturdily that at last he reached the sun, whence he plucked a firebrand
+and bore it swiftly in his beak back toward the earth. Like a falling
+star the bright speck flashed through the air, drawing ever nearer and
+nearer to the cool waters of Birdland and the safety which awaited him
+there. The other birds gathered in a flock about their king and
+anxiously watched the Wren's approach.
+
+Suddenly the Robin cried out, "Alas! He burns! He has caught fire!" And
+off darted the faithful little friend to help the Wren. Sure enough, a
+spark from the blazing brand had fallen upon the plumage of the Wren,
+and his poor little wings were burning as he fluttered piteously down,
+still holding the fire in his beak.
+
+The Robin flew up to him and said, "Well done, brother! You have
+succeeded. Now give me the fire and I will relieve you while you drop
+into the lake below us to quench the flame which threatens your life."
+
+So the Robin in his turn seized the firebrand in his beak and started
+down with it. But, like the Wren, he too was soon fluttering in the
+blaze of his own burning plumage, a little living firework, falling
+toward the earth.
+
+Then up came the Lark, who had been watching the two unselfish birds.
+"Give me the brand, brother Robin," she cried, "for your pretty feathers
+are all ablaze and your life is in danger."
+
+So it was the Lark who finally brought the fire safely to the earth and
+gave it to mankind. But the Robin and the Wren, when they had put out
+the flame which burned their feathers, appeared in the assembly of the
+birds, and were greeted with great applause as the heroes of the day.
+The Robin's breast was scorched a brilliant red, but the poor, brave
+little Wren was wholly bare of plumage. All his pretty feathers had been
+burned away, and he stood before them shivering and piteous.
+
+"Bravo! little Wren," cried King Eagle. "A noble deed you have done this
+day, and nobly have you won back the respect of your brother birds and
+earned the everlasting gratitude of men. Now what shall we do to help
+you in your sorry plight?" After a moment's thought he turned to the
+other birds and said, "Who will give a feather to help patch a covering
+for our brave friend?"
+
+"I!" and "I!" and "I!" and "I!" chorused the generous birds. And in turn
+each came forward with a plume or a bit of down from his breast. The
+Robin first, who had shared his peril, brought a feather sadly scorched,
+but precious; the Lark next, who had helped in the time of need. The
+Eagle bestowed a kingly feather, the Thrush, the Nightingale,--every
+bird contributed except the Owl.
+
+But the selfish Owl said, "I see no reason why I should give a feather.
+Hoot! No! The Wren brought me into trouble once, and I will not help him
+now. Let him go bare, for all my aid."
+
+"Shame! Shame!" cried the birds indignantly. "Old Master Owl, you ought
+to be ashamed. But if you are so selfish we will not have you in our
+society. Go back to your hollow tree!"
+
+"Yes, go back to your hollow tree," cried the Eagle sternly; "and when
+winter comes may you shiver with cold as you would have left the brave
+little Wren to shiver this day. You shall ruffle your feathers as much
+as you like, but you will always feel cold at heart, because your heart
+is selfish."
+
+And indeed, since that day for all his feathers the Owl has never been
+able to keep warm enough in his lonely hollow tree.
+
+But the Wren became one of the happiest of all the birds, and a favorite
+both with his feathered brothers and with men, because of his brave
+deed, and because of the great fire-gift which he had brought from the
+sun.
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE BLUEBIRD CROSSED
+
+
+Of course every one knows that the Bluebird was made from a piece of the
+azure sky itself. One has only to match his wonderful color against the
+April heaven to be sure of that. Therefore the little Bluebird was
+especially dear to the Spirit of the sky, the Father in Heaven.
+
+One day this venturesome little bird started out upon a long journey
+across the wide Pacific Ocean toward this New World which neither
+Columbus nor any other man had yet discovered. Under him tossed the
+wide, wide sea, rolling for miles in every direction, with no land
+visible anywhere on which a little bird might rest his foot. For this
+was also before there were any islands in all that stretch of waters.
+Soon the poor little Bluebird became very weary and wished he had not
+ventured upon so long a flight. His wings began to droop and he sank
+lower and lower toward the sea which seemed eager to overwhelm his
+blueness with its own. He had come so far over the salty wastes that he
+was very thirsty; but with water, water everywhere there was not a drop
+to drink. The poor little bird glanced despairingly up toward the blue
+sky from which he had been made and cried,--
+
+"O Spirit of the blue sky, O my Father in Heaven, help your child the
+Bluebird! Give me, I pray you, a place to rest and refreshment for my
+thirsty throat, or I perish in the cruel blue waters!"
+
+At these sorrowful words the kind Father took pity upon his little
+Bluebird. And what do you think? He made a baby earthquake which heaved
+a rocky point of land up through the waves, just big enough for a little
+bird's perch. It was a tiny reef, and a crack in the rock held but a few
+drops of the rain which began to fall; but it meant at least a moment's
+safety and draught of life for the weary bird, and glad enough he was to
+reach it.
+
+He had not been there long, however, when a big wave almost washed him
+away. He was not yet safe. Still he lacked the rest and refreshment
+which he so sorely needed. For the raindrops were soon turned brackish
+by the waves which dashed upon the reef from all sides, and the Bluebird
+had to keep hopping up and down to avoid being drowned in the tossing
+spray. He was more tired than ever, and this continuous exercise made
+him even more thirsty. Once more he prayed to the Father for help. And
+once more the kind Spirit of the Sky heard him from the blueness.
+
+This time there was a terrible earthquake, until the sea boiled and
+rolled into huge waves as if churned by a mighty churn at the very
+bottom of things, and with a terrified scream the Bluebird flew high
+into the air.
+
+But when the noise and the rumbling died away and once more the sea lay
+calm and still, what do you think the Bluebird saw? The great ocean
+which had once stretched an unbroken sheet of blue as far as the eye
+could see was now dotted here and there by islands, big islands and
+little islands, groups and archipelagoes of them, just as on the map one
+sees them to-day peppering the Pacific Ocean. Samoa came up, and Tonga,
+and Tulima, and many others with names quite as bad, if not worse. From
+one island to another the Bluebird flew, finding rest and refreshment on
+each, until he reached the mainland in safety. And there the islands
+remain to this day for other travelers to visit, breaking their journey
+from west to east or from east to west. There are forests and cascades,
+springs of fresh and pleasant water, delicious fruits, wonderful birds
+and animals, and finally a race of strange, dark men. (But they came
+long, long after.)
+
+So the Bluebird crossed the Pacific, folk tell. Was it not wonderful how
+the kind Father came to scatter those many islands in the Pacific
+Ocean,--stepping-stones for a tiny little Bluebird so that he need not
+wet his feet in crossing that wide salty river?
+
+
+
+
+THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN
+
+
+Long, long ago in the days of wise King Solomon, the Crow and the
+Pheasant were the best of friends, and were always seen going about
+together, wing in wing. Now the Pheasant was the Peacock's own
+cousin,--a great honor, many thought, for the Peacock was the most
+gorgeous of all the birds. But it was not altogether pleasant for the
+Pheasant, because at that time he wore such plain and shabby old
+garments that his proud relative was ashamed of him, and did not like to
+be reminded that they were of the same family. When the Peacock went
+strutting about with his wonderful tail spread fan-wise, and with his
+vain little eyes peering to see who might be admiring his beauty, the
+Peacock's cousin and his friend the Crow, who was then a plain _white_
+bird, would slink aside and hide behind a tree, whence they would peep
+enviously until the Peacock had passed by. Then the Peacock's cousin
+would say,--
+
+"Oh, how beautiful, how grand, how noble he is! How came such a lordly
+bird to have for a cousin so homely a creature as I?"
+
+But the Crow would answer, trying to comfort his friend, "Yes, he is
+gorgeous. But listen, what a harsh and disagreeable voice he has! And
+see how vain he is. I would not be so vain had I so scandalous a tale in
+my family history."
+
+Then the Crow told the Peacock's cousin how his proud relative came to
+have so unmusical a voice.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Adam and Eve were living peacefully in their fair garden, while
+Satan was still seeking in vain a way to enter there, the Peacock was
+the most beautiful of all the companions who surrounded the happy pair.
+His plumage shone like pearl and emerald, and his voice was so melodious
+that he was selected to sing the Lord's praises every day in the streets
+of heaven. But he was then, as now, very, very vain; and Satan, prowling
+about outside the wall of Paradise, saw this.
+
+"Aha!" he said to himself, "here is the vainest creature in all the
+world. He is the one I must flatter in order to win entrance to the
+garden, where I am to work my mischief. Let me approach the Peacock."
+
+Satan stole softly to the gate and in a wheedling voice called to the
+Peacock,--
+
+"O most wonderful and beautiful bird! Are you one of the birds of
+Paradise?"
+
+"Yes, I am one of the dwellers in the happy garden," answered the
+Peacock, strutting. "But who are you who slink about so secretly, as if
+afraid of some one?"
+
+"I am one of the cherubim who are appointed to sing the Lord's praises,"
+answered the wicked Satan. "I have stopped for a moment to visit the
+Paradise which He has prepared for the blest, and I find as my first
+glimpse of its glories you, O most lovely bird! Will you conceal me
+under your rainbow wings and bring me within the walls?"
+
+"I dare not," answered the Peacock. "The Lord allows none to enter here.
+He will be angry and will punish me."
+
+"O charming bird!" went on Satan with his smooth tongue, "take me with
+you, and I will teach you three mysterious words which shall preserve
+you forever from sickness, age, and death."
+
+At this promise the Peacock was greatly tempted and began to hesitate in
+his refusals. And at last he said,--
+
+"I dare not myself let you in, O stranger, but if you keep your promise
+I will send the Serpent, who is wiser than I and who may more easily
+find some way to let you enter unobserved."
+
+So it was through the Peacock that Satan met the vile Serpent, whose
+shape he assumed in order to enter the garden and tempt Eve with the
+apple. And for the Peacock's share in the doings of that dreadful day
+the Lord took away his beautiful voice and sent him forth from the
+pleasant garden to chatter harshly in this workaday world, where his
+gorgeousness and his vanity are but a reminder to men of the shame which
+he brought upon their ancestors.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And therefore," said the Crow, concluding his gossip, "therefore, dear
+Pheasant, I see no reason why we should envy your cousin. We are very
+plain citizens of Birdland, but we are at least respectable. I like you
+much better, having nothing to make you vain, nothing of which to be
+ashamed."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So the Crow spoke, in the wisdom which he had learned from Solomon. But
+the Peacock's cousin refused to be comforted. The shabbiness of his coat
+preyed upon his mind, and he fancied that the other birds jeered at him
+because in such old clothes he dared to be the Peacock's cousin. It
+seemed to him that every day the Peacock himself grew more haughty and
+more patronizing.
+
+One day the Crow and the Peacock's cousin were sauntering through the
+Malay woods when they met the Peacock face to face. The Crow looked
+defiant and stood jauntily; but the Pheasant tried to shrink out of
+sight. The Peacock, however, had spied his poor relative, and was filled
+with cousinly resentment at his appearance.
+
+He stopped short. He stood upon one leg. He puffed and ruffled himself,
+spreading out his thousand-eyed tail so that its colors flashed
+wonderfully in the sunshine. He frilled his neck feathers and snapped
+his mean little eyes maliciously; then turning his back on the shabby
+couple said, as he stepped airily away,--
+
+"Ah, I have dropped some of my old feathers back there a little way. You
+can have them if you like, Pheasant. They will freshen you up a bit; you
+really are looking shockingly seedy. But for mercy's sake don't wear
+them in my presence! I can't bear to see any one parading in my cast-off
+elegance." Then the Peacock minced away.
+
+The Peacock's cousin stamped on the ground and flapped his wings with
+rage. If he had been a girl he would have burst into tears. "I cannot
+stand this," he cried. "To be treated as if I were a beggar! To be given
+old clothes to wear! Crow, Crow, if you were any kind of friend you
+would help me. But you stand staring there and see me insulted, without
+turning a feather! What is the use of all your wisdom that you learned
+from King Solomon if you cannot help a friend in need? I tell you, I
+must have some better garments, or I shall die of mortification."
+
+"Don't be excited," said the Crow soothingly. "I have been thinking the
+matter over, and I believe I can do something. Listen. Yesterday I found
+brushes and a box of colors in a room of the King's palace. They
+belonged to the Court Painter. Now they belong to me, for I have hidden
+them away in a hollow tree where no one else can find them. I thought
+they might be useful, and I think so still."
+
+"Well, well! What do you propose to do with paints and brushes?" cried
+the Peacock's cousin impatiently.
+
+"I propose to paint you, to varnish you, to gild you," patiently
+answered the Crow.
+
+"Oh, you dear Crow!" exclaimed the other, clapping his wings. "You will
+make me brilliant and beautiful! You will make me worthy of the
+Peacock, will you not? How clever of you to think of such a thing!"
+
+"Yes," replied the Crow; "I watched the Court Painter at work in the
+garden one day, and I know how it is done. I will make you as gorgeous
+as you wish. But you must return the compliment. If you are to be an
+ornament of fashion, so must I be; for are we not inseparable cronies?
+And when you become beautiful it would not do for you to be seen with
+such a dowdy as I am."
+
+"You dear creature!" said the Peacock's cousin affectionately; "of
+course we will share alike. I will paint you as soon as I see how you
+succeed with me. Ah, I know your skill in everything. You will be a fine
+artist, my friend! But come, let us get to work at once."
+
+So the flattered Crow led him to the hollow tree where he had concealed
+the brushes and the gilding and the India ink, and all the gorgeous
+changeable tints which an Eastern artist uses in his paintings. "Here we
+are," said the Crow. "Now let us see what we shall see, when Master Crow
+turns painter."
+
+The Crow set to work with a will, splashing on the colors generously,
+gold and green and bronze iridescence. He had the Peacock in mind, and
+though he did not exactly copy the plumage of that wonderful bird, he
+managed to suggest the cousinship of the Pheasant in the golden eyes of
+his long and beautiful tail. When he had finished, the Crow was
+delighted with his work.
+
+"Ah!" he cried. "Now bend over this fountain, my dear friend, and
+observe yourself. I think you do credit to my skill as an artist, eh?"
+
+The Peacock's cousin hurried down to the water-pool, all in a flutter of
+excitement. And when he saw his image he cried, "How beautiful, how
+truly beautiful, I am! Why, I am quite as handsome as Peacock himself.
+Surely, now he need not be ashamed to call me cousin. I shall move in
+the most fashionable circles. Heavens! Look at my lovely tail! Look at
+my burnished feathers! I must go immediately and show my new dress to
+Cousin Peacock. I should not be surprised if he became jealous of my
+gorgeousness." And off he started as fast as he could go.
+
+"Hold on!" cried the Crow. "Don't run away so quickly. You have
+forgotten something. Don't you remember that you promised to paint me
+beautiful like yourself?"
+
+"Oh, bother!" answered the ungrateful friend, tossing his head. "I have
+no time now for such business. I must hasten to my cousin, for this is a
+matter of family pride. Run along like a good creature; and by the way,
+you may as well gather the feathers which Peacock mentioned. I am sure
+they will make you look quite respectable. Besides, I will give you some
+of mine when I have worn them a little. Ta-ta!" And he stepped airily
+away.
+
+But the Crow strode after him, shaking his wings and crying, "Come back,
+come back and perform your part of the bargain, you selfish, ungrateful
+creature!" And he caught the Pheasant by one of his long tail-feathers.
+
+"Let go my train, impertinent wretch!" shrieked the Peacock's cousin,
+turning upon him fiercely. "I tell you I have no time to spend in such
+nonsense. I must be presenting myself in high society."
+
+"Villain!" croaked the Crow, and he rushed forward fiercely, intending
+to tear out the beautiful feathers which he had painted for his
+ungrateful friend. Thereupon the Pheasant exclaimed,--
+
+"You want to be painted, do you? Well, take _that_!" and, seizing the
+bottle of India ink which was in the Eastern artist's paint-box, he
+hurled it at the poor Crow, deluging with blackness his spotless
+feathers. Then laughing harshly, away he flew to his cousin the Peacock,
+who received him with proud affection, because they were now really
+birds of a feather. For the Peacock's cousin was become one of the most
+beautiful birds in the world.
+
+But the poor Crow was now a sombre, black bird, wearing the
+seedy-looking, inky coat which we know so well to-day. His heart was
+broken by his friend's faithlessness, and he became a sour cynic who can
+see no good in anything. He flies about crying "Caw! Caw!" in the most
+disagreeable, sarcastic tone, as if sneering at the mean action of that
+Malay bird, which he can never forget.
+
+
+
+
+THE MASQUERADING CROW
+
+
+The Crow became very sour and disagreeable after his friend the
+Peacock's cousin deserted him for more gorgeous company. Though he
+pretended not to care because the Pheasant was now a proud,
+beautifully-coated dandy, while he was the shabbiest of all the birds in
+his coat of rusty black, yet in truth he did care very much. He could
+not forget how the Peacock's cousin had dyed him this sombre hue, after
+promising to paint him bright and wonderful, like himself. He could not
+help thinking how fine he would have looked in similar plumage of a
+rainbow tint, or how becoming a long swallow-tail would be to his style
+of beauty. He wished that there was a tailor in Birdland to whom he
+could go for a new suit of clothes. But alas! There seemed no way but
+for him to remain ugly old Crow to the end of the chapter.
+
+The Crow went moping about most unhappily while this was preying on his
+mind, until he really became somewhat crazy upon the subject. The only
+thing about which he could think was clothes--clothes--clothes; and
+that is indeed a foolish matter to absorb one's mind. One word of the
+Peacock's cousin remained in his memory and refused to be forgotten. He
+had advised the Crow to gather up the feathers which had fallen from the
+Peacock's plumage and to make himself fine with them. First the Crow
+remembered these words sadly, because they showed the unkind heart of
+his old friend. Next he remembered them with scorn, because they showed
+vanity. Then he remembered them with interest because they gave him an
+idea. And that idea gradually grew bigger and bigger until it became a
+plan.
+
+The plan came to him completely one day while he was sitting moodily on
+a tree watching the Peacock and his cousin sweeping proudly over the
+velvet lawn of the King's garden. For nowadays the Pheasant moved in the
+most courtly circles, as he had promised himself. As they passed under
+the Crow two beautiful feathers fell behind them and lay on the grass
+shining in the sunlight with a hundred colors.
+
+"Once more the cast-off plumage of the Peacock family is left for me!"
+croaked the Crow to himself. "Am I only to be made beautiful by
+borrowing from others? Perhaps I might collect feathers enough from all
+the birds to conceal my inky coat. Aha! I have it." And this was the
+plan of the Crow. He would steal from every dweller in Birdland a
+feather, and see whether he could not make himself more beautiful than
+the Peacock's cousin himself.
