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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Woodland Tales, by Ernest Seton-Thompson
+
+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: Woodland Tales
+
+Author: Ernest Seton-Thompson
+
+Release Date: November 30, 2007 [EBook #23667]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODLAND TALES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper, Emmy and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+Music transcribed by Linda Cantoni
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+WOODLAND TALES
+
+
+
+
+        WOODLAND TALES
+
+        BY
+        ERNEST THOMPSON SETON
+
+        [Illustration]
+
+        WITH 100 DRAWINGS
+
+        BY
+
+        THE AUTHOR
+
+        AUTHOR OF "WILD ANIMALS AT HOME," "WILD
+        ANIMALS I HAVE KNOWN," "TWO LITTLE SAVAGES,"
+        "BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY," "LIFE
+        HISTORIES OF NORTHERN ANIMALS," "ROLF IN
+        THE WOODS," "THE BOOK OF WOODCRAFT."
+        CHIEF OF THE WOODCRAFT LEAGUE OF AMERICA
+
+        GARDEN CITY      NEW YORK
+        DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+         1922
+
+
+
+
+        COPYRIGHT, 1905, 1920, 1921, BY
+
+        ERNEST THOMPSON SETON
+
+        ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
+        INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
+
+        COPYRIGHT 1903, 1904, BY THE CENTURY COMPANY
+
+        PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES
+        AT
+        THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+_To the Guide_
+
+
+These Mother Carey Tales were written for children of all ages, who have
+not outgrown the delight of a fairy tale. It might almost be said that
+they were written chiefly for myself, for I not only have had the
+pleasure of telling them to the little ones, and enjoying their quick
+response, but have also had the greater pleasure of thinking them and
+setting them down.
+
+As I write, I look from a loved window, across a landscape that I love,
+and my eye rests on a tall beautiful pine planted with my own hands
+years ago. It is a mass of green fringes, with gem-like tips of buds and
+baby cones, beautiful, exquisitely beautiful, whether seen from afar as
+a green spire, or viewed close at hand as jewellery. It is beautiful,
+fragile and--unimportant, as the world sees it; yet through its
+wind-waved mass one can get little glimpses of the thing that backs it
+all, the storm-defying shaft, the enduring rigid living growing trunk of
+massive timber that gives it the nobility of strength, and adds value to
+the rest; sometimes it must be sought for, but it always surely is
+there, ennobling the lesser pretty things.
+
+I hope this tree is a fair image of my fairy tale. I know my child
+friends will love the piney fringes and the jewel cones, and they can
+find the unyielding timber in its underlying truth, if they seek for it.
+If they do not, it is enough to have them love the cones.
+
+All are not fairy tales. Other chapters set forth things to see, thing
+to do, things to go to, things to know, things to remember. These,
+sanctified in the blue outdoors, spell "Woodcraft," the one pursuit of
+man that never dies or palls, the thing that in the bygone ages gifted
+him and yet again will gift him with the seeing eye, the thinking hand,
+the body that fails not, the winged soul that stores up precious
+memories.
+
+It is hoped that these chapters will show how easy and alluring, and how
+good a thing it is.
+
+While they are meant for the children six years of age and upward, it is
+assumed that Mother (or Father) will be active as a leader; therefore it
+is addressed, first of all, to the parent, whom throughout we shall call
+the "Guide."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some of these stories date back to my school days, although the first
+actually published was "Why the Chicadee Goes Crazy Twice a Year." This
+in its original form appeared in "Our Animal Friends" in September,
+1893. Others, as "The Fingerboard Goldenrod," "Brook-Brownie," "The
+Bluebird," "Diablo and the Dogwood," "How the Violets Came," "How the
+Indian Summer Came," "The Twin Stars," "The Fairy Lamps," "How the
+Littlest Owl Came," "How the Shad Came," appeared in slightly different
+form in the _Century Magazine_, 1903 and 1904.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+My thanks are due to the Authorities of the American Museum who have
+helped me with specimens and criticism; to the published writings of Dr.
+W. J. Holland and Clarence M. Weed for guidance in insect problems; to
+Britton and Browne's "Illustrated Flora, U. S. and Canada"; and to the
+Nature Library of Doubleday, Page & Co., for light in matters botanic;
+to Mrs. Daphne Drake and Mrs. Mary S. Dominick for many valuable
+suggestions, and to my wife, Grace Gallatin Seton, for help with the
+purely literary work.
+
+Also to Oliver P. Medsger, the naturalist of Lincoln High School, Jersey
+City, N. J., for reading with critical care those parts of the
+manuscript that deal with flowers and insects, as well as for the ballad
+of the Ox-eye, the story of its coming to America, and the photograph of
+the Mecha-meck.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  Things to See in Springtime
+
+  _The Seeing Eye_
+
+  TALE NO.                                                         PAGE
+
+   1. Blue-eyes, the Snow-child, or the Story of Hepatica             3
+
+   2. The Story of the Dawnsinger, or How the Bloodroot Came          5
+
+   3. The Prairie-girl with Yellow Hair                               6
+
+   4. The Cat's-eye Toad, a child of Maka Ina                        11
+
+   5. How the Bluebird Came                                          14
+
+   6. Robin, the Bird that Loves to Make Clay Pots                   17
+
+   7. Brook Brownie, or How the Song Sparrow Got his Streaks         20
+
+   8. Diablo and the Dogwood                                         20
+
+   9. The Woolly-bear                                                23
+
+   10. How the Violets Came                                          25
+
+   11. Cocoons                                                       26
+
+   12. Butterflies and Moths                                         28
+
+   13. The Mourning-cloak Butterfly or the Camberwell Beauty         30
+
+   14. The Wandering Monarch                                         32
+
+   15. The Bells of the Solomon Seal                                 35
+
+   16. The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal                    37
+
+
+  Things to See in Summertime
+
+   17. How the Mouse-bird made Fun of the Brownie                    43
+
+   18. The Pot-herb that Sailed with the Pilgrims                    44
+
+   19. How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves           47
+
+   20. The Shamrock and Her Three Sisters                            51
+
+   21. The Indian Basket-Maker                                       53
+
+   22. Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?                            56
+
+   23. The Mecha-meck                                                61
+
+   24. Dutchman's Breeches                                           63
+
+   25. The Seven Sour Sisters                                        65
+
+   26. Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass                          65
+
+   27. The Four Butterflies You See Every Summer                     67
+
+   28. The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar                              72
+
+   29. The Great Splendid Silk-moth or _Samia Cecropia_              77
+
+   30. The Green Fairy with the Long Train                           79
+
+   31. The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon               82
+
+   32. The Fairy Bird or the Humming-bird Moth                       85
+
+   33. Ribgrass or Whiteman's-Foot                                   88
+
+   34. Jack-in-the-Pulpit                                            91
+
+   35. How the Indian Pipe Came                                      91
+
+   36. The Cucumber Under the Brownie's Umbrella                     93
+
+   37. The Hickory Horn-Devil                                        95
+
+
+  Things to See in Autumntime
+
+   38. The Purple and Gold of Autumn                                103
+
+   39. Why the Chicadee Goes Crazy Twice a Year                     104
+
+   40. The Story of the Quaking Aspen or Poplar                     107
+
+   41. The Witch-hazel                                              109
+
+   42. How the Shad Came and How the Chestnut Got Its Burrs         112
+
+   43. How the Littlest Owl Came                                    113
+
+   44. The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts                              114
+
+   45. The Mud-dauber Wasp                                          117
+
+   46. The Cicada and the Katydid                                   121
+
+   47. The Digger Wasp That Killed the Cicada                       123
+
+   48. How the Indian Summer Came                                   126
+
+
+  Things to See in Wintertime
+
+   49. The North Star, or the Home Star                             129
+
+   50. The Pappoose on the Squaw's Back                             131
+
+   51. Orion the Hunter, and his Fight with the Bull                133
+
+   52. The Pleiades, that Orion Fired at the Bull                   134
+
+   53. The Twin Stars                                               136
+
+   54. Stoutheart and His Black Cravat                              137
+
+   55. Tracks and the Stories They Tell                             138
+
+   56. A Rabbit's Story of His Life                                 140
+
+   57. The Singing Hawk                                             144
+
+   58. The Fingerboard Goldenrod                                    145
+
+   59. Woodchuck Day--February Second                               149
+
+
+  Things to Know
+
+  _The Story of The Trail_
+
+   60. How the Pine Tree Tells its Own Story                       153
+
+   61. Blazes                                                      155
+
+   62. Totems                                                      155
+
+   63. Symbols                                                     159
+
+   64. Sign Language                                               161
+
+   65. The Language of Hens                                        161
+
+   66. Why the Squirrel Wears a Bushy Tail                         162
+
+   67. Why the Dog Wags His Tail                                   163
+
+   68. Why the Dog Turns Around Three Times Before Lying Down      164
+
+   69. The Deathcup of Diablo                                      165
+
+   70. The Poison Ivy, or the Three-fingered Demon of the Woods    169
+
+   71. The Medicine in the Sky                                     170
+
+   72. The Angel of the Night                                      172
+
+
+  Things to Do
+
+  _The Thinking Hand_
+
+   73. Bird-nesting in Winter                                      177
+
+   74. The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite                              179
+
+   75. The Monkey-hunt                                             181
+
+   76. The Horsetail and the Jungle                                185
+
+   77. The Woods in Winter                                         186
+
+   78. The Fish and the Pond                                       187
+
+   79. Smoke Prints of Leaves                                      189
+
+   80. Bird-boxes                                                  189
+
+   81. A Hunter's Lamp                                             193
+
+   82. The Coon Hunt                                               194
+
+   83. The Indian Pot                                              195
+
+   84. Snowflakes                                                  197
+
+   85. Are you Alive? Farsight                                     199
+
+   86. Are you Alive? Quicksight                                   200
+
+   87. Are you Alive? Hearing                                      200
+
+   88. Are you Alive? Feeling                                      201
+
+   89. Are you Alive? Quickness                                    202
+
+   90. Are you Alive? Guessing Length                              203
+
+   91. Are you Alive? Aim or Limb-control                          204
+
+   92. A Treasure Hunt                                             205
+
+   93. Moving Pictures                                             205
+
+   94. The Natural Autograph Album                                 207
+
+   95. The Crooked Stick                                           208
+
+   96. The Animal Dance of Nana-bo-jou                             209
+
+   97. The Caribou Dance                                           212
+
+   98. The Council Robe                                            216
+
+
+  Things to Remember
+
+  _The Winged Soul that Stores up Precious Memories._
+
+   99. How the Wren Became King of the Birds                       221
+
+  100. The Snowstorm                                               222
+
+  101. The Fairy Lamps                                             223
+
+  102. The Sweetest Sad Song in the Woods                          225
+
+  103. Springtime, or the Wedding of Maka Ina and El Sol           227
+
+  104. Running the Council                                         228
+
+  105. The Sandpainting of the Fire                                229
+
+  106. The Woodcraft Kalendar                                      231
+
+  107. Climbing the Mountain                                       233
+
+  108. The Omaha Prayer                                            235
+
+
+  A List of Books by the Author                                    236
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+_Mother Carey_
+
+
+All-mother! Mater Cara! I have never seen you, but I hungered so to know
+you that I understood it when you came, unseen, and silently whispered
+to me that first time in the long ago.
+
+I cannot tell the children what you look like, Mother Carey, for mortal
+eye hath never rested on your face; and yet I can offer them a portrait,
+O strong Angel of the Wild Things, neither young nor old--Oh! loving One
+that neither trembles nor relents!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A mink he was, a young mink and foolish. One of a happy brood, who were
+seeing the world with their mother--a first glimpse of it. She was
+anxious and leading, happy and proud, warning, sniffing, inviting,
+loving, yet angersome at trivial disobedience, doling out her wisdom in
+nips and examples and shrill warnings that all heeded; except this one,
+the clever fool of the family, the self-satisfied smart one. He would
+not be warned, the thing smelt so good. He plunged ahead. Mother was a
+fool; he was wiser than Mother. Here was a merry feasting for him. Then
+_clank_! The iron jaws of a trap sprang from the hiding grass, and
+clutched on his soft young paws. Screams of pain, futile strainings,
+writhings, ragings and moanings; bloody jaws on the trap; the mother
+distraught with grief, eager to take all the punishment herself, but
+helpless and stunned, unable to leave; the little brothers, aghast at
+this first touch of passion, this glimpse of reality, skurrying, scared,
+going and coming, mesmerized, with glowing eyes and bristling
+shoulder-fur. And the mother, mad with sorrow, goaded by the screaming,
+green-eyed, vacant-minded, despairing--till a new spirit entered into
+her, the spirit of Cara the All-mother, Mother Carey the Beneficent,
+Mother Carey the wise Straightwalker. Then the mother mink, inspired,
+sprang on her suffering baby. With all the power of her limbs she sprang
+and clutched; with all the power of her love she craunched. His screams
+were ended; his days in the land were ended. He had not heeded her
+wisdom; the family fool was finished. The race was better, better for
+the suffering fool mink; better for the suffering mother mink.
+
+The spirit left her; left her limp and broken-hearted. And away on the
+wind went riding, grimly riding her empire.
+
+Four swift steeds for riding, has she, the White Wind, the West Wind,
+the Wet Wind and the Waking Wind. But mostly she rides the swift West
+Wind.
+
+She is strong, is Mother Carey, strong, wise, inexorable, calm and
+direct as an iceberg. And beneficent; but she loves the strong ones
+best. She ever favours the wise ones. She is building, ceaselessly
+building. The good brick she sets in a place of honour, and the poor one
+she grinds into gravel for the workmen to walk on.
+
+She loves you, but far less than she does your race. It may be that you
+are not wise, and if it seem best, she will drop a tear and crush you
+into the dust.
+
+Three others there be of power, like Mother Carey: Maka Ina who is
+Mother Earth; El Sol, the Sun in the Sky, and Diablo the Evil Spirit of
+Disease and Dread. But over all is the One Great Spirit, the Beginning
+and the Ruler with these and many messengers, who do His bidding. But
+mostly you shall hear of Mother Carey.
+
+It is long ago since first I heard her whisper, and though I hear better
+now than then, I have no happier memory than that earliest message.
+
+"Ho Wayseeker," she called, "I have watched your struggle to find the
+pathway, and I know that you will love the things that belong to it.
+Therefore, I will show you the trail, and this is what it will lead you
+to: a thousand pleasant friendships that will offer honey in little
+thorny cups, the twelve secrets of the underbrush, the health of
+sunlight, suppleness of body, the unafraidness of the night, the delight
+of deep water, the goodness of rain, the story of the trail, the
+knowledge of the swamp, the aloofness of knowing,--yea, more, a crown
+and a little kingdom measured to your power and all your own.
+
+"But there is a condition attached. When you have found a trail you are
+thereby ordained a guide. When you have won a kingdom you must give it
+to the world or lose it. For those who have got power must with it bear
+responsibility; evade the one, the other fades away."
+
+This is the pledge I am trying to keep; I want to be your Guide. I am
+offering you my little kingdom.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO SEE IN SPRINGTIME
+
+[Illustration: Blue-eyes the Snow Child]
+
+
+
+
+Things to See in Springtime
+
+
+TALE 1
+
+Blue-eyes, the Snow Child, or The Story of Hepatica
+
+Have you ever seen El Sol, the Chief of the Wonder-workers, brother to
+Mother Carey? Yes, you have, though probably you did not know it; at
+least you could not look him in the face. Well, I am going to tell you
+about him, and tell of a sad thing that happened to him, and to some one
+whom he loved more than words can tell.
+
+Tall and of blazing beauty was El Sol, the King of the Wonder-workers;
+his hair was like shining gold, and stood straight out a yard from his
+head, as he marched over the hilltops.
+
+Everyone loved him, except a very few, who once had dared to fight him,
+and had been worsted. Everyone else loved him, and he liked everybody,
+without really loving them. Until one day, as he walked in his garden,
+he suddenly came on a beautiful white maiden, whom he had never seen
+before. Her eyes were of the loveliest blue, her hair was so soft that
+it floated on the air, and her robe was white, covered with ferns done
+in white lace.
+
+He fell deeply in love with her at once, but she waved a warning hand,
+when he tried to come near.
+
+"Who are you, oh radiant princess? I love you even before I hear you
+speak."
+
+"I am Snowroba, the daughter of the great King Jackfrost," she said.
+
+"I love you as I never loved any one. Will you marry me? I am the King
+of the Wonder-workers. I will make you the Queen."
+
+"No," said she, "I cannot marry you, for it is written that if one of my
+people marry one of your people, she will sink down and die in a day."
+
+Then El Sol was very sad. But he said, "May I not see you again?"
+
+"Yes," she answered, "I will meet you here in the morning, for it is
+pleasant to look on your beauty," and her voice tinkled sweetly.
+
+So she met him in the morning, and again on the third morning. He loved
+her madly now, and though she held back, he seized her in his arms and
+kissed her tenderly.
+
+Then her arms fell weakly to her sides, and her eyes half closed as she
+said: "I know now that the old writing spake truth. I love you, I love
+you, my love; but you have killed me."
+
+And she sank down, a limp white form, on the leafy ground.
+
+El Sol was wild with grief. He tried to revive her, to bring her back.
+
+She only whispered, "Good-bye, my love. I am going fast. You will see me
+no more, but come to this place a year from now. It may be Maka Ina will
+be kind, and will send you a little one that is yours and mine."
+
+Her white body melted away, as he bent over it and wept.
+
+He came back every morning, but saw Snowroba no more. One year from that
+day, as he lingered sadly over the sacred spot, he saw a new and
+wonderful flower come forth. Its bloom was of the tenderest violet blue,
+and it was full of expression. As he gazed, he saw those eyes again; the
+scalding tears dropped from his eyes, and burned its leaves into a
+blotched and brownish colour. He remembered, and understood her promise
+now. He knew that this was their blue-eyed little one.
+
+In the early springtime we can see it. Three sunny days on the edge of
+the snowdrift will bring it forth. The hunterfolk who find it, say that
+it is just one of the spring flowers, out earlier than any other, and is
+called Liverleaf, but we Woodcrafters know better. We know it is
+Hepatica, the child of El Sol and Snowroba.
+
+
+TALE 2
+
+The Story of the White Dawnsinger
+
+or
+
+How the Bloodroot Came
+
+Have you noticed that there are no snow-white birds in our woods during
+summer? Mother Carey long ago made it a rule that all snow-white
+landbirds should go north, when the snow was gone in the springtime. And
+they were quite obedient; they flew, keeping just on the south edge of
+the melting snow.
+
+But it so happened that one of the sweetest singers of all--the
+snow-white Dawnsinger with the golden bill and the ruby legs--was flying
+northward with his bride, when she sprained her wing so she could not
+fly at all.
+
+There was no other help for it; they must stay in that thicket till her
+wing grew strong again.
+
+The other white birds flew on, but the Dawnsinger waited. He sang his
+merriest songs to cheer her. He brought her food: and he warned her when
+enemies were near.
+
+A moon had come and gone. Now she was well again, and strong on the
+wing. He was anxious to go on to their northern home. A second warning
+came from Mother Carey, "White birds go north."
+
+But the sunny woodside had become very pleasant, food was abundant, and
+the little white lady said, "Why should we go north when it is so much
+nicer right here?"
+
+The Dawnsinger felt the same way, and the next time the warning came,
+"White birds go north," he would not listen at all, and they settled
+down to a joyful life in the woods.
+
+They did not know anything about the Yellow-eyed Whizz. They never would
+have known, had they gone north at their right time. But the Yellow-eyed
+Whizz was coming. It came, and It always goes straight after white
+things in the woods, for brown things It cannot see.
+
+Dawnsinger was high on a tree, praising the light in a glorious song,
+that he had just made up, when It singled him out by his whiteness, and
+pierced him through.
+
+He fell fluttering and dying; and as she flew to him, with a cry of
+distress, the Yellow-eyed wicked Whizz struck her down by his side.
+
+The Chewinks scratched leaves over the two white bodies, and--I
+think--that Mother Carey dropped a tear on the place.
+
+That was the end of the White Dawnsinger and his bride. Yet every year,
+at that same place, as the snow goes, the brown leaves move and part,
+and up from beneath there comes a beautiful white flower.
+
+[Illustration: The Story of the White Dawnsinger]
+
+Its bloom threads are yellow like the Dawnsinger's beak, and its stem is
+ruby like his legs; all the rest is snow-white like his plumes. It
+rises, looks about, faces the sun, and sings a little odour-song, a
+little aroma-lay. If you look deep down into the open soul of the
+Dawnsinger you will see the little golden thoughts he sings about. Then
+up from the same grave comes another, just the same, but a little
+smaller, and for a while they stand up side by side, and praise the
+light. But the Wither-bloom that haunts the flowers as the Yellow-eyed
+Whizz does the birds, soon finds them out; their song is ended, their
+white plumes are scattered, and they shrink back into their grave, to be
+side by side again.
+
+You can find their little bodies, but deal gently with them, for they
+are wounded; you may make them bleed again.
