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diff --git a/16140-h/16140-h.htm b/16140-h/16140-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..706ebe4 --- /dev/null +++ b/16140-h/16140-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4970 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Curious Book Of Birds, by Abbie Farwell Brown. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + img {border: 0;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .indlangs {margin-left: 7%;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + .letters {float: left; vertical-align:text-top; margin-right: 0.4em;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em;} + .poem span.i34 {display: block; margin-left: 34em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em;} + .poemind1 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poemind2 {margin-left: 2em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +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 Phœnix</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,—</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,—</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—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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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—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—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—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,—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—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.</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,—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—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—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,—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 Æolus, 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, Æolus 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 Æolus. 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 Æolus, 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 Æolus 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 Æolus 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 +Æolus, 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 Æolus 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—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.</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,—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,—</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,—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,—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,—</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,—</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,—</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,—</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,—</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—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.</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,—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—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"—</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,—</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?—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,—</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,—"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,—"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,—</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,—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,—</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,—</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,—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:—</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,—even before histories began to be +written,—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,—</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,—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, Zaïca and +Tourtourelle. One morning Zaïca 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, Zaïca."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, let it be for the one of us who first rises to-morrow morning," +said Zaïca. And so the two friends agreed.</p> + +<p>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."</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 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.</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 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.</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—"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,—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:—</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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.</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—for me—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:—</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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.</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—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—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.</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 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.</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.—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,—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:—</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,—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:—</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:—</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:—</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:—</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 +reëchoed. 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:—</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:—</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"—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,—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 '<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"—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."</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,—</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,—</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,—</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,—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,—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,—which were harsh enough to any ears,—</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,—</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,—</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,—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,—</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,—</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—that—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,—"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"—</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—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—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."</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,—</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 PHŒNIX</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 +Phœnix, 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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix, 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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix. 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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix +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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix 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 +Phœnix, until when the Sun shone full down through the palm tree top, +the whole mass burst into flame, in the midst of which the Phœnix +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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix lived in the world. Once more the ancient +glory was renewed. Once more youth, joy, and hope sprang from the +Phœnix'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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix, 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 +Phœnix colors.</p> + +<p>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 Phœnix was not forgotten; he was never to be forgotten so +long as the world should last.</p> + +<p>The new Phœnix 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 Phœnix of romance and mystery,—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 & 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS *** + +***** This file should be named 16140-h.htm or 16140-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/1/4/16140/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Julia Miller and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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