+
+Now the Crow was a skilful thief. He could steal the silver off the
+King's table from under the steward's very nose. He could steal a maid's
+thimble from her finger as she nodded sleepily over her work. He could
+steal the pen from behind a scribe's ear, as he paused to scratch his
+head and think over the spelling of a word. So the Crow felt sure that
+he could steal their feathers from the birds without any trouble.
+
+When the Peacock and his cousin had passed by, the Crow swooped down and
+carried off the two feathers which were to begin his collection. He hid
+them in his treasure-house in the hollow tree, and started out for more.
+
+It was great fun for the Crow, and he almost forgot to be miserable. He
+followed old lady Ostrich about for some time before he dared tweak a
+handful of feathers from her tail. But finally he succeeded; and though
+she squawked horribly and turned, quick as a flash, she was not quick
+enough to catch the nimble thief, who was already hidden under a bush.
+In the same way he secured some lovely plumes from the Bird of
+Paradise, the Parrot, and the Cock. He robbed the Redbreast of his ruddy
+vest, the Hoopoe of his crown, and he secured a swallow-tail which he
+had long coveted. He took some rosy-redness from the Flamingo, the
+gilding of the Goldfinch, the gray down of an Eider-Duck. He burgled the
+Bluebird and the Redbird and the Yellowbird; and not one single
+feathered creature escaped his clever beak. At last his hole in the tree
+was brimming with feathers of every color, length, and degree of
+softness, a gorgeous feather-bed on which it would dazzle one to sleep.
+
+Then the Crow set to work to make himself a coat of many colors, like
+Joseph's. He was a very clever bird, and a wondrous coat it turned out
+to be. It had no particular cut nor style; it was not like the coat
+which any bird had ever before worn. The feathers were placed in any
+fashion that happened to please his original fancy. Some pointed up and
+some down; some were straight and some were curled; some drooped about
+his feet and others curved gracefully over his head; some trailed far
+behind. He was completely covered from top to toe, so that not one blot
+of his own inky feathers showed through the gorgeousness. A red vest he
+wore, and a swallow-tail, of course, and there was a crown of feathers
+on his head. Never was there seen a more extraordinary bird nor one more
+gaudy. Perhaps he was not in the best of taste, but at least he was
+striking.
+
+When all was finished the Crow went and looked at himself in the
+fountain mirror; and he was much pleased.
+
+"Well now!" he cried. "How am I for a bird? I believe no one will know
+me, and that is just as well; for now I am so fine that I shall myself
+refuse to know any one. Ho! This ought to give some ideas to that
+conceited Peacock family! I am a self-made man. I am an artist who knows
+how to adapt his materials. I am a genius. King Solomon himself will
+wonder at my glory. And as for the Eagle, King of the Birds, he will
+grow pale with envy. King of the Birds, indeed! It is now I who should
+rightfully be King. No other ever wore clothes so fine as mine. By right
+of them I ought to be King of the Birds. I _will_ be King of the Birds!"
+
+You see the poor old Crow was quite crazy with his one idea.
+
+Forth he stalked into Birdland to show his gorgeous plumage and to get
+himself elected King of the Birds. The first persons he met were the
+Peacock and his cousin,--he who was once the Crow's best friend. The
+Crow ruffled himself his prettiest when he saw them coming.
+
+"Good gracious! Who is that extraordinary fowl?" drawled the Peacock.
+"He must be some great noble from a far country."
+
+"How beautiful!" murmured his silly cousin. "How odd! How fascinating!
+How distinguished! I wish the Crow had painted me like that!" The Crow
+heard these words and swelled with pride, casting a scornful glance at
+his old friend as he swept by.
+
+Next he met a little Sparrow who was picking bugs from the grass. "Out
+of my way, Birdling!" cried the Crow haughtily. "I am the King."
+
+"The King!" gasped the Sparrow, nearly choking over a fat bug, he was so
+surprised. "I did not know that the King wore such a robe. How
+gorgeous--but how queer!"
+
+Next the Crow met Mr. Stork, standing gravely on one leg and thinking of
+the little baby which he was going to bring that night to the cottage by
+the lake. The Stork looked up in surprise as the wonderful stranger
+approached.
+
+"Bless me!" he exclaimed, "whom have we here? I thought I knew all
+Birdland, but I never before saw such a freak as this!"
+
+[Illustration: _"Bless me!" he exclaimed, "whom have we here?"_]
+
+"I am the King. I am to be the new King," announced the Crow. "Is
+there any bird more gorgeous than I?"
+
+"Truly, I hope not," said the Stork gravely. "Yet the Woodcock is a very
+foolish bird. One never knows what he will do next. If he should try to
+be fashionable"--
+
+But the Crow had passed on without listening to the Stork's sarcasm.
+
+As he went through Birdland he drew behind him a following of feathered
+citizens, chattering, screaming, tittering all together like the crowd
+after a circus procession. All the birds, big and little, plain and
+pretty, flocked to see this wonderful stranger who because of his fine
+clothes was coming to have himself named King. Some of them thought him
+truly beautiful, some thought him ridiculous; some envied him, some
+jeered. But they all stared; and the more they stared the more conceited
+became the Crow, the more sure that the kingdom was to be his.
+
+At last they came into the presence of the Eagle himself. That royal
+bird was perched upon his eyrie far up on the cliff. Below him gathered
+the dense flock of birds, waiting to see what would happen when the Crow
+demanded to be made King in the Eagle's place. The Eagle had been warned
+of the matter by the little Humming-Bird, and was looking very majestic
+and scornful. But the Swallow flew round and round in great circles,
+twittering excitedly, and in each circle sweeping nearer and nearer to
+the ground. The Swallow was angry because some one had stolen his
+beautiful swallow-tail.
+
+Presently the Crow swaggered forth, and cocking his impertinent eye
+towards the Eagle he croaked,--
+
+"Hello there, Old High-perch! Give me your crown and sceptre, for I am
+King of the Birds, not you. Look at my gorgeous clothes; look at your
+own dull plumage. Am I not kingly?--look at me."
+
+The King made no reply, merely gazing sternly at the Crow. But the
+Swallow took up the word.
+
+"Look at him, look at him indeed, O King!" he screamed. "There is
+something strange about his kingly plumage. That swallow-tail is mine, I
+know it!" And with a vicious tweak the Swallow pulled out the long
+forked feathers of which the Crow was especially proud. Oh, what a
+shriek of rage the mad old bird gave! At that moment the Hoopoe came up
+and said, "Ha! Methinks I too recognize my property. This is my crown,"
+and forthwith he snatched the plumes from the Crow's forehead, leaving
+it quite ugly and bare. Next the gentle Redbreast claimed his vest, and
+the Bluebird her azure feathers, and the Ostrich her train which she had
+sorely missed. Each of the birds in turn came up and with much
+chattering and scolding twitched away the property of which he or she
+had been robbed, until the Crow stood before them in his customary suit
+of solemn black, a bird ashamed and sore. For they had pecked him with
+their bills and beaten him with their wings and scratched him with their
+claws until even his own plain old coat was frayed and rent.
+
+"Oh ho, oh ho! It is only old Daddy Crow, after all!" screamed the birds
+in chorus. And then, because the Eagle burst out laughing, they saw that
+it was really funny. Since the King did not mind being robbed for a time
+of his title, surely they need not mourn over the few feathers which the
+thief had borrowed, especially since each now had his own. Chattering
+with glee they all flew home to their various nests, leaving the Crow
+alone with his shame and soreness.
+
+Just at this moment the Peacock and his cousin came hurrying up out of
+breath.
+
+"Oh, what is it? What is the matter? What was all that noise just now?"
+asked the Peacock.
+
+"Oh, what has become of the beautiful, noble, splendid, remarkable,
+graceful, gorgeous, stylish, long-tailed, kingly stranger?" questioned
+the Peacock's cousin, speaking affably to the Crow, for the first time
+since his adoption into high society.
+
+The Crow looked at him sideways, and all his madness went away as he saw
+how very, very silly this creature was.
+
+"He was a fool in fools' feathers," he croaked. "He is no more. But
+before the end he bade me return these to you, saying, 'Fine feathers do
+not make fine birds.'" Speaking thus, he presented to the pair their two
+long feathers with which he had started his collection and which were
+the only ones now remaining to the masquerading Crow.
+
+Then with a harsh _Caw_! he flew away to his tree. He is not a happy
+bird, but since that time he has never been so mad as to think that
+clothes are the chief thing in the world.
+
+
+
+
+KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS
+
+
+King Solomon was wiser than all men, and his fame was in all nations
+round about Jerusalem. He was so wise that he knew every spoken
+language; yes, but more than this, he could talk with everything that
+lived, trees and flowers, beasts and fowls, creeping things and fishes.
+What a very pleasant thing that was for Solomon, to be sure! And how
+glad one would be nowadays to have such knowledge!
+
+Solomon was especially fond of birds, and loved to talk with them
+because their voices were so sweet and they spoke such beautiful words.
+One day the wise King was chatting pleasantly with the birds who lived
+in his wonderful garden, and these are some of the things which he heard
+them say. The Nightingale, the sweetest singer of all, chanted,--
+
+"Contentment is the greatest happiness."
+
+"It would be better for most people never to have been born," crooned
+the melancholy Turtle-Dove.
+
+The happy little Swallow gave her opinion,--"Do good and you will be
+rewarded hereafter."
+
+The harsh cry of the Peacock meant, "As thou judgest so shalt thou be
+judged."
+
+The Hoopoe said, "He who has no pity for others will find none for
+himself."
+
+The cynical old Crow croaked disagreeably, "The further away from men I
+am, the better I am pleased."
+
+Last of all the Cock who sings in the morning chanted his joyous
+song,--"Think of your Creator, O foolish creatures!"
+
+When they had finished talking King Solomon softly stroked the head of
+the pretty little Dove and bade her cheer up, for life was not so
+dreadful a thing, after all. And he gave her permission to build her
+nest under the walls of the great Temple which he was building, the most
+beautiful, golden house in the whole world. Some years afterward the
+Doves had so increased in numbers that with their extended wings they
+formed a veil over the numberless pilgrims who came to Jerusalem to
+visit the wonderful Temple.
+
+But of all the winged singers who spoke that day in the garden, the wise
+King chose to have ever near him the Cock, because he had spoken words
+of piety, and the nimble Hoopoe, because he was able to plunge his
+clear gaze into the depths of the earth as if it were made of
+transparent glass and discover the places where springs of living water
+were hidden under the soil. It was very convenient for Solomon, when he
+was traveling, to have some one with him who was able to find water in
+whatsoever place he might be resting.
+
+Thus the Cock and the Hoopoe became Solomon's closest companions; but of
+the two the Hoopoe was his favorite. The Hoopoe is an Eastern bird and
+we do not see him in America. He is about as big as a Jay, colored a
+beautiful reddish gray, with feathers of purple, brown, and white, and
+his black wings are banded with white. But the peculiar thing about a
+Hoopoe is his crown of tawny feathers, a tall crown for so small a bird.
+And this is the story of the Hoopoe's crown.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One day when Solomon was journeying across the desert, he was sorely
+distressed by the heat of the sun, until he came near to fainting. Just
+then he spied a flock of his friends the Hoopoes flying past, and
+calling to them feebly he begged them to shelter him from the burning
+rays.
+
+The King of the Hoopoes gathered together his whole nation and caused
+them to fly in a thick cloud over the head of Solomon while he
+continued his journey. In gratitude the wise King offered to give his
+feathered friends whatever reward they might ask.
+
+For a whole day the Hoopoes talked the matter over among themselves,
+then their King came to Solomon and said to him,--
+
+"We have considered your offer, O generous King, and we have decided
+that what we most desire is to have, each of us, a golden crown on his
+head."
+
+King Solomon smiled and answered, "Crowns of gold shall you have. But
+you are foolish birds, my Hoopoes; and when the evil days shall come
+upon you and you see the folly of your desire, return here to me and I
+will help you yet again."
+
+So the King of the Hoopoes left King Solomon with a beautiful golden
+crown upon his head. And soon all the Hoopoes were wearing golden
+crowns. Thereupon they grew very proud and haughty. They went down by
+the lakes and pools and strutted there that they might admire themselves
+in the water mirrors. And the Queen of the Hoopoes became very airy, and
+refused to speak to her own cousin and to the other birds who had once
+been her friends.
+
+There was a certain fowler who used to set traps for birds. He put a
+piece of broken mirror into his trap, and a Hoopoe spying it went in to
+admire herself, and was caught. The fowler looked at the shining crown
+upon her head and said, "What have we here! I never saw a crown like
+this upon any bird. I must ask about this."
+
+So he took the crown to Issachar, the worker in metal, and asked him
+what it was. Issachar examined it carefully, and his eyes stuck out of
+his head. But he said carelessly, "It is a crown of brass, my friend. I
+will give you a quarter of a shekel for it; and if you find any more
+bring them to me. But be sure to tell no other man of the matter." (A
+shekel was about sixty-two cents.)
+
+After this the fowler caught many Hoopoes in the same way, and sold
+their crowns to Issachar. But one day as he was on his way to the
+metalworker's shop he met a jeweler, and to him he showed one of the
+Hoopoes' crowns.
+
+"What is this, and where did you find it?" exclaimed the jeweler. "It is
+pure gold. I will give you a golden talent for every four you bring me."
+(A talent was worth three hundred shekels.)
+
+Now when the value of the Hoopoes' crowns was known, every one turned
+fowler and began to hunt the precious birds. In all the land of Israel
+was heard the twang of bows and the whirling of slings. Bird lime was
+made in every town, and the price of traps rose in the market so that
+the trap-makers became rich men. Not a Hoopoe could show his unlucky
+head without being slain or taken captive, and the days of the Hoopoes
+were numbered. It seemed that soon there would be no more Hoopoes left
+to bewail their sad fate.
+
+At last the few who still lived gathered together and held a meeting to
+consider what should be done, for their minds were filled with sorrow
+and dismay. And they decided to appeal once more to King Solomon, who
+had granted their foolish prayer.
+
+Flying by stealth through the loneliest ways, the unhappy King of the
+Hoopoes came at last to the court of the King, and stood once more
+before the steps of his golden throne. With tears and groans he related
+the sad fortune which had befallen his golden-crowned race.
+
+King Solomon looked kindly upon the King of the Hoopoes and said,
+"Behold, did I not warn you of your folly in desiring to have crowns of
+gold? Vanity and pride have been your ruin. But now, that there may be a
+memorial of the service which once you did me, your crowns of gold shall
+be changed into crowns of feathers, and with them you may walk unharmed
+upon the earth."
+
+In this way the remaining Hoopoes were saved. For when the fowlers saw
+that they no longer wore crowns of gold upon their heads, they ceased to
+hunt them as they had been doing. And from that time forth the family of
+the Hoopoes have flourished and increased in peace, even to the present
+day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Solomon was ever seeking to grow even wiser. The better to know the
+wonders of God's world and the ways of all creatures, he undertook many
+journeys,--not as we ordinary poor mortals travel, in heavy wagons or
+clumsy boats, by dusty roads or stormy waves. It was in no such
+troublous ways that Solomon the all-powerful traversed space and reached
+the uttermost corners of the earth. Thanks to his great knowledge, he
+had discovered a means of locomotion compared to which the most
+magnificent railway coaches and the richest palanquins of Indian princes
+would seem poor indeed. He had caused his Genii to make a silken carpet
+of four leagues in extent. In the midst of this carpet was placed a
+magnificent throne for the royal traveler himself; and around it were
+seats of gold, of silver, of wood, for the multitude of persons of
+different rank whom he took with him. There was also no lack of the most
+gorgeous furniture and the necessary provisions for a king's traveling
+banquet.
+
+When all was ready Solomon was wont to seat himself upon his throne, and
+would command the winds to do their duty. Immediately they gently lifted
+the carpet and bore it rapidly through the air to the appointed spot.
+During the journey, above the aerial caravan fluttered a cloud of birds,
+who with their wings formed a splendid canopy to shield their beloved
+lord from the sun's heat, as the Hoopoes had first done.
+
+One day, while on such a journey, Solomon was shocked to feel a ray of
+sunlight piercing through this plumy dais which overhung his head.
+Shading his eyes, the King glanced up and perceived that there was an
+opening in the canopy. One bird was missing from its post. In great
+displeasure Solomon demanded of the Eagle the name of the truant.
+Anxiously the Eagle called the roll of all the birds in his company; and
+he was horrified to find that it was Solomon's favorite, the Hoopoe, who
+was missing. With terror he announced the bird's desertion to the most
+wise King.
+
+"Soar aloft," commanded Solomon sternly, "and find the Hoopoe that I may
+punish him. I will pluck off his feathers that he may feel the
+scorching heat of the sun as his carelessness has caused me to do."
+
+The Eagle soared heavenward, until the earth beneath him looked like a
+bowl turned upside down. Then he poised on level wings and looked around
+in every direction to discover the truant. Soon he espied the Hoopoe
+flying swiftly from the south. The Eagle swooped down and would have
+seized the culprit roughly in his strong talons, but the Hoopoe begged
+him for Solomon's sake to be gentle.
+
+"For Solomon's sake!" cried the Eagle. "Do you dare to name the King
+whom you have injured? He has discovered your absence and in his
+righteous anger will punish you severely."
+
+"Lead me to him," replied the Hoopoe. "I know that he will forgive me
+when he hears where I have been and what I have to tell him."
+
+The Eagle led him to the King, who with a wrathful face was sitting on
+his throne. The Hoopoe trembled and drooped his feathers humbly, but
+when Solomon would have crushed him in his mighty fist the bird cried,--
+
+"Remember, King, that one day you also must give an account of your
+sins. Let me not therefore be condemned unheard."
+
+"And if I hear you, what excuse can you have to offer?" answered
+Solomon, frowning. But this was his favorite bird and he hoped that
+there might be some reason for sparing him.
+
+"Well," said the Hoopoe, "at Mecca I met a Hoopoe of my acquaintance who
+told me so wonderful a tale of the marvelous Kingdom of Sheba in Arabia
+that I could not resist the temptation to visit that country of gold and
+precious stones. And there, indeed, I saw the most prodigious treasures;
+but best of all, O King, more glorious than gold, more precious than
+rare jewels, I saw Queen Balkis, the most beautiful of queens."
+
+"Tell me of this Queen," said Solomon, loosening his rough grasp upon
+the Hoopoe. So it was, say the Mussulmans, that a bird told Solomon of
+the great Queen whose journey to Jerusalem is described in the Bible.
+
+The Hoopoe told of her power and glory, her riches, her wisdom, and her
+beauty, until Solomon sighed a great sigh and said, "It seems too good
+to be true! But we shall see."
+
+So the King wrote a letter to Balkis, bidding her follow the guidance of
+fate and come to the court of the wise King. This note he sealed with
+musk, stamped with his great signet, and gave to the Hoopoe, saying,--
+
+"If now you have spoken truth, take this letter to Queen Balkis; then
+come away."