+
+And when you hear the Chewinks scratching in the underbrush, remember
+they are putting leaves on the grave of the White Dawnsinger.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Surely you have guessed the secret; the flower is the Bloodroot, and the
+Whizz is the Sharp-shinned Hawk.
+
+
+TALE 3
+
+The Prairie-girl with Yellow Hair
+
+[Illustration: The Prairie-girl]
+
+Tall and fair was the Prairie-girl. She was not very pretty, but her
+form was slender and graceful, and her head was covered with a mass of
+golden hair that made you see her from afar off. It has been whispered
+that she was deeply in love with El Sol, for wherever he went, she
+turned her head to look at him; and when she could not see him, she
+drooped and languished. But he never seemed to notice her. As she grew
+older her golden head turned white, and at last the swish of Mother
+Carey's horses carried away all her white hair, and left her old, bald,
+and ugly. So she pined and died, and Maka Ina buried her poor little
+body under the grass. But some say it was Father Time that blew her hair
+away, and that El Sol had the body cremated.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If you look on the lawns or the fields in springtime, you are sure to
+find the Prairie-girl. The Guide can show her to you, if you do not
+know her. But he will call her "Common Dandelion," and I do not know of
+any flower that has so many things for us children to remember.
+
+If you are learning French, you will see how it got the name
+"Dandelion"; it used to be written _dent de lion_; that is, "tooth of a
+lion"; because its leaves are edged with sharp teeth, like a lion's jaw.
+
+Its golden-yellow flower is said to open when the Swallows arrive from
+the south, that is, in April; and though it blooms chiefly in springtime
+it keeps on blooming till long after the Swallows fly away. It certainly
+thrives as long as the sun shines on it, and fades when the cold dark
+season comes. But I have seen it out in November; that is, the Dandelion
+blooms for fully nine months. I do not know of any other flower that
+does; most of them are done in one month.
+
+When the yellow flower is over, its place is taken by a beautiful globe
+of soft, white plumes; this is why the story says its golden hair turns
+white with age. The children believe that this woolly head will tell you
+the time of day. You hold it up, then pretend you are Father Time
+blowing her hair away, blow a sharp puff with your breath, then another
+and another, till the plumes are blown away. If it takes four blows,
+they say it means four o'clock; but it is not a very true clock.
+
+Some children make a wish, then blow once and say, "this year"; the
+second time, "next year"; the third time, "some time"; the fourth time,
+"never." Then begin all over, and keep on as long as any plumes are
+left, to tell when the wish is coming true.
+
+Now pull the head off the stalk. You will find it leaves a long, open
+tube that sounds like a trumpet when you blow through it from the small
+end. If you force your finger into the big end, and keep pushing, you
+split the tube into two or three pieces; put these in your mouth and
+they will curl up like ringlets. Some children hang these on their ears
+for ornaments. Take a stalk for each year of your age; pull its head
+off. Then you will find that the top end will go into the bottom and
+make a ring. Use all the stalks you have gathered, to make a chain; now
+throw this chain into a low tree. If it sticks the first time, your wish
+will come true this year. Each time it falls puts your wish a year
+farther away.
+
+This may not be true; but it is a game to play. Some big girls use it,
+to find out when they are going to be married.
+
+Now dig up the whole plant, root and all--the gardener will be much
+obliged to you for doing so--take it home, and ask the Guide to make the
+leaves into a salad; you will find it good to eat; most Europeans eat it
+regularly, either raw, or boiled as greens.
+
+Last of all, ask the Guide to roast the root, till it is brown and
+crisp, then grind it in a coffee-mill, and use it to make coffee. Some
+people think it better than real coffee; at any rate, the doctors say it
+is much healthier, for it is nourishing food, and does not do one any
+harm at all. But perhaps you will not like it. You may think all the
+time you are eating the body of the poor little Prairie-girl, who died
+of love.
+
+
+TALE 4
+
+The Cat's-eye Toad, a Child of Maka Ina
+
+When you were little, O Guide! didn't you delight in the tales of gnomes
+or _nibelungen_, those strange underground creatures that lived hidden
+from the light, and busied themselves with precious stones and metals?
+How unwillingly we gave up those glad beliefs, as we inevitably grew old
+and lost our fairyland eyes!
+
+[Illustration: The Cat's eye Toad (life size)]
+
+But you must not give up all your joyful creeds; you must keep on
+believing in the weird underground dwarfs; for I am going to tell you of
+one that the cold calculating Professor Science has at last accepted,
+and that lives in your own back-yard. That is, the Cat's-eye Toad or
+Spadefoot. It is much like a common Toad, but a little smoother, the
+digging spade on its hind foot is bigger and its eye, its beautiful
+gold-stone eye, has the pupil up and down like that of a Cat, instead of
+level as in its cousin, the warty Hoptoad.
+
+But the wonderful thing about the Cat's-eye is that it spends most of
+its life underground, coming out in the early springtime for a few days
+of the most riotous honeymoon in some small pond, where it sings a loud
+chorus till mated, lays a few hundred eggs, to be hatched into tadpoles,
+then backs itself into its underground world by means of the boring
+machine on its hind feet, to be heard no more that season, and seen no
+more, unless some one chance to dig it out, just as Hans in the story
+dug out the mole-gnome.
+
+In the fairy tale the Shepherd-boy was rewarded by the gnome for digging
+him out; for he received both gold and precious stones. But our gnome
+does not wish us to dig him out; nevertheless, if you do, you will be
+rewarded with a golden fact, and a glimpse of two wonderful jewel eyes.
+
+According to one who knows him well, the Cat's-eye buries itself far
+underground, and sleeps days, or weeks, _perhaps years_ at a time. Once
+a grave-digger found a Cat's-eye three feet two inches down in the earth
+with no way out.
+
+How and when are we then to find this strange creature? Only during his
+noisy honeymoon in April.
+
+Do you know the soft trilling whistle of the common Hoptoad in May? The
+call of the Cat's-eye is of the same style but very loud and harsh, and
+heard early in April. If on some warm night in springtime, you hear a
+song which sounds like a cross between a Toad's whistle and a Chicken's
+squawk, get a searchlight and go quietly to the place. The light will
+help you to come close, and in the water up to his chin, you will see
+him, his gold-stone eyes blazing like jewels and his throat blown out
+like a mammoth pearl, each time he utters the "squawk" which he intends
+for a song. And it is a song, and a very successful one, for a visit to
+the same pond a week or two later, will show you--not the Cat's-eye or
+his mate, they have gone a-tunnelling--but a swarm of little black
+pin-like tadpole Cat's-eyes, born and bred in the glorious sunlight but
+doomed and ready, if they live, to follow in their parents' tracks far
+underground. Sure proof that the song did win a mate, and was crowned
+with the success for which all woodland, and marshland song first was
+made.
+
+
+TALE 5
+
+How the Bluebird Came
+
+Nana-bo-jou, that some think is the Indian name for El Sol and some say
+is Mother Carey, was sleeping his winter's sleep in the big island just
+above the thunder-dam that men call Niagara. Four moons had waned, but
+still he slept. The frost draperies of his couch were gone; his white
+blanket was burnt into holes. He turned over a little; then the ice on
+the river cracked like near-by thunder. When he turned again, it began
+to slip over the big beaver-dam of Niagara, but still he did not awake.
+
+[Illustration: How the Bluebird Came]
+
+The great Er-Beaver in his pond, that men call Lake Erie, flapped his
+tail, and the waves rolled away to the shore, and set the ice heaving,
+cracking, and groaning; but Nana-bo-jou slept on.
+
+Then the Ice-demons pounded the shore of the island with their clubs.
+They pushed back the whole river-flood till the channel was dry, then
+let it rush down like the end of all things, and they shouted together:
+
+"Nana-bo-jou! Nana-bo-jou! Nana-bo-jou! Wake up!"
+
+But still he slept calmly on.
+
+Then came a soft, sweet voice, more gentle than the mating turtle of
+Miami. It was in the air, but it was nowhere, and yet it was in the
+trees, in the water, and it was in Nana-bo-jou too. He felt it, and it
+awoke him. He sat up and looked about. His white blanket was gone; only
+a few tatters of it were to be seen in the shady places. In the sunny
+spots the shreds of the fringe with its beads had taken root and were
+growing into little flowers with beady eyes, Spring Beauties as they are
+called now. The small voice kept crying: "Awake! the spring is coming!"
+
+Nana-bo-jou said: "Little voice, where are you? Come here."
+
+But the little voice, being everywhere, was nowhere, and could not come
+at the hero's call.
+
+So he said: "Little voice, you are nowhere because you have no place to
+live in; I will make you a home."
+
+So Nana-bo-jou took a curl of birch bark and made a little wigwam, and
+because the voice came from the skies he painted the wigwam with blue
+mud, and to show that it came from the Sunland he painted a red sun on
+it. On the floor he spread a scrap of his own white blanket, then for a
+fire he breathed into it a spark of life, and said: "Here, little voice,
+is your wigwam." The little voice entered and took possession, but
+Nana-bo-jou had breathed the spark of life into it. The smoke-vent wings
+began to move and to flap, and the little wigwam turned into a beautiful
+Bluebird with a red sun on its breast and a shirt of white. Away it
+flew, but every year it comes as winter wanes, the Bluebird of the
+spring. The voice still dwells in it, and we feel that it has lost
+nothing of its earliest power when we hear it cry: "Awake! the spring is
+coming!"
+
+
+TALE 6
+
+Robin, the Bird that Loves to Make Clay Pots
+
+Everyone knows the Robin; his reddish-brown breast, gray back, white
+throat, and dark wings and tail are easily remembered. If you colour the
+drawing, you will always remember it afterward. The Robin comes about
+our houses and lawns; it lets us get close enough to see it. It has a
+loud, sweet song. All birds have a song[A]; and all sing when they are
+happy. As they sing most of the time, except when they are asleep, or
+when moulting, they must have a lot of happiness in their lives.
+
+Here are some things to remember about the Robin. It is one of the
+earliest of all our birds to get up in the morning, and it begins to
+sing long before there is daylight.
+
+Birds that live in the trees, _hop_; birds that live on the ground,
+_walk_ or _run_; but the Robin lives partly in the trees and partly on
+the ground, so sometimes he hops and sometimes he runs.
+
+[Illustration: The Robin Making Clay Pots]
+
+When he alights on a fence or tree, he looks at you and flashes the
+white spots on the outer corners of his tail. Again and again he does
+this. Why? That is his way of letting you know that he is a Robin. He is
+saying in signal code--flash and wig-wag--"I'm a Robin, I'm a Robin, I'm
+a Robin." So you will not mistake him for some bird that is less loved.
+
+The Robin invented pottery before men did; his nest is always a clay pot
+set in a little pile of straws. Sometime, get a Robin's nest after the
+bird is done with it; dry it well, put it on the fire very gently; leave
+it till all the straws are burned away, and then if it does not go to
+pieces, you will find you have a pretty good earthen pot.
+
+The Robin loves to make these pots. I have known a cock Robin make
+several which he did not need, just for the fun of making them.
+
+A friend of mine said to me once, "Come, and I will show you the nest of
+a crazy Robin." We went to the woodshed and there on a beam were six
+perfectly good Robin nests all in a row; all of them empty.
+
+"There," said my friend. "All of these six were built by a cock Robin in
+about ten days or two weeks. He seemed to do nothing but sing and build
+nests. Then after finishing the last one, he disappeared. Wasn't he
+crazy?"
+
+"No," I said, "not at all. He was not crazy; he was industrious. Let me
+finish the chapter. The hen Robin was sitting on the eggs, the cock bird
+had nothing else to do, so he put in the time at the two things he did
+the best and loved the most: singing and nest-building. Then after the
+young were hatched in the home nest, he had plenty to do caring for
+them, so he ceased both building and singing, for that season."
+
+I have often heard of such things. Indeed, they are rather common, but
+not often noticed, because the Robin does not often build all the extra
+nests in one place.
+
+Do you know the lovely shade called Robin's-egg blue? The next time you
+see a Robin's nest with eggs in it you will understand why it was so
+named and feel for a moment, when first you see it, that you have found
+a casket full of most exquisite jewels.
+
+Next to nest-building, singing is the Robin's gift, and the songs that
+he sings are full of joy. He says, "_cheerup, cheer up, cheerily
+cheer-up_"; and he means it too.
+
+
+TALE 7
+
+Brook Brownie, or How the Song Sparrow Got His Streaks
+
+[Illustration: Brook Brownie]
+
+  His Mother was the Brook and his sisters were the Reeds,
+  They, every one, applauded when he sang about his deeds.
+  His vest was white, his mantle brown, as clear as they could be,
+  And his songs were fairly bubbling o'er with melody and glee.
+  But an envious Neighbour splashed with mud our Brownie's coat and vest,
+  And then a final handful threw that stuck upon his breast.
+  The Brook-bird's mother did her best to wash the stains away;
+  But there they stuck, and, as it seems, are very like to stay.
+  And so he wears the splashes and the mud blotch, as you see;
+  But his songs are bubbling over still with melody and glee.
+
+
+TALE 8
+
+Diablo and the Dogwood
+
+
+[Illustration: The Dogwood Bloom]
+
+What a glorious thing is the Maytime Dogwood in our woods! How it does
+sing out its song! More loudly and clearly it sings than any other
+spring flower! For it is not one, but a great chorus; and I know it is
+singing that "The spring, the very spring is in the land!"
+
+I suppose if one had King Solomon's fayland ears, one might hear the
+Dogwood music like a lot of church bells pealing, like the chorus of the
+cathedral where Woodthrush is the preacher-priest and the Veeries make
+responses.
+
+It was Adam's favourite tree, they say, in the Garden of Eden. And it
+grew so high, flowered so wonderfully, and gave so much pleasure that
+Diablo, who is also called the Devil, wanted to kill it. He made up his
+mind that he would blight and scatter every shining leaf of its snowy
+bloom. So one dark night he climbed a Honey Locust tree near the gate,
+and swung by his tail over the wall, intending to tear off all the
+lovely blossoms. But he got a shock when he found that every flower was
+in the _shape of a cross_, which put them beyond his power to blight. He
+was furious at not being able to destroy its beauty, so did the worst he
+could. Keeping away from the cross he bit a piece out of the edge of
+every snowy flower leaf, and then jumped back to the Honey Locust tree.
+
+The Locust was ashamed when she found that she had helped Diablo to do
+such a mean bit of mischief, so she grew a bristling necklace of strong
+spikes to wear; they were so long and sharp that no one since, not even
+Diablo himself, has ever been able to climb that Honey Locust tree.
+
+But it was too late to save the Dogwood bloom. The bites were out, and
+they never healed up again, as you can see to this very day.
+
+
+TALE 9
+
+The Woolly-bear
+
+[Illustration: The Woolly-bear (the moth is 1-1/4 life size)]
+
+Do you know the Woolly-bear Caterpillar? It is divided into three parts;
+the middle one brown, the two ends black. Everyone notices the
+Woolly-bear, because it comes out in early spring, as soon as the frost
+is over, and crawls on the fences and sidewalks as though they belonged
+to it. It does not seem to be afraid of any one or anything. It will
+march across the road in front of a motor car, or crawl up the leg of
+your boot. Sometimes when you brush it off with your hand, little
+hairs are left sticking in your fingers, because it is really like a
+small porcupine, protected by short spears sticking out of its skin in
+all directions. Here at the side of the picture, is one of these hairs
+seen under a microscope.
+
+Where did the Woolly-bear come from? It was hatched from an egg last
+summer.
+
+And now what is going to happen? It will stuff itself with rib-grass or
+other low plants, till it has grown bigger; then it will get a warning
+from the All-mother to prepare for the great change. In some low dry
+place under a log, stone or fence-rail, it will spin a cocoon with its
+own spikey hairs outside for a protector. In this rough hairy coffin it
+will roll itself up, for its "little death," as the Indians call it, and
+Mother Carey will come along with her sleeping wand, and touch it, so it
+will go into sound sleep, but for only a few days. One bright sunny
+morning old Mother Carey comes around again, touches the Woolly-bear
+bundle-baby, and out of it comes the Woolly-bear, only now it is changed
+like the Prince in the story into a beautiful Moth called the
+Tiger-Moth! Out he comes, and if you look up at one end of the coffin he
+is leaving, you may see the graveclothes he wore when first he went to
+sleep. Away he flies now to seek his beautiful mate, and soon she lays a
+lot of eggs, from each of which will come another little Woolly-bear to
+grow into a big Woolly-bear, and do it all over again.
+
+
+TALE 10
+
+How the Violets Came
+
+        The Meadow she was sorry
+        For her sister Sky, you see,
+        'Cause, though her robe of blue was bright,
+        'Twas plain as it could be.
+
+        And so she sent a skylark up
+        To trim the Sky robe right
+        With daisies from the Meadow
+        (You can see them best at night).
+
+        And every scrap of blue cut out
+        To make those daisies set
+        Came tumbling down upon the grass
+        And grew a violet.
+
+
+TALE 11
+
+Cocoons
+
+Everyone loves to go a-hunting. Our forebears were hunters for so many
+ages that the hunting spirit is strong in all of us, even though held in
+check by the horror of giving pain to a fellow being. But the pleasure
+of being outdoors, of seeking for hidden treasures, of finding something
+that looks at first like old rubbish, and then turns out to be a
+precious and beautiful thing, that is ours by right of the old
+law--finders, keepers. That is a kind of hunting that every healthy
+being loves, and there are many ways and chances for you to enjoy it.
+
+Go out any time between October and April, and look in all the low trees
+and high bushes for the little natural rag-bundles called "cocoons."
+Some are bundle-shaped and fast to a twig their whole length. Some hang
+like a Santa Claus bag on a Christmas tree; but all may be known by
+their hairiness or the strong, close cover of fine gray or brown fibre
+or silk, without seams and woven to keep out the wet.
+
+[Illustration: Cocoons]
+
+They are so strongly fastened on, that you will have to break the twig
+to get the bundle down. If it seems very light, and rattled when you
+shake it, you will likely see one or more small, sharp, round holes in
+it. This means that an insect enemy has destroyed the little creature
+sleeping within. If the Cocoon is perfect and seems solid and heavy,
+take it home, and put it in a cardboard, or wooden box, which has a wire
+screen, or gauze cover. Keep it in a light place, not too dry, till the
+springtime comes; then one day a miracle will take place. The case will
+be cut open from within, and out will come a gorgeous Moth. It is like
+the dull, dark grave opening up at the resurrection to let forth a
+new-born, different being with wings to fly in the heavens above.
+
+In the drawing I have shown five different kinds of bundle-baby, then at
+the bottom have added the jug-handled bundle-baby of the Tomato worm; it
+does not make a Cocoon but buries itself in the ground when the time
+comes for the Great Sleep. Kind Mother Earth protects it as she does the
+Hickory Horn-Devil, so it does not need to make a Cocoon at all.
+
+There is a wonderful story about each of these bundle-babies. You will
+never get weary if you follow and learn them, for each one differs from
+the last. Some of them I hope to tell you in this book, and before we
+begin I want you to know some of the things that men of science have
+learned, and why a Butterfly is not a Moth.
+
+
+TALE 12
+
+Butterflies and Moths
+
+Do you remember the dear old fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast? How
+Beauty had to marry the Beast to save her father's life? But as soon as
+she had bravely agreed to sacrifice herself--as soon as she gave the
+fateful "Yes" the Beast stood up on his hind legs, his horns, hoofs and
+hide rolled off, and he was turned back into his true shape, a splendid
+young Prince whom she could not help loving; and they lived happy ever
+after.
+
+Do you know that just such transformations and happy weddings are going
+on about us all the time? The Beast is an ugly Caterpillar, the Princess
+Beauty is the Butterfly or the Moth. And when the Beast is changed into
+the Prince Charming and meets with Princess Beauty, they are just as
+madly happy as they tell it in the fairy books. I know it, for I have
+seen the transformation, and I have seen the pair go off on their
+wedding flight.
+
+Men of science have been trying to explain these strange
+transformations, and to discover why the Prince and Princess do not need
+to eat or drink, once they have won their highest form, their life of
+wings and joy. But they have not got much farther than giving names to
+the things we have long loved and seen as children, dividing the winged
+wonders into two big families called Butterflies and Moths.
+
+Do you know the difference between a Butterfly and a Moth?
+
+Taken together they make a large group that are called Scale-wings,
+because they alone among insects, have scales or tiny feathers like dust
+on the wings. Butterflies are Scale-wings that fly by day, and have
+club-shaped feelers; they mostly fold one wing against the other when
+they alight, and in the chrysalis, or bundle-baby stage, they are naked
+and look like an African ear-drop.
+
+Moths are Scale-wings that fly by night, and have switch or
+feather-shaped feelers; they keep their wings spread open when they
+alight, and in the bundle-baby stage, they are wrapped in a cocoon.
+There are some that do not keep to these rules, but they are rare, and
+the shape of the feelers will tell whether it is a Moth or a Butterfly.