+
+The Hoopoe did as he was bid, darting off towards the south like an
+arrow. And the next day he came to the palace of the Queen of Sheba,
+where she sat in all her splendor among her counselors. He hopped into
+the hall and dropped the letter into her lap, then flew away.
+
+Queen Balkis stared and stared at the great King's seal upon the
+mysterious letter, and when she had read the brief invitation she stared
+and stared again. But she had heard the fame of Solomon and was eager to
+ask him some of her clever questions to prove his wisdom. So she decided
+to accept his invitation and come to Jerusalem.
+
+She came with a great train of attendants, with camels that bore spices
+and treasures of gold and precious stones, gifts for the most wise King.
+And she asked him more questions than any woman had ever asked him
+before, though he knew a great many ladies, and they were all
+inquisitive.
+
+But Solomon was so wise that he answered all her questions without any
+trouble.
+
+And she said to him, "It was a true report that I heard of you in my own
+land, of your wisdom and of your glory. Only that which now I know and
+see is greater than what I heard. Happy are thy men and happy are thy
+servants who stand continually before thee and hear thy wisdom."
+
+And she gave the King a hundred and twenty talents of gold, which was a
+very rich treasure, besides great store of spices, and the most precious
+gifts; no one had ever seen such gifts as the Queen of Sheba gave to
+Solomon.
+
+But he in turn was even more generous. For he gave to the fair Balkis
+all that she desired and everything she asked, because he admired so
+much this splendid Queen of whom the Hoopoe had first told him.
+
+And so, the Bible says, the Queen of Sheba turned and went to her own
+country, she and her servants. But the Mussulmans' tales say that in
+later days she married Solomon and they lived happily ever after. And it
+was all the work of that little Hoopoe with a yellow crown, whom after
+that we may be sure Solomon loved better than ever.
+
+
+
+
+THE PIOUS ROBIN
+
+
+    "Art thou the bird whom man loves best,
+    The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
+         Our little English Robin?"
+                                      WORDSWORTH.
+
+The English Robin is not precisely like our little American friend whom
+we call by that name, although, as the lines of poetry quoted above will
+show, in two ways he is the same as ours: he has a red breast, and he is
+the bird whom every one loves. Of all the little brothers of the air, in
+every land and clime, the pretty, jolly, neighborly Robin Redbreast is
+the favorite.
+
+There are many stories about him: some which tell how he came by his
+scarlet breast, others which explain why he has always been best beloved
+of the birds. I have already told how he helped the Wren to bring fire
+to men. Every one knows how tenderly he covered with leaves the poor
+Babes in the Wood, when they had been deserted even by their nearest of
+kin. Some have heard about Saint Kentigern, and how he restored to life
+the pious Robin of his master Servan,--the dear little bird who used to
+sing psalms every morning in the Saint's company. Some also know about
+the Robin who brought the wheat-ear in his bill to the poor brothers in
+Brittany who had no grain to plant for their future harvest. All these
+tales show the Robin's generous heart, cheerful nature, and pious
+devotion, which make him beloved by men. But perhaps you do not know why
+he is called God's own bird.
+
+    "The Robin and the Wren
+    Are God's cock and hen,"
+
+sing the little English children, and they think it is very wicked to
+injure one of the holy birds or make her unhappy by robbing her nest of
+its pretty eggs.
+
+This is why the Robin is called the good bird, God's bird. The oldest
+stories say that the little Christ-child used to feed most tenderly the
+Robins who hopped about the door of His mother's house, for they were
+dearest of all to His baby heart. Perhaps He thus early learned to love
+them because His mother had told Him of the service which the dear
+little birds had once performed for her.
+
+For it is said that once upon a time, when Mary was a little girl, as
+she was going along the gusty road a bit of straw blew into her eye and
+pained her terribly. She sat down upon a stone and began to cry. Now a
+Robin was sitting on a branch close by, singing with all the power of
+his little throat when the maiden passed, for she was very sweet to see
+and the Robin loved her looks. But when he saw the blessed Mary begin to
+cry and rub her eye with her chubby hand, he stopped his gay song and
+became very sad, wondering what he could do to help her.
+
+What he did was to fly away and tell his friend the Swallow all about
+it, asking her aid. After that he fluttered to a little fountain which
+bubbled up close by and brought thence in his bill a drop of water.
+Then, perching on Mary's forehead, he gently dropped this into the
+suffering eye. At the same time the Swallow softly brushed her long
+tail-feathers under the maiden's eyelid, and the hateful straw was wiped
+away. Thus the little Mary was relieved, and when once more she could
+look up happily with her pretty eyes she smiled upon the two kind birds
+and blessed them for their aid.
+
+Of course, if the little Christ heard His mother tell this pretty story
+He would have been sure to love the Robin, just as she did. And so these
+little birds became His boyhood friends.
+
+Those were happy times. But in the after years, in the dreadful day
+when the Saviour was so cruelly done to death by His enemies, the little
+Robin once more proved his generous and pious heart, so the legends say.
+
+The Saviour hung upon the cross, suffering and sad, while the world was
+veiled with darkness and all good creatures mourned. Two birds perched
+upon the cross beside His weary, drooping head. One was the faithful
+Robin, who was then a plain and dark-colored bird with the scorched
+feathers of a fire-bringer upon his breast. The other was the Magpie,
+who at that time was among the most gorgeous and beautiful of all the
+birds. She had a tuft of bright feathers on her head, and her plumage
+outshone even that of the Peacock, who has the hundred gleaming eyes of
+Argus set in his fan-like tail. But the Magpie, in spite of her beauty,
+was at heart a wicked bird. Think of it! She mocked the dying Saviour in
+His agony and seemed to rejoice in His suffering!
+
+But the Robin fluttered about the holy figure, timidly uttering chirps
+of sorrow and longing to help the Master who had fed him tenderly for so
+many years. With his soft wings he wiped away the tears which flowed
+from the Lord's eyes, while with his beak he tugged at the cruel thorns
+which pierced His brow, trying to relieve Him.
+
+Suddenly a drop of blood fell from Christ's forehead upon the Robin's
+breast and tinged with bright crimson the rusty reddish feathers.
+
+"Blessed be thou," said the Lord, "thou sharer of my suffering. Wherever
+thou goest happiness and joy shall follow thee. Blue as the heaven shall
+be thy eggs, and from henceforth thou shalt be the Bird of God, the
+bearer of good tidings. But thou," He added, addressing the Magpie
+sorrowfully, "thou art accursed. No longer shall the brilliant tuft and
+bright feathers of which thou art so proud and so unworthy adorn thee.
+Thy color shall be the streaked black and white of shadows, thy life a
+hard one. And thy nest, however well builded, shall be open to the
+storm."
+
+These were almost the last words which the Saviour spoke. After that,
+when the Lord was laid in the sepulchre, the faithful Robin still
+watched beside Him for those three dread days until He rose on Easter
+morning, when the little bird rejoiced with all nature at the wondrous
+happening. And again on Ascension Day he paid his last tribute to the
+risen Master, joining his little song with the chorus of the angels
+themselves in the gladdest Hosanna which the universe had ever heard.
+
+This explains how the Magpie became a restless, noisy, black-and-white
+bird as we know her to this day, having lost all her brilliant beauty
+through the wickedness of her heart. But the pious Robin still wears
+upon his breast the beautiful feathers stained red with his Master's
+blood. And all that the Saviour foretold of him has come true. He is the
+blessed bird whom children everywhere love and of whom they still repeat
+these old verses:--
+
+    "The Robin and the Redbreast,
+       The Robin and the Wren,
+    If ye take out of the nest
+       Ye'll never thrive again.
+    The Robin and the Redbreast,
+       The Martin and the Swallow,
+    If ye touch one of their eggs
+       Bad luck is sure to follow."
+
+
+
+
+THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN
+
+
+The name of Robin makes us think at once of the jolliest and most
+sociable of all our little brother birds. In every land the name is a
+favorite, and wherever he goes he brings happiness and kind feeling.
+
+The American Robin is not the same bird as his English cousin, though
+both have red breasts.
+
+It was in a different manner that our little American friend came to
+have the ruddy waistcoat which we know so well.
+
+There was a time, so the Indians say, a very early time, long, long
+before Columbus discovered America,--even before histories began to be
+written,--when there were no Robins.
+
+In those days in the land of the Ojibways, which is far in the north of
+the cold country, there lived an old Indian chief who had one son, named
+Iadilla. Now among the Ojibways, when a boy was almost big enough to
+become a warrior, before he could go out with the other braves to the
+hunt or to war, there was a great trial which he must undergo. Other
+lands and peoples have known similar customs. You remember how, in
+early Christian times, long, long ago, Galahad and other boys had to
+fast and watch by their armor during the long night hours before they
+could become knights, to wear spurs and shield and sword? In just the
+same way a brown Ojibway lad had to make a long fast in order to win the
+love of his Guardian Spirit, who would after that watch over him to make
+him brave and strong. It was a very important event in a boy's life,
+like graduation from school or college nowadays. For this meant the
+graduation from boyhood into manhood, the winning of a warrior's
+diploma.
+
+The father of Iadilla was a brave warrior, a famous chief. But he wished
+his son to become even better, wiser, greater than he had been. He
+resolved that the boy should fast longer and harder than ever a lad had
+fasted before. For he believed that this was the way to make him the
+noblest of his race. Iadilla was a fine handsome lad, but he was the
+youngest one who had ever made the trial, and there were many bigger
+boys than he who were not yet warriors. The other chiefs said that he
+was not yet old and strong enough.
+
+But Iadilla's father declared that it was time, and bade his son gather
+courage and pride for the ordeal. "For," he said, "it will be no easy
+matter, my son, to become the greatest chief of the Ojibways."
+
+"My father," replied Iadilla, humbly, "I will do as you wish. I will do
+what I can. But my strength is not the strength of the bigger boys; and
+I think it is yet early to talk of my becoming greatest of the Ojibways.
+Yet make trial of me, if you wish."
+
+The father of Iadilla had made a little tent of skins where the boy was
+to live during his fasting time; where he was to lie without food or
+drink for twelve long days, waiting for a message from the Guardian
+Spirit whose love was to be the reward of such a trial.
+
+When the time came, the old man led Iadilla to the lodge and bade him
+lie down on the bed of skins which had been prepared for him. And
+Iadilla did as he was bid, for he was a brave and obedient lad.
+
+The days crept by, the long, long days of waiting, while Iadilla lay in
+the lodge bearing hunger and thirst such as no Ojibway lad had ever
+before known. All day and all night he lay still and spoke never a word.
+But a dreadful fear was in his heart lest he should not be able to
+endure the fast for the twelve days which his father had set.
+
+Every morning his father came to the lodge to praise and to encourage
+him, and to rejoice in one more day checked from the long time of
+fasting. So eight days passed, and the old man was proud and happy.
+Already his dear son had done more than any Ojibway lad, and the whole
+tribe was praising Iadilla, saying what a great chief he would be in the
+days to come.
+
+But on the ninth morning, when the father peeped into the lodge to see
+how bravely his son was faring, the boy turned his head toward the door
+and spoke for the first time in all those long days. He was very thin
+and pale, and his voice sounded weak.
+
+"My father," he said, "I have slept, and my dreams were sad. I have
+slept, and my dreams were of failure and weakness. The time does not
+please my Guardian Spirit. It is not now that I can become a warrior. I
+am not yet strong and old enough. O my father, I cannot bear the fast
+longer! I am so hungry, so thirsty, so faint! Let me break my fast, and
+try again in another year."
+
+But the father sternly refused, for he was ambitious. "Nay, lad," he
+cried, frowningly. "Would you fail me now? Think of the glory, think of
+being the greatest of Ojibways. It is but a few short days now. Courage,
+Iadilla, be a man in strength and patience."
+
+Iadilla said no more. He wrapped himself closer in his blanket and drew
+his belt tighter about his slender waist, trying to stifle the hunger
+gnawing there. So he lay silently until the eleventh day. That morning
+his father came to the lodge, beaming proudly.
+
+"Bravo, my Iadilla!" he cried. "Only one day more, and you will be
+released from your fast." But Iadilla clasped his hands beseechingly.
+
+"My father," gasped the poor boy. "I cannot bear it another day. I am
+not fit to be a great chief. I have failed. Give me food, or I die!"
+
+But again the father refused. "It is but a day now," he said, "but a few
+short hours. Bear a little longer, Iadilla. To-morrow I myself will
+bring you the finest breakfast that ever a lad ate. Courage, boy, for
+the few hours that remain."
+
+Iadilla was too weak to answer. He lay motionless, with only a gentle
+heaving of his breast to show that he still lived. His father left him
+for the last time, and went to prepare the morrow's goodly breakfast,
+while the tribe planned a fine festival in honor of the young hero.
+
+Early on the morrow came Iadilla's father to the tent, proudly bearing
+the breakfast for his brave boy, and smiling to think how gladly he
+would be received. But he stopped outside the tent door surprised to
+hear some one talking within. Stooping to a little hole in the skin of
+the tent he peeped in to find who the speaker might be. Imagine his
+surprise to find Iadilla standing upright in the middle of the tent
+painting his breast a brilliant red, as Indians do in war time. And as
+he daubed on the colors he talked to himself. He spoke softly, yet not
+with the weak voice of a starving lad; and his face was very beautiful
+to see, despite its pale thinness.
+
+"My father has ended my Indian life," he said. "My father, too
+ambitious, has put upon me more than my strength could bear. He would
+not listen to my prayer of weakness. But I knew, I knew! And my kind
+Guardian Spirit knew also that it was more than I could bear. He has
+shown pity, seeing that I was obedient to my father and did my best to
+please him. Now I am to be no longer an Indian boy. I must take the
+shape which the Spirit has given me, and go away."
+
+At these strange words the father broke into the tent, exclaiming in
+terror,--
+
+"My son, my dear son! Do not leave me!"
+
+But, even as he spoke, Iadilla changed into a beautiful Robin Redbreast
+with soft feathers and strong, firm wings. And, fluttering up to the
+ridgepole of the tent, he looked down with pity and tenderness upon the
+heart-broken chief.
+
+"Do not grieve, father," he sang. "I shall be so much happier as a bird,
+free from human pain and sorrow. I will cheer you with my merry songs.
+Oh, I have been hungry; but now I shall get my food so easily, so
+pleasantly on mountains and in the fields. Oh, once I was thirsty; but
+now the dew is mine and the little springs. Once I traced my way
+painfully by forest paths through bog and brake and tangled brier. But
+now my pathways are in the bright, clear air, where never thorn can tear
+nor beast can follow. Farewell, dear father! I am so happy!"
+
+He stretched his brown wings as easily as if he had worn them all his
+life, and, singing a sweet song, fluttered away to the neighboring
+woods, where he built his nest, and lived happily ever after.
+
+And since that day the glad little Robins have lived as that first one
+promised, close by the homes of men, and have done all they could to
+cheer us and make us happy. For they remember how, once upon a time,
+their ancestor was a human boy.
+
+
+
+
+THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN
+
+
+There was once a woman who was so very inquisitive that she wished to
+know everything. She was never happy unless she was poking her nose into
+some mystery, and the less a matter concerned her the more curious she
+was about it.
+
+One day the Lord gathered together all the insects in the world, all the
+beetles, bugs, bees, mosquitoes, ants, locusts, grasshoppers, and other
+creatures who fly or hop or crawl, and shut them up in a huge sack well
+tied at the end. What a queer, squirming, muffled-buzzing bundle it
+made, to be sure!
+
+Then the Lord called the woman to him and said, "Woman, I would have you
+take this sack and throw it into the sea. But be sure and do not untie
+the end of it to look inside; for the sack must on no account be opened,
+even for a single minute."
+
+The woman took the sack, wondering very much at the queer size and shape
+and feeling of it, and especially at the strange noises which came from
+the inside.
+
+"What can be in the sack?" she said to herself. "Oh, I wish I knew! Oh,
+_how_ I wish I knew! Oh, how very, _very_ much I wish I knew!" Her
+curiosity increased every minute as she went step by step towards the
+sea, until when she had gone scarcely a hundred paces she stopped short
+and said, "I must know what is inside this sack before I go any farther.
+I will take just one tiny little peep, and He will never know it."
+
+Very carefully she untied the neck of the sack. Buzz! Whirr! Hum! Zim!
+She had opened it but a tiny little crack when out crawled and hopped
+and flew the millions and swarms and colonies of all kinds of insects,
+and away they scattered in every direction. Such a noise as filled the
+air about the astonished woman's head! Such a wriggling and squirming
+and hopping in the grass about her feet!
+
+"Oh, now I know what was in the sack!" she cried. "But I wish I had not
+looked. Oh, whatever shall I do? He told me to throw the bag into the
+ocean without looking in. But now the horrid creatures have escaped
+everywhere and He will know what I have done. Oh, what will He do to
+punish me?"
+
+She began to run hither and yon like a crazy woman, picking up the bugs
+and jumping for the fluttering insects, trying to put them back into the
+bag. They stung her and bit her and got into her eyes until she screamed
+with pain. As fast as she caught one another escaped, and she soon saw
+that it was a hopeless task. She could never catch the millions of
+creatures who had scattered away to their homes in every corner of the
+world.
+
+Then the Lord came to her and said very sternly, "O Woman, you have
+disobeyed me, just as did the very first woman of all. And you must be
+punished both for your disobedience and for your inquisitiveness which
+has led you into the worse sin. Not until you have gathered up every one
+of these insects which you have permitted to escape back into the world
+shall you be happy. But I will give you wings to help you in the task.
+You shall become a Woodpecker, and it shall be your task to hunt, hunt
+for the insects which hide away so slyly at your approach. Not till the
+last one of these is gobbled up from the earth shall you return to your
+own shape and be a woman once more."
+
+Then the Lord changed the inquisitive woman into a restless Woodpecker,
+and with a "tut-tut!" she darted away in pursuit of the insects which
+had brought her into such trouble.
+
+And that is why to this day one sees the Woodpecker pecking so
+frantically on the tree trunks, anxious lest a single insect should
+escape. For she is very tired of being a bird, and is longing to become
+a woman once more. But it will be a very long time, I fear, before she
+gathers up all the wriggling, squirming, hopping, buzzing, stinging,
+biting things that make life in the country so varied, exciting, and
+musical.
+
+
+
+
+WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES
+
+
+When the other birds are sound asleep in their nests, with their little
+heads tucked comfortably under their feathers, Sister Nightingale, they
+say, may not rest, but still sounds the notes of her beautiful song in
+grove and thicket.
+
+Why does she sing thus, all night long as well as through the day? It is
+because she dares not go to sleep on account of the Blindworm, who is
+waiting to catch her with her eyes closed.