+
+All of these Scale-wings are hatched from eggs, and come first, as a
+worm, grub, or caterpillar; next as a chrysalis pupa or bundle-baby;
+last as the winged creature. That is, first a Beast and last a Beauty.
+Each of them must at one time be the ugly one, before the great change
+comes. But I must tell you a truth that the Fairy Books left out, and
+which maybe you have guessed--Princess Beauty too was at one time forced
+to live and look like a Beast, till she had fought her own fight, had
+worked out her own high destiny, and won her way to wings.
+
+
+TALE 13
+
+The Mourning-cloak Butterfly, or the Camberwell Beauty
+
+There was once a lady who dwelt in Camberwell. She was so good to see
+that people called her "The Camberwell Beauty." She dressed so
+magnificently that her robe was covered with gold, and spangled with
+precious stones of most amazing colours. Especially proud was she, of
+the row of big blue diamonds that formed the border; and she loved to go
+forth into the world to see and be seen; although she knew that the
+country was full of robbers who would be sure to steal her jewels if
+they could. Then she made a clever plan, she kept on the beautiful
+things that she loved to dress in, but over all she hung a black velvet
+mourning cloak which nobody could possibly want to steal. Then she went
+up and down the roads as much as she pleased.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Mourning-cloak Butterfly (3/4 life size)]
+
+Well, this story may be not quite true, but it is partly true, and the
+beautiful lady is known to-day as the Mourning-cloak Butterfly. There it
+is, plain to be seen, the black mourning cloak, but peeping from under
+it, you can see the golden border and some of the blue diamonds too,
+if you look very carefully.
+
+In the North Woods where I spent my young days, the first butterfly to
+be seen in the springtime was the Mourning-cloak, and the reason we saw
+it so early in the season, yes, even in the snowtime, was because this
+is one of the Butterflies that sometimes sleep all winter, and so live
+in two different seasons.
+
+Its eggs are laid on the willows, elms, or poplars, in early springtime.
+The young soon hatch, and eat so much, and grow so fast, that five weeks
+after the eggs are laid, and three after they are hatched, the
+caterpillar is full grown, and hangs itself up as a chrysalis under some
+sheltering board or rail. In two weeks more, the wonderful event takes
+place, the perfect Butterfly comes forth; and there is another
+Mourning-cloak to liven the roadside, and amaze us with its half-hidden
+beauty.
+
+
+TALE 14
+
+The Wandering Monarch
+
+Did you ever read the old Greek story of Ulysses, King of Ithaca, the
+Wandering Monarch, who for twenty years roamed over sea and land away
+from home--always trying to get back, but doomed to keep on travelling,
+homesick and weary, but still moving on; until his name became a byword
+for wandering?
+
+[Illustration: MONARCH BUTTERFLY
+
+"The Wanderer" in Three Stages: Cocoon, Caterpillar, and Butterfly]
+
+In our own woods and our own fields in America we have a Wandering
+Monarch--the "Big Red Butterfly" as we children called it--the "Monarch"
+as it is named by the butterfly catchers.
+
+It is called the "Wanderer" chiefly because it is the only one of our
+Butterflies that migrates like the birds. In the late summer it
+gathers in great swarms when the bright days are waning, and flies away
+to warmer lands. I have often seen it going, yet I do not remember that
+I ever saw it come back in the springtime; but it comes, though not in
+great flocks like those that went south.
+
+One of the common names of this splendid creature is "Milkweed
+Butterfly" because its grub or caterpillar is fond of feeding on the
+leaves of the common milkweed.
+
+The drawing shows the size and style of the grub; in colour it is yellow
+or yellowish green with black bands.
+
+As soon as it is grown big enough and fat enough, the grub hangs itself
+up as a "chrysalis" which is a Greek word that may be freely rendered
+into "golden jewel." The middle drawing shows its shape; in colour it is
+of a pale green with spots of gold, or as it has been described "a green
+house with golden nails."
+
+After about two weeks the great change takes place, and the bundle-baby
+or chrysalis opens to let out the splendid red-brown Butterfly, of
+nearly the same red as a Cock Robin's breast in springtime, with lines
+and embroidery of black and its border set with pearls. Near the middle
+of the hind wing is a dark spot like a thickening of one rib. This has
+been called a "sachet bag" or "scent-pocket," and though not very
+ornamental to look at, is of more use to it than the most beautiful
+white pearl of the border. For this is the battery of its wireless
+telegraph. We think our ships and aeroplanes very far advanced because
+they can signal miles away, and yet the Wandering Monarch had an outfit
+for sending messages long before it was ever dreamed of by man. Maybe it
+is not a very strong battery, but it certainly reaches for miles; and
+maybe its messages are not very clear, but they serve at least to let
+the Monarchs know where their wives are, and how to find them, which is
+something.
+
+There is one other reason for calling this the Wanderer. Although it is
+an American by birth, it has travelled to England and the Philippines
+and is ever going farther over the world till at last no doubt it will
+have seen all lands and possessed them.
+
+It makes old Ulysses look like a very stay-at-home, for his farthest
+travels never went beyond the blue Mediterranean, and his whole twenty
+years of voyaging covered less than the states east of the
+Mississippi--much less than our Red Wanderer covers in a single summer.
+
+
+TALE 15
+
+The Bells of the Solomon Seal
+
+Let us go out into the woods, and look for the Solomon Seal. This is May
+and we should find it in some half open place, where it is neither wet
+nor dry. Here it is! See the string of bells that hangs from its curving
+stem. Dig out its roots, wash off the earth, and you will see the mark
+of King Solomon's Seal that gives its name to the plant. Now listen to
+the story of it all.
+
+King Solomon had the "second sight" that means the deeper sight, the
+magic eyesight which made him see through a stone wall, or read men's
+thoughts. King Solomon had fayland ears; which means, he could hear all
+sounds from A to Z; while common ears, like yours and mine, hear only
+the middle sounds from K to Q.
+
+Everything that lives and moves is giving out music; every flower that
+blooms is singing its song. We cannot hear, our ears are too dull; but
+King Solomon could. And one day, as he walked through the woods, he
+heard a new flower-song that made him stop and listen. It had strange
+music with it, and part of that was a chime of golden bells.
+
+[Illustration: The Bells of the Solomon Seal]
+
+The great King sat down on a bank. His fayland eyes could see right into
+the ground. He saw the fat fleshy root like a little goblin, reaching
+its long white fingers down into the soil, picking out the magic
+crystals to pack away in its pockets; and he could see the tall stem
+like a wood-elf carrying them up, and spreading them upon its flat
+hands, so they could soak up the juices of the sun and air. He could see
+them turning into a wonderful stuff like amber dew, with a tang like
+new-cut timber. But it was not yet done, so he could not tell just what
+it might be good for. Now it was springtime, and it would be harvest red
+moon before the little worker would have the magic healing stored in its
+treasure bags underground. So to prevent any one harming or hindering
+the plant till its work was done, the King took out his seal ring and
+stamped seal marks all along the root, where they are unto this day. And
+then to make it sure he made the golden bell chimes become visible so
+every one could see them. There they hang like a row of ringing bells.
+
+But the King never came back to learn the rest of it, for he had to
+build the temple; and he had many wives who took up a great deal of his
+time. So the world has never found out just what is the magic power of
+the plant. But it is there, be sure of that, just as surely as the peal
+of golden bells is there, and the marks of the great King's Seal.
+
+
+TALE 16
+
+The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal
+
+[Illustration: The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal]
+
+Over a month later, the King suddenly remembered that he had not been
+out to see the plant whose root he had sealed. He was very busy at the
+time, as he had the temple to build, and many wives to look after; so he
+called Djin, a good goblin, who does hard work and said, "Go and see
+that no one has harmed that plant," then told him how to find it.
+
+Away went the good goblin, like a flash. He was a very obedient servant,
+but not very bright; and when he came to the woods, he looked all around
+for the plant with the chime of bells, for King Solomon had forgotten to
+say that the bells do not ring after June, and it was now July. So the
+goblin looked about for a long time. He did not dare to go back and say
+he could not find it--that would have been a terrible crime, so he
+looked and looked. At last he heard a little tinkle of bells away off in
+the woods. He flew to the place, and there was a plant like the one he
+sought but its bells were of silver, and all in a bunch instead of a
+long string. The good goblin dug down to the big fat root in the ground
+and found that the seal marks had grown over--at least he thought they
+had--for they were nowhere to be seen. So he looked around for something
+to help. His eye fell on an acorn cup. He took this, and using it for a
+seal, he stamped the root all over.
+
+Then he took a piece of the root and a sprig and flew back to show the
+King. Solomon smiled and said: "You did the best you could, but you have
+marked the wrong root. Listen! This is not the golden chime, but the
+chime of silver bells."
+
+That is the story of it and that is why it has ever since been called
+the False Solomon Seal.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[A] Some, like the Turkey-buzzards, have not yet been heard to sing, but
+I believe they do.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO SEE IN SUMMERTIME
+
+[Illustration: The Brownie and the Mouse-bird]
+
+
+
+
+Things to See in Summertime
+
+
+TALE 17
+
+How the Mouse-bird Made Fun of the Brownie
+
+Once there was a conceited Brownie, who thought he could do more things
+and do them better than any other of his people. He had not tried yet,
+for he was very young, but he said he was going to do them some day!
+
+One morning a sly old Brownie, really making fun of him, said: "Why
+don't you catch that Phoebe-bird? It is quite easy if you put a little
+salt on his tail." Away went Smarty Brownie to try. But the Phoebe would
+not sit still, and the Brownie came back saying: "He bobbed his tail so,
+the salt would not stay on."
+
+"Well," said the sly old Brownie, "there is a little Mouse-bird whose
+tail never bobs. You can easily catch him, for you see, he does not even
+fly, but crawls like a mouse up the tree," and he pointed to a little
+brown Creeper. By this time the young Brownie knew that the others were
+laughing at him, so he said rather hotly, "I'll just show you right
+now."
+
+He took an acorn cup full of salt, and went after the Mouse-bird. It was
+at the bottom of the big tree, creeping up, round and round, as if on a
+spiral staircase, and the Brownie began to climb in the same way. But
+every little while the climber had to stop and rest. This had strange
+results, for there is a law in Brownie land, that wherever one of the
+little people stops to sit down, or rest, a toadstool must spring up for
+him to sit on. So the track of the Brownie up the trunk became one long
+staircase of toadstool steps, some close, some far apart, but each
+showing where the Brownie had rested. They came closer together toward
+the top where the Brownie had got tired, but he was coming very near to
+the Creeper now. He got his pinch of salt all ready, as his friends down
+below kept calling and jeering: "Now you've got him, now is your
+chance." But just as he was going to leap forward and drop the salt on
+its tail, the Creeper gave a tiny little laugh like "_Tee-tee-tee_,"
+spread its wings, for it could fly very well, and sailed away to the
+bottom of the next tree to do the spiral staircase all over again, while
+Smarty Brownie was so mad that he jumped to the ground and hid away from
+his friends for two days. When he came back he did not talk quite so
+much as he used to. But to this day you can see the staircase of
+toadstools on the tree trunks where the Brownie went up.
+
+
+TALE 18
+
+The Pot-herb that Sailed with the Pilgrims
+
+"Come," said the Guide, "to-day I am going to show you a Pot-herb that
+came from England with the Pilgrim Fathers and spread over the whole of
+America. There is a story about it that will keep it ever in your
+memory."
+
+[Illustration: The Pilgrim's Pot-herb]
+
+The Pilgrims had landed in Massachusetts, and slowly made farms for
+themselves as they cleared off the forest. They had a very hard time at
+first, but the Indians helped them; sometimes with gifts of venison, and
+sometimes by showing them which things in the woods were good to eat.
+
+There was a Squaw named Monapini, "the Root-digger," who was very
+clever at finding forest foods. She became friendly with a white woman
+named Ruth Pilgrim, and so Ruth's family got the benefit of it, and
+always had on the table many good things that came from the woods.
+
+One day, long after the farms were cleared and doing well, the white
+woman said, "See, Mother Monapini, thou hast shown me many things, now I
+have somewhat to show thee. There hath grown up in our wheat field a
+small herb that must have come from England with the wheat, for hitherto
+I have not seen it elsewhere. We call it lamb's-quarter, for the lamb
+doth eat it by choice. Or maybe because we do eat it with a quarter of
+lamb. Nevertheless it maketh a good pot-herb when boiled."
+
+The old Indian woman's eyes were fixed on the new plant that was good to
+eat: and she said, "Is it very good, oh white sister?"
+
+"Yes, and our medicine men do say that it driveth out the poison that
+maketh itch and spots on the skin." After a moment Monapini said, "It
+looketh to me like the foot of a wild goose."
+
+"Well found," chuckled Ruth, "for sometimes our people do call it by
+that very name."
+
+"That tells me different," said the Indian.
+
+"What mean you," said Ruth.
+
+"Is not a goose foot very strong, so it never catcheth cold in the icy
+water?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And this hath the shape of a goose foot?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then my Shaman tells that it is by such likeness that the Great Spirit
+showeth the goose foot plant to be charged with the driving out of
+colds."
+
+"It may be so," said the white woman, "but this I know. It is very good
+and helpeth the whole body."
+
+The Indian picked a handful of the pot-herbs, then stared hard at the
+last; a very tall and strong one.
+
+"What hast thou now, Monapini?" The red woman pointed to the stem of the
+lamb's-quarter, whereon were long red streaks, and said: "This I see,
+that, even as the white-man's herb came over the sea and was harmless
+and clean while it was weak, but grew strong and possessed this field,
+then was streaked to midheight with blood, so also shall they be who
+brought it--streaked at last to the very waist with blood--not the white
+men's but the dark purple blood of the Indian. This the voices tell me
+is in the coming years, that this is what we shall get again for helping
+you--destruction in return for kindness. Mine inner eyes have seen it."
+She threw down the new pot-herb and glided away, to be seen no more in
+the settlements of the white men.
+
+And Ruth, as she gazed after her, knew that it was true. Had she not
+heard her people talking and planning? For even as the weed seed came
+with the wheat, so evil spirits came with the God-fearing Pilgrims, and
+already these were planning to put the heathens to the sword, when the
+Colony was strong enough.
+
+So the Indian woman read the truth in the little pot-herb that sailed
+and landed with the Pilgrims; that stands in our fields to this day,
+streaked with the blood of the passing race--standing, a thing of
+remembrance.
+
+
+TALE 19
+
+How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves
+
+[Illustration: How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves]
+
+Once upon a time a Bee, a Bug, and a Cow went marching up to Mother
+Carey's palace in the hemlock grove, to tell her of their troubles. They
+complained that food was poor and scarce, and they were tired of the
+kinds that grew along the roadsides.
+
+Mother Carey heard them patiently, then she said: "Yes, you have some
+reason to complain, so I will send you a new food called Clover. Its
+flower shall be full of honey for the Bee, its leaves full of cowfood
+and its cellar shall be stocked with tiny pudding bags of meal for the
+Bug, that is for good little Bug-folks who live underground."
+
+Now the tribes of the Bee, the Bug, and the Cow had a fine time
+feasting, for the new food was everywhere.
+
+But Cows are rather stupid you know. They found the new food so good
+that they kept on munching everything that had three round leaves,
+thinking it was Clover, and very soon a lot of them were poisoned with
+strange plants that no wise Cow would think of eating.
+
+So Mother Carey called a Busy Brownie, and put him on guard to keep the
+Cows from eating the poison plants by mistake.
+
+At first it was good fun, and the Brownie enjoyed it because it made him
+feel important. But he got very tired of his job and wanted to go to the
+ball game.
+
+He sat down on a toadstool, and looked very glum. He could hear the
+other Brownies shouting at the game, and that made him feel worse. Then
+he heard a great uproar, and voices yelling "A home run!" "A home run!"
+That drove him wild. He had been whittling the edge of the toadstool
+with his knife, and now he slashed off a big piece of the cap, he was so
+mad.
+
+Then up he got and said to the Cows: "See here, you fool Cows, I can't
+stay here for ever trying to keep you from eating poison, but I'll do
+this much. I'll stamp all the good-to-eat leaves with a mark that will
+be your guide."
+
+[Illustration: The Shamrock]
+
+So he made a rubber stamp out of part of the toadstool he was sitting
+on, and stamped every Clover leaf in that pasture, so the Cows could be
+sure, then skipped away to the ball game.
+
+When Mother Carey heard of his running away from his job, she was very
+angry. She said: "Well, you Bad Brownie, you should be ashamed, but that
+white mark was a good idea so I'll forgive you, if you go round, and put
+it on every Clover leaf in the world."
+
+He had to do it, though it looked like an endless task, and he never
+would have finished it, had not the other Brownies all over the world
+come to help him; so it was done at last. And that is the reason that
+every Clover leaf to-day has on it the white mark like an arrowhead, the
+Brownie sign for "good-to eat."
+
+The Cows get along better now, but still they are very stupid; they go
+munching ahead without thinking, and will even eat the blossoms which
+belong to the Bees. And the Bees have to buzz very loudly and even sting
+the Cows on their noses to keep them from stealing the bee-food. The
+good little Bugs underground have the best time, for there the Cows can
+not harm them, and the Bees never come near. They eat when they are
+hungry and sleep when they are cold, which is their idea of a good time;
+so except for some little quarrels between the Cows and the Bees they
+have all gotten along very well ever since.
+
+
+TALE 20
+
+The Shamrock and Her Three Sisters
+
+[Illustration: Yellow-haired Hob. Shamrock's blonde sister]
+
+The Shamrock is really the White Clover. It is much the same shape as
+the Red Clover, and has the same food bags in its cellar. It is just as
+good for Cows and even better for Bees; so the Brownie stamped all its
+leaves with the white arrow mark, as you can plainly see. This plant,
+as you know, is the emblem of Ireland.
+
+The story-tellers say that St. Patrick was preaching to Leary, the
+heathen King of Tara in Ireland hoping to turn him into a Christian. The
+king listened attentively, but he was puzzled by St. Patrick's account
+of the Trinity. "Stop," said the king. "How can there be three Gods in
+one and only one God where there are three. That is impossible." St.
+Patrick stooped down and picking up a Shamrock leaf, said: "See, there
+it is, growing in your own soil; there are three parts but only one
+leaf." The king was so much struck by this proof that he became a
+Christian and ever since the Shamrock has been the emblem of Ireland.
+
+Now to fill out the history of the Clovers, I should tell you of the
+other three. The next is called Alsike, or the Pink Clover.
+
+When you look at this Alsike or Alsatian Clover, you might think its
+mother was a red clover and its father a white one, for it is about half
+way between them in size, and its bloom is pink on the outside and white
+in the middle. Evidently, the Brownie didn't think much of it, for he
+did not put his arrow mark on its leaves. Still the Cows think it is
+good, the Bees think it is fine, and it always carried lots of food bags
+in its cellar. So also does the next sister--Melilot, the Yellow Clover
+or Honey-lotus--and the last and sweetest of them all, is the Sweet
+Clover that spreads sweet smells in the old-fashioned garden.
+
+
+TALE 21
+
+The Indian Basket-maker
+
+[Illustration: The Indian Basket]
+
+"Come, little Nagami, my Bird-Singer, you are ten years old, it is time
+you learned to make baskets. I made my first when I was but eight,"
+said Mother Akoko proudly, for she was the best basket-maker on the
+river.
+
+So they took a sharp stick, and went into the woods. Akoko looked for
+spruce trees that had been blown down by the storm, but found none, so
+she stopped under some standing spruce, at a place with no underbrush
+and said: "See, Nagami, here we dig for wattap."
+
+The spruce roots or "wattap" were near the surface and easily found, but
+not easily got out, because they were long, tangled and criss-crossed.
+Yet, by pulling up, and cutting under, they soon got a bundle of roots
+like cords, and of different lengths, from two feet to a yard, or more.
+
+"Good," said Akoko; "this is enough and we need not soak them, for it is
+summer, and the sap is running. If it were fall we should have to boil
+them. Now you must scrape them clear of the brown bark." So Nagami took
+her knife and worked for an hour, then came with the bundle saying:
+"See, Mother, they are smooth, and so white that they have not a brown
+spot left." "Good," said Akoko, "now you need some bark of the willow
+for sewing cord. Let us look along the river bank."
+
+There they found the round-leafed, or fish-net willow, and stripped off
+enough of its strong bark to make a bundle as big as one hand could
+hold.
+
+This also had to be scraped clear of the brown skin, leaving only the
+strong whitish inner bark, which, when split into strips, was good for
+sewing.
+
+"See, my Nagami, when I was a little girl I had only a bone needle made
+from the leg of a deer, but you have easy work; here is a big steel
+packing needle, which I bought for you from a trader. This is how you
+make your basket."
+
+So Akoko began a flat coil with the spruce roots, and sewed it together
+with the willow bark for thread, until it was a span wide. And whenever
+a new root was to be added, she cut both old piece and new, to a long
+point, so they would overlap without a bump.