+
+Once upon a time, when the world was very new, the Blindworm was not
+quite blind, but had one good eye. Moreover, in those days the
+Nightingale also had but one eye. As for the Blindworm, it mattered very
+little; for he was a homely creature, content to crawl about in the dark
+underground, or under wood and leaves, where nobody saw him and nobody
+cared. But the Nightingale's case was really quite too pitiful! Fancy
+the sweetest singer among all the birds, the favorite chorister, going
+about with but one eye, while every one else, even the tiniest little
+Humming Bird of all, had two.
+
+The Nightingale felt very sore about this matter, and tried to conceal
+her misfortune from the other birds. She managed to cock her head the
+other way whenever she met a friend, and she always flew past any
+stranger so fast that he never saw the empty socket where her other
+pretty eye should be.
+
+But one day there was great excitement among the birds. Miss Jenny Wren
+was going to be married to young Cock Robin. There was to be a grand
+wedding; every one was invited, and of course the Nightingale was needed
+to lead the bridal chorus of feathered songsters. But the poor
+Nightingale was set in a flutter of anxiety by the news.
+
+"Oh, dear me!" she said, "I do want to go to Jenny's wedding, oh, of
+course I do! But how can I go? If I do, the other birds will discover
+that I have but one eye, and then how the disagreeable creatures will
+laugh at me. Oh dear, oh dear! What shall I do? I cannot go, no, I
+really cannot. But what excuse can I give? Oh, it is not right that the
+sweetest singer in all Birdland should be laughed at, merely because she
+has the misfortune to lack one poor little eye!"
+
+The Nightingale sat on the branch, singing so mournfully that all the
+creatures on the ground below went sorrowfully about their daily
+business. Just then the Nightingale spied a silvery gleam among the dead
+leaves. It was the Blindworm, a spotted gray streak, writhing
+noiselessly along towards the decayed wood of a fallen tree, in which he
+loved to burrow. And the Blindworm was not sad like the others, neither
+seemed he to care in the least about the Nightingale's music. Worms
+think little of sweet sounds. He cocked his one eye up towards the
+Nightingale and winked maliciously. He alone of all creatures knew the
+Nightingale's secret.
+
+"Good-day, Sister Nightingale," he said. "How is your eye this morning?
+We have a goodly pair between us; though I think that mine is rather the
+better of the two."
+
+Then he disappeared into a tiny opening. For though the Blindworm is
+nearly a foot long he is so smooth and slippery that he can enter a hole
+which is almost smaller than himself.
+
+The Nightingale was very indignant at being addressed in this familiar
+way by a miserable, crawling creature who not only could not fly, but
+who could not sing a note, and did not know _do_ from _fa_.
+Besides, it made her angry to think that he knew her secret and talked
+aloud about it so that any one might hear.
+
+"The idea!" she cried. "It is bad enough that I cannot go to the wedding
+of my dear friend Jenny. But to be jeered at by this creature, it is
+more than I can bear. Ha! I have an idea. I will punish him and help
+myself at the same time. I will steal his one eye and wear it to Jenny
+Wren's wedding; then no one will ever discover my misfortune."
+
+Now this was an excellent scheme, but it was not so easy to carry it out
+as the Nightingale had thought. For the Blindworm was very timid and
+kept himself carefully hidden in his burrow of soft soil, as if he half
+suspected the Nightingale's plans. Day after day the Nightingale kept
+eager watch upon his movements, and at last, on the very eve of the
+wedding, when she had almost given up hope, she spied the Blindworm
+sound asleep on the moss under a tall tree.
+
+"Ha!" said the Nightingale to herself very softly. "Now is my chance!"
+She fluttered into the top of the oak tree, and from there hopped down
+from branch to branch, from twig to twig, until she was directly over
+the sleeper's ugly head, over the one closed eye. Then _whirr_! Down
+she pounced upon the Blindworm. And before the creature had a chance to
+know what was happening, the Nightingale had stolen his eye, and had
+popped it into place in the empty socket on the other side of her beak.
+
+"Ha, ha!" she sang merrily. "Now I have two bright eyes, as good as any
+one's. Now I can go to Jenny Wren's wedding as gayly as I please, and no
+one shall see more of the ceremony than I. I shall be able to tell just
+exactly how the bride is dressed, how every little feather is arranged,
+and how she looks after Parson Crow has pronounced the blessing. Oh, how
+happy I am!"
+
+But the poor Blindworm, blind indeed from that day forth, began to cry
+and lament, begging the Nightingale to give him back his eye.
+
+"Nay," said the Nightingale, "did you not laugh at me when you saw me
+sadly sitting on the tree, mourning because I could not go to the
+wedding? Now I have stolen your eye, and I can see famously. But you
+will never again see me sitting sadly on the tree."
+
+Then the Blindworm grew very angry. "I will get the eye back!" he cried.
+"I will steal it from you, as you stole it from me, some time when you
+are asleep. I will climb up into your nest some night, and I will take
+both your eyes of which you are so proud. Then you will be blind,
+wholly blind as I am now."
+
+At these threatening words the Nightingale ceased to sing and became
+silent with fear. For she knew that the Blindworm would do as he said.
+But again a brilliant thought came to her.
+
+"Nay!" she trilled gladly. "That you shall never do. I will never sleep
+again. I will keep awake always, night and day, with my two bright eyes
+ever looking out for danger. Yes, yes, yes! No one shall ever catch me
+napping."
+
+"You cannot help yourself," said the Blindworm. "You cannot keep awake.
+You will drowse in spite of everything. I shall yet find you asleep some
+night, and then beware!"
+
+"Nay, nay!" warbled the Nightingale, as she flew away to make herself
+fine for the wedding. "I shall sing, sing, sing night and day henceforth
+to keep myself awake. And thus I need not fear. Farewell-well-well!"
+
+And so the Nightingale went to the wedding and sang more sweetly in the
+bridal chorus than she had ever sung before. And after that, although
+she was weary, oh, so weary! she sang all night long, and all the next
+night and the next. And so she has continued to sing ever since in the
+lands which are blessed by her presence. For she dares not go to sleep
+even for a single moment, knowing that the Blindworm is ever ready to
+pounce upon her and take away the eyes which she is now enjoying.
+
+
+
+
+MRS. PARTRIDGE'S BABIES
+
+
+Long, long ago, when the world was very young indeed, the Birds and
+Animals used to send their children to school, to Mother Magpie's
+kindergarten. All the morning long the babies learned their lessons
+which it was needful for them to know. And when the noon hour came their
+various mammas came to the school bringing lunches for the children. You
+can imagine how gladly they were received by the hungry little scholars.
+
+One day Mrs. Partridge was very busy with her house-cleaning, and when
+the noontime came she could not leave her work to go to the school with
+her babies' lunch.
+
+"Dear me," she said, looking out of the nest, "here it is noon and the
+little Partridges will be so very hungry. But I really cannot leave home
+now. What shall I do? If only some other mamma were going that way."
+
+She craned her neck and looked eagerly in every direction. And finally
+she spied Madame Tortoise plodding along towards the school, with the
+lunch for her little Turtlets.
+
+"Oho, neighbor, oho! Stop a minute!" cried Mrs. Partridge, waving a wing
+at Tortoise. "Are you going schoolward, as I think? Oh, dear Madame
+Tortoise, if you knew how busy I am to-day. I don't think any one was
+ever so busy as I am with my house-cleaning. Will you do me a favor,
+please?"
+
+The Tortoise sniffed. "Well, I am a busy woman myself," she said, "but I
+am willing to oblige a neighbor. What is it you wish, ma'am?"
+
+"Oh, thank you so much!" cried the Partridge. "Dear Madame Tortoise, I
+shall never forget your kindness. Now, will you take this bunch of nice
+wiggly worms to my little ones for their lunch? I shall be so very
+grateful."
+
+"Don't mention it," snapped the Tortoise, who was rather tired of
+hearing Mrs. Partridge's shrill thanks. "I'm perfectly willing to take
+the lunch, since I am going to the same place. But I don't know your
+babies. What do they look like, ma'am?"
+
+"Oh, that is easily told," cried Mrs. Partridge. "They are the most
+beautiful little creatures in the school. They are said greatly to
+resemble me. You will have no trouble in recognizing them. When you
+come to the school just look around at all the children, and pick out
+the three most beautiful of all. Those are certain to be mine. Give them
+the wiggly worms, please, with my love. And oh, _thank_ you, Madame
+Tortoise, so very much! Some time I will do as much for you. So
+neighborly! Thank you!"
+
+[Illustration: _Here are some nice fat wiggly worms!_]
+
+"Don't mention it!" snapped the Tortoise again, very much bored by all
+this chatter. She sniffed as she moved slowly along towards the school,
+with the second lunch carried carefully on her broad shell-back. "They
+are nice fat worms," she said.
+
+Now when the Tortoise came to the school it was high noon, and all the
+children were waiting open-mouthed for their mammas and the lunches
+which they expected. Such rows and rows of wide hungry mouths! Madame
+Tortoise moved slowly up and down and round and round, eyeing the
+various children who begged for the nice wiggly worms. "H'm!" she said
+to herself, "hungry children seem to look considerably alike, and none
+of them are so wondrously beautiful when their mouths are wide open
+greedily. I wonder which are Mrs. Partridge's children. She told me to
+give this lunch to the handsomest babies here. Well, I will, and if I
+make a mistake it will not be my fault. Hello! Here are my dear little
+Turtlets! Bless the babies, how pretty they are! Why, I declare, I never
+realized that they were so handsome. Certainly, they are the
+best-looking children in the school. Then I must give them Mrs.
+Partridge's luncheon, for so I promised. Yes, my little ones, here is
+your lunch which I brought for you. And when you have finished that,
+here is another, some nice, fat, wiggly worms which mother collected on
+the way,--a prize for the handsomest children in the school."
+
+So the little Turtlets fared wonderfully well that day; but the poor
+little Partridges went hungry, and had dreadful headaches, and went home
+peeping sadly to their silly mother. And Mrs. Partridge had no more
+sense than to be angry with Madame Tortoise, which I think was very
+unfair, don't you? For the latter had only done as she was bidden by her
+silly and conceited neighbor.
+
+But after that the Tortoise and the Partridge never spoke to each other,
+and their children would not play together at school.
+
+
+
+
+THE EARLY GIRL
+
+
+There were once two girls who were very dear friends, Zaica and
+Tourtourelle. One morning Zaica woke up and said, "O Tourtourelle! Last
+night I had such a strange dream!"
+
+"And so did I!" cried Tourtourelle. "Let us tell each other the dreams.
+But you first, Zaica."
+
+Zaica began to laugh. "I dreamed I was a pretty bird with a tuft of
+feathers on my head. I could fly, and, O Tourtourelle! it was great fun!
+But the most amusing thing of all was that I could sing so finely, and
+mock all the birds of the forest. Nay, I could even imitate the sounds
+of animals. I cannot help laughing when I think what a jolly time I
+had."
+
+"Why, Zaica!" cried Tourtourelle, wondering, "I dreamed the very same
+thing. I too was a pretty little bird, and I too could imitate all kinds
+of sounds as I fluttered in the tree-tops. Surely, the dream will come
+true for one of us. How fine that would be!"
+
+"Yes, let it be for the one of us who first rises to-morrow morning,"
+said Zaica. And so the two friends agreed.
+
+Now when it came night-time Zaica went to bed very early, like a wise
+little girl who wants to rise with the sun. But Tourtourelle said to
+herself, "I know what I will do, I will not go to sleep. I will sit up
+all night, and then I am sure to be the first to rise."
+
+So Tourtourelle perched herself on a high-backed chair and stretched her
+eyes wide open. For hours and hours she sat there, growing more sleepy
+every minute. Towards morning she began to nod; she could hardly keep
+her eyes open, though she tried to prop the lids with her finger tips.
+Finally, whether she would or no, she fell fast asleep, poor little
+Tourtourelle, worn out with her long vigil.
+
+When the first morning sunbeam peeped into the chamber Zaica opened her
+eyes, refreshed and smiling. She sat up in bed remembering the dream,
+and then jumped lightly to the floor. As she did so she glanced at her
+feet, which felt queer. Wonderful! They were little bird claws! She
+looked down at herself. She was covered with soft feathers. She tried to
+move her arms, and when she did so she rose lightly from the floor and
+skimmed out of the window into the garden. Zaica had become a pretty
+little bird, just as she had dreamed. Oh, how happy she was! She heard a
+Lark singing far up in the sky. Opening her mouth, she warbled and
+trilled as well as he, until he dropped down quickly to the earth,
+thinking it must be his mate who sang so sweetly. She spied a Chicken
+strayed too far from the mother Hen; and chuckling to herself
+mischievously she imitated the warning cry of a Hawk, till the Chick ran
+squawking back to the shelter of his mother's wing. She heard a hound
+baying afar off, and with little trouble echoed the sound so perfectly
+that a groom came running out of the stable, whistling for the dog which
+he feared was straying from the kennel. Zaica found that as in her dream
+she could imitate all the sounds which she heard; and she was so pleased
+that she sang and sang and sang, hopping from tree to tree, teasing the
+other birds with her mockery, and puzzling them, too.
+
+As for poor Tourtourelle, when she waked it was very late. She yawned
+and rubbed her eyes languidly, for she was still sleepy. Then looking
+across to Zaica's bed she saw that it was empty. Her heart gave a great
+thump, for she longed and longed to be a bird, but now she feared that
+she was too late. In her white gown she ran out into the garden looking
+for Zaica. But first she saw an old man leading his cow to the pasture.
+And to the cow he said, "Coo-roo, coo-roo!" coaxing her to hasten.
+
+"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" cried Tourtourelle, imitating him, she knew not why.
+And as she said it she wondered at the strange feeling which came over
+her. For her body felt very light and it seemed as if she could fly. She
+looked down and saw that she was no longer covered with a little white
+gown but with soft feathers of ashy gray, while wings sprouted from her
+shoulders.
+
+"Oh, I have become a bird!" she tried to say, but all she uttered
+was--"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" For Tourtourelle was become a beautiful
+Turtle-Dove, and that is all a Turtle-Dove can say.
+
+"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" mocked a voice from the tree. And cocking her little
+reddish eye Tourtourelle saw a brilliant Jay hopping in the branches,
+imitating a Dove. Then it was the song of a Wren that she heard, then a
+Lark, then a Thrush, then a Sparrow-Hawk,--all these sounds coming from
+the one little throat of the happy bird on that bough. Tourtourelle
+tried to do likewise, but all she could sing was "Coo-roo! coo-roo!" And
+she said mournfully to herself:--
+
+"It is Zaica. She was wiser than I, and earlier, and the dream came
+true for her. Oh dear! Oh dear!" And to this day Turtle-Dove flies about
+sadly uttering her monotonous cry, and listening with a longing that
+would be envy, were she not so good a little bird, to the chatter of her
+friend the Jay.
+
+For Zaica the Jay is always merry, hopping from tree to tree, playing
+her jokes upon the other birds whom she deceives with her wonderful
+voice. And she leads a life so gay and exciting that she never finds
+time to be sad, even over the disappointment of her dear friend, poor
+little Tourtourelle.
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT
+
+
+Once upon a time, our friend Blackbird, who comes first of the feathered
+brothers in the spring, was not black at all. No, indeed; he was
+white--white as feather-snow new fallen in the meadow. There are very
+few birds who have been thought worthy to dress all in beautiful white,
+for that is the greatest honor which a bird can have. So, like the Swan
+and the Dove, Master Whitebird--for that is what they called him
+then--was very proud of his spotless coat.
+
+He was very proud and happy, and he sang all day long, the jolliest
+songs. But you see he did not really deserve this honor, because he was
+at heart a greedy bird; and therefore a great shame came upon him, and
+after that he was never proud nor happy any more. I shall tell you the
+story of how the Whitebird grew grimy and gloomy as we know him, almost
+as black and solemn as old Daddy Crow.
+
+Once upon a time, then, Master Whitebird was teetering on a rose-bush,
+ruffling his beautiful white feathers and singing little bits of poetry
+about himself to any one who would listen.
+
+    "Ho-ho, ho-hee,
+    Just look at me!"
+
+he piped, and cocked his little eyes about in every direction, to see
+who might be admiring his wondrous whiteness.
+
+But all on a sudden his song gurgled down into his throat and choked
+itself still, and his eyes fixed themselves upon a tree close by. It was
+a dead old tree, and there was a hole in the trunk halfway up to the
+lowest limb, a round little hole about as big as your two fists.
+
+Whitebird had seen something black pop into that hole in a sly and
+secret way, and he began to wonder; for he was inquisitive, as most
+birds are. He sat quite still on his rose-bush and watched and watched.
+Presently out of the hole popped a black head, bigger than Whitebird's,
+with two wise little twinkling eyes.
+
+"Oho!" said Whitebird to himself, "it is Mother Magpie up to her old
+tricks, hiding, hiding. Maybe she has a treasure hidden there. I will
+watch, and perhaps I shall find out something worth knowing."
+
+Mother Magpie was the wisest and the slyest of all the birds, and it was
+always worth while, as Whitebird knew, to take lessons of her. So he sat
+perfectly still until she came cautiously back carrying something in her
+beak. It was round and white and glinted like moonlight. Whitebird's
+eyes stuck out greedily.
+
+"It is a piece of silver!" he thought, but he sat perfectly still until
+the Magpie had stowed the coin safely in the hollow tree and had hopped
+away as if upon an unfinished errand. "Aha! there is more then. I will
+watch to see what comes next," said Whitebird. And he waited.
+
+Sure enough. In a little while the Magpie returned, this time bringing
+something which glowed yellow like sunlight.
+
+"It is a piece of gold!" gasped Whitebird, and his eyes bulged out like
+those of lobsters, he was so jealous of her luck. But he silently
+watched her disappear into her tree-cupboard and then hastily depart as
+before toward the mountain. "What comes next?" muttered Whitebird to
+himself. "I am dying to peep into that hole. I cannot wait much longer."
+
+Then, after a while, a third time came back the Magpie to the dead tree.
+And lo, what she carried in her beak twinkled and trembled and shone in
+many colors, like a drop of dew on a velvet flower-cheek. When
+Whitebird saw this sight, he nearly tumbled off his perch with
+excitement.
+
+"It is a diamond!" he cried aloud; "oh, it is a real diamond!"
+
+At this sudden noise from the rose-bush Mother Magpie's nerves were so
+shocked that she dropped the diamond helter-skelter into the hole. And
+in a moment she fell in after it, out of sight. She hoped that no one
+had seen her, but little Whitebird knew the place. He hopped after her
+and, perching on the edge of the hole, peered down into the hollow tree.
+And there he saw a great heap of silver and gold and precious stones,
+which Mother Magpie was trying to cover with her wings.
+
+"Oh, what a treasure! What a treasure!" he piped greedily. "Mother
+Magpie, you must tell me where you found it, that I may go and get some
+for myself."