+
+Then the next coil of the spruce roots was laid on, not flat and level,
+but raised a little. Also the next, until the walls were as high as four
+fingers. Then Akoko said, "Good, that is enough. It is a fine corn
+basket. But we must give it a red rim for good luck."
+
+So they sought in a sunny place along the shore, and found the fruit of
+the squawberry or blitum. "See," said Akoko, "the miscawa. Gather a
+handful, my Nagami. They make the red basket-dye."
+
+They crushed the rich red berries, saving the red juice in a clam shell,
+and soaked a few strands of the white willow bark in the stain. When
+they were dry, Nagami was taught to add a rim to her basket, by sewing
+it over and over as in the picture.
+
+Then Akoko said, "Good, my little Bird-Singer, you have done well, you
+have made some old black roots into a beautiful basket."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+N.B. The Guide will remember that rattan and raffia can be used for this
+when it is impossible to get spruce roots and willow bark. Good dyes may
+be made from many different berries.
+
+
+TALE 22
+
+Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?
+
+It has long been the custom of the Brownies to have a great feast on the
+first of the merry month of May, to celebrate the return of the spring.
+
+[Illustration: The Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?]
+
+One springtime long ago, they got ready as usual. The King of the
+Brownies had invited all the leaders; the place for the dinner was
+chosen in a grove of mandrakes whose flat umbrellas made a perfect
+roof, rain or shine. The Bell Bird, whose other name is Wood Thrush, was
+ringing his bell, and calling all the Chief Brownies by name.
+
+"Ta-rool-ya! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"
+
+"Oka-lee! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"
+
+"Cherk! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"
+
+"Come to the feasting! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"
+
+A hundred glow worms were told to hurry up with their lights and be
+ready for that night, and busy Brownies gathered good things from woods
+and waters, for the feast.
+
+May Day came bright and beautiful. The busy ones had all the "eats" in
+the Mandrake Hall, the glowworms were sleeping soundly to fill their
+storage batteries ready for the night. It made the salamanders' mouths
+water to see so many good things; but they were not asked, so stayed
+away. There were dewdrops in acorn cups, and honey on the wax. There
+were clam shells piled up with red checkerberries, and caddis worms on
+the half shell, with spicebush nubbins. A huge white Mecha-meck was the
+chief dish, with bog nuts on the side. There were lovely long crinkle
+salads. And last, there were gumdrops from the sweet birch, while at
+each place was a pussy willow to dust the food over with golden pollen
+that gave it a pleasant peppery tang. All the guests were there, and the
+feast was nearly over, when a terrible thing took place!
+
+Of all the dreaded happenings in the world of beauty there is nothing
+else so feared as the forest fire. There is not much danger of it in
+springtime, but it is possible at any season, after a long dry spell.
+Words cannot tell of the horror it spreads, as it comes raging through
+the woods destroying all beautiful living things.
+
+And right in the middle of the feast, the dreadful news was carried by a
+flying Night-bird.
+
+"Fire, Fire, Fire, Fire!" he screamed, and almost at once the smoke came
+drifting through the banquet hall, so they knew it was true.
+
+There was mad haste to escape, and only two ways were open. One was to
+get across some big stream, and the other was to hide in a cave
+underground. The birds took the first way, and the Brownies the second.
+Every Woodchuck den was just packed with Brownies within a few minutes.
+But the busy Brownie who was chief steward and had charge of the feast,
+had no idea of leaving all the good things to burn up, if he could help
+it. First he sent six of his helpers to make a deep pit for the big
+Mecha-meck, and while they did that he began hiding all the dishes in
+the ground. Last he dug some deep holes and quickly buried all the
+crinkle salads; then he ran for his life into a cave.
+
+The raging fire came along. It is too horrible to tell about, for it was
+sent by the Evil One. The lovely woods were left black without a living
+thing. But the very next day, Mother Carey and Mother Earth and El Sol,
+set about saving the wreck, and in a marvellously short time actually
+had made it green again. The mayflowers came up a second time that year,
+the violets came back, and in each place where the Brownies had hid a
+salad there came up a curious plant that never had been seen before. It
+had three saw-edged leaves and a long wand, much like the one carried by
+the Chief Steward. I never was able to find out his name for sure, but I
+think it was Trileaf or Three-leaves. Anyway, if you dig under his sign
+and sceptre wand, you will surely find the salad, and very good indeed
+it is to eat; it was not hurt in the least by the fire.
+
+[Illustration: The Mecha-meck]
+
+But from that day, the Brownies have been very shy of feasting during
+dry weather in the woods. They generally have their banquets now in some
+meadow, and afterward you can tell the place of the feast by the circle
+of little toadstools called fairy rings. For you know that wherever a
+Brownie sits, a toadstool must spring up for him to sit on.
+
+
+TALE 23
+
+The Mecha-meck
+
+That fearful time when the forest fire set all the Brownies busy burying
+their food and dishes at the feast-hall, you remember it took six of
+them to carry and hide the Mecha-meck. For it is a large fat white root
+as big as a baby, and sometimes it has arms or legs, so that when
+Monapini told Ruth Pilgrim about it she called it "Man-of-the-earth."
+
+You remember that the busy Brownie hid all the Crinkle salads, and so
+saved them; and most of us have found the Crinkleroot and eaten it
+since. But how many of us have found the Mecha-meck? I know only one man
+who has. We call him the Wise Woodman. He found and dug out the one from
+which I made the picture. It was two and a half feet long and weighed
+fifteen pounds--fifteen pounds of good food. Think of it! Above it and
+growing out of its hiding place was a long trailing vine that looked
+like a white morning-glory. There is always one of these over the
+Mecha-meck. And by that you may find it, if you look along the sunny
+banks outside of the woods. But still it is very hard to find. I never
+yet got one, though I have found many of the crinkle-root salads. Of
+course, that is easy to explain, for the busy Brownies buried hundreds
+of the salads, but only one of the big fat Mecha-meck.
+
+
+TALE 24
+
+Dutchman's Breeches
+
+[Illustration: Dutchman's Dive
+
+Dutchman's Breeches]
+
+Of course they are not, for no Dutchman I ever saw could wear such tiny
+things. I will tell you what they really are and how that came to be.
+
+You remember how the Brownies assembled for the feast on May Day when
+the Glow worms were the lamps and the Wood Thrush rang the bell. Well,
+it so happened that day that a great crowd of the merrymakers gathered
+long before the feast was ready, and while they were wondering what to
+do someone shouted: "See, how fine and warm the water is where the brook
+spreads out into the ditch. Let us have our first swim of the season
+right now!"
+
+So they all went with a whoop! stripped off their clothes, and into
+their swimming breeches with a perfect riot of glee.
+
+Then how they did splash! Some blind folks thought it must be a million
+early pollywogs splashing. But the swim ended with another racket when
+the dinner bell rang.
+
+Each splashing Brownie hopped out and hung up his breeches to dry as he
+got into his clothes.
+
+Then you remember the fire came along and scared them away. Of course
+the breeches were wet, so they didn't get singed; and there you can see
+them hanging to this day on the first of May. That is what they really
+are--Brownies' Breeches. And because the Brownies often swim in a ditch,
+they are called ditch-man's breeches; but believe me, they are not
+Dutchman's breeches and never could be.
+
+[Illustration: The Seven Sour Sisters]
+
+
+TALE 25
+
+The Seven Sour Sisters
+
+If you look along any half-open bank in the edge of the woods, or even
+in the woods itself, you are sure to see one of the Seven Sorrel
+Sisters, with leaves a little like Clover, only notched in the end and
+without the white marks, that the Brownie put on the Clover. There are
+seven of them, according to most doctors; five have yellow eyes, one
+purple, and one white streaked with blood. Their Latin name means
+"vinegar" and their Greek name means "acid." "Sorrel" itself means
+"Little sour one," so you see they have the reputation of a sour bunch.
+If you eat one of the leaves, you will agree that the name was
+well-chosen, and understand why the druggists get the tart "salt of
+lemons" from this family. The French use these Sour Sisters for their
+sour soup. But in spite of their unsweetness, they are among the pretty
+things of the woods; their forms are delicate and graceful; their eyes
+are like jewels, and when the night comes down, they bow their heads,
+gracefully fold their hands, and sleep like a lot of tired children.
+
+
+TALE 26
+
+Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass
+
+[Illustration: Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass]
+
+You should know the history of the lowly little flower called
+Blue-curls; and you must remember that flowers have their troubles just
+as you have. For one thing, flowers must get their pollen or yellow
+flower-dust, carried to some other of their kind, or they cannot keep on
+growing good seed. And since the flower cannot walk about finding places
+for its pollen, it generally makes a bargain with a bee. It says, "If
+you will carry my pollen to my cousins yonder, I will give you a sweet
+sip of nectar." That is where the bees get the stuff for all their
+honey, and that is how the pollen is carried.
+
+Well, the modest little Blue-curls long had had a working agreement with
+the Meadow Bees, and got on nicely. But one summer Blue-curls became
+discontented. She saw all the other plants with wonderful gifts that had
+power to cure pain and sickness; while she was doing nothing but live
+her own easy life, and she felt she was a nobody.
+
+So one day as Mother Carey's slowest steed was swishing over the grass,
+Blue-curls cried out: "Mother Carey, Mother Carey, won't you hear me and
+grant me a gift?"
+
+"What is it, little one?" said the All-mother.
+
+"Oh, Mother Carey, the pansy cures heartache, the monkshood cures
+canker-lip, the tansy cures colds, and all the others have some joy and
+honour of service, but I am good for nothing, Mother Carey so the wise
+men despise me. Won't you give me a job? Won't you give me some little
+power?"
+
+"Little one, such an asking never finds me deaf. I love those who would
+help. I will give you a little bit of _all healing_ so that you shall be
+good medicine, if not the best, for all ills, and men shall call you
+'Self-heal' and 'All-heal' for you shall have all healing in yourself."
+
+And it has been so ever since. So that some who go by looks call the
+modest little meadow flower, "Blue-curls in the Grass," but the old
+herb-men who know her goodness call her "All-heal" or "Self-heal."
+
+
+TALE 27
+
+The Four Butterflies You See Every Summer
+
+[Illustration: Summer Butterflies (a little over life size)]
+
+There are four Butterflies that you are sure to see every summer, on our
+fields; and remember that each of them goes through the same changes.
+First it is an egg, then a greedy grub, next a hanging bundle-baby,
+and last a beautiful winged fairy, living a life of freedom and joy.
+
+In the picture I have shown the butterflies life size, but you must add
+the colour as you get each one to copy.
+
+The first is the _White_ or _Cabbage Butterfly_ that flits over our
+gardens all summer long.
+
+It is not a true American, but came from Europe in 1860 and landed at
+Quebec, from whence it has spread all over the country. In the drawing I
+have shown the female; the male is nearly the same but has only one
+round dark spot on the front wings. Its grub is a little naked green
+caterpillar, that eats very nearly a million dollars' worth of cabbages
+a year; so it is a pity it was ever allowed to land in this country.
+There are moths that we should like to get rid of, but this is the only
+butterfly that is a pest.
+
+2nd. The _Yellow_ or _Clouded Sulphur Butterfly_. You are sure to find
+it, as soon as you begin to look for butterflies. This is the one that
+is often seen in flocks about mud puddles.
+
+When I was a very small boy, I once caught a dozen of them, and made a
+little beehive to hold them, thinking that they would settle down and
+make themselves at home, just like bees or pigeons. But the grown-ups
+made me let them fly away, for the Sulphur is a kindly creature, and
+does little or no harm.
+
+One of the most beautiful things I ever came across, was, when about ten
+years old, I saw on a fence stake ahead of me a big bird that was red,
+white and blue, with a flaming yellow fan-crest. Then as I came closer,
+I knew that it was a red-headed woodpecker, with a Sulphur Butterfly in
+his beak; this made the crest; what I thought was blue turned out to be
+his glossy black back reflecting the blue sky.
+
+3rd. The next is the _Red Admiral_ or _Nettle Butterfly_. The "red" part
+of the name is right, but why "Admiral"? I never could see unless it was
+misprint for "Admirable."
+
+[Illustration: Red Admiral]
+
+[Illustration: Tiger Swallowtail (life size)]
+
+This beautiful insect lays its eggs and raises its young on nettles, and
+where nettles are, there is the Red Admiral also. And that means over
+nearly all the world! Its caterpillar is not very well protected with
+bristles, not at all when compared with the Woolly-bear, but it lives in
+the nettles, and, whether they like it or not, the hospitable nettles
+with their stings protect the caterpillar. The crawler may be grateful,
+but he shows it in a poor way, for he turns on the faithful nettle, and
+eats it up. In fact the only food he cares about is nettle-salad, and he
+indulges in it several times a day, yes all day long, eating, growing
+and bursting his skin a number of times, till he is big enough to hang
+himself up for the winter, probably in a nettle. Then next spring he
+comes forth, in the full dress uniform of a Red Admiral, gold lace, red
+sash, silver braid and all.
+
+4th. The last of the four is the _Tiger Swallowtail_. You are sure to
+see it some day--the big yellow butterfly that is striped like a tiger,
+with peacock's feathers in its train, and two long prongs, like a
+swallow-tail, to finish off with. It is found in nearly all parts of the
+Eastern States and Canada. I saw great flocks of them on the Slave River
+of the North.
+
+It is remarkable in that there are both blondes and brunettes among its
+ladies. The one shown in the drawing is a blonde. The brunettes are so
+much darker as to be nearly black; and so different that at one time
+everyone thought they were of a different kind altogether.
+
+
+TALE 28
+
+The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar
+
+[Illustration: The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar (the moth is a little
+over life size)]
+
+The lovely Io Moth is one that you will see early, and never forget, for
+it is common, and ranges over all the country from Canada to the Gulf.
+When you see it, you will be inclined to spell its name Eye-oh--for it
+has on each wing a splendid eye like that on a peacock's tail-feather,
+while the rest of its dress is brown velvet and gold.
+
+There is a strange chapter in the life of Io, which you should know
+because it shows that Mother Carey never gives any wonderful gift to her
+creatures without also giving with it some equal burden of sorrow.
+
+This is how it all came about.
+
+Long ago when the little ones of the Io Moth were small, they were, like
+most caterpillars, very ugly little things. They felt very badly about
+it, and so they set out one day for the great Home Place of Mother Carey
+in the Whispering Grove of the Ages.
+
+There they prayed, "Dear Mother Carey, we are not of an ugly race, why
+should we be so ugly as caterpillars? Will you not make us beautiful,
+for beauty is one of the best things of all?"
+
+Mother Carey smiled and waved a finger toward a little Brownie, who came
+with a tray on which were two cups; one full of bright sparkling pink
+stuff, and the other with something that looked like dark green oil. But
+the glasses were joined at the top, there was but one place to drink,
+and that reached both.
+
+Then Mother Carey said, "These are the goblets of life, one is balm and
+will give you joy, the other is gall and will give you suffering. You
+may drink little or much, but you must drink equally of both. Now what
+would ye?"
+
+The little ugly creatures whispered together, then one said: "Mother
+Carey, if we drink, will it give us beauty?"
+
+"Yes, my children, the red goblet of life will give you beauty, but with
+it the other will give you grief."
+
+They whispered together, then all the little crawlers went silently
+forward, and each took a long drink of the double goblet.
+
+Then they crawled away, and at once became the most beautiful of all
+caterpillars, brilliant jewel-green with stripes of pink, velvet, and
+gold. Never before were there seen such exquisite little crawlers.
+
+But now a sad thing happened. They were so beautiful that many creatures
+became their enemies, and began to kill them and eat them one after
+another. They crawled as fast as they could, and hid away, but many of
+them were killed by birds and beasts of prey, as well as by big fierce
+insects.
+
+They did not know what to do, so next day the few that were left crawled
+back to the Grove of Ages, and once more stood before Mother Carey.
+
+"Well, my Beauty-crawlers," she said, "what would you?"
+
+"Oh, Mother Carey, it is fearful, everyone seeks to destroy us. Most of
+us are killed, and many of us wounded. Will you not protect us?"
+
+"You drank of the two goblets, my children. I warned you that your
+beauty would bring terrible trouble with it."
+
+They bowed their little heads in silent sorrow, for they knew that that
+was true.
+
+"Now," said the All-Mother, "do you wish to go back and be ugly again?"
+
+They whispered together and said: "No, Mother Carey, it is better to be
+beautiful and die."
+
+[Illustration: The Splendid Silk-Moth (about 1/2 life size)]
+
+Then Mother Carey looked on them very kindly, and said: "Little ones, I
+love your brave spirit. You shall not die. Neither shall you lose your
+beauty. I will give you a defence that will keep off all your enemies
+but one, that is the Long-stinger Wasp, for you must in some way pay for
+your loveliness." She waved her wand, and all over each of the
+Beauty-crawlers, there came out bunches of sharp stickers like porcupine
+quills, only they were worse than porcupine quills for each of the
+stickers was poisoned at the tip, so that no creature could touch the
+Beauty-crawlers without being stung.
+
+The birds and beasts let them alone now, or suffer a terrible punishment
+from the poison spears. You children, too, must beware of them; touch
+them not, they will give you festering wounds. There is only one
+creature now that the Beauty-crawlers truly fear; that is the
+Long-stinger Wasp. He does indeed take toll of their race, but that is
+the price they still must pay for their beauty. Did they not drink of
+the double goblet?
+
+
+TALE 29
+
+The Great Splendid Silk-Moth or _Samia Cecropia_
+
+When I was a very small boy, I saw my father bring in from the orchard a
+ragged looking thing like parchment wrapped up with some tangled hair;
+it was really the bundle-baby of this Moth. He kept it all winter, and
+when the spring came, I saw for the first time the great miracle of the
+insect world--the rag bundle was split open, and out came this glorious
+creature with wings of red and brown velvet, embroidered with silver and
+spots that looked like precious stones. It seemed the rarest thing in
+the world, but I have found out since, that it is one of our common
+moths, and any of you can get one, if you take the trouble.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now listen, and you shall hear of what happened long ago to a green
+crawler who was born to be a splendid Silk-Moth, but who spoiled it all
+by a bad temper.
+
+It had been a very cold, wet summer, and one day, when the wind was
+whispering, he cried out: "Mother Carey, when I have done with my
+working life, and go into the Great Sleep, grant that it may never rain
+on me for I hate rain, and it has done nothing but pour all summer
+long." And he shivered the red knobs on his head with peevishness.
+
+"You silly little green crawler, don't you think I know better than you
+what is good for you? Would you like there to be no rain?"
+
+"Yes, I would," said the red-knobbed Samia rebelliously.
+
+"Would _you_?" said the All-Mother to another green crawler, who hung on
+a near-by limb.
+
+"Mother Carey, we have had a wet, cold summer, and the rain has been
+miserable, but I know you will take care of us."
+
+"Good," said the All-Mother: "then, in this way it shall be. You little
+Red-Knobs shall have what you so much wish, you shall hang up in a dry
+loft where not a drop of dew even shall touch you in your bundle-baby
+sleep. And you little Yellow-Knobs shall hang under a limb where every
+rain that comes shall drench your outer skin." And she left them.
+
+When the time came to hang up, Red-Knobs was led to a place as dry as
+could be, under a shed and swung his bundle-baby hammock from the
+rafters.
+
+Yellow-Knobs hung up his hammock under a twig in the rose garden.
+
+The winter passed, and the springtime came with the great awakening day.
+Each of the bundle-babies awoke from his hammock and broke his bonds.
+Each found his new wings, and set about shaking them out to full size
+and shape. Those of the rain-baby came quickly to their proper form, and
+away he flew to rejoice in perfect life. But though the other shook and
+shook, his wings would not fluff out. They seemed dried up; they were
+numbed and of stunted growth.
+
+Shake as he would, the wings stayed small and twisted. And as he
+struggled, a Butcher-bird came by. His fierce eye was drawn by the
+fluttering purple thing. It had no power to escape. He tore its crumpled
+wings from its feathery form, and made of it a meal. But before dying it
+had time to say, "Oh, Mother Carey, now I know that your way was the
+best."
+
+
+TALE 30
+
+The Green Fairy with the Long Train
+
+Some fairies are Brownies and some are Greenies, and of all that really
+and truly dance in the moonlight right here in America, Luna Greenie
+seems the most wonderful; and this is her history:
+
+Once upon a time there was a seed pearl that dropped from the robe of a
+green fairy. It stuck on the leaf of a butternut tree till one warm day
+Mother Carey, who knows all the wild things and loves them all, touched
+it with her magic wand, called Hatch-awake, and out of the seed pearl
+came an extraordinarily ugly little dwarf, crawling about on many legs.
+He was just as greedy as he was ugly, and he ate leaf after leaf of the
+butternut tree, and grew so fat that he burst his skin. Then a new skin
+grew, and he kept on eating and bursting until he was quite big. But he
+had also become wise and gentle; he had learned many things, and was not
+quite so greedy now.
+
+[Illustration: The Green Fairy With the Long Train (about 4/5 life
+size)]
+
+Mother Carey, the All-Mother, had been watching him, and knew that now
+he was ready for the next step up. She told him to make himself a
+hammock of rags and leaves, in the butternut tree. When he had crawled
+into it, she touched him with her wand, the very same as the one she
+used when she sent the Sleeping Beauty into her long sleep. Then that
+little dwarf went soundly to sleep, hanging in his hammock.
+
+Summer passed; autumn came; the leaves fell from the butternut tree,
+taking the bundle-baby with them, exactly as in the old rhyme:
+
+        Rock-a-bye baby on the tree-top,
+        When the wind blows, your cradle will rock,
+        When the cold weather makes all the leaves fall,
+        Down tumbles baby and cradle and all.
+
+But the hammock, with its sleeper, landed in a deep bed of leaves, and
+lay there all winter, quite safe and warm.
+
+Then when the springtime sun came over the hill, Mother Carey came
+a-riding on the Warm Wind, and waving her wand. She stopped and kissed
+the sleeping bundle-baby, just as the Prince kissed the Sleeping Beauty,
+and instantly the baby awoke. Then happened the strangest thing. Out of
+that ragged old hammock there came the most wonderful and beautiful
+Green Fairy ever seen, with wings and with two trains; and as it came
+out and looked shyly around, trembling with new life, Mother Carey
+whispered, "Go to the butternut grove and see what awaits you there."
+
+So away she went. Oh, how easy and glorious it is to fly! She could
+remember how once she used to crawl everywhere. And through the soft
+sweet night she flew, as she was told, straight to the butternut grove.
+As she came near she saw many green fairies--a great crowd of
+them--gathered in the moonlight, and dancing round and round in
+fluttering circles, swooping about and chasing each other, or hiding in
+the leaves. They did not feast, for these fairies never eat, and they
+drink only honey from flowers. But there was a spirit of great joy over
+them all. And there were some there with longer head plumes than those
+she wore. They seemed stronger and one of them came with a glad greeting
+to the new Green Dancer and though she flew away, she was bursting with
+joy that he should single her out. He pursued her till he caught her,
+and hand in hand they danced together in the moonlight. She was happier
+than she had known it was possible to be, and danced all night--that
+wonderful wedding dance. But she was very tired when morning was near,
+and high in the tree she slept so soundly that she never noticed that
+many seed pearls that were clustered on the lining of her robe had got
+loose and rolled into the crevices of the trunk. There they lay until
+Mother Carey came to touch them with her magic wand, so each became a
+crawler-dwarf, then a bundle-baby, and at last a dancing fairy.
+
+But the Green Dancer did not know that--she knew only that it was a
+glorious thing to be alive, and fly, and to dance in the moonlight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+You must never fail to watch under the butternut tree on mid-summer
+nights, for it is quite possible that you may see the wedding dance of
+the Luna Greenie and her sisters with the long-trained robes.
+
+
+TALE 31
+
+The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon
+
+[Illustration: The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon]
+
+Once upon a time, there was a beautiful little Yellow Dragon, who lived
+a happy and innocent life on the high banks of a prattling stream. The
+Dragon himself was dumb but he loved a merry noise, and nothing
+pleased him more than the prattling of the water. Sometimes this
+pleasant little Dragon went up stream, where it was noisy, and sometimes
+he went down stream, where it was very silent, and rested awhile in
+little pools. Here it was that he met with his first enemy, a warty
+Hoptoad with jealous eyes. That Toad thought that he owned the pools
+because he bathed there every springtime, and though it was a kind
+little Dragon, the Toad hated him, and began to plot against him.
+
+"Ho! little Yellow Dragon," he said, "you are very wonderful to see, and
+you must be very clever; but you haven't got everything you want, have
+you?"
+
+The Dragon smiled, shook his head, and made silent signs with his lips.
+Then the Toad understood, for he said: "Ho-ho, I understand that you
+cannot speak. But are you happy?"
+
+The Dragon smiled sweetly and nodded, then pointed to the stream.
+
+That made the Toad madder than ever, for he thought it meant that the
+Dragon was claiming the whole stream. So the Toad said: "See, Dragon,
+there is a wonderful food that you have never tasted, that is a poached
+egg."
+
+This he said with his heart full of guile, for he knew full well that
+poached eggs are deadly poison to Dragons.
+
+The Dragon looked puzzled, and the Toad said, "Have you?"
+
+The Dragon shook his head. "Well," said the Toad, "it is the most
+delicious thing in the woods; now you wait and see."
+
+He went hoppity-hop, to a sand-bank where he had seen a Turtle lay its
+eggs that morning. He dug out one. He rolled it upon a stone, and split
+it open with the sharp spur on his heel. As soon as it was stiffened by
+the sun heat, he said, "Here now, Dragon, swallow it down, while I get
+another for myself."
+
+The poor innocent little Dragon did not know any better. He tried to
+swallow the poached egg. The moment he did, it stuck in his throat, and
+poisoned him. At once his toes sank into the ground. He turned green all
+over, and his head was changed into a strange new flower. There it is to
+this day, standing silently where it can hear the brook a-prattling. Its
+body is green all over, and its head is yellow and its jaws are wide
+open with a poached egg stuck in its throat. And that is how it all came
+about. Some call it Toad Flax, and some call it Butter and Eggs, but we
+who know how it happened call it the Dragon and the Poached Egg.
+
+Poor dear little Yellow Dragon!
+
+
+TALE 32
+
+The Fairy Bird or the Humming-bird Moth
+
+When I was a schoolboy, a number of my companions brought the news that
+the strangest bird in the world had come that day to our garden and
+hovered over the flowers. It was no bigger than a bumble-bee. "No! It
+was not a humming-bird," they said, "it was smaller by far, much more
+beautiful, and it came and went so fast that no one could see it go."
+
+[Illustration: The Fairy Bird (1-1/2 life size)]
+
+Every guess that I made seemed not to fit the wonderful bird, or help to
+give it a name that would lead us to its history in the books. The
+summer went by, several schoolmates saw the Wonderbird, and added
+stories of its marvellous smallness and mysterious habits. Its body,
+they said, was of green velvet with a satin-white throat; it had a
+long beak--at least an inch long--a fan-tail of many feathers, two long
+plumes from its head, "the littlest feet you ever have seen," and large
+lustrous eyes that seemed filled with human intelligence. "It jest
+looked right at you, and seemed like a fairy looking at you."
+
+The wonder grew. I made a sketch embodying all the points that my
+companions noted about the Fairy Bird. The first drawing shows what it
+looked like, and also gives the exact size they said it was.
+
+It seemed a cruel wrong that let so many of them see the thing that was
+of chief interest to me, yet left me out. It clearly promised a real
+fairy, an elfin bird, a wonderful messenger from the land I hungered to
+believe in.
+
+But at last my turn came. One afternoon two of the boys ran toward me,
+shouting: "Here it is, the little Fairy Bird, right in the garden over
+the honeysuckle. C'mon, quick!"
+
+I rushed to the place, more excited than I can tell. Yes, there it was,
+hovering over the open flowers--tiny, wonderful, humming as it swung on
+misty wings. I made a quick sweep of my insect net and, marvellous to
+relate, scooped up the Fairy Bird. I was trembling with excitement now,
+not without a sense of wickedness that I should dare to net a
+fairy--practically an angel. But I had done it, and I gloated over my
+captive, in the meshes. Yes, the velvet body and snowy throat were
+there, the fan-tail, the plumes and the big dark eyes, but the creature
+was _not a bird_; it was an insect! Dimly now I remembered, and in a few
+hours, learned, as I had feared, that I had not captured a young angel
+or even a fairy--it was nothing but a Humming-bird Moth, a beautiful
+insect--common in some regions, scarce in some, such as mine--but
+perfectly well known to men of science and never afterward forgotten by
+any of that eager schoolboy group.
+
+
+TALE 33
+
+Ribgrass or Whiteman's-Foot
+
+If you live in the country or in a small town, you will not have to go
+many steps, in summer time, before you find the little plant known as
+Ribgrass, Plantain, or Whiteman's-foot. If you live in a big city, you
+may find it in any grassy place, but will surely see it, as soon as you
+reach the suburbs. It grows on the ground, wherever it can see the sun,
+and is easily known by the strong ribs, each with a string in it when
+you pull the leaf apart. The Indians call it Whiteman's-foot, not
+because it is broad and flat, but because it came from Europe with the
+white man; it springs up wherever he sets his foot, and it has spread
+over all America. Gardeners think it a troublesome weed; but the birds
+love its seed; canary birds delight in it; and each plant of the
+Ribgrass may grow many thousands of seeds in a summer.
+
+How many? Let us see! Take a seed-stalk of the Plantain and you will
+find it thickly set with little cups, as in the drawing. Open one of
+these cups, and you find in it five seeds. Count the cups; there are two
+hundred on this stalk, each with about five seeds, that is, one thousand
+seeds; but the plant has five or more seed-stalks, some have more (one
+before me now has seventeen), but suppose it has only ten; then there
+are 10,000 seeds each summer from one little plant. Each seed can grow
+up into a new plant; and, if each plant were as far from the next as you
+can step, the little ones in a row the following summer would reach for
+nearly six miles; that is, from the City Hall to the end of Central
+Park, New York.[B]
+
+[Illustration: The Ribgrass]
+
+[Illustration: Jack-in-the-Pulpit]
+
+On the third year if all had the full number of seed, and all the seed
+grew into plants, there would be enough to go more than twice round the
+world. No wonder it has spread all over the country.
+
+
+TALE 34
+
+Jack-in-the-Pulpit
+
+Once upon a time there was a missionary named the Rev. John T. Arum, who
+set out to preach to the Indians. He had a good heart but a bitter,
+biting tongue. He had no respect for the laws of the Indians, so they
+killed him, and buried him in the woods. But out of his grave came a new
+and wonderful plant, shaped like a pulpit, and right in the middle of
+it, as usual, was the Reverend Jack hard at it, preaching away.
+
+If you dig down under the pulpit you will find the preacher's body, or
+his heart, in the form of a round root. Taste it and you will believe
+that the preacher had a terribly biting tongue, but treat it properly,
+that is boil it, and you will find out that after all he had a good
+little heart inside. Even the Indians have discovered his good qualities
+and have become very fond of him.
+
+
+TALE 35
+
+How the Indian Pipe Came
+
+[Illustration: How the Indian Pipe Came]
+
+In the last tale you learned the fate of the Rev. John T. Arum, and the
+origin of Jack-in-the-Pulpit. But you must not suppose for a moment that
+the Indians decided in a hurry to kill the missionary. No, they had too
+much sense of fair play for that. They held a great many councils first
+to find some way of curbing his tongue, and making him mind his own
+business. In fact, they got into the habit of holding a council every
+few minutes to discuss the question, no matter where they were or what
+else they were doing. So that pretty nearly every part of the woods was
+in time used for a council ring to discuss the fate of the Rev. John T.
+Arum.
+
+Of course, you know that no Indian can hold a council without smoking
+the Peace Pipe, and when the council is over, he empties out the ashes
+of the pipe. So that when all those councils were over, when the matter
+was settled, when the missionary was buried, and when the warrior had
+gone to the ghost land, there came solemnly poking its white bowl and
+stem from under the leaves an Indian pipe, at the very spot where the
+Councillors had emptied the ashes. It is a beautifully shaped pipe, with
+a curved and feathered stem, but it has none of the bright colours of
+the old Peace Pipe. It cannot have them for this is only a ghost Pipe to
+show where the council used to be; and one pipe there is for each
+council held on that spot, so you see how many, many councils the
+Indians had, before they killed the troublesome preacher. And sometimes
+you can find a pipe that has the bowl still filled with ghost tobacco or
+even a little red ghost fire, showing that the warriors had to hurry
+away before that council was finished. Whenever you find the ghost pipe
+in the woods, you are sure to see close by either a log, a bank or a
+rock on which the Councillors sat to talk it over.
+
+
+TALE 36
+
+The Cucumber Under the Brownie's Umbrella
+
+The Indians had Brownies, only they called them Pukwudjies, and I am
+going to tell you a story of an Indian Brownie.
+
+[Illustration: The Cucumber Under the Brownie's Umbrella]
+
+Whenever the Indians got together for a council, the Brownies did the
+same thing, in the woods near by. It was a kind of Brownie Fair, and
+some of the little people used to have stands and sell refreshments.
+Berries were scarce in the springtime, but the Brownies were very fond
+of cucumber. So there were always one or two Cucumber Brownies, who set
+up their little umbrellas, and sold slices of Cucumber to the others.
+
+When it was time to go home, or when the sun got so hot that the
+cucumbers were likely to spoil, they would bury them in the ground, but
+leave the umbrella to mark the place. And there they are yet; many a
+time have I found the umbrella, and dug under it to find the cucumber.
+It is delicious eating; everything that Brownies like is. You can find
+it, and try it. It is one of the things that Monapini taught Ruth
+Pilgrim to eat. (Tale 18).
+
+Of course, the Brownies do not like you to dig up their treasure or
+good-to-eats, but there are plenty more, far more than they ever need.
+"Yet what about it," you say, "if the Brownie happens to be there?"
+
+He may be sitting right under the umbrella, but remember the little
+people are invisible to our eyes. You will not see him; at least I never
+did.
+
+
+TALE 37
+
+The Hickory Horn-devil
+
+Hush, whisper! Did you ever meet a Hickory Horn-devil? No! Well I did,
+and I tell you he is a terror. Look at this picture of him. It is true,
+only he is not quite so big as that, though he looks as if he might be.
+And I was not quite so small as that, only I felt as if I were! And
+everything about him looked horribly strong, poisonous and ugly. He was
+a real devil.
+
+[Illustration: The Hickory Horn-devil (1/2 life size)]
+
+I did not know his history then; I did not learn it for a long time
+after, but I can tell it to you now.
+
+Once upon a time there was a little, greenish, blackish worm. He loved
+pretty things, and he hated to be ugly, as he was. No one wanted him,
+and he was left all alone, a miserable little outcast. He complained
+bitterly to Mother Carey, and asked if she would not bless him with some
+grace, to help him in his troubles.
+
+Mother Carey said: "Little ugly worm; you are having a hard time,
+because in your other life, before you came into this shape, you had an
+ugly, hateful spirit. You must go through this one as you are, until the
+Great Sleep comes; after that, you will be exactly what you have made of
+yourself."
+
+Then the little ugly worm said: "Oh Mother Carey, I am as miserable as I
+can be; let me be twice as ugly, if, in the end, I may be twice as
+beautiful."
+
+Mother Carey said gravely, "Do you think you could stand it, little
+worm? We shall see."
+
+From that time the worm got bigger and uglier, no creature would even
+talk to him. The birds seemed to fear him, and the Squirrels puffed out
+little horror-snorts, when they saw him coming, even the other worms
+kept away from him.
+
+So he went on his lonely life, uglier and more hated than ever. He lived
+chiefly on a big hickory tree, so men called him the Hickory Horn-devil.
+
+One day as he was crawling on a fence, a hen with chickens came running
+after him, to eat him. But when she saw how ugly he was she cried: "Oh,
+Lawk, lawk! Come away, children, at once!"
+
+At another time he saw a Chipmunk teaching its little ones to play tag.
+They looked so bright and happy, he longed, not to join them because he
+could only crawl, but to have the happiness of looking on. But when he
+came slowly forward, and the old Chipmunk saw him waving his horns and
+looking like a green poisonous reptile, she screamed, "Run, my
+children!" and all darted into their hole while Mother Chipmunk stuffed
+up the doorway with earth.
+
+But the most thrilling thing of all that he saw was one day as the sun
+went down, a winged being of dazzling beauty alighted for a moment on
+his hickory tree. Never had the Horn-devil seen such a dream of
+loveliness. Her slender body was clad in rose velvet, and her wings were
+shining with gold. The very sight of her made him hate himself, yet he
+could not resist the impulse to crawl nearer, to gaze at her beauty.
+
+But her eyes rested a moment on his horrible shape, and she fled in
+fear, while a voice near by said: "The Spangled Queen does not love
+poisonous reptiles." Then the poor little Horn-devil wished he were
+dead. He hid away from sight for three days. Hunger however forced him
+out, and as he was crawling across a pathway, a man who came along was
+going to crush him underfoot, but Mother Carey whispered, "No, don't do
+it." So the man let him live, but roughly kicked the worm aside, and
+bruised him fearfully.
+
+Then came Mother Carey and said: "Well, little ugly worm! Is your spirit
+strong, or angry?"
+
+The worm said bravely, though feebly: "Mother, Mother Carey, I am trying
+to be strong. I want to win."
+
+The breezes were losing their gentle warmth when Mother Carey came to
+him one day, and said: "Little one, your trial has been long, but it is
+nearly over.
+
+"Prepare to sleep now, my little horny one, you have fought a brave
+fight; your reward is coming. Because your soul has been made beautiful
+by your suffering, I will give you a body blazing with such beauty as
+shall make all stand in adoration when you pass." Then Mother Earth
+said, "Our little one shall have extra care because he has had extra
+trials." So the tired little Horn-devil did not even have to make
+himself a hammock, for Mother Earth received him and he snuggled into
+her bosom. As Mother Carey waved her wand, he dropped off asleep. And he
+slept for two hundred days.
+
+Then came the great Awakening Day, the resurrection day of the woods.
+Many new birds arrived. Many new flowers appeared. Sleepers woke from
+underground, as Mother Carey's silent trumpeters went bugling ahead of
+her, and her winged horse, the Warm Wind, came sweeping across the
+meadows, with the white world greening as he came.
+
+The bundle-baby of the Horn-devil woke up. He was cramped and sleepy,
+but soon awake. Then he knew that he was a prisoner, bound up in silken
+cords of strength. But new powers were his now, he was able to break the
+cords and crawl out of his hole. He put up his feelers to find those
+horrible horns, but they were gone, and his devil form fell off him like
+a mask. He had wings, jewelled wings! on his back now. Out he came to
+fluff the newfound wings awhile, and when they were spread and supple he
+flew into the joyful night, one of the noblest of all the things that
+fly, gorgeous in gold and velvet, body and wings; filled with the joy of
+life and flight, he went careering through the soft splendour of the
+coming night. And as he flew, he glimpsed a radiant form ahead, a being
+like himself, with wings of velvet and gold. At first he thought it was
+the Princess of the Hickory Tree, but now his eyes were perfect, and he
+could see that this was a younger and more beautiful Spangled Princess
+than the one of his bygone life, and all his heart was filled with the
+blazing fire of love. Fearlessly now he flew to overtake her; for was
+she not of his own kind? She sped away, very fast at first, but maybe
+she did not go as fast as she could, for soon he was sailing by her
+side. At first she turned away a little, but she was not cross or
+frightened now. She was indeed inclined to play and tease. Then in their
+own language, he asked her to marry him, and in their own language she
+said, "yes." Away they flew and flew on their wedding flight, high in
+the trees in the purple night, glorious in velvet and gold, more happy
+than these printed words can tell.
+
+The wise men who saw them said, "There go the Royal Citheronia and his
+bride." And Mother Carey smiled as she saw their bliss, and remembered
+the Hickory Horn-devil.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[B] Let the Guide illustrate with some local measure.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO SEE IN AUTUMNTIME
+
+[Illustration: The Purple and Gold of Autumn]
+
+
+
+
+Things to See in Autumntime
+
+
+TALE 38
+
+The Purple and Gold of Autumn
+
+There was once an old gentleman named Father Time, and he had four
+beautiful daughters.
+
+The eldest was called Winter Time. She was tall and pale. She dressed
+chiefly in white wool trimmed with wonderful lacework. She was much
+admired by some, but others considered her very cold and distant. And
+most agreed that she was the least winsome of the sisters.
+
+The second one was called Spring Time, and she was dressed in beautiful
+golden-green satin. She had a gentle, sunny disposition; some thought
+her the loveliest.
+
+The third was Summer Time, and her robe was dark-green velvet. She was
+warm-hearted and most attractive, full of life and energy, and as unlike
+the eldest sister as possible.
+
+The youngest was Autumn Time. She certainly was a wonderful creature,
+with red rosy cheeks, plump form, and riotous good spirits. Her robes
+were gorgeous and a little extravagant, for she wore a new one every
+day, and of all that she had, the one that she loved the best and wore
+the latest was of purple and gold. We can go out in October and see the
+purple and gold, and gather some scraps of the robe, for it is on every
+wayside and every hillside.
+
+
+TALE 39
+
+Why the Chicadee Goes Crazy Twice a Year
+
+A long time ago, when it was always summer in our woods, the Chicadees
+lived merrily with their cousins, and frolicked the whole year round.
+But one day Mother Carey sent the small birds a warning that they must
+move to the South, when the leaves fell from the trees, for hard frost
+and snow were coming, and maybe starvation too.
+
+All the cousins of the Chicadees listened to the warning and got ready
+to go; but Tomtit, their leader, only laughed and turned a dozen wheels
+around a twig that served him for a bar.