+
+But Mother Magpie refused to tell.
+
+"Oho!" chirped Whitebird, angrily; "we shall see about that! Then I will
+call in the fierce birds, Robber Hawk and Fighting Falcon and the bloody
+Butcher Bird, and they will take your treasure from you, and kill you,
+too, into the bargain. What do you think of that, Mother Magpie?"
+
+Then she was afraid, for she knew those bad birds; and she saw that she
+must trust her secret with Whitebird, since he had already discovered
+half the truth.
+
+"Well, if you will promise me not to let any one else know, not even
+King Eagle, I will tell you," she said. So Whitebird promised.
+
+"Listen," said the Magpie. "You must find the cave which is near the
+tallest oak on the mountain, under the flat stone. In a corner there is
+a tiny hole, just big enough for you or me to pass. And this is the
+entrance to a passage which leads down into the cellars of the earth.
+And when you have gone down and down, farther than any one except myself
+ever went before, you will come to the palace of the King of Riches. It
+is full of gold and silver and precious stones like these you see here.
+Each chamber is more beautiful and more tempting than the last. But you
+must not touch a stone or a single coin, or even a little bit of
+gold-dust, until you have seen the King. For first you must offer
+yourself to be his servant, and then he will be generous; then he will
+let you carry away as much treasure as your beak will hold. That is all
+there is to it. But beware, greedy Whitebird! Take my advice, and do not
+touch a grain of treasure before you see the King, or great evil will
+befall you."
+
+Whitebird promised to do as she said. And then away he flew to the blue
+mountain and its tallest oak. Close by the great oak, in a lonely spot,
+he found the flat rock, and under it was the cave where once a bear had
+lived. Whitebird hopped in eagerly, and away back in one corner of the
+cave he found a little round hole, as the Magpie had said; a hole not
+much bigger than an apple. It must have been a tight squeeze for fat
+Mother Magpie!
+
+Whitebird hopped through the hole and found himself in a long, narrow
+passage which led down, down, down into places where his eyes were of no
+use at all. For he was not like Master Owl, who can see better in the
+dark than anywhere else. Blindly he hopped on and on, till he came into
+a great cavern, bright with a white radiance, as if the moonlight
+filtered in from somewhere. It was the first room of the King's palace
+of treasure; and it was all of silver, paved with silver, heaped with
+silver, shining with silver. Whitebird's eyes glittered and he wanted to
+stop and take some for himself. But just in time he remembered the wise
+warning of Mother Magpie; and so he hopped on over the silver pebbles
+through a silver door into a second room. And this was flooded with
+yellow light as of sunshine, so dazzling that for a moment Whitebird's
+yellow eyes could see nothing at all. When he could see, the place
+seemed full of yellow eyes like his own, great yellow eyes heaped up
+from floor to ceiling. And when he became used to this he looked again
+and saw that these were golden coins, and that this was a cavern all of
+gold.
+
+Oh, such a wonderful sight! Oh, such a golden dream! The floor on which
+he stood was deep with gold dust, which squished between his toes like
+yellow sand on a sea beach. And then Whitebird lost his head and went
+quite mad, forgetting the words of wise Mother Magpie.
+
+"Gold dust, gold dust, a treasure for me!" he sang, hopping up and down
+on one leg. "I can carry away a great beakful of the yellow seeds, and
+each one will blossom into a golden flower for me--for me--for me!" He
+was wholly crazy, as you see.
+
+He thrust his bill deep into the gold dust of the floor, and greedily
+filled it more than full, till it dropped over his white, white feathers
+and splashed his coat so that he was no longer a white bird but a yellow
+bird. Oh, the silly, greedy thing! But there are worse fates than being
+a yellow bird.
+
+Just at this moment a dreadful roar echoed through the caverns till they
+rumbled like an earthquake, and into the golden chamber crashed a
+horrible dragon-creature, the guardian of the King's treasure. His eyes
+blazed red like coals, and from his mouth came smoke and flame so that
+the gold melted before his breath. He rushed straight upon poor little
+Whitebird to gobble him up, and as he came he roared: "Thief, thief! who
+steals my master's treasure? I scorch you with my eye! I burn you with
+my breath! I swallow you into the furnace of my throat. Gr-r-r-r!"
+
+There seemed no chance for Whitebird to escape, the creature was so
+near. But with a cry of terror he fluttered and hopped away as fast as
+he could toward the narrow passage, through the gold chamber and the
+silver chamber, leaving all the treasure behind. (Oh, don't you wish we
+could have known how the diamond chamber looked, with its rainbow
+light?)
+
+Whitebird hopped and fluttered, fluttered and hopped, feeling the
+dragon's hot breath close behind frizzling his feathers and blinding his
+eyes with smoke. He seemed like to be roasted alive in this horrible
+underground oven. But oh, there was the hole close before him! Pouf!
+With a terrible roar the dragon snapped at him as Whitebird popped
+through the hole; but he got only a mouthful of burnt tail-feathers.
+Whitebird was safe, safe in the narrow passage where the dragon could
+not follow. Up and up and up and up he feebly fluttered into the light
+of the dear outside world, and then he gave a chirp of joy to find that
+he really had escaped. But oh, how tired and frightened he was!
+
+Mother Magpie was sitting on a bush waiting for him, for she had guessed
+what would happen to the greedy bird. And when she saw him she gave a
+squawk of laughter.
+
+"O Whitebird," she chuckled, "what a sight! what a sight! Your lovely
+coat, your spotless feathers! Oh, you greedy, greedy _Blackbird_!"
+
+Then he who had been Whitebird looked down at himself and saw what a
+dreadful thing had happened. And he closed his eyes and gave a hoarse,
+sad croak. For the smoke and flame of the dragon's breath had smirched
+and scorched him from top to toe, so that he was no longer white, but
+thenceforth and forever Blackbird.
+
+I think Mother Magpie must have told the story to her children,
+chuckling over the greedy fellow's failure. And they told it to the
+children of sunny France, from whom I got the tale for you. So now you
+know why the Blackbird looks so solemn and so sulky in his suit of rusty
+black; and why his nerves are so weak that if one suddenly surprises
+him, picking up seeds in the field, he gives a terrible scream of
+fright. For he thinks one is that dreadful dragon-creature who chased
+him and so nearly gobbled him on that unlucky day, long ago.
+
+Poor Brother Blackbird! Don't let him know I told you all this; it would
+make him so very much ashamed.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLACKBIRD AND THE FOX
+
+
+One day Madame Fox, who was strolling along under the hedge, heard a
+Blackbird trilling on a branch. Quick as thought she jumped and seized
+the little fellow, and was about to gobble him down then and there. But
+the Blackbird began to chirp piteously:--
+
+"Oh, oh, Madame Fox! What are you thinking of? Just see, I am such a
+tiny mouthful! And when I am gone--I am gone. Only let me free and I
+will tell you something. Look! Here come some peasant women with eggs
+and cheese which they are carrying to the market at Verrieres. That
+would be a meal worth having! Only let me go, and I will help you,
+Master Fox."
+
+The Fox saw that this might be a good plan which the bird proposed, so
+she let him go.
+
+And what do you think the Blackbird did? He began to hop, hop, hop
+toward the women, dragging his wing behind him as if it were broken,
+which is a trick some birds know very well.
+
+"Look!" cried one of the women, when she caught sight of him. "Oh, look
+at the little Blackbird there! His wing is broken and he cannot fly. I
+shall try to catch him." And she ran as fast as she could, making her
+hands into a little cage to put over him. The other women, too, set down
+their baskets, for convenience--set them down right in the middle of the
+road--and joined the chase after the poor little Blackbird, so lame, so
+lame! But always, as they came close to him, he managed to flutter out
+of reach.
+
+Meanwhile, Madame Fox went round about by the hedge and came all quietly
+and unseen to the place where the baskets waited in the road. And oh!
+what a good dinner she found there; chickens and eggs and fresh cheese
+nicely done up for the market. And the greedy old lady ate them all--all
+the chickens and the eggs and the cheeses. My! How fat she was when all
+was done.
+
+Now the Blackbird hopped on and on for a long, long way, until, by
+cocking his eye, he saw that Madame Fox had finished her dinner. And
+then, houff! Up he flew, with a jolly chirp of laughter, right over the
+heads of the astonished women. What of his broken wing now? He began to
+whistle, to sing, to chirrup like a crazy bird up there in the air. The
+women looked at one another sheepishly.
+
+"Ah, the wicked Blackbird!" they said. "One would have thought that he
+could not fly at all. But look at him, the sly creature! Oho, it is a
+pretty trick he has played us!"
+
+They turned back to where they had left their baskets, intending to
+start on for the market. But when they came there--well, well! What a
+shame!--they found the eggs, the chickens, the cheeses all gone--eaten
+up by the greedy Fox. And then they began to scold and cry.
+
+"Oh, what misfortune!" they wailed. "We have lost our eggs, our
+chickens, and our cheeses, and there is nothing left to carry to market.
+We have not even a Blackbird to show for our morning's work. Oh dear! oh
+dear! It is all the fault of that wicked, deceitful little bird."
+
+And, instead of going on to Verrieres, they turned about with their
+empty baskets and went back home, a sorry party, scolding and crying all
+the way. But long before they reached their homes and their angry
+husbands Madame Fox was comfortably snoozing her after-dinner nap under
+the hedge; while the happy Blackbird picked up juicy bugs in the
+neighboring meadow, with one eye cocked to guard against being surprised
+a second time by any bushy-tailed rogue.
+
+[Illustration: _He managed to flutter out of reach_]
+
+
+
+
+THE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH
+
+
+The Dove and the wrinkled little Bat once went on a journey together.
+When it came towards night a storm arose, and the two companions sought
+everywhere for a shelter. But all the birds were sound asleep in their
+nests and the animals in their holes and dens. They could find no
+welcome anywhere until they came to the hollow tree where old Master Owl
+lived, wide awake in the dark.
+
+"Let us knock here," said the shrewd Bat, "I know the old fellow is not
+asleep. This is his prowling hour, and but that it is a stormy night he
+would be abroad hunting.--What ho, Master Owl!" he squeaked, "will you
+let in two storm-tossed travelers for a night's lodging?"
+
+Gruffly the selfish old Owl bade them enter, and grudgingly invited them
+to share his supper. The poor Dove was so tired that she could scarcely
+eat, but the greedy Bat's spirits rose as soon as he saw the viands
+spread before him. He was a sly fellow, and immediately began to flatter
+his host into good humor. He praised the Owl's wisdom and his courage,
+his gallantry and his generosity; though every one knew that however
+wise old Master Owl might be, he was neither brave nor gallant. As for
+his generosity,--both the Dove and the Bat well remembered his
+selfishness towards the poor Wren, when the Owl alone of all the birds
+refused to give the little fire-bringer a feather to help cover his
+scorched and shivering body.
+
+All this flattery pleased the Owl. He puffed and ruffled himself, trying
+to look as wise, gallant, and brave as possible. He pressed the Bat to
+help himself more generously to the viands, which invitation the sly
+fellow was not slow to accept.
+
+During this time the Dove had not uttered a word. She sat quite still
+staring at the Bat and wondering to hear such insincere speeches of
+flattery. Suddenly the Owl turned to her.
+
+"As for you, Miss Pink-eyes," he said gruffly, "you keep careful
+silence. You are a dull table-companion. Pray, have you nothing to say
+for yourself?"
+
+"Yes," exclaimed the mischievous Bat, "have you no words of praise for
+our kind host? Methinks he deserves some return for this wonderfully
+generous, agreeable, tasteful, well-appointed, luxurious, elegant, and
+altogether acceptable banquet. What have you to say, O little Dove?"
+
+But the Dove hung her head, ashamed of her companion, and said very
+simply:--
+
+"O Master Owl, I can only thank you with all my heart for the
+hospitality and shelter which you have given me this night. I was beaten
+by the storm, and you took me in. I was hungry, and you gave me your
+best to eat. I cannot flatter nor make pretty speeches like the Bat. I
+never learned such manners. But I thank you."
+
+"What!" cried the Bat, pretending to be shocked. "Is that all you have
+to say to our obliging host? Is he not the wisest, bravest, most gallant
+and generous of gentlemen? Have you no praise for his noble character as
+well as for his goodness to us? I am ashamed of you! You do not deserve
+such hospitality. You do not deserve this shelter."
+
+The Dove remained silent. Like Cordelia in the play, she could not speak
+untruths even for her own happiness.
+
+"Truly, you are an unamiable guest," snarled the Owl, his yellow eyes
+growing keen and fierce with anger and mortified pride. "You are an
+ungrateful bird, Miss, and the Bat is right. You do not deserve this
+generous hospitality which I have offered, this goodly shelter which you
+asked. Away with you! Leave my dwelling! Pack off into the storm and see
+whether or not your silence will soothe the rain and the wind. Be off, I
+say!"
+
+"Yes, away with her!" echoed the Bat, flapping his leathery wings. And
+the two heartless creatures fell upon the poor little Dove and drove her
+out into the dark and stormy night.
+
+Poor little Dove! All night she was tossed and beaten about shelterless
+in the storm, because she had been too truthful to flatter the vain old
+Owl. But when the bright morning dawned, draggled and weary as she was,
+she flew to the court of King Eagle and told him all her trouble. Great
+was the indignation of that noble bird.
+
+"For his flattery and his cruelty let the Bat never presume to fly
+abroad until the sun goes down," he cried. "As for the Owl, I have
+already doomed him to this punishment for his treatment of the Wren. But
+henceforth let no bird have anything to do with either of them, the Bat
+or the Owl. Let them be outcasts and night-prowlers, enemies to be
+attacked and punished if they appear among us, to be avoided by all in
+their loneliness. Flattery and inhospitality, deceit and cruelty,--what
+are more hideous than these? Let them cover themselves in darkness and
+shun the happy light of day. As for you, little Dove, let this be a
+lesson to you to shun the company of flatterers, who are sure to get you
+into trouble. But you shall always be loved for your simplicity and
+truth. And as a token of our affection your name shall be used by poets
+as long as the world shall last to rhyme with _love_."
+
+The words of the wise King Eagle are true to this day. So now you know
+why a great many poems came to be written in which the rhymes _dove_ and
+_love_ have not seemed to make any particular sense.
+
+
+
+
+THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE
+
+
+Once upon a time old Lady Fox was very hungry, but she had nothing to
+eat, and there was no sign of a dinner to be had anywhere.
+
+"What shall I do, what shall I do?" whined the Fox. "I am so faint and
+hungry, but all the birds and all the fowls are afraid of me and will
+not venture near enough for me to consult them about a dinner. I have so
+bad a name that no one will trust me. What can I do to win back the
+respect of the community and earn a square meal? Ah, I have it! I will
+turn pious and go upon a pilgrimage. That ought to make me popular once
+more."
+
+So the Fox started upon the pilgrimage. She had not gone very far when
+she met a Cock, but he knew the character of Madame Fox too well to
+trust himself near. He flew up into a tree, and from that safe perch
+crowed jauntily, "Good morning, Madame Fox. Whither away so fast?"
+
+The Fox drew down the corners of her mouth, trying to look pious, and
+rolled up her eyes as she answered in a hollow voice, "Oh, Master Cock,
+I am going on a pious pilgrimage. I am sorry for my wicked life, and now
+I am going to be good."
+
+"Ah," said the Cock, "I am indeed glad to hear that! Going on a
+pilgrimage, are you? Well, in that case I will go with you."
+
+"Do, Master Cock, do," answered the Fox fervently. "It will do you good.
+Come sit upon my broad back and I will carry you."
+
+The Cock thanked her and climbed upon her back, and so they proceeded on
+their pilgrimage together. After a while they came upon a Dove, which
+fluttered away hastily when she saw old Lady Fox, knowing too well her
+wicked tricks. But the Fox called to her in a gentle voice:--
+
+"Do not be afraid, O Dove. I know why you start at my approach. But I
+have repented of my former sins and have turned pilgrim. My friend, the
+Cock, and I have just started upon our pious journey. Will you join us?"
+
+When the innocent Dove saw the Cock upon the Fox's back she thought that
+certainly everything must be safe, so she answered:--
+
+"Yes, Madame Fox, I will go with you."
+
+"Jump right up on my back; there is plenty of room beside the Cock,"
+said the Fox cordially.
+
+A little further on they met a wild Duck, who waddled away quacking
+wildly when he saw the Fox trotting towards him. But the sly old lady
+called out to him, smiling:--
+
+"Be calm, little brother. I have given up my former unkind tricks, for
+which I sadly repent, and now I am going on a pious pilgrimage. See,
+your friends the Cock and the Dove are my companions."
+
+"In that case I will go along, too," said the Duck, "for you have a
+goodly party."
+
+"That is right," replied the Fox approvingly. "I thought you would go.
+Kindly take a back seat with the others."
+
+Now when these queer pilgrims had traveled for some time they came to a
+cave in the rocks, a deep dark cave which looked like a den. And here
+the Fox stopped, saying:--
+
+"Dear brothers, it is time that we paused and thought more carefully
+about our sins. We must cross seas and rivers, and Heaven knows when we
+shall reach the end of our journey. Let us listen to one another's
+confessions, for I am sure we have all been miserable sinners. Come, Mr.
+Cock, come into the cave with me and I will hear you first."
+
+The Cock followed her into the cave, saying with some surprise, "Why,
+Madame Fox, what have I done that is wicked?"
+
+"Do you not know?" answered the Fox sternly. "Why, do you not begin to
+crow at midnight and wake poor tired people out of their first sleep? Go
+to! You ought to be ashamed! Then again you crow at the most
+inconveniently early hour in the morning and make the caravans mistake
+the true time, so that they start upon their journeys long before the
+proper hour and fall into the hands of robbers who prowl about before
+light. These are dreadful sins, Mr. Cock, and you deserve to be
+punished." So the wicked old Fox seized the Cock and ate him all up.
+
+After the Fox had finished him she came to the entrance of the cave and
+called, "Now you come, little Dove, and tell me what you have done that
+is naughty."
+
+"But I have done nothing," said the innocent Dove, wondering very much;
+"of what evil do you accuse me, Madame Fox?"
+
+"When the farmers sow their grain you dig up the yellow kernels and eat
+them for your dinner. That is stealing, which is a wicked, wicked sin,
+and must be severely punished," cried the hungry Fox. And thereupon she
+seized the poor little Dove and ate her up.
+
+Once more the Fox stood at the door of the cave, stealthily licking her
+chops, and she called out to the Duck, "Come in, Mr. Duck, and I will
+hear what you have to say."
+
+"Well, I have not done anything wrong," said the Duck positively, "and
+you cannot say that I have; can you now, Madame Fox?"
+
+"Oh, indeed and indeed!" exclaimed the Fox. "Have you not stolen the
+king's gold crown, and do you not wear it on your head, you wicked
+creature?"