+
+"Go to the South?" said he. "Not I; I am too happy here; and as for
+frost and snow, I never saw any, and I don't believe there are such
+things."
+
+Very soon the leaves fell from the trees and the Nut-hatches and the
+King-wrens were so busy getting ready to go that the Chicadees left off
+play for a minute, to ask questions. They were not pleased with the
+answer they got, for the messenger had said that all of them were to
+take a long, long journey that would last for days, and the little
+King-wrens had actually to go as far as the Gulf of Mexico. Besides,
+they were to fly by night, to avoid their enemies, the Hawks, and the
+weather at this season was sure to be stormy. So the Chicadees said it
+was all nonsense, and went off, singing and chasing one another through
+the woods, led by Tomtit singing a new song in which he made fun of the
+travellers.
+
+        Tom Tom Tiddy-Mouse!
+        Hid away in our house,
+        Hid his brother in the cellar,
+        Wasn't he a silly feller?
+
+But their cousins were quite serious. They picked out wise leaders and
+formed themselves into bands. They learned that they must follow their
+leader, they must twitter as they flew in the darkness, so as to let
+those behind know where\he leaders were; they must follow the great
+rivers southward; they must wait for a full moon before starting, and
+never travel by day.
+
+The noisy, rollicking Chicadees continued to make fun of their cousins
+as they saw them now gathering in the woods along the river; and at
+length, when the moon was big, bright, and full, the cousins arose to
+the call of the leaders and all flew away in the gloom. The Chicadees
+said that all the cousins were crazy, made some good jokes about the
+Gulf of Mexico, and then dashed away on their favourite game of tag and
+tumble through the woods, which, however, did seem rather quiet now, and
+bare of leaves; while the weather, too, was certainly turning
+uncomfortably cool.
+
+At length the frost and snow really did come, and the Chicadees were in
+a bad way. Indeed, they were frightened out of their wits, and dashed
+hither and thither, seeking in vain for some one to set them aright on
+the way to the warm land. They flew wildly about the woods, till they
+were truly crazy. I suppose there was not a squirrel-hole or a hollow
+log in the neighbourhood that some Chicadee did not enter to inquire if
+this was the Gulf of Mexico. But no one could tell anything about it, no
+one was going that way, and the great river was hidden under ice and
+snow.
+
+About this time a messenger from Mother Carey was passing with a message
+to the Caribou in the Far North; but all he could tell the Chicadees was
+that he could not be their guide, as he had other business. "Besides,"
+he said, "you had the same notice as your cousins whom you called
+'crazy.' And from what I know of Mother Carey, you will probably have to
+stick it out here all through the snow, not only now, but in every
+winter after this; so you may as well make the best of it."
+
+This was sad news for the Chicadee Tomtits; but they were brave little
+fellows, and seeing they could not help themselves, they went about
+making the best of it. Before a week had gone by they were in their
+usual good spirits again, scrambling about the snowy twigs, or chasing
+one another as before.
+
+They were glad to remember now that Mother Carey said that winter would
+end. They told each other about it so much that even at its beginning,
+when a fresh blizzard came on, they would gleefully remark to one
+another that it was a "sign of spring," and one or another of the flock
+would lift his voice in the sweet little chant that we all know so well:
+
+[Illustration: Spring soon]
+
+Another would take it up and answer back:
+
+[Illustration: Spring com-ing]
+
+and they would keep on repeating the song until the dreary woods rang
+again with the good news, and the wood-people learned to love the brave
+little bird that sets his face so cheerfully, to meet so hard a case.
+
+And winter did end. Spring did come at last. And the sign of its coming
+was when the ice broke on the stream and the pussy willow came purring
+out above it. The air was full of the good news. The Chicadees felt it,
+and knew it through and through. They went mad with joy, chasing each
+other round and round the trees and through the hollow logs, shouting
+"The spring is here, the spring is here, Hurree, Hurree, Hurree," and in
+another week their joyous lives were going on as before the trouble
+came.
+
+But to this day, when the chill wind blows through the deserted woods,
+the Chicadees seem to lose their wits for a few days, and dart into all
+sorts of queer places. They may then be found in great cities, or open
+prairies, cellars, chimneys, and hollow logs; and the next time you find
+one of the wanderers in any out-of-the-way corner, be sure to remember
+that the Chicadee goes crazy twice a year, in the fall and in the
+spring, and probably went into his strange hole or town in search of the
+Gulf of Mexico.
+
+
+TALE 40
+
+The Story of the Quaking Aspen or Poplar
+
+The leaf of the Quaking Asp is like the one marked "a" in the drawing.
+Its trunk is smooth, greenish, or whitish, with black knots of bark like
+"c". All the farmers know it as Popple, or White Poplar; but the hunters
+call it Quaking Asp or Aspen.
+
+[Illustration: The Story of the Quaking Aspen]
+
+The name "quaking" was given because it is for ever shaking its leaves;
+the slightest wind sets them all rustling. They move so easily because
+each leaf-stem is like a thin, flat strap set on edge; while the
+leaf-stem of such as the oak is nearly round and scarcely rustles at
+all. Why does the Quaking Asp do this? No doubt, because it lives in
+places where the hot dust falls thick on the leaves at times, and if it
+did not have some trick of shaking it off, the leaf would be choked and
+bent so that the tree could scarcely breathe; for the leaves are the
+lungs of the trees. So remember, when the Poplar rustles loudly, it is
+coughing to clear its lungs of the dust.
+
+Some trees try to hide their troubles, and quickly cover up their
+wounds; but the Aspen has a very touchy skin and, once it is wounded, it
+shows the scar as long as it lives. We can, therefore, go to any Aspen
+tree, and have it tell us the story of its life. Here is the picture of
+one. The black marks at the forks (c) are scars of growth; the belts of
+dots (d) were wounds given by a sapsucker to rob it of its sap; the flat
+places (e) show where a Red Squirrel gnawed off the outer bark.
+
+If a Raccoon climbed the tree (f), or an insect bored into the trunk, we
+are sure to see a record of it in this sensitive bark.
+
+Now, last of all, the paper on which this story is printed was likely
+made out of Aspen wood.
+
+
+TALE 41
+
+The Witch-hazel
+
+[Illustration: Witch-hazel]
+
+These are the things to make you remember the Witch-hazel; its forked
+twig was used--nay, still is used--as a magic rod to show where there is
+running water underground; that is, where it is possible to find water
+by sinking a well. Its nuts are explosive, and go off with a _snap_,
+shooting the seeds that are inside, ten or twenty feet away, when the
+cold dry days of autumn come. Third, its curious golden-thread flowers
+appear in the fall.
+
+As Cracked Jimmy used to sing:-
+
+        Witch-hazel blossoms in the fall,
+        To cure the chills and fevers all.
+                      --_Two Little Savages._
+
+On November 16, 1919, after a sharp frost, I went out in the morning to
+get some Witch-hazel flowers for this drawing, and found them blooming
+away in the cold air, vigorously as ever. Imagine a flower that can
+bloom while it is freezing. In the drawing I have shown the flower, like
+a 4-lipped cup with four yellow snakes coiling out of it.
+
+But these are not the deadly snakes one hears about. They are rather
+symbols of old Æsculapius, the famous healer of the long ago, whose
+emblem was the cup of life with curling snakes of wisdom about it. In
+the Witch-hazel has been found a soothing balm for many an ache and
+pain. The Witch-hazel you buy in the drugstores, is made out of the bark
+of this tree. If you chew one of the little branches you will know it by
+the taste.
+
+Near the top is a flower that is finished, its snakes have fled; and at
+the top of all is a bud for next year. That is, they are--_is_,
+_has-been_ and _going-to-be_. The nuts are shown in the corner.
+
+Note, last of all, that it is a sociable little tree; it always goes
+with a crowd. There are generally three or four Witch-hazels from one
+root, and there is always a family of cousins not far away.
+
+
+TALE 42
+
+How the Shad Came and How the Chestnut Got Its Burrs
+
+In the woods of Poconic there once roamed a very discontented Porcupine.
+She was forever fretting. She complained that everything was wrong, till
+it was perfectly scandalous, and Wahkonda, the Great Spirit, getting
+tired of her grumbling, said:
+
+"You and the world I have made don't seem to fit; one or the other must
+be wrong. It is easier to change you. You don't like the trees, you are
+unhappy on the ground, and think everything is upside down, therefore
+I'll turn you inside out, and put you in the water." And so the
+Porcupine was turned into a new creature, a fish, called the Shad. That
+is why he is so full of little sharp bones.
+
+Then after the old Porcupine had been turned into a Shad, the young ones
+missed their mother, and crawled up into a high Chestnut tree to look
+for her coming. Wahkonda happened to pass that way, and they all
+chattered their teeth at him, thinking themselves safe. They were not
+wicked, but at heart quite good, only badly brought up; oh, so
+ill-trained, and some of them chattered and groaned as Wahkonda came
+nearer. Then Wahkonda was sorry for them, remembering that he had taken
+their mother from them, and said: "You look very well up there, you
+little Porkys, so you had better stay there for always, and be part of
+the Chestnut tree." And he touched each one with his magic wand and
+turned it into a burr that grew tight to the tree. That is how it came
+about. There they hang like a lot of little Porcupines on the twigs of
+the tree. They are spiney and dangerous, utterly without manners, and
+yet most of them have a good little heart inside.
+
+
+TALE 43
+
+How the Littlest Owl Came
+
+After the Great Spirit had made the world and the creatures in it, he
+made the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo. This was like an Owl, but bigger than
+anything else alive, and his voice was like a river plunging over a
+rocky ledge. He was so big that he thought he had done it all himself,
+and he became puffed up. He forgot the Great Spirit, who decided to
+teach him a lesson in this wise:
+
+He called the Blue-jay, the mischief-maker of the woods, and told him
+what to do. Away went the Blue-jay to the mountain at the top of which
+was the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo making thunder in his throat. The Blue-jay
+flew up to his ear, and said: "Pooh, Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo, you don't call
+that a big noise! You should hear Niagara; then you would never twitter
+again."
+
+The Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo was so mad at hearing his big wonderful song
+called a twitter, that he said: "Niagara, Niagara! I'm sick of hearing
+about Niagara. I will go and silence Niagara with my voice." So he flew
+to Niagara while the Blue-jay snickered and followed to see the fun.
+
+Now when Niagara Falls was made the Great Spirit said to it, "Flow on
+for ever." That last word of the Great Spirit it took up as it rushed
+on, and never ceases to thunder out "For ever! For ever! For ever!"
+
+When they came to Niagara the mighty cataract, the Blue-jay said, "Now,
+Gitchee, you can beat that I am sure." So Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo began
+bawling to drown the noise of it, but could not make himself heard.
+
+"Wa-wa-wa," said the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo, with great effort and only for
+a few heart beats.
+
+"_For ever, For ever, For ever_," thundered the river, steadily, easily,
+ceaselessly.
+
+"Wa-wa-wa--!" shrieked Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo; but his voice was so utterly
+lost that he could not hear it himself, and he began to feel small, and
+smaller; and as he began to feel small, a strange thing happened--he
+began to get small and smaller, until he was no bigger than a Sparrow;
+and his voice, instead of being like a great cataract, became like the
+dropping of water, just a little
+
+        Tink-tank-tink,
+        Tink-tank-tink.
+
+And this is why the Indians give to this smallest of the Owls the name
+of "The Water-dropping Bird," who was once the greatest of all
+creatures, but is now shrunk to be the littlest of the Owls, because he
+became proud and forgot the Great Spirit.
+
+
+TALE 44
+
+The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts
+
+Once upon a time there was a rich boy, who knew all about the city, and
+nothing about the woods. He went for an outing into the wilderness, and
+got lost. He wandered all day until he was very tired and hungry. The
+sun was low when he came to a little pathway. He followed it, and it led
+to a small log cabin. When he knocked, an old woman opened the door. He
+said, "Please, Ma'am, I am lost and very hungry, will you give me
+something to eat?"
+
+[Illustration: The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts]
+
+The old woman looked sharply at his clothes, and knew that he was
+rich, so she said: "Poor people are wise, they can take care of
+themselves in the woods. They don't get lost. But you rich people are
+fools, and I wish you would go away."
+
+"I will, if you'll give me something to eat," he answered.
+
+Then the old woman said: "Listen, foolish rich boy, in the woods beside
+you right now is a friend who feeds the poor people, maybe she will feed
+you. She is tall and slim, her eyes are brownish purple and her hair is
+green, and by this you may know her--she has five fingers on one hand
+and seven on the other. Her house is in the brier thicket; she climbs to
+the roof and stands there all day waving her hands, and shouting out in
+wood-talk, 'There are cocoanuts in my cellar.'
+
+"Now go and find her, maybe she will feed you. She always feeds us poor
+folks," and the witch slammed the door.
+
+The boy was puzzled. As he stood in doubt, there was a loud noise, and
+his friends arrived. They brought him the food and comfort that he
+needed.
+
+Then he said: "I wish to know what that old wood-witch meant by the lady
+with the purple eyes and green hair." So he went again to the log cabin
+and knocked.
+
+When the old woman came, and saw a lot of people about, she was
+frightened for she knew she had been unkind. But the boy said: "Now
+Granny, you needn't be afraid, I want you to show me the friend that has
+seven fingers and a cellar full of cocoanuts."
+
+"I'll show you, if you promise to do me no harm," she answered.
+
+"Of course, I'll promise," replied the boy.
+
+Then Granny Wood-witch went hobbling to the nearest thicket and cackled
+out loud, as she pointed out a trailing vine that had sometimes five
+leaflets on a stalk and sometimes seven. "See, see, that's the lady.
+See seven fingers on that hand and five on this. Now follow her feet
+down and dig in the ground."
+
+They dug and found strings of lovely brown nuts as big as walnuts.
+
+"See, see," chuckled the wood-witch. "See the cocoanuts in the cellar."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Go forth and look for it, ye Woodcrafters. You will find it throughout
+Eastern America on the edge of every wood. Its flower is like a
+purple-brown sweet-pea, and is in bloom all summer long. Follow down its
+vine, dig out a few of the potatoes or nuts, and try them, raw, boiled,
+or if ye wish to eat them as Indian Cake, clean them, cut them in
+slices, dry till hard, pound them up into meal, and make a cake the same
+as you would of oatmeal.
+
+The wild things love them, the Indians love them, and this was the bread
+of the wood-witch. The books call it Bog Potato and Ground Nuts. It is
+the third secret of the woods.
+
+
+TALE 45
+
+The Mud-dauber Wasp
+
+If you look under the roof of any wooden barn in Eastern America you are
+likely to see the nest of the common Mud-wasp.
+
+[Illustration: The Mud-dauber Wasp (life size)]
+
+If you look on warm sunny days along the edge of some mud puddle you are
+sure to see a curious steel-blue wasp, with a very thin waist, working
+away at a lump of mud. She seems to be breathing hard with her body, as
+she works with her yellow legs, but she finally goes off laden with a
+gob of mud. This is the Mud-wasp at work, building a strong mud-nest for
+her family. The nest is the one we have seen hung under the roof of
+the shed, always put where no rain can reach it.
+
+In the drawing are two of these nests.
+
+Once the cradle is ready, the mother Wasp goes spider-hunting. Whenever
+she can find a spider, she pounces on it, and with her sting, she stabs
+it in the body, so as to paralyze it, but not kill it. Then she carries
+it to the mud cell and packs it in, at the far end. Many spiders are
+caught and preserved this way, for they do not usually die though they
+cannot move.
+
+When the cell is full, the Wasp lays an egg on the last spider, and
+seals up the opening with a mud lid.
+
+Very soon the egg hatches out a little white grub which begins on the
+spider next to him, eating the legs first, and the body last, so as to
+keep it alive as long as possible, though of course the spider has no
+feeling. Then he eats the next spider, and the next, growing as he eats,
+until he nearly fills the cell, and the spiders are all eaten up.
+
+Now the grub goes to sleep, and next spring comes out as a full-grown
+Mud-wasp to do exactly as the mother did, though it never saw that
+Mother or had a lesson from any one in the many strange things it must
+do to live.
+
+I went into my boat-house to-day, November 20, 1919, to get a mud nest
+for this drawing. There were 86 on the roof; some of them with 20 or 30
+cells, and besides there was a lot of paper nests by other Wasps. The
+nest I took had two cells, one open and empty, and the other with a mud
+lid on tight. This held a long, shiny brown transparent case, in which
+was a white grub much too small for the big coat he was wearing. The
+grub was sound asleep, and would have come out next spring, as a big
+steel-blue Mud-wasp had I let him alone. But there are plenty of
+Mud-wasps so I fed him to the Chicadees, which likely is what Mother
+Carey would have done.
+
+[Illustration: The Cicada and the Katydid (life size)]
+
+
+TALE 46
+
+The Cicada and the Katydid
+
+Once upon a time, long, long ago, the birds whose job it was to make the
+woods merry with their songs, decided to go on strike. They said, "We
+have sung all day, all springtime, and half way through the summer, but
+now we are moulting, the weather is frightfully hot; we need a rest, and
+we are going to stop singing, to take a holiday."
+
+Then Dame Nature, who is sometimes called the All-mother, or Mother
+Carey, said: "Dear me, this will never do! No songbirds, woods silent
+all through the dog-days. Now who will be strike-breakers and volunteer
+to supply the music till the birds get once more in a good humour?"
+
+Then up at that question got a long-winged insect like a big fly, and a
+long-legged insect like a green grasshopper, and both said at once, "I
+will." Amid low murmurs of "Scab! Scab!" from many of the Wood-birds.
+
+"You. I forgot that you two had any voices at all!" said Mother Carey.
+
+Then the long-winged creature, whose name is Cicada, began, "True, my
+voice isn't much, but I have invented a most successful musical
+Castanet. Listen!"
+
+Then he began an extraordinary racket like an alarm clock, a threshing
+machine, and a buzz-saw all going together. He filled the grove with his
+noise, and set all the woodfolk laughing with his funny performance.
+Though, of course, he didn't mean to be funny; he thought it was fine.
+
+Then as the Cicada ceased, Mother Carey said to the Green Hopper, whose
+name was Katy, "Now, Katy, what can you do?"
+
+"I do not brag of my voice, dear Mother," said she, "but I am a
+thrilling performer on the violin."
+
+Then she humped herself up over a green fiddle that she had under her
+cloak, and nearly deafened them with its hoarse screechings.
+
+There was no doubt that these two could make as much noise as a wood
+full of birds; both were eager to take sole charge, and a bitter dispute
+arose as to whose idea it was first.
+
+But Mother Carey settled it by dividing the time. "You," she said to
+Cicada, "can take charge of the music by day, and you," she said to the
+Green one, "must take it up at sundown in place of the nightingale, and
+keep it up, till the night breaks, and both of you continue till the
+frost comes, or until the birds are back on the job."
+
+That is how it all came about.
+
+But there is considerable feeling yet among the Katies, that they should
+get all the night work, and never be seen performing. They think that
+their ancestor was the original inventor of this cheap substitute for
+bird song. And it is made all the worse by a division among themselves.
+Some say "she did" and some say "she didn't." If you notice in early
+August, they are nearly all shouting, "Katy-did." Then by the end of the
+month, "Katy-didn't" is stronger. In September it is still mixed. In
+October their work is over, the chorus ended, but you hear an occasional
+"Katy-did" and finally as late as Indian Summer, which is Hallowe'en, I
+have heard the last of the fiddlers rasp out "she did"; and do it in
+daytime, too, as though to flout the followers of Cicada. And, if the
+last word be truth, as they say, we may consider it settled, that Katy
+really and truly _did_. And yet I believe next year the same dispute
+will arise, and we shall have the noisy argument all over again.
+
+If you look at the portraits of Cicada, the Hotweather-bug or Locust,
+and of the Katydid, you will not see their musical instruments very
+plainly, but believe me they have them; and you can hear them any late
+summer hot-weather time, in any part of the Eastern States and some
+parts of southern Canada.
+
+And now let me finish with a secret. Katy is not a lady at all, but a
+he-one disguised in green silk stockings, and a green satin dress.
+
+
+TALE 47
+
+The Digger Wasp that Killed the Cicada
+
+Strange things are done in the realm of Mother Carey; strange things and
+cruel. At least so they seem to us, for we do not know the plan that is
+behind them. We know only that sometimes love must be cruel. I am going
+to tell you of a strange happening, that you may see any hot day in
+August. And this is how it came about.
+
+At that meeting in the woods when the Cicada and the Katydid undertook
+to be musicians, while the birds were on strike, there was one strong
+insect who gave off an angry "_Bizz, Bizz_" that sounded like "_Scab,
+Scab_." That was the big yellow-and-black Digger Wasp, the biggest of
+the wasps, with a sting that is as bad as that of a baby rattlesnake.
+And that very day she declared war on the Cicada and his kind. The
+Katydids she could not touch, because the Wasp cannot see at night.
+
+But the Cicada was easy to find. As soon as the day got hot, and that
+awful buzzing began in the trees, the Big Digger got her sting ready,
+and went booming along in the direction of the sound.