+
+"Indeed and indeed I have done no such thing. It is not true, Madame
+Fox, as I can prove. Wait a bit and I will bring witnesses."
+
+So the Duck went out and flew up and down in front of the cave, waiting.
+Presently along came a Hunter with a gun, who espied the Duck and aimed
+the weapon at him.
+
+"Don't shoot me," cried the Duck. "What have you against me, O Hunter? I
+can tell you where to find worthier game. Come with me and I will show
+you a wicked old Fox who eats innocent birds."
+
+"Very well," said the Hunter, putting up his gun, "show me the place and
+I will spare you."
+
+The Duck led him softly to the entrance of the cave, and pausing there
+cried out to the Fox inside, "Come out, Madame Fox, I have brought the
+witness."
+
+"Let him come in, let him come in!" cried the Fox, for she had grown
+very hungry indeed and hoped for a double meal.
+
+"No indeed," answered the Duck; "he insists that you must come out." So
+the Fox crept stealthily to the door, but as soon as she popped out her
+wicked old head the Hunter was ready for her, and Bang! That was the end
+of the Fox's pilgrimage.
+
+The Duck also had had enough of being a pilgrim. He went home with the
+Hunter and became a tame Duck, and lived happily ever after on the pond
+near the Hunter's house.
+
+
+
+
+THE GROUND-PIGEON
+
+
+Once upon a time there was a little Malay maiden who lived in the forest
+with her father and mother and baby sister. They dwelt very happily
+together, until one day Coora's father decided to clear the ground on
+the edge of the forest and have a rice plantation, as many of his
+neighbors were doing.
+
+So one morning early after breakfast he started out with his axe on his
+shoulder to cut down the trees and make a clearing.
+
+"O Father, let me go with you!" begged Coora. "I do so want to see the
+plantation grow from the very beginning."
+
+But her father said No, she must stay at home until the trees were
+felled.
+
+"And after that may I go with you?" asked Coora. And her father promised
+that it should be so.
+
+The days went by and at last the trees were all felled in the clearing.
+When Coora heard this she jumped up and down on her little bare brown
+feet until her anklets tinkled, and cried, "O Father! Now I may go with
+you to the clearing, may I not? For so you promised."
+
+But again her father shook his head and said, "No, Coora, not yet. You
+must wait until the fallen timber has been burned off. Then you shall go
+with your mother and me to the planting of the rice."
+
+Coora was very much disappointed, and the big tears stood in her eyes.
+But she only said, "Do you promise that I may help plant the rice,
+really and truly?"
+
+And he called back over his shoulder, "I promise!"
+
+At last the fallen timber was burned away, and the ground was ready for
+planting. One morning Coora saw her father and mother making ready to go
+out together. "Oh, where are you going, Father and Mother?" she asked.
+
+"We go to the planting of the rice," answered her father, slinging a big
+bag over his shoulder.
+
+"But you promised that I should go with you when that time came?" cried
+Coora wistfully. "Please, please may I not be your little helper?"
+
+"No, no, Coora," answered her mother impatiently. "Do not tease us so.
+You must stay at home to take care of your little sister. Be a good
+girl this time, and when the rice is well grown we will all go together
+and harvest it. That will be great fun!"
+
+"Shall I really go? Do you promise, Mother?" asked poor Coora hopefully,
+for she felt sure that her mother would not deceive her.
+
+"I promise," said the mother, not looking her in the eyes; and the
+parents went away through the forest to plant the rice.
+
+Time went by until the rice had grown tall and was ready for the
+harvest. Now Coora heard her parents talking of the matter, and she was
+very gay, for now she expected a happy, happy day. She dressed herself
+and made ready to go to the harvesting, as her parents had promised. But
+when she joined them, smiling joyfully, they turned upon her frowning
+and bade her return to the house and take care of everything until their
+home-coming. Then poor little Coora burst into tears and said, "O my
+Father and O my Mother, I have obeyed you without a word every time you
+broke your promise to me. And still you continue to put me off from day
+to day, when this is the thing I long to do so much that it seems as if
+my heart would break. Think of it! The clearing has been made, the
+timber burned, the rice planted and grown, and now it is ready for the
+harvest. But I have not even seen the place where all this has
+happened. O Father and Mother, why are you so unkind to me?"
+
+"There, there!" cried her father and mother together, "do not make a
+fuss over so small a matter. You cannot go to-day; but wait until the
+rice is gathered and it is time to tread it out. Then we will let you
+help us, you may be sure. We promise, Coora, that you shall really and
+truly go."
+
+"You promise!" echoed Coora bitterly. "You have promised me before and
+nothing came of it." But even while she spoke the unkind parents were
+gone.
+
+Then Coora fell to weeping most sorely, for she knew that she could not
+trust the word of her father and mother; and that is a most terrible
+thing. At last she rose and wiped away the tears and looked about the
+little cottage where she had been patient through so many
+disappointments. And she said to herself, "I can bear it no longer. It
+is not right that I should be made to suffer like this when a little
+thing would make me so happy. I must see the rice field; I will go
+to-day."
+
+Coora tidied the cottage, putting everything in its place and making it
+look as beautiful as she could. Then she took up the little sister who
+had fallen asleep on the floor, and kissing her tenderly placed her in
+the hammock which swung from wall to wall of the hut. Lastly Coora took
+off the golden bracelets and earrings and the tinkling anklets which she
+wore like other little Malay girls, and left them in a shining heap
+behind the door. But she kept her necklace about her pretty little neck.
+
+Now Coora had learned a little magic from a witch, just enough magic to
+serve her turn. She went out and picked two palm leaves which she
+fastened on her shoulders and changed herself into a bird, a bright,
+beautiful Ground-Pigeon, with many-colored metallic feathers. But the
+necklace still made a band about her pretty little neck, as you may see
+on every Ground-Pigeon to this day.
+
+Coora the Ground-Pigeon fluttered away through the forest until she came
+to the rice plantation where her parents were at work. She alighted on a
+dead tree close by them and called out, "Mother, O Mother! I have left
+my earrings and bracelets behind the door and have put my little sister
+in the hammock."
+
+Astonished at these words her mother looked up, but saw no one, only a
+Ground-Pigeon perched on the tree over her head. "Father," she cried to
+her husband who was at work beside her, "did you not hear Coora's voice
+just now?"
+
+"Yes, I thought so," answered the father angrily. "The wicked girl must
+have disobeyed me and have followed us here after all. I will punish her
+if this is so." They called to her, "Coora, Coora!" until the forest
+reechoed. But no one appeared or answered.
+
+"I will go home and see if she is there," said the mother. "Either I
+heard Coora speak or there is some magic in the forest." And she
+hastened back to the cottage. There she found the baby in the hammock
+and the bracelets and earrings in a shining heap behind the door, as the
+voice had said, but there was no Coora anywhere. Surprised and anxious,
+once more the mother ran back to the plantation.
+
+"Coora is gone, husband!" she cried. "It must have been her own voice
+which we heard just now. Hark! She speaks again!"
+
+Again from the tree they heard a sweet voice calling, "Mother, O Mother,
+I have left my earrings and bracelets behind the door and my little
+sister in the hammock. Good-by, Coo-o-o-ra!" As she spoke her own name
+Coora's voice warbled and crooned into the soft _coo_ of a
+Ground-Pigeon's note, and her parents glancing up saw that this bird
+must be their child, their Coora, magically changed.
+
+"Let us cut down the tree and catch the wicked girl!" cried the father.
+And seizing his axe he chopped away lustily until the tree fell with a
+crash. But even at that moment the Pigeon fluttered away to another
+tree, crooning again the soft syllables which she has spoken ever since,
+"Coo-ra, coo-ra, coo!"
+
+From tree to tree about the rice plantation the distracted parents
+pursued the Pigeon; but it was in vain to try to capture her. Ever she
+escaped them when they seemed about to lay hands upon her soft feathers.
+After following her flight for many miles they were obliged to return
+home, sad and sorry and repentant. For they knew now that it was their
+own unkindness and their broken promises which had driven their daughter
+away from the cottage, never to return.
+
+The beautiful Ground-Pigeon still lingers near the rice plantations
+which she had so longed to visit. Still she plaintively calls her name,
+and still she wears the necklace about her pretty little neck. And the
+little Malay maidens love her very dearly because she was once a girl
+like them.
+
+
+
+
+SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE
+
+
+The Crocodile is one of the hungriest bodies that ever lived. When he is
+looking for a dinner he will eat almost anything that comes within
+reach. Sometimes the greedy fellow swallows great stones and chunks of
+wood, in his hurry mistaking them for something more digestible. And
+when he is smacking his great jaws over his food he makes such a greedy,
+terrible noise that the other animals steal away nervously and hide
+until it shall be Master Crocodile's sleepy-time. He is too lazy to
+waddle in search of a dinner far from the river where he lives. But any
+animal or even a man-swimmer had best be careful how he ventures into
+the water near the Crocodile's haunts. For what seems to be a
+greenish-brown, knobby log of wood floating on the water, has little
+bright eyes which are on the lookout for anything which moves. And below
+the water two great jaws are ready to open and swallow in the prey of
+Mr. Hungry-Mouth.
+
+But no matter how hungry the Crocodile may be, he will not touch the
+Hen, even if she should venture into his very jaws; at least, that is
+what the Black Men of the Congo River will tell you. And surely, as they
+are the nearest neighbors of the big reptile they ought to know if any
+one does. Now this is the story which they tell to explain why the
+Crocodile will not eat the Hen.
+
+Once upon a time there was a Hen, a common, plump, clucky mother Hen,
+who used every day to go down to the river and pick up bits of food on
+the moist banks, where luscious insects were many. She did not know that
+this Congo River was the home of the Crocodile, the biggest, fiercest,
+scaliest, hungriest Crocodile in all Africa. But one day when she went
+down to the water as usual she hopped out onto what looked like a mossy
+log, saying to herself:--
+
+"Aha! This is a fine old timber-house. It is full of juicy bugs, I know.
+I shall have a great feast!"
+
+Tap-tap! Pick-pick! The Hen began to scratch and peck upon the rough
+bark of the log, but Oh dear me! suddenly she began to feel very
+seasick. The log was rolling over! The log was teetering up on end like
+a boat in a storm! And before she knew what was really happening the
+poor Hen found herself floundering in the water in the very jaws of the
+terrible Crocodile.
+
+"Ha, ha!" cried the Crocodile in his harsh voice. "You took me for a
+log, just as the other silly creatures do. But I am no log, Mrs. Hen, as
+you shall soon see. I am Hungry Crocodile, and you will make the fifth
+dinner which I have had this evening."
+
+The Hen was frightened almost to death, but she kept her presence of
+mind and gasped frantically as she saw the great jaws opening to swallow
+her:--
+
+"O _Brother_, don't!"
+
+Now the Crocodile was so surprised at hearing the Hen call him Brother
+that he kept his jaws wide open and forgot to swallow his dinner. He
+kept them open for some time, gaping foolishly, wondering what the Hen
+could mean, and how he could possibly be her brother. And by the time he
+had remembered how hungry he was, there was nothing for him to eat. For
+the Hen had skipped away just as fast as her feet would take her.
+
+"Pouf!" snorted the Crocodile. "Her brother, indeed! I am not her
+brother, and she knows it very well. What a fool I was to be caught by
+such a word! Just wait till I catch her again and we will see. I will
+_brother_ her!" And he swam sulkily away to hide his mortification in
+the Congo mud, with only the end of his long nose poking out as a
+ventilator for his breathing.
+
+Now, though the Hen had had so narrow an escape, it had not sufficiently
+taught her a lesson. A few days afterwards once more she went down to
+the river, for she could not resist the temptation of the bug-dinner
+which she knew she should find there. But she kept her eyes open sharply
+for any greeny log which might be floating on the water, saying to
+herself, "Old Hungry-Mouth shall not catch me napping this time. I know
+his wicked tricks!"
+
+But this time the Crocodile was not floating on the water like a greeny
+log. He was lying still as still, sunning himself on the river bank
+behind some tall reeds. Mrs. Hen came trotting down to the water, a
+plump and tempting sight, cocking her head knowingly on one side as she
+spied a real log floating out beyond, which she took to be her enemy.
+And as she scratched in the soft mud, chuckling to think how sly she
+was, with a rush and a rustle down pounced the Crocodile upon her, and
+once more, before she knew it, she found herself in the horrid gateway
+of his jaws, threatened by the double rows of long, white teeth.
+
+[Illustration: "_O Brother, don't!_"]
+
+"Oho!" snapped the Crocodile. "You shall not escape me this time. I
+am a log, am I? Look at me again, Mrs. Hen. Am I a log?" And he came at
+her to swallow her at once.
+
+But again the Hen squawked, "O _Brother_, don't!"
+
+Again the Crocodile paused, thunderstruck by this extraordinary word.
+"Oh, bother the Hen!" he cried, "what can she mean, really? How can I be
+her brother? She lives in a town on the land, and I live in my kingdom
+of mud and water. How could two creatures possibly be more unlike?
+How"--but while he had been thinking of these hows, once more the Hen
+had managed to escape, and was pelting back to her barnyard as fast as
+she could go.
+
+Then indeed the Crocodile was angry. He determined to go and see Nzambi,
+the wise witch princess, about the matter. She would tell him what it
+all meant. But it was a long journey to her palace and he was awkward
+and slow in traveling upon land. Before he had gone very far he was
+tired and out of breath, and stopped to rest under a banana tree.
+
+As he lay panting in the shade he saw his friend Mbambi, the great
+Lizard, hurrying past through the jungle.
+
+"Oh, Mbambi!" cried old Hungry-Mouth, "stop a moment. I want to speak
+with you. I am in great trouble."
+
+So the Lizard drew near, wagging her head wisely, for it pleased her to
+be consulted by the big Crocodile. "What can it be, dear friend, that is
+troubling you this day?" she said amiably. "Surely, no one would be so
+rude or rash as to offend the King of Congo River. But tell me your
+trouble and perhaps I can advise you."
+
+"Listen to me, then," said the Crocodile. "Almost every day a nice fat
+Hen,--Oh, Mbambi! so delightfully fat and tempting!--comes to my river
+to feed. Well, why don't I make her my dinner? you ask. Now hearken:
+each time, just as I am about to catch her and carry her to my home she
+startles me by calling me '_Brother_.' Did you ever hear of anything so
+maddening? Twice I have let her escape because of the word. But I can
+stand it no longer, and I am on the way to Princess Nzambi to hold a
+palaver about it." (By "palaver" the slangy Crocodile meant a long,
+serious talk.)
+
+"Silly idiot!" cried the Mbambi, not very politely. "Do nothing of the
+kind. You will only get the worst of the palaver and show your ignorance
+before the wise Nzambi. Now listen to me. Don't you know, dear
+Crocodile, that the Duck lives on the water, though she is neither a
+fish nor a reptile? And the Duck lays eggs. The Turtle does the same,
+though she is no bird. The Hen lays eggs, just as I do; and I am Mbambi,
+the great Lizard. As for you, dear old Hungry-Mouth, you know that at
+this moment"--here she whispered discreetly, looking around to see that
+no one was listening,--"at this moment in a snug nest dug out of the
+sand on the banks of the Congo, Mrs. Crocodile has covered with leaves
+to hide them from your enemies sixty smooth white eggs. And in a few
+weeks out of these will scamper sixty little wiggly Crocodiles, your
+dear, homely, scaly, hungry-mouthed children. Yes, we all lay eggs, my
+silly friend, and so in a sense we are all brothers, as the Hen has
+said."
+
+"Sh!" whispered the Crocodile, nervously. "Don't mention those eggs of
+mine, I beg of you. Some one might overhear. What you say is undoubtedly
+true," he added pensively, after thinking a few moments. "Then I suppose
+I must give up my tempting dinner of Hen. I cannot eat my Sister, can
+I?"
+
+"Of course you cannot," said the Mbambi, as he rustled away through the
+jungle. "We can't have everything we want in this world."
+
+"No, I see we cannot," sighed the Crocodile, as he waddled back towards
+the banks of the Congo. Now in the same old spot he found the Hen, who
+had been improving his absence by greedily stuffing herself on
+beetle-bugs, flies, and mosquitoes until she was so fat that she could
+not run away at the Crocodile's approach. She could only stand and
+squawk feebly, fluttering her ridiculous wings.
+
+But the Crocodile only said, "Good evening, Sister," very politely, and
+passing her by with a wag of his enormous tail sank with a plop into the
+waters of the Congo.
+
+And ever since that time the Hen has eaten her dinner in tranquil peace,
+undisturbed by the sight of floating log or basking shape of knobby
+green. For she knows that old Hungry-Mouth will not eat his Sister, the
+Hen.
+
+
+
+
+THE THRUSH AND THE CUCKOO
+
+
+In the wonderful days of old it is said that Christ and Saint Peter went
+together upon a journey. It was a beautiful day in March, and the earth
+was just beginning to put on her summer gorgeousness. As the two
+travelers were passing near a great forest they spied a Thrush sitting
+on a tree singing and singing as hard as he could. And he cocked his
+head as if he was very proud of something.
+
+Saint Peter stopped at the foot of the tree and said, "I wish you a good
+day, Thrush!"
+
+"I have no time to thank you," chirped the Thrush pertly.
+
+"Why not, pretty Thrush?" asked Saint Peter in surprise. "You have all
+the time in the world and nothing to do but sing."
+
+"You mistake," cried the Thrush. "I am making the summer! It is I, I, I
+who make the green grass grow and the flowers bud. Look, how even now
+the world is growing beautiful in answer to my song." And the conceited
+little bird continued to warble as hard as he could,--
+
+    "To-day I shall marry, I and no other!
+    To-morrow my brother."
+
+Christ and Saint Peter looked at each other and smiled, then went upon
+their way without another word, leaving the Thrush to continue his task
+of making the summer.
+
+This was in the morning. But before midday the clouds gathered and the
+sky darkened, and at noon a cold rain began to drip. The poor Thrush
+ceased his jubilant song and began to shiver in the March wind. By night
+the snow was felling thick and fast, and where there had been a green
+carpet on the earth was now spread a coverlet of snowy white. Shivering
+and like to die of cold the Thrush took refuge under the tree in the
+moss and dead leaves. He thought no more of his marriage, nor of his
+brother's, but only of the danger which threatened him, and of the
+discomfort.
+
+The next morning Christ and Saint Peter, plodding through the
+snow-drifts, came upon him again, and Saint Peter said as before, "I
+wish you good day, Thrush."
+
+"Thank you," answered the Thrush humbly, and his voice was shaky with
+cold and sorrow.
+
+"What do you here on the cold ground, O Thrush-who-make-the-summer, and
+why are you so sad?" asked Saint Peter. And the Thrush piped feebly,--
+
+    "To-day I must die, I and no other!