+
+[Illustration: The Digger Wasp (life size)]
+
+Now Mother Carey had given the Cicada bright eyes and strong wings, and
+it was his own business to take care of himself; but he was so pleased
+with his music that he never saw the fierce Digger Wasp, till she
+charged on him. And before he could spread his wings, she had stabbed
+him through.
+
+His song died away in a few shrieks, and then the Cicada lay still. But
+not dead, for the Digger had stuck her poison dagger into the nerve
+centre, so that he was paralyzed and helpless, but still living.
+
+Now the Digger set about a plan. She wanted to get that Cicada body into
+her den, to feed her young ones with it. But the Cicada was bigger and
+heavier than she was, so that she could not carry it. However, she was
+bent on doing it, she got all ready, took tight hold with her claws,
+then swooped from the tree, flying as strongly as she could, till the
+weight of the Cicada brought her to the ground within fifty feet, while
+the den was fully a hundred feet away. But the Wasp dragged the Cicada
+up the trunk of another tree, then took another long sloping flight as
+before. One more climb and skid down, brought her to her den--a hole in
+a bank that she had dug out; that is why she is called the Digger Wasp.
+The passage was a foot long and had a crook in the middle. At the end
+was a round room an inch and a half high. Here the Digger left her
+victim's body and right on its breast, to one side, laid an egg.
+
+This hatched in two or three days, and began to feed on the Cicada. In a
+week it had eaten the Cicada and grown to be a big fat grub. Then it
+spun a cocoon, and made itself into a bundle-baby, resting all autumn
+and all winter in that dark den.
+
+But when the spring came with its glorious wakening up, great changes
+came over the bundle-baby of the Digger. It threw off the cocoon and its
+outer skin, and came forth from the gloom into the sunshine, a big
+strong Digger Wasp with a sting of its own, and a deadly feud with all
+screaming Cicadas. Although it never saw its mother, or got any lessons
+from her, it goes after the buzzing hotweather-bugs, when August comes,
+and treats them exactly as she did.
+
+
+TALE 48
+
+How the Indian Summer Came
+
+Wahkonda, the Great Spirit, the Ruler of the World, had found pleasure
+the whole summer long in making mountains, lakes, and forests. Then when
+the autumn came, and the leaves fell from the trees, He lighted His pipe
+and sat down to look over the things He had made.
+
+As He did so, the north wind arose for Cold Time was coming, and blew
+the smoke and ashes of the pipe into His face. Then He said: "Cease your
+blowing, all ye winds, until I have finished smoking." So, of course,
+there was dead calm.
+
+Wahkonda smoked for ten days, and during all that time there were no
+clouds in the sky, for there was no wind to bring them; there was
+unbroken, calm sunny weather. But neither was there any wind to carry
+off the smoke, so it hung, as the teepee smoke hangs at sunrise, and it
+drifted over the valleys and forests in a blue haze.
+
+Then at last when the Great Spirit finished His smoke and His
+meditation, He emptied out His pipe. That was the signal, the north wind
+broke loose, and came howling down from the hills, driving the leaves
+before it, and warning all wild things to be ready, for soon there would
+be winter in the woods.
+
+And it hath been so ever since. When the leaves have fallen and before
+yet the Ice-king is here, there come, for a little while, the calm
+dreamy days, when the Great Spirit is smoking His pipe, and the smoke is
+on the land. The Red-men call them the Smoking Days, but we call it
+Indian Summer.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO SEE IN WINTERTIME
+
+[Illustration: The North Star or Home Star]
+
+
+
+
+Things to See in Wintertime
+
+
+TALE 49
+
+The North Star, or the Home Star
+
+If you are going to be a Woodcrafter, you must begin by knowing the
+North Star, because that is the star which will show you the way home,
+if you get lost in the woods at night. That is why the Indians call it
+the "Home Star."
+
+But first, I must tell you how it came to be, and the story begins a
+long, long time ago.
+
+In those far-off days, we are told, there were two wonderful hunters,
+one named Orion, and the other named Boötes (Bo-o-tees). Orion hunted
+everything and I shall have to leave him for another story. Boötes was
+an ox-driver and only hunted bears to save his cattle. One day he went
+after a Mother Bear, that had one little cub.
+
+[Illustration: The Pappoose on the Squaw's Back]
+
+He chased them up to the top of a mountain so high, that they leaped off
+into the sky, and just as they were going, Boötes shot his arrows after
+them. His very first arrow hit the Little Bear in the tail--they had
+long tails in those days--and pinned him to the sky. There he has hung
+ever since, swinging round and round, on the arrow in his tail, while
+his mother runs bawling around him, with Boötes and his dogs chasing
+her. He shot arrows into her tail, which was long and curved, into her
+body, and into her shoulder. Seven big arrows he shot, and there they
+are yet, in the form of a dipper pointing always to the cub who is
+called the "Little Bear." The shining head of the big arrow in the end
+of the Little Bear's tail is called the North Star or Pole Star. You can
+always tell which is the North Star, by the two Pointers; these are the
+two bright stars that make the outer side of the Dipper on the Big
+Bear's shoulder. A line drawn through them, points out the North Star.
+
+The Dipper, that is the Big Bear, goes round and round the Pole
+Star, once in about twenty-four hours; so that sometimes the Pointers are
+over, sometimes under, to left or to right; but always pointing out the
+Pole Star or North Star.
+
+This star shows nearly the true north; and, knowing that, a traveller
+can find his way in any strange country, so long as he can see this
+friendly Home Star.
+
+
+TALE 50
+
+The Pappoose on the Squaw's Back
+
+Now that you know how the Bears and the Big Dipper came, you should know
+the Indian story of the Old Squaw.
+
+First find the bright star that is at the bend of the Dipper handle.
+This is called the "Old Squaw"; on her back is a tiny star that they
+call "The Pappoose."
+
+As soon as an Indian boy is old enough to understand, his mother takes
+him out into the night when it is calm and clear, and without any moon
+or any bright lights near, and says, "My child, yonder is the Old Squaw,
+the second of the seven stars; she is going over the top of the hill; on
+her back she carries her pappoose. Tell me, my child, can you see the
+pappoose?"
+
+[Illustration: Orion Fighting the Bull]
+
+Then the little redskin gazes, and from his mother's hand he takes two
+pebbles, a big one and a little one, and he sets them together on her
+palm, to show how the two stars seem to him. When the mother is sure
+that he did see them clearly, she rejoices. She goes to the fire and
+drops a pinch of tobacco into it, for incense to carry her message, then
+looking toward the sky she says: "Great Spirit, I thank Thee that my
+child has the eyes of a hunter."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+These things are not new, O Woodcrafter. The wise men of our race call
+the Big Star "Mizar" one of the chariot horses, and the little star
+"Alcor" or the Rider. In all ages it has been considered proof of
+first-class eyes, to see this little star. Can you see it? Have you the
+eyes of a hunter?
+
+
+TALE 51
+
+Orion the Hunter, and His Fight With the Bull
+
+In the 49th Tale I told you there were two giants among the mighty
+hunters in the sky, Boötes, whose adventure with the Bears you have
+already heard, and Orion. (O-ry´-on).
+
+Orion was the most famous of all. In his day men had no guns; they had
+nothing but clubs, spears, and arrows to fight with, and the beasts were
+very big and fierce as well as plentiful, yet Orion went whenever he was
+needed, armed chiefly with his club, fought the wild beasts, all alone,
+killing them or driving them out, and saving the people, for the joy of
+doing it. Once he killed a lion with his club, and ever afterward wore
+the lion's skin on his arm. Bears were as nothing to him; he killed them
+as easily as most hunters would rabbits, but he found his match, when he
+went after a ferocious wild Bull as big as a young elephant.
+
+As soon as the Bull saw him, it came rushing at him. It happened to be
+on the other side of a stream, and as it plunged in, Orion drew his bow
+and fired seven quick shots at the Bull's heart. But the monster was
+coming head on, and the seven arrows all stuck in its shoulder, making
+it madder than ever. So Orion waved his lion skin in his left hand, and
+with his club in the right, ran to meet the Bull, as it was scrambling
+up the bank from the water.
+
+The first whack of the club tumbled the Bull back into the water, but it
+turned aside, went to another place, and charged again. And again Orion
+landed a fearful blow with the club on the monster's curly forehead.
+
+By this time, all the animals had gathered around to see the big fight,
+and the gods in heaven got so interested that they shouted out, "Hold
+on, that is good enough for us to see. Come up here."
+
+So they moved the mighty Hunter and the Bull, and the River and all the
+animals, up to heaven, and the fight has gone on there ever since.
+
+In the picture I have shown a lot of animals besides Orion and the Bull,
+but the only things I want you to look now in the sky, are Orion's belt
+with the three stars on it, and the Pleiades on the Bull's shoulder, the
+seven spots where the seven arrows struck.
+
+And remember these stars cannot be seen in summer, they pass over us in
+winter time. You can find Orion by drawing a straight line across the
+rim of the Dipper, beginning at the inner or handle side, passing
+through the outer or Pointers side, and continued for twice the length
+of the Dipper, handle and all, this will bring you to Betelgeuze, the
+big star in the Giant's right shoulder, below that are the three stars
+of his belt, sometimes called the "Three Kings."
+
+
+TALE 52
+
+The Pleiades, that Orion Fired at the Bull
+
+[Illustration: The Pleiades]
+
+When late autumn comes the Pleiades (Ply'-a-dees) appear in the evening
+sky to the eastward. These are the seven shots in the Bull's shoulder,
+the seven arrows from Orion's bow. The Guide can locate them by
+continuing the line of Orion's belt, eight times the length of the belt
+to the right, as one faces the Hunter, so Orion must have been very
+close indeed. At first they look like a faint light with a few bright
+pin-points scattered through. Tennyson described them as:
+
+        Glittering like a swarm of fireflies
+        Tangled in a silver braid.
+
+The best time to see them is some clear night about Christmas, when
+there is no moon, and the Pleiades are nearly overhead, above the mist
+and smoke of the horizon, and there are no electric lights near by.
+
+Study them attentively. Make a tube of your two hands and look through.
+Look on the ground, then look back again; look not straight at them, but
+a little to one side; and at last, mark down on paper how many you can
+clearly see, putting a big spot for the big one, and little spots for
+the little ones. Poor eyes see nothing but a haze; fairly good eyes see
+four of the pin-points; good eyes see five; the best of eyes see seven.
+I can see seven on a clear winter night when there are no clouds and no
+moon. This is as high as you need expect to get, although it is said
+that some men in clear air on a mountain top have seen ten, while the
+telescope shows that there are 2,000.
+
+In taking these eyesight tests you may use your spectacles if you
+usually wear them.
+
+
+TALE 53
+
+The Twin Stars
+
+        Two-Bright-Eyes went wandering out
+        To chase the Whippoorwill;
+        Two-Bright-Eyes got lost and left
+        Our teepee--oh, so still!
+
+        Two-Bright-Eyes was carried up
+        To sparkle in the skies
+        And look like stars--but we know well
+        That that's our lost Bright-Eyes.
+
+        She is looking for the camp,
+        She would come back if she could;
+        She still peeps thro' the tree-tops
+        For the teepee in the wood.
+
+
+TALE 54
+
+Stoutheart and His Black Cravat
+
+Do you know the bird that wears a black cravat, which he changes once a
+year? It is the English Sparrow, the commonest of all our birds. His
+hair is gray, but he must have been red-headed once, for just back of
+his ears there is still a band of red; and his collar, maybe, was white
+once, but it is very dingy now. His shirt and vest are gray; his coat is
+brown with black streaks--a sort of sporting tweed. The new cravat comes
+when the new feathers grow in late summer; and, at first, it is barred
+with gray as if in half mourning for his sins. As the gray tips wear
+off, it becomes solid black; that is, in March or April. In summer, it
+gets rusty and worn out; so every year he puts on a new one in late
+August.
+
+The hen sparrow is quite different and wears no cravat. She has a
+black-and-brown cape of the sporting pattern, but her dress is
+everywhere of brownish Quaker gray.
+
+The song of the English Sparrow is loud and short; but he tries to make
+up, by singing it over and over again, for many minutes.
+
+He eats many bad bugs, and would be well liked, if he did not steal the
+nests and the food of Bluebirds, Woodpeckers, Swallows, and others that
+are prettier and more useful birds, as well as far better singers than
+he is.
+
+But there is much to admire in the Sparrow. I do not know of any bird
+that is braver, or more ready to find a way out of trouble; and if he
+cannot find a way, he cheerfully makes the best of it.
+
+Some years ago I was at Duluth during a bitterly cold spell of weather.
+The thermometer registered 20° or 30° below zero, and the blizzard wind
+was blowing. Oh my, it was cold. But out in the street were dozens of
+English Sparrows chirruping and feeding; thriving just as they do in
+warmer lands and in fine weather.
+
+When black night came down, colder yet, I wondered what the little
+stout-hearts would do. Crawl into some hole or bird-house, maybe? or
+dive into a snowdrift? as many native birds do.
+
+I found out; and the answer was most unexpected.
+
+In front of the hotel was a long row of electric lights. At nine
+o'clock, when I chanced to open the window for a breath of air, my eye
+fell on these; on every bulb was an English Sparrow sound asleep with
+the overarching reflector to turn the storm, and the electric bulb below
+him to warm his toes. My hat is off. Our Department of Agriculture may
+declare war on the Sparrow; but what is the use? Don't you think that a
+creature who is not afraid of blizzard or darkness, and knows how to use
+electric lights, is going to win its life-battle, and that he surely is
+here to stay?
+
+
+TALE 55
+
+Tracks, and the Stories They Tell
+
+[Illustration: Tracks, and the Stories They Tell]
+
+Sometimes, in town, just after rain, when the gutters are wet, and the
+pavement dry, look for the tracks of some Dog that walked with wet
+feet on the pavement. You will find that they are like "a" in the
+drawing. A Dog has five toes on his front feet, but only four touch the
+pavement as he walks. The claws also touch, and make each a little mark.
+
+Now look for the track of a Cat; it is somewhat like that of the Dog,
+but it is smaller, softer, and the claws do not show (b). They are too
+good to be wasted on a pavement; she keeps them pulled in, so they are
+sharp when she has use for them.
+
+Make a drawing of each of these, and make it life size.
+
+When there is dust on the road, or snow, look for Sparrow tracks; they
+are like "c."
+
+Note how close together the front three toes are. The inner two are
+really fast together, so they cannot be separated far and the hind toe
+is very large. Last of all, note that the tracks go two and two, because
+the Sparrow goes "hop hop, hop." These things mean that the Sparrow is
+really a tree bird; and you will see that, though often on the ground he
+gets up into a tree when he wishes to feel safe.
+
+Look for some Chicken tracks in the dust; they are like "d" in the
+drawing because the Chicken does not go "hop, hop, hop" like the
+Sparrow, but "walk, walk, walk." The Chicken is a ground bird. Most of
+the song birds hop like the Sparrow, and most of the game birds walk
+like a Chicken. But the Robin (e) goes sometimes hopping and sometimes
+running, because part of his life is in the trees, and part on the
+ground.
+
+
+TALE 56
+
+A Rabbit's Story of His Life, Written by Himself
+
+Yes, the Rabbit wrote it himself and about himself in the oldest writing
+on earth, that is the tracks of his feet.
+
+[Illustration: A WOODCRAFT TRAGEDY
+
+As shown by the Tracks and Signs in the Snow]
+
+In February of 1885, one morning after a light snowfall, I went tramping
+through the woods north of Toronto, when I came on something that always
+makes me stop and look--the fresh tracks of an animal. This was the
+track of a Cottontail Rabbit and I followed its windings with thrills of
+interest. There it began under a little brush pile (a); the bed of brown
+leaves showing that he settled there, before the snow-fall began. Now
+here (b) he leaped out after the snow ceased, for the tracks are sharp,
+and sat looking around. See the two long marks of his hind feet and in
+front the two smaller prints of his front feet; behind is the mark made
+by his tail, showing that he was sitting on it.
+
+Then he had taken alarm at something and dashed off at speed (c), for
+now his hind feet are tracking ahead of the front feet, as in most
+bounding forefoots, and the faster he goes, the farther ahead those hind
+feet get.
+
+See now how he dodged about here and there, this way and that, among the
+trees, as though trying to escape some dreaded enemy (c, d, e, f).
+
+But what enemy? There are no other tracks, and still the wild jumping
+went on.
+
+I began to think that the Rabbit was crazy, flying from an imaginary
+foe; possibly that I was on the track of a March Hare. But at "g" I
+found on the trail for the first time a few drops of blood. That told me
+that the Rabbit was in real danger but gave no clue to its source.
+
+At "h" I found more blood and at "j" I got a new thrill, for there,
+plain enough on each side of the Rabbit track, were finger-like marks,
+and the truth dawned on me that these were the prints of great wings.
+The Rabbit was fleeing from an eagle, a hawk, or an owl. Some twenty
+yards farther "k" I found in the snow the remains of the luckless Rabbit
+partly devoured. Then I knew that the eagle had not done it, for he
+would have taken the Rabbit's body away, not eaten him up there. So it
+must have been a hawk or an owl. I looked for something to tell me
+which, and I got it. Right by the Rabbit's remains was the large
+twin-toed track (l) that told me that an owl had been there, and that
+therefore he was the criminal. Had it been a hawk the mark would have
+been as shown in the left lower corner, three toes forward and one back,
+whereas the owl usually sets his foot with two toes forward and two
+backward, as in the sketch. This, then, I felt sure was the work of an
+owl. But which owl? There were two, maybe three kinds in that valley. I
+wished to know exactly and, looking for further evidence, I found on a
+sapling near by a big soft, downy, owlish feather (m) with three brown
+bars across it; which told me plainly that a Barred Owl or Hoot Owl had
+been there recently, and that he was almost certainly the killer of the
+Cottontail.
+
+This may sound like a story of Sherlock Holmes among the animals--a
+flimsy tale of circumstantial evidence. But while I was making my notes,
+what should come flying through the woods but the Owl himself, back to
+make another meal, no doubt. He alighted on a branch just above my head,
+barely ten feet up, and there gave me the best of proof, next to eye
+witness of the deed, that all I had gathered from the tracks and signs
+in the snow was quite true.
+
+I had no camera in those days, but had my sketch book, and as he sat, I
+made a drawing which hangs to-day among my pictures that are beyond
+price.
+
+Here, then, is a chapter of wild life which no man saw, which man could
+not have seen, for the presence of a man would have prevented it. And
+yet we know it was true, for it was written by the Rabbit himself.
+
+If you have the seeing eye, you will be able to read many strange and
+thrilling happenings written for you thus in the snow, the mud, and even
+the sand and the dust.
+
+
+TALE 57
+
+The Singing Hawk
+
+Listen, Guide and young folk, I want to add another bird to your list
+to-day; another secret of the woods to your learning.
+
+I want you to know the Singing Hawk. Our nature writers nearly always
+make their hawks scream, but I want you to know a wonderful Hawk, right
+in your own woods, that really and truly sings, and loves to do it.
+
+It is a long time ago since I first met him. I was going past a little
+ravine north of Toronto, on a bright warm mid-winter day, when a loud
+call came ringing down the valley and the bird that made it, a large
+hawk, appeared, sailing and singing, _kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-o,
+kee-ye-o, ky-ye-o, ky-oodle, ky-oodle, kee-o, kee-o_ and on; over and
+over again, in a wild-wood tone that thrilled me. He sailed with set
+wings to a near-by tree, and ceased not his stirring call; there was no
+answer from the woods, but there was a vibrant response in my heart. It
+moved me through and through. How could it do so much, when it was so
+simple? I did not know how to tell it in words, but I felt it in my
+boyish soul. It expressed all the wild-wood life and spirit, the joy of
+living, the happy brightness of the day, the thrill of the coming
+spring, the glory of flight; all, all it seemed to voice in its simple
+ringing, "_kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-yi-o_"; never before had I seen a
+bird so evidently rejoicing in his flight; then singing, it sailed away
+from sight; but the song has lingered ever since in the blessed part of
+my memory. I often heard it afterward, and many times caught the
+Blue-jay in a feeble imitation of its trumpet note. I never forgot the
+exact timbre of that woodland call; so when at length, long after, I
+traced it to what is known in books as the "Red-shouldered Hawk," it was
+a little triumph and a little disappointment. The books made it all so
+commonplace. They say it has a loud call like "kee-o"; but they do not
+say that it has a bugle note that can stir your very soul if you love
+the wild things, and voices more than any other thing on wings the glory
+of flight, the blessedness of being alive.
+
+To-day, as I write, is December 2, 1917; and this morning as I walked in
+my homeland, a sailing, splendid hawk came pouring out the old refrain,
+"_kee-yi-o, kee-yi-o, kee-oh_." Oh, it was glorious! I felt little
+prickles in the roots of my hair as he went over; and I rejoiced above
+all things to realize that he sang just as well as, yes maybe a little
+better than that first one did, that I heard in the winter woods some
+forty years ago.
+
+
+TALE 58
+
+The Fingerboard Goldenrod
+
+"Oh, Mother Carey! All-mother! Lover of us little plants as well as the
+big trees! Listen to us little slender Goldenrods.
+
+"We want to be famous, Mother Carey, but our stems are so little and our
+gold is so small, that we cannot count in the great golden show of
+autumn, for that is the glory of our tall cousins. They do not need us,
+and they do not want us. Won't you give us a little job all our own, our
+very own, for we long to be doing something?"
+
+[Illustration: The Compass Goldenrod Pointing Toward the North]
+
+Then Mother Carey smiled so softly and sweetly and said: "Little slender
+Goldenrods, I am going to give you something to do that will win you
+great honour among all who understand. In the thick woods the moss on
+the trunk shows the north side; when the tree is alone and in the open,
+the north side is known by its few branches; but on the open prairie,
+there is no plant that stands up like a finger post to point the north
+for travellers, while the sun is hid."
+
+"This, then do, little slender Goldenrods; face the noon sun, and as you
+stand, throw back your heads proudly, for you are in service now. Throw
+back your heads till your golden plumes are pointing backward to the
+north--so shall you have an honourable calling and travellers will be
+glad that I have made you a fingerboard on the plains."
+
+So the slender Goldenrod and his brothers rejoiced and they stood up
+straight, facing the noon sun, and bent backward, throwing out their
+chests till their golden caps and plumes were pointed to the north.
+
+And many a traveller, on cloudy days and dark nights, has been cheered
+by the sight of the Compass Goldenrod, pointing to the north and helping
+him to get home.
+
+This does not mean that every one of them points to the north all the
+time. They do their best but there are always some a little wrong. Yet
+you can tell the direction at night or on dark days if you look at a bed
+of them that grew out in full sunlight.
+
+"Yon is the north," they keep on singing, all summer long, and even when
+winter comes to kill the plant, and end its bloom, the brave little
+stalk stands up there, in snow to its waist, bravely pointing out the
+north, to those who have learned its secret. And not only in winter
+storms, but I have even found them still on guard after the battle, when
+the snow melted in springtime. Once when I was a boy, I found a whole
+bank of them by a fence, when the snow went off in April, and I wrote
+in their honour this verse:
+
+        Some of them bowed are, and broken
+          And battered and lying low
+        But the few that are left stand like spearmen staunch
+          Each pointing his pike at the foe.
+
+
+TALE 59
+
+Woodchuck Day, February Second Sixth Secret of the Woods
+
+[Illustration: WOODCHUCK DAY: COLD WEATHER
+
+"To be, or not to be"]
+
+It was Monapini that told Ruth Pilgrim, and Ruth Pilgrim told the little
+Pilgrims, and the little Pilgrims told the little Dutchmen, and the
+little Dutchmen told it to all the little Rumours, and the grandchild of
+one of these little Rumours told it to me, so you see I have it straight
+and on good authority, this Sixth Secret of the Woods.
+
+The story runs that every year the wise Woodchuck retires to sleep in
+his cozy home off the subway that he made, when the leaves begin to
+fall, and he has heard the warning. Mother Carey has sung the death-song
+of the red leaves; sung in a soft voice that yet reaches the farthest
+hills:
+
+        "Gone are the summer birds.
+         Hide, hide, ye slow-foots.
+         Hide, for the blizzard comes."
+
+And Mother Earth, who is Maka Ina, cries to her own: "Come, hide in my
+bosom, my little ones." And the wise Woodchuck waits not till the
+blizzard comes, but hides while he may make good housing, and sleeps for
+three long moons.
+
+But ever on the second sun of the Hunger-moon (and this is the Sixth
+Secret) he rouses up and ventures forth. And if so be that the sun is
+in the sky, and the snow on the bosom of his Mother Earth, so that his
+shadow shall appear on it, he goeth back to sleep again for one and a
+half moons more--for six long weeks. But if the sky be dark with clouds
+and the earth all bared of snow so that no shadow shows, he says, "The
+blizzard time is over, there is food when the ground is bare," and ends
+his sleep.
+
+This is the tale and this much I know is true: In the North, if he
+venture forth on Woodchuck Day, he sees both sun and snow, so sleeps
+again; in the South there is no snow that day, and he sleeps no more;
+and in the land between, he sleeps in a cold winter, and in an open
+winter rouses to live his life.
+
+These things I have seen, and they fit with the story of Monapini, so
+you see the little Rumour told me true.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO KNOW
+
+[Illustration: How the Pine Tree Tells Its Own Story]
+
+
+
+
+Things to Know
+
+
+TALE 60
+
+How the Pine Tree Tells Its Own Story
+
+Suppose you are in the woods, and your woods in Canada, or the Northern
+States; you would see at once two kinds of trees: Pines and Hardwoods.
+
+Pines, or Evergreens, have leaves like needles, and are green all the
+year round; they bear cones and have soft wood.
+
+The Hardwoods, or Broadleaves, sometimes called Shedders, have broad
+leaves that are shed in the fall; they bear nuts or berries and have
+hard wood.
+
+Remember this, every tree that grows has flowers and seeds; and the tree
+can always be told by its seeds, that is, its fruit. If you find a tree
+with cones on it, you know it belongs to the Pine family. If you find
+one with broad leaves and nuts or berries, it belongs to the
+Hardwoods.[C]
+
+Of these the Pines always seem to me more interesting.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In September, 1002, I had a good chance to study Pine trees in the
+mountains of Idaho. There was a small one that had to be cut down, so I
+made careful drawings of it. It was fourteen years old, and across the
+stump it showed one ring of wood for each year of growth, and a circle
+of branches on the trunk for each year. Notice that between the
+branches, the trunk did _not_ taper; it was an even cylinder, but got
+suddenly smaller at each knot by the same amount of wood as was needed
+by those branches for their wood.
+
+If we begin in the centre of the stump, and at the bottom of the trunk,
+we find that the little tree tells us its own story of its life and
+troubles. Its first year, judging by the bottom section of the trunk
+(No. 1) and by the inmost ring, was just ordinary. Next year according
+to section 2 and ring 2, it had a fine season and grew nearly twice as
+much as the first year. The third year the baby Pine had a very hard
+time, and nearly died. Maybe it was a dry summer, so the little tree
+grew only 2-1/2 inches higher while the ring of wood it added was no
+thicker than a sheet of paper. Next year, the fourth, it did better. And
+the next was about its best year, for it grew 7-1/2 inches higher, and
+put on a fine fat ring of wood, as you see.
+
+In its eleventh year, it had some new troubles; either the season was
+dry, or the trees about too shady, or maybe disease attacked it. For it
+grew but a poor shoot on the top, and the ring of wood on the stump is
+about the thinnest of all.
+
+Of course, a saw-cut along the second joint showed but thirteen rings,
+and the third but twelve while one through the top joint, the one which
+grew this year, showed but a single ring.
+
+Thus the Pine tree has in itself a record of its whole life; and this is
+easy to read when the tree is small; but in later life the lower limbs
+disappear, and the only complete record is in the rings of growth that
+show on the stump. These never fail to tell the truth.
+
+Of course, you are not to go around cutting down trees merely to count
+their rings and read their history, but you should look at the rings
+whenever a new stump gives you a good chance. Then Hardwoods as well as
+Pines will spread before you the chapters of their life; one ring for
+each year that they have lived.
+
+
+TALE 61
+
+Blazes
+
+All hunters and Indians have signs to let their people know the way.
+Some of these signs are on trees, and are called "Blazes." One of those
+much used is a little piece of bark chipped off to show the white wood;
+it means: "This is the way, or the place." Another sign is like an
+arrow, and means: "Over there," or "Go in that direction." No matter
+what language they speak, the blazes tell everyone alike. So a blaze is
+a simple mark that tells us something without using words or letters,
+and it depends on where it is placed for part of its meaning.
+
+On the following page are some blazes used in our towns to-day. You will
+find many more if you look, some in books; some on the adjoining page.
+
+
+TALE 62
+
+Totems[D]
+
+[Illustration: BLAZES.]
+
+A Totem is a simple form used as the emblem or symbol of a man, a group
+of men, an animal, or an idea; it does not use or refer to words or
+letters, so it is the same in all languages. Unlike the blaze it does
+not depend on its position for part of its meaning.
+
+[Illustration: Some well known TOTEMS]
+
+Among peoples that cannot read or write, each leading man had a Totem
+that he used, instead of writing his name. He put this mark on his
+property, and at length put it on his shield and armour to distinguish
+him in battle. Out of this grew heraldry.
+
+[Illustration: Indian Symbols]
+
+Modern trade-marks are Totems though often spoiled by words or letters
+added. The Totem continues in use because it is so easy to see a long
+way off, and can be understood by all, no matter what their language.
+Most of the great railway companies have a Totem and the use of such
+things is increasing to-day.
+
+Here in the drawing are some Totems seen daily in our towns. Doubtless
+you can add to the number.
+
+
+TALE 63
+
+Symbols
+
+If you have thought much about it, O Guide! you will surely find that,
+for decoration, it is better to use a beautiful symbol of anything,
+rather than a good photograph of it. For the symbol lets the imagination
+loose, and the other chains it to the ground; the one is the spirit, and
+the other the corpse. These things you cannot tell to the little folks,
+but you can prove them to yourself, and you will see why I wish to give
+some symbols here for use.
+
+There is another reason, one which you _can_ give to them. It is this:
+Only the highly trained artist can make a good portrait drawing, while
+the smallest child, if it sticks to symbols, is sure, in some degree, of
+a pleasant success in its very first effort.
+
+These that I give, are copied from Indian art, and whether in colour, in
+raised modelling, or in black lines, can be used successfully to
+decorate anything that you are likely to make.
+
+[Illustration: Seventeen Gestures Currently Used in the Sign Language]
+
+
+TALE 64
+
+Sign Language
+
+All men, especially wild men, and some animals have a language of signs.
+That is, they talk to each other without making any sounds; using
+instead, the movements of parts of the body. This is "eye talk," while
+words are "ear talk."
+
+Among the animals, horses bob their heads when they are hungry and paw
+with a front foot when thirsty or eager to be off. Dogs wag their tails
+when pleased, and cows shake their heads when angry.
+
+Policemen, firemen, railway men, and others use signs because there is
+too much noise to be heard. School children use signs because they are
+not allowed to talk in school. Most children know the signs for "yes"
+and "no," "come here," "go away," "hurry up," "you can't touch me,"
+"hush!", "shame on you!", "up," "down," "word of honour," "swimming,"
+etc.
+
+The traffic policeman is using signs all day long. By a movement of the
+hand he signals:--stop, go on, come here, hurry up, wait, turn around,
+go by, stay back, over there, you look out, right here, and one or two
+others.
+
+How many signs can you add to these two lists?
+
+
+TALE 65
+
+The Language of Hens
+
+Yes; Hens talk somewhat as we do; only they haven't so many words, and
+don't depend on them as we have to.
+
+There are only ten words in ordinary hen-talk.
+
+The _cluck, cluck_ of the mother means "Come along, kiddies."
+
+The low _kawk_ of warning, usually for a hawk.
+
+The _chuck, chuck_ of invitation means, "Good food."
+
+The _tuk-ut-e-ah-tuk_ means, "Bless my soul, what is that?"
+
+The _cut, cut, get your hair cut_, of a Hen that has just laid and is
+feeling greatly relieved; no doubt, saying, "Thank goodness, that's
+done!" or maybe it is a notice to her mate or friend that "Business is
+over, let's have some fun. Where are you?"
+
+The soft, long-drawn _tawk--tawk--tawk_, that is uttered as the Hen
+strolls about, corresponds to the whistling of the small boy; that is,
+it is a mere pastime, expressing freedom from fear or annoyance.
+
+The long, harsh, _crauk, crauk_ of fear when captured.
+
+The quick _clack, clack, clatter_ when springing up in fear of capture.
+
+The _put, put_ of hunger.
+
+And, of course, the _peep, peep_ of chickens and the
+_cock-a-doodle-doo_, which is the song of the Rooster.
+
+Some Hens may have more; but these given here are hen-talk for
+mother-love, warning, invitation, surprise, exultation, cheerfulness,
+fear, astonishment, and hunger. Not a bad beginning in the way of
+language.
+
+
+TALE 66
+
+Why the Squirrel Wears a Bushy Tail
+
+"Oh, Mother, look at that Gray Squirrel!" shouted Billie. "What a
+beautiful bushy tail he has!" Then, after a pause he added, "Mother,
+what is its tail for? Why is it so big and fluffy? I know a 'Possum has
+a tail to hang on a limb with, and a Fish can swim with his tail, but
+why is a Gray Squirrel's tail so bushy and soft?"
+
+Alas! Mother didn't know, and couldn't tell where to find out. It was
+long after, that little Billie got the answer to his childish, but
+really important question. The Alligator may use his tail as a club, the
+Horse, his tail as a fly-flapper, the Porcupine his tail as a spiked
+war-club, the 'Possum his as a hooked hanger, the Fox his as a muffler,
+the Fish his as a paddle; but the Gray Squirrel's tail is a parachute, a
+landeasy. I have seen a Gray Squirrel fall fifty feet to the ground, but
+his tail was in good condition; he spread it to the utmost and it landed
+him safely right side up.
+
+I remember also a story of a Squirrel that lost his tail by an accident.
+It didn't seem to matter much for a while. The stump healed up, and the
+Squirrel was pert as ever; but one day he missed his hold in jumping,
+and fell to the ground. Ordinarily, that would have been a small matter;
+but without his tail he was jarred so severely that a dog, who saw him
+fall, ran up and killed him before he could recover and climb a tree.
+
+
+TALE 67
+
+Why a Dog Wags His Tail
+
+There is an old story that the Dog said to the Cat: "Cat, you are a
+fool; you growl when you are pleased and wag your tail when you are
+angry." Which happens to be true; and makes us ask: Why does a Dog wag
+his tail to mean friendship?
+
+The fact is, it is part of a wig-wag code, which is doubly interesting
+now that all our boys are learning wig-wagging with a white flag. We
+think that our army people invented this method; but Woodcraft men know
+better.
+
+First, notice that any Dog that has any white on his body has at least a
+little white on the end of his tail. This is well known; and the reason
+is that the wild ancestor had a white brush on the end of his tail; a
+white flag, indeed; and this was the flag of his signal code.
+
+Suppose, then, that a wild Dog, prowling through the woods, sights some
+other animal. Instantly he crouches; for it is good woodcraft to avoid
+being seen and then watch from your hiding-place. As the stranger comes
+near, the crouching Dog sees that it is one of his own kind, and that it
+is needless to hide any longer; indeed, that it is impossible to remain
+hidden. So the moment the stranger stops and looks at the crouching Dog,
+the latter stands straight up on all fours, raises his tail up high, and
+wags the white tip from side to side in the sign which means, "Let's be
+friends."
+
+Every Dog knows the sign, every Dog in every town does it yet; every boy
+has seen it a thousand times. We flatter ourselves that we invented the
+wig-wag code with our little white flag. Maybe so; but the Dog had it
+long before we did.
+
+
+TALE 68
+
+Why the Dog Turns Around Three Times Before Lying Down
+
+Yes, they all do it; the big St. Bernard, the foolish littlest lap Dog,
+the ragged street Dog; give them bare boards, or a silken cushion, or
+snow, three turns around and down they go.
+
+Why? Not so hard to answer as some simple questions. Long, long ago, the
+wild great-great-grandfather of the Dog--a yellow creature with black
+hair sprinkled on his back, sharp ears, light spots over his eyes, and a
+white tail-tip--used to live in the woods, or on the prairies. He did
+not have a home to which he might return every time he wanted to rest
+or sleep; so he camped wherever he found himself, on the plains, in a
+thicket, or even in some hole in a rock; and he carried his bedclothes
+on his back. But he always found it worth while to add a little comfort
+by smoothing the grass, the leaves, the twigs, or the pebbles before
+lying down; and the simplest way to do this was by curling up, and
+turning round three times, with the body brushing the high grass or
+pebbles into a comfortable shape for a bed.
+
+Yes, and they all do it to-day just the same, big and little, which is
+only one of the many proofs that they are descended from the same
+wild-wood great-grandfather, and still remember his habits.
+
+
+TALE 69
+
+The Deathcup of Diablo
+
+[Illustration: The Deathcup Toadstool]
+
+The world went very well in those bright days of the long ago, when the
+wedding of El Sol and Maka Ina set all living things rejoicing. Green
+youth and sparkling happiness were everywhere. Only one there
+was--Diablo--who found in it poor comfort. He had no pleasure in the
+growing grass. The buttercups annoyed him with the gayness of their
+gold. It was at this time he chewed their stalks, so that many ever
+since have been flattened and mangled. And the cherry with its fragrant
+bloom he breathed on with his poison breath, so its limbs were burnt and
+blackened into horrid canker bumps. And poisonous froth he blew on the
+sprouting rose leaves, so they blackened and withered away. The jewel
+weed, friend of the humming birds, he trampled down, but it rose so many
+times and so bravely, that he left the yellow dodder like an herb-worm,
+or a root-born leech to suck its blood all summer long, and break it
+down. Then to trail over the trunks of trees and suck their life, he
+left the demon vine, the Poison Ivy with its touch of burning fire. He
+put the Snapping Turtle in the beautiful lakes to destroy its harmless
+creatures and the Yellow-eyed Whizz he sent, and the Witherbloom with
+its breath of flame.
+
+And last he made the Deathcup Toadstool, and sowed it in the woods.
+
+He saw the Squirrels eating and storing up the sweet red russula. He saw
+it furnish food to mice and deer, so he fashioned the Deathcup Amanita
+to be like it; and scattered it wherever good mushrooms grew, a trap for
+the unwary.
+
+Tall and shapely is the Deathcup; beautiful to look upon and smelling
+like a mushroom. But beware of it, a very little is enough, a morsel of
+the cup; the next night or maybe a day later the poison pangs set in.
+Too late perhaps for medicine to help, and Amanita, the Deathcup, the
+child of Diablo, has claimed another victim.
+
+How shall we know the deadly Amanita among its kindly cousins, the good
+mushrooms? Wise men say by these:--The poison cup from which its
+springs; the white kid collar on its neck; the white or yellow gills;
+and the white spores that fall from its gills if the cup, without the
+stem, be laid gills down on a black paper for an hour.
+
+By these things we may know the wan Demon of the woods, but the wisest
+Guides say to their tribe:--"Because death lurks in that shapely
+mushroom, though there are a hundred good for food, they are much alike,
+and safety bids you shun them; let them all alone."
+
+So Diablo went on his way rejoicing because he had spoiled so much good
+food for good folk.
+
+This, the danger of the Deathcup, is the Seventh Secret of the Woods.
+
+[Illustration: The Poison Ivy]
+
+
+TALE 70
+
+Poison Ivy or the Three-Fingered Demon of the Woods
+
+You have been hearing about good fairies and good old Mother Carey and
+Medicine in the Sky. Now I am going to warn you against the
+three-fingered Demon, the wicked snakevine that basks on stone walls and
+climbs up the tree trunk, and does more harm than all the other plants,
+vines, trees, and bushes put together; for it is not like the Deathcup,
+easy to see and easy to let alone.
+
+This is the Poison Ivy. Does it not look poisonous as it crawls
+snake-like up some trunk, sending suckers out into the tree to suck the
+sap; and oozing all over its limbs with poison in tiny wicked little
+drops? Sometimes it does not climb but crawls on the ground, but by this
+ye may always know it: It has only three fingers on its hand; that is,
+only three leaflets on each stalk.
+
+The one thing that looks like it, is the Boston Ivy, but that does not
+grow in the woods, and the Poison Ivy leaf always has the little bump
+and bite out on the side of the leaf as you see in the drawing.
+
+It is known and feared for its power to sting and blister the skin when
+it is handled or even touched. The sting begins with an unpleasant
+itching which gets worse, especially if rubbed, until it blisters and
+breaks open with sores which are very hard to heal.
+
+The cause of the sting is a blistering oil, which is found in tiny drops
+on all parts of the leaf and branches; it is a fixed oil; that is, it
+will not dry up, and as long as it is on the skin, it keeps on burning
+and blistering, worse and worse.
+
+
+THE CURE
+
+And this is the cure for the sting of the Demon Vine:--
+
+Anything that will dissolve and remove oil without injuring the skin:--
+
+Hot water, as hot as you can stand it, is good; a little salt in it
+helps.
+
+Hot soapy water is good.
+
+Hot water with washing soda is good.
+
+A wash of alcohol is good.
+
+But best of all is a wash of strong alcohol in which is a little sugar
+of lead as an antiseptic.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Guide should remember that three persons out of five are immune from
+Poison Ivy, while a few are so sensitive that they are poisoned by flies
+carrying it to them on their feet. It can be easily cured if treated at
+once; if neglected it often becomes very bad and may need the help of a
+doctor.
+
+This is the Eighth Secret of the Woods.
+
+
+TALE 71
+
+The Medicine in