+    To-morrow my brother."
+
+"O foolish little bird," said Saint Peter. "You boasted that you made
+the summer. But see! The Lord's will has sent us back to the middle of
+winter, to punish your boasting. You shall not die, he will send the sun
+again to warm you. But hereafter beware how you take too much credit for
+your little efforts."
+
+Since that time March has ever been a treacherous and a changeful month.
+Then the Thrush thinks not of marriage, but of his lesson learned in
+past days, and wraps himself in his warmest feathers, waiting for the
+Lord's will to be done. He is no longer boastful in his song, but sings
+it humbly and sweetly to the Lord's glory, thanking him for the summer
+which his goodness sends every year to happy bird and beast and child of
+man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now after this adventure with the Thrush, Christ and Saint Peter went
+upon their journey for many miles. At last, weary and hungry, they
+passed a Baker's shop. From the window came the smell of new warm bread
+baking in the oven, and Christ sent Saint Peter to ask the Baker for a
+loaf. But the Baker, who was a stingy fellow, refused.
+
+"Go away with you!" he cried. "I give no bread to lazy beggars!"
+
+"I ask it for my Master, who has traveled many miles and is most faint
+and weary," said Saint Peter. But the Baker frowned and shook his head,
+then strode into the inner shop, banging the door after him.
+
+The Baker's wife and six daughters were standing at one side when these
+things happened, and they heard all that took place. They were generous
+and kind-hearted bodies, and tears stood in their eyes at the Baker's
+rough words. As soon as he had gone out they wrapped up the loaf and
+gave it stealthily to Saint Peter saying,--
+
+"Take the loaf for your Master, good man, and may he be refreshed by
+it."
+
+Saint Peter thanked and blessed them and took the loaf to Christ. And
+for their charity the Lord set these good women in the sky as the Seven
+Stars,--you may see them to this day shining in love upon the sleeping
+world. But the wicked Baker he changed into a Cuckoo; and as long as he
+sings his dreary song, "Coo-coo! Coo-coo!" in the spring, so long the
+Seven Stars are visible in the heaven, so folk say.
+
+
+
+
+THE OWL AND THE MOON
+
+
+When the moon is round and full, if you look very carefully at the
+golden disk you can see in shadowy outline the profile of a beautiful
+lady. She is leaning forward as if looking down upon our earth, and
+there is a little smile upon her sweet lips. This fair dame is Putri
+Balan, the Princess of the Moon, and she smiles because she remembers
+how once upon a time she cheated old Mr. Owl, her tiresome lover.
+
+Putri Balan, so they tell you in Malay, was always very, very beautiful,
+as we see her now. Like all the Malay women, Putri Balan loved to chew
+the spicy betel-nut which turns one's lips a bright scarlet. It is
+better, so they say, than any kind of candy, and it is considered much
+nicer and more respectable than chewing-gum. So Putri Balan was not
+unladylike, although she chewed her betel-nut all night long.
+
+Now, ever since the day when Mr. Owl carelessly let the naughty little
+Wren escape from prison, the shamed and sorry old fellow had never
+dared to show his face abroad in daylight. Gradually his eyes grew
+blurred and blinky, till now he could not see anything by day, even if
+he were to try.
+
+So it happens that there are many delightful things about which old Mr.
+Owl does not know,--things which take place while the beautiful sun is
+shining. But also there are marvelous sights, unknown to early-sleeping
+birds, which he enjoys all by himself. For at night his queer eyes are
+wonderfully strong and bright. All day long he sits in his hollow tree,
+but when the other feathered folk are drowsing upon their roosts, or are
+snugly rolled up in their little nests, with their heads tucked under
+their downy wings, old Mr. Owl puts on his round spectacles and goes
+a-prowling up and down the world through the woods and meadows (like
+Haroun-al-Rashid in the streets of Bagdad), spying all sorts of queer
+doings.
+
+And this is how old Mr. Owl happened to see the fair Princess Putri
+Balan, smiling down from her moon upon the sleeping world of birds who
+had never seen her and never would see her in all her loveliness.
+
+How beautiful she was! How bright and wonderful! Old Mr. Owl stared up
+in wide-eyed astonishment, and then and there fell in love with her,
+and resolved to ask her to be his wife.
+
+Cramming on his spectacles more tightly and ruffling the feathers about
+his neck, he flew up and up and up, as high as ever he dared to go,
+until he was within hailing distance of the moon. Then he called out in
+his softest tones,--which were harsh enough to any ears,--
+
+"O fair Moon-Maiden, O beautiful Princess, will you marry me? For I love
+you very dearly."
+
+The Princess Putri Balan stopped chewing her betel-nut for a moment and
+looked down to see what daring creature might thus be addressing her.
+Soon she spied Mr. Owl with his goggle-eyes looking up at her adoringly.
+He was such a ridiculous old creature, and his spectacles glinted so
+queerly in the moonlight, that Putri Balan began to laugh and answered
+him not at all. She laughed so hard that she almost swallowed her
+betel-nut, which might have been a serious matter.
+
+Mr. Owl continued to stare, for he saw nothing funny in the situation.
+Again he repeated in his hoarse voice, "O fair Moon-Maiden, O beautiful
+Princess, will you marry me? For I love you very dearly."
+
+Again the Princess laughed, for she thought it a tremendous joke; and
+again she nearly choked. Mr. Owl waited, but she made him no other
+answer. However, he was a persistent lover. All night long he went on
+asking the same question, over and over again, until the Princess Putri
+Balan was quite worn out trying not to choke with laughter while she
+chewed the betel-nut. At last she said impatiently,--
+
+"O Mr. Goggle-Eyes! Do give me a moment's peace! You make me laugh so
+that I cannot chew my betel-nut. Yes, I will say _yes_, if you will only
+leave me to finish my betel-nut undisturbed. I will marry you. But you
+must go away until I have quite done."
+
+Then Mr. Owl was filled with joy. "Thanks, thanks, O most gracious
+lady!" he said. "I will go away and leave you to finish your betel-nut
+undisturbed. But I shall come again to-morrow night, and by that time
+you will have done with it, and then you will be mine!"
+
+Mr. Owl flew back to his home in the hollow tree, for it was almost
+morning, and already he was growing so blind that he could hardly find
+the way. But the Princess Putri Balan went on chewing the betel-nut, and
+to herself she said,--
+
+[Illustration: _Putri Balan began to laugh_]
+
+"How am I to rid myself of this bore? I cannot chew this little
+betel-nut forever; there must be an end to it before long. Mr. Owl
+will certainly come again to-morrow night, and then, according to my
+promise, I must become his wife. I cannot marry old Goggle-Eyes. Oh
+dear! What shall I do?"
+
+As she chewed her betel-nut the Princess Putri Balan hit upon a plan.
+She would manage to cheat old Mr. Owl after all. She would never finish
+the betel-nut! She took the little bit that remained,--and it was a
+dangerously little bit, for the Princess had been chewing all night
+long, except when she was laughing,--and reaching out from the moon she
+tossed it down, down, down upon the earth. At the same time she said a
+magic moon-charm: and when the bit of betel-nut reached the earth, it
+became a little bird,--the same which the Malay people call the Honey
+Bird, with brilliant, beautiful plumage. And the Princess Putri Balan
+cried out to it from her golden house,--
+
+"Fly away, pretty little bright bird! Fly as far and as fast as ever you
+can, and keep out of Mr. Owl's way. For it is you who must save me from
+becoming his unhappy wife."
+
+So the Honey Bird flew away, a brilliant streak, through the Malay
+woods, and hid himself in a little nest.
+
+When night came out stole Mr. Owl, with his spectacles in place, and up
+he flew to his Princess, whom he now hoped to call his very own.
+
+"Good evening, my beautiful Princess!" he cried. "Have you finished your
+betel-nut at last, and are you ready to keep your promise?"
+
+But the Princess Putri Balan looked down at him, pretending to be sad,
+though there was a twinkle in her beautiful eye; and she said,--
+
+"Alas! Mr. Owl, a dreadful thing has happened. I lost my betel-nut,
+before it was quite finished. It fell down, down, down, until I think it
+reached the earth. And I cannot marry you, according to my promise,
+until it is finished."
+
+"Then it must be found!" cried Mr. Owl. "I will find it. My eyes are
+sharp at night and nothing escapes them. Shine kindly on me, Princess,
+and I will find the betel-nut for you, and you shall yet be mine."
+
+"Go then, Mr. Owl," said the Princess, smiling to herself. "Go and look
+for the betel-nut which I must finish before I marry you. Search
+carefully and you may find it soon."
+
+Poor Mr. Owl searched carefully, but he could not find the bit of
+betel-nut. Of course he could not find it, when it had changed and flown
+away as a beautiful, many-colored bird! All that night he sought, till
+the sun sent him blinking to his tree. And all the next night he
+sought, and the next, and the next. And he kept on seeking for days and
+months and years, while the Princess Putri Balan smiled down upon him
+and was happy at heart because of her clever scheme.
+
+Old Mr. Owl never found out the trick, nor suspected the innocent little
+Honey Bird, whom indeed he scarcely ever saw, because it was a
+sunset-sleeping bird, while he was a wistful, lonely, sad night-prowler.
+Up and down, up and down the world he goes, still looking for the
+betel-nut of the Princess Putri Balan, which he will never find. And as
+he flies in the moonlight he glances ever longingly at the beautiful
+lady in the moon, and sobs "Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!" in grief and despair. For
+after all these centuries he begins to fear that she will never be his
+wife.
+
+
+
+
+THE TUFTED CAP
+
+
+One dark night Master Owl left his hollow tree and went prowling about
+the world as usual upon his hopeless hunt for the Princess's betel-nut.
+As soon as he was out of hearing a long, lean, hungry Rat crept to the
+house and stole the dainties which the lonely old bachelor had stored
+away for the morrow's dinner. The thief dragged them away to his own
+hole and had a splendid feast with his wife and little ones. But the Owl
+returned sooner than the Rat had expected, and by the crumbs which he
+had dropped upon the way tracked him to the hole.
+
+"Come out, thief!" cried the Owl, "or I will surely kill you. Come out
+and return to me my morrow's dinner." The Rat trembled with fear at
+these threatening words.
+
+"Alas!" he squeaked, "I cannot do that, for already the dinner is eaten.
+My wife and hungry little ones have eaten it. Pity us, for we were
+starving!"
+
+"Bah!" screamed the Owl, "I care little for that. It is for my dinner
+alone that I care. Since you have eaten it you shall certainly die," and
+he began to scratch fiercely at the mouth of the hole. The Rat trembled
+more than ever. But suddenly he had an idea which made his whiskers
+twitch.
+
+"Hold!" he cried. "Dear, good Master Owl, permit me to live and I will
+give you something which is worth many dinners, something that
+men-creatures value very highly, and which with great labor and pain I
+brought away from one of their dens."
+
+"Umph!" grumbled the Owl. "Let us see what it is."
+
+The Rat crawled timidly out of his hole with the peace-offering; and
+what do you think it was? Why, a gimlet! Just a plain, ordinary,
+well-sharpened gimlet for boring holes.
+
+"Hoo!" cried the Owl. "I don't think much of _that_. What is it good
+for?" Now the Rat had not the faintest idea as to what the gimlet really
+was, but he had another idea instead.
+
+"That? Why--that--oh, _that_! That is a very valuable thing. It is able
+to give you the keenest delight. I will show you how it works. But you
+must do just as I say, or it will be of no use."
+
+"Hoo!" cried the Owl. "Continue with the directions."
+
+"Well, first you must stick the thing point upwards in the ground at the
+foot of this tree."
+
+"Very good," said the Owl, doing as was suggested, and waiting
+expectantly for the next move.
+
+"Now you must mount to the top of the tree and slide down the trunk,"
+said the Rat solemnly. Old Master Owl was certainly very far from wise
+that night, for he obeyed the Rat's word without a suspicion. He flew to
+the top of the tree, and then, sitting back and giving a warning cry of
+"Hoo-hoo!" coasted down the trunk with the speed of lightning. But
+midway down he struck a knot in the tree and rolled heels over head. And
+when he reached the ground of course he landed fast upon the sharp point
+of the gimlet, just as the Rat had planned.
+
+With bloody head, and hooting with pain, the Owl started off in pursuit
+of the Rat, resolved this time to kill him without fail. The Rat was
+nimble, and his fear added to his speed, but at last the Owl caught him.
+Ruffled and ferocious, the great bird was about to tear him in pieces,
+when the Rat once more begged his life.
+
+"It was only a joke," he cried. "Only a silly joke. Spare me this once,
+dear Master Owl, and I will give you something that you really need.
+Look at your bleeding head. You cannot go about the world with that
+exposed. Spare my life, and I will give you a lovely cap of tufted
+feathers to hide the bite of the wicked sharp-thing-made-by-man. Pray,
+let me go, dear Master Owl."
+
+The Owl considered for a moment, and then decided to accept the bargain.
+For he thought of Putri Balan, the Princess of the Moon, and knew that
+he should lose his last chance to win her if she happened to see him
+with this ridiculous wound in his head.
+
+So the Rat gave him a nice cap of tufted feathers, which he wears to
+this day; and the Owl let the thief go free. But after that there was a
+coolness between them, as you may well imagine.
+
+
+
+
+THE GOOD HUNTER
+
+
+Once upon a time there was an Indian who was a famous hunter. But he did
+not hunt for fun; he took no pleasure in killing the little wild
+creatures, birds and beasts and fishes, and did so only when it was
+necessary for him to have food or skins for his clothing. He was a very
+kind and generous man, and loved all the wood-creatures dearly, often
+feeding them from his own larder, and protecting them from their
+enemies. So the animals and birds loved him as their best friend, and he
+was known as the Good Hunter.
+
+The Good Hunter was very brave, and often went to war with the fierce
+savages who were the enemies of his tribe. One sad day he set forth with
+a war party, and they had a terrible battle, in which the Good Hunter
+was slain, and his enemies took away his scalp, leaving him lying dead
+in the forest.
+
+The Good Hunter had not remained long cold and lifeless in the shadowy
+stillness, when the Fox came trotting through the woods. "Alack and
+alas!" cried the Fox, spying the body stretched on the leaves. "Here is
+our dear friend, the Good Hunter, slain! Alack and alas! what shall we
+do now that our dear friend and protector is gone?"
+
+The Fox ran out into the forest crying the death lament, which was the
+signal to all the beasts that something most sorrowful had happened.
+Soon they came flocking to the spot, all the animals of the forest. By
+hundreds they came, and surrounding the body of their friend raised the
+most doleful howls. For, though they rubbed him with their warm noses,
+and licked him with their warm tongues, and nestled against him with
+their warm fur, they could not bring him back to warm life.
+
+They called upon Brother Bear to speak and tell them what to do; for he
+was the nearest relative to man. The Bear sat up on his haunches and
+spoke to the sad assembly with tears in his eyes, begging each animal to
+look carefully through his medicine-box and see whether there might not
+be some balm which would restore the Good Hunter to life. Then each
+animal looked carefully through his medicine-box of herbs and healing
+roots, bark and magic leaves, and they tried every remedy that they
+knew. But nothing brought the color to their friend's pale cheeks, nor
+light into his eyes. He who had helped them so often was helpless now,
+and they could not aid him. Again the kind beasts sank back on their
+haunches and raised a mighty howl, a requiem for the dead.
+
+Wild and piercing and long-drawn, the sound swept through the forest,
+such a sound of sorrow as had never been heard before. The Oriole, who
+was flying overhead, heard and was surprised. Soon his brightness came
+flashing down through the leafy boughs like a ray of sunlight into the
+gloom and darkness of the forest.
+
+"What has happened, O four-footed friends," he asked, "that you mourn so
+mightily?" Then they showed him the body of the Good Hunter lying in the
+midst of their sad company, and the Oriole joined his voice of sorrow to
+theirs.
+
+"O friend of the birds," he cried, "is there no bird who can aid you
+now, you who have fed us so many times from the door of your generous
+wigwam? I will call all the feathered tribes, and we will do our best."
+
+So the Oriole went forth and summoned the birds to the forest council.
+There was a great flapping of wings, a great twittering and chirping,
+questioning and exclamation when the birds assembled to hear the sad
+news. Every one was there, from the tiny Humming Bird to the great
+Eagle of the Iroquois, who left his lonely eyrie to pay his respects to
+the Good Hunter's memory. The poor little birds tried everything in
+their power to bring back to life their dear friend. With beak and claw
+and tender wing they strove, but all their efforts were in vain. Their
+Good Hunter was dead, and his scalp was gone.
+
+Then the great Eagle, whose head was white with years of wisdom and
+experience, spoke to the despairing assemblage of creatures. From his
+lofty perch above the world the Eagle had looked down upon centuries of
+change and decay. He knew every force of nature and all the strange
+things of life. The hoary-headed sage said that the Good Hunter could
+not be restored until his scalp was found. Then all the animals clamored
+that they might be allowed to go and seek for the missing scalp. But to
+the Fox was given this honor, because he had first found the body of the
+Good Hunter in the forest. The Fox set out upon his search, in his foxy
+way. He visited every hen-roost and every bird's-nest, but no scalp did
+he find. "Of course not!" screamed the birds when he returned from his
+fruitless quest, "Of course no bird has taken the Good Hunter's scalp.
+You should have known better than that, Master Fox."
+
+So the next time a bird was sent upon the search. The Pigeon Hawk went
+forth, confident that she should be successful. But she was in such a
+hurry and flew so fast that she saw nothing, and she too returned
+without that for which she sought. Then the White Heron begged that he
+might be allowed to try. "For," said he, "you all know how slowly I fly,
+and how careful I am to see everything."
+
+"Yes, especially if it be something good to eat," chirped the saucy Jay,
+"do not trust him, birds, he is too greedy."
+
+Yet the Heron was allowed to go. He flapped away, slowly and sedately,
+and the Council sat down to await his return. But the Heron had not gone
+far when he came to a field of luscious wild beans; and he stopped to
+take a mouthful or two. He ate, and he ate, and he ate, the greedy
+fellow! until he could eat no more. And then he was sleepy, so that he
+slept and slept and slept. And when he awoke he was so hungry that he
+fell to eating again, while the Council waited and wondered and waited.
+At last they grew impatient and began to suspect that the Jay had been
+right, which was indeed the case. They decided to wait no longer for the
+Heron, who did not return. Then the Crow stepped forward and said, "Let
+me go, I pray you, for I think I know where the scalp may be found; not
+in the nest of a bird, not in the den of any animal, not in the watery
+haunt of a fish. For all the creatures of earth, air, and water are
+friends of the Good Hunter. It is men who are most cruel to men:
+therefore in the tents of men must we look for the missing scalp. Let me
+go to seek it there, for men are used to see me flying near and will not
+suspect why I come."
+
+The Crow flew forth upon his errand, and before long came to the wigwam
+where lived the warrior who had slain the Good Hunter. And sure enough,
+there, outside the tent, was the scalp of the Good Hunter, stretched on
+a pole to dry. The Crow flew near, and the warrior saw him, but thought
+nothing of it, for he was used to seeing crows about the camp. Presently
+when no one was looking the skillful thief managed to steal the scalp,
+and away he flew with it to the Council in the forest. Great was the
+rejoicing of the birds and beasts when they saw that the Crow had been
+successful, and they said more kind things to him than he had heard for
+many moons. At once they put the scalp upon the Good Hunter's head, but
+it had grown so dry in the smoke of the warrior's wigwam that it would
+not fit. Here was a new trouble. What was to be done to make the scalp
+soft and flexible once more? The animals did their best, but their
+efforts were of no avail.
+
+Once more the great Eagle came forward and bade them listen.
+
+"My children," he said, "my wings are never furled. Night and day for
+hundreds of years the dews of heaven have been collecting upon my back
+as I sit on my throne above the clouds. Perhaps this dew may have a
+healing power such as no earthly fountain holds. We will see."
+
+Gravely the Eagle plucked a long feather, and dipping it in the dew
+which moistened his plumage, applied it to the stiffened scalp.
+Immediately it became soft, and could be fitted to the head of the Good
+Hunter closely as when it had first grown there. The birds and animals
+hurried away and brought leaves and flowers, bark and berries and roots,
+which they made into a mighty healing balsam to bathe the poor head
+which had been so cruelly treated. And presently great was their joy to
+see a soft color come into the pale cheeks of the Good Hunter, and light
+into his eyes. He breathed, he stirred, he sat up and looked around him
+in surprise.
+
+"Where am I? What has happened?" he asked.
+
+"You slept and your friends have wakened you," said the great Eagle
+tenderly. "Stand up, Good Hunter, that they may see you walk once more."
+
+The Good Hunter stood up and walked, rather unsteadily at first, back to
+his own wigwam, followed by a great company of happy forest creatures,
+who made the sky ring with their noises of rejoicing. And long, long
+after that, the Good Hunter lived to love and protect them.
+
+
+
+
+THE COURTSHIP OF MR. STORK AND MISS HERON
+
+
+This is a very good story to read at night just before going to sleep.
+And if you ask why, I must only tell you that you will find out before
+you reach the end of the tale.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was once a Heron, a pretty, long-legged, slender lady Heron, who
+lived in the mushy-squshy, wady-shady swamp. The lady Heron lived in her
+swamp all alone, earning her living by catching little fish; and she was
+very happy, never dreaming that she was lonesome, for no one had told
+her what lonesome was. She loved to go wading in the cool waters; she
+loved to catch the little fish who swam by unsuspectingly while she
+stood still upon one leg pretending to think about something a thousand
+miles away. And she loved to look at her slender, long-legged blue
+reflection in the water; for the lady Heron was just a little bit vain.
+
+Now one day Mr. Stork came flying over the mushy-squshy, wady-shady
+swamp where the Heron lived, and he too saw the reflection in the water.
+And he said to himself, "My! How pretty she is! I wonder I never noticed
+her before. And how lonesome she must be there all by herself in such a
+nasty, moist, mushy-squshy old swamp! I will invite her to come and
+share my nice, warm, dry nest on the chimney-top. For to tell the truth,
+I am growing lonely up there all by myself. Why should we not make a
+match of it, we two long-legged creatures?"
+
+Mr. Stork went home to his house, which he set prettily in order: for he
+never dreamed but that the lady Heron would accept his offer at the very
+first croak. He preened his feathers and made himself as lovely as he
+could, and forthwith off he flew with his long legs dangling, straight
+to the wady-shady swamp where Miss Heron was standing on one leg waiting
+for her supper to get itself caught.
+
+"Ahem!" croaked Mr. Stork, waving his wing politely. "Good evening, Miss
+Heron. Fine weather we are having, eh? But how horribly moist it is down
+here! I should think that your nice straight legs would grow crooked
+with rheumatism. Now I have a comfortable, dry house on the roof."
+
+"Pouf!" grunted Miss Heron disdainfully.
+
+But Mr. Stork pretended not to hear, and went on with his remarks,--"a
+nice dry house which I should be glad to have you share with me. Come,
+Miss Heron! Here I am a lonely old bachelor, and here are you a lonely
+old maid"--
+
+"Lonely old maid, indeed!" screamed the Heron interrupting him. "I don't
+know what it is to be lonely. Go along with you!" and she splashed water
+on him with her wings, she was so indignant.
+
+Poor Mr. Stork felt very crestfallen at this reception of his
+well-meaning invitation. He turned about and stalked away towards his
+nest upon the roof, without so much as saying good-by to the lady.
+
+But no sooner was he out of sight than Miss Heron began to think. He had
+said that she was lonely; was she lonely? Well, perhaps he ought to know
+better than she, for he was a very wise bird. Perhaps she was lonely,
+now that she came to think of it. However, there was no reason why she
+should go to live in that stupid, dry, old nest on the house-top. Why
+could he not come to dwell in her lovely, mushy-squshy, wady-shady
+swamp? That would be very pleasant, for he was a good sort of fellow
+with nice long legs; and there were fish enough in the water for two.
+Besides, he could then do the fishing for the family; and, moreover,
+there would then be two to admire her reflection in the water. Yes; her
+mind was made up. She would invite him. She glanced down at her
+reflection and settled some of the feathers which her fit of temper had
+ruffled out of order. Then off she started in pursuit of Mr. Stork.
+
+Mr. Stork had not gone very far, for a sad, rejected lover is a dawdling
+creature. And so she came up with him long before he was in sight of his
+nest.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Stork," said the lady nervously. "I--I have been
+thinking over what you said to me just now, and I have concluded that
+perhaps I was a bit hasty. To tell you the truth, sir, I _am_ a trifle
+lonely, now that you suggest the thought to me. And it would be very
+agreeable to have pleasant company. I am ready, sir, to agree to your
+proposal. But of course I cannot think of changing my abode. My swamp is
+the most beautiful home that a maiden ever knew, and I could not give it
+up for any one. As for your ugly old nest on the chimney-top, bah! I
+cannot endure the idea with patience."
+
+Mr. Stork was gradually stiffening into an angry attitude, but she did
+not notice. "Now you can come and live in my swamp," Miss Heron went on
+warmly, "and you will be very welcome to catch fish for me, and to look
+in my mirror. It will be very nice indeed!"
+
+"Nice!" croaked the Stork, "I should say as much! What can you be
+thinking of, Miss? I to give up my comfortable home on the house-top,
+close by the warm chimney, and go to live in that disgusting
+mushy-squshy bog of yours! Ha-ha! That is really too ridiculous! I bid
+you good morning." And with an elaborate bow he turned his back and flew
+away.
+
+Miss Heron flounced back to her swamp, mortified because she had left it
+to propose terms to so ungallant a fellow. But hardly had she begun her
+tardy supper when once more Mr. Stork's shadow darkened the mirror
+before her, and once more she heard his apologetic croak.
+
+"Ahem, ahem!" he began. "I hope I find you well, Miss Heron? I have
+been--ha hum!--considering your last most condescending words, and I
+find that I have been hasty. You are so good as to express a belief that
+I should make a pleasant companion. So I should! so I should! And as for
+you," he bowed gallantly, "one can readily imagine the charm of your
+society. Come, then, Miss Heron, why should we not make a happy couple,
+if we can only arrange this one little foolish matter? Be my wife: come
+live with me in my lovely nest."
+
+But at this word Miss Heron uttered a little scream and cried, "Be off
+with you, you villain! Leave my premises instantly!" and she waved her
+wings so fiercely that once more Mr. Stork took to his and flapped away
+to his home.
+
+Now when he had gone Miss Heron found that she had been bad-tempered,
+and she thought how pleasantly they might have arranged the matter if
+only she had been more moderate. So she spread her beautiful blue wings
+and flew to the housetop where Mr. Stork lived, and, perching on the
+chimney, she said,--
+
+"Oh, Mr. Stork, I was bad-tempered and impolite, and I beg your pardon.
+Let us be friends once more. Leave this hot old stupid house-top and
+come live in my cool, moist, wady-shady swamp, and I will be your very
+loving little wife."
+
+But the Stork arose in his nest, flapping his wings crossly, and cried,
+"Be off, you baggage! Don't come here to insult my beautiful house. Be
+off, I say, to your mushy-squshy, rheumaticky bog. I want no more of
+you!"
+
+So the Heron flew back disconsolately to the watery swamp, where she
+began to feel very lonely indeed. And the Stork, too, began to feel very
+lonely indeed; and he was sorry that he had been rude to a lady.
+Presently, once more he came flapping to the mushy-squshy marsh, where
+he found Miss Heron just ready to go to sleep.
+
+"Oh, dear Miss Heron!" he cried. "I made a great mistake, and said
+things for which I am truly sorry. Do come to be my loving wife, as you
+promised, and we will live happily ever after on the chimney-top, far
+above the other birds. And I will never be cross again."
+
+But the Heron answered, "Away with you! I want to go to sleep. I am
+tired of your croaking voice. Leave me alone!" So the Stork flew away in
+a huff.
+
+But the Heron could not sleep, she was so lonely. So she rose, and,
+flying through the still night air, came again to the Stork's high-built
+nest.
+
+"Come, Storkie dear," she said in her sweetest tone, "come home to your
+dear wife's house in the wady-shady, mushy-squshy marsh, and I will be
+good."
+
+But the Stork pretended to be asleep, and only snored in reply. So the
+Heron flew home in a huff. But the Stork could not truly sleep, he was
+so lonely. So he rose, and, flying through the still night air, came
+again to the Heron's home in the marsh.
+
+"Come, my dear," he said. "Come home to your dear husband's house, and I
+will be good."
+
+But the Heron made no answer, pretending to be asleep. So the Stork flew
+home in a huff. But the Heron could not truly sleep, she was so lonely.
+So she rose at break of day, and, flying through the cool morning air,
+came again to the Stork's nest.
+
+"Come, Storkie dear," she said, "come home to your dear wife's house,
+and I will be good."
+
+But the Stork did not answer, he was so angry. So the Heron flew home in
+a huff.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And if you are not asleep when you get as far as this, you may go on
+with the story by yourself, perfectly well. You may go on just as long
+as you can keep awake. For the tale has no end, no end at all. It is
+still going on to this very day. The Stork still lives lonely on his
+house-top, and the Heron still lives lonely in her marsh, growing
+lonelier and lonelier, both of them. But because they have no tact, they
+are never able to agree to the same thing at the same time. And they
+keep flying back and forth, saying the same things over, and over, and
+over, and over....
+
+
+
+
+THE PHOENIX
+
+
+On the top of a palm tree, in an oasis of the Arabian desert, sat the
+Phoenix, glowering moodily upon the world below. He was alone, quite
+alone, in his old age, as he had been alone in his youth, and in his
+middle years; for the Phoenix has neither mate nor children, and there
+is never but one of his kind upon the earth.
+
+Once he had been proud of his solitariness and of his unusual beauty,
+which caused such wonder when he went abroad. But now he was old and
+weak and weary, and he was lonely, oh! so lonely! He had lived too long,
+he thought.
+
+For years and years and years, afar and apart, he had watched the coming
+and going of things in the world. He had seen the other birds created,
+and had watched them undergo strange changes in form and color until
+they became as they are to-day. He had seen the hundred bright eyes of
+Argus, the watchman, set in the Peacock's tail. He had seen the flaming
+heart of the volcano tamed and quieted until it became the flaming
+little Humming-Bird. He had seen the Crow turn black and the Goldfinch
+become a gaudy bird, and he knew how and why all these things had come
+to pass. For centuries, how many he knew not, he had watched the birds
+hatch out of their little eggs, flutter their feeble little wings, fly
+away to build nests for their little mates, and finally die and
+disappear as birds do, leaving no trace behind.
+
+But the Phoenix did not die. He was of different clay from these
+ordinary feathered creatures. He was the glorious bird of the Sun, the
+only one, the gold-and-crimson one, who when he went abroad filled all
+creatures with awe of his beauty and wisdom and mystery, so that they
+dared not come near, but followed him afar off, hushing their song and
+adoring silently. The Phoenix fed not on flowers or fruit or
+disgusting insect-fry, but on precious frankincense and myrrh and
+odoriferous gums. And the Sun himself loved to caress his plumage of
+gold and crimson.
+
+As for men, they also had adored him in time past, and had built temples
+in his honor. They also were puny mortals, scarcely longer of life than
+the birds themselves. The Phoenix had seen many generations of men
+grow up, do good or evil deeds, and die, sometimes leaving grand
+monuments upon the earth, sometimes disappearing from knowledge like
+the very birds, leaving scarcely a trace behind.
+
+In his time great kings had lived and reigned and turned to dust.
+Prophets had grown hoary, said their word, and passed away, leaving no
+echo. Poets had sung and had died singing. But the Phoenix, looking
+down from the palms of his desert, saw it all and did not die.
+
+All this had been his pride and honor. How he had enjoyed his strength,
+his beauty, his wisdom, and the knowledge that he was honored and adored
+by thousands who had never even seen his glory! But now, now all was
+changed. He was grown old and tired. He felt his loneliness and he
+longed to die.
+
+His wings were feeble. Of late he had not dared to venture far from the
+desert. He dreaded the curious gaze of the other birds, who would find
+his beauty dimmed, and would scorn, perchance, the faded glory which
+they had once held in awe. For years he had not ventured within sight of
+men, and he knew that most of them had forgotten his existence, nay,
+even denied that he had ever lived. He feared that there might not be a
+single heart in all the world that thrilled to his name.
+
+Thinking thus mournfully, the Phoenix sat upon the top of the tallest
+palm. His plumage of crimson and gold glowed in the last rays of the
+setting sun. His head was drooping, and his eye lustreless. The joy of
+life was gone. Slowly the Sun sank towards the horizon, a red eye fixed
+upon the Phoenix steadily. Suddenly across the gray waste of sand
+dotted a beam of light, intensely bright. A single ray from that
+watchful Eye seemed to flame as it reached the palm tree and pierced to
+the very heart of the Phoenix. A thrill ran through his body. He drew
+himself together, and his eye gleamed with new lustre as he fixed it
+steadily upon the dazzling disk just touching the horizon. Dark stood
+the palm against the desert, but the Phoenix was bathed in sudden
+light. It was the signal, the signal for which he had been waiting,
+though he knew it not. The five hundred years were ended. The mystery of
+his life was about to be solved.
+
+As the sun sank below the horizon, eagerly the Phoenix set about the
+task which was before him. At last he might build the nest which till
+now he had never known. On the top of the highest palm he would build
+it, that it might receive from the blessed East the first beam of the
+morning sun. Marvelously strengthened for the task, back and forth to
+the ends of the earth his wings of crimson and gold bore the Phoenix
+that night. For this was to be no nest of sticks and straw. Of precious
+things must it be made, and well he knew where such were to be found. Of
+silky leaves and grass interwoven with splinters of sandal-wood were the
+walls. Then on the bottom of the nest he laid, bit by bit, a pile of
+sweet-smelling gums, cinnamon and spice, spikenard, myrrh, camphor,
+ambergris, and frankincense, with no meaner choice.
+
+All night he labored, beak and talon, until the nest was ready. And as
+the first tints of dawn began to streak the east, the Phoenix rose
+once, high into the air, gazing with wistful eyes over the world which
+he had loved; then, slowly sinking to the palm, he poised his gorgeous
+body upon the fragrant nest. With wings spread wide, and eyes fixed
+eagerly upon the spot where the Sun was sure to rise, he waited, waited.
+
+At last the golden Eye appeared. As on the night before, one radiant
+beam seemed to single out the lonely palm. One shaft of flame pierced to
+the nest whereon the Phoenix sat. It was the final signal to the Bird
+of the Sun. Immediately the great bird began to fan the sweet-smelling
+mass with his wings. The burning ray grew brighter,--a pungent,
+wonderful aroma of mingled fragrances filled the air. Gradually the Sun
+rose, great and glorious, and as it advanced into the heaven a thin
+cloud of smoke floated from the palm tree, and wound away across the
+desert towards the east. Faster and faster fanned the great wings of the
+Phoenix, until when the Sun shone full down through the palm tree top,
+the whole mass burst into flame, in the midst of which the Phoenix
+blended crimson and gold. High in the air rose the fire, diffusing
+abroad all the sweet odors of Araby the blest. For a little while it
+glowed, then gradually sank, lower and lower, until but a pile of ashes
+remained at the bottom of the nest.
+
+But lo! Was the Phoenix dead? What was this creature risen in youth
+and beauty from the ashes? A bird like the Eagle in shape, but nobler,
+larger, stronger, more gracious even than the King of Birds, a brilliant
+vision of crimson and gold, rose like a flame from the nest, hung for a
+moment above the palm, looking eagerly at the Sun, which baptized him in
+its splendor. A new Phoenix lived in the world. Once more the ancient
+glory was renewed. Once more youth, joy, and hope sprang from the
+Phoenix's ashes and rejoiced in the centuries of sunshine before him.
+Death was indeed worth dying to make this life worth living!
+
+Slowly the young Phoenix descended to the nest which had been at once
+a sepulchre and a cradle. Tenderly careful of the parent ashes which it
+held, with lusty beak and talon he tore the nest bodily from the
+branches, and set out upon his pious journey. He knew not where he went,
+nor why, but the Sun drew him to the East.
+
+As he sped, through the sky, a flash of gold and crimson, the lesser
+birds gathered to wonder and admire. Flocks of them followed at a
+distance, a train of worshipers, chorusing the glory of the new-born
+wonder. He bore his head high with its burden, and his heart was filled
+with pious joy. It was good to be a Phoenix, good, good!
+
+At last he reached the place which unknowingly he sought. The Sun alone
+had been his guide. To the city of Heliopolis in Egypt he came; to the
+great Temple of the Sun, brightly adorned with crimson and gold, the
+Phoenix colors.
+
+There upon the altar he laid the precious ashes. And lo! There were folk
+waiting to receive them,--many little children, and some elders of
+childlike heart, who took the ashes and laid them reverently in the
+shrine. The Phoenix was not forgotten; he was never to be forgotten so
+long as the world should last.
+
+The new Phoenix flew back to the Arabian desert to live his five
+hundred years as each of his race had done, sacred, afar, and apart, but
+not forgotten, though in his old age he might come to deem so. For in
+the bright Temple of the Sun there are always folk of childlike sympathy
+who delight to honor the eternal Phoenix of romance and mystery,--the
+dear, undying memory of a time long past.
+
+
+
+
+The Riverside Press
+_Electrotyped and printed by H.O. Houghton & Co._
+_Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A._
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Curious Book of Birds, by Abbie Farwell Brown
+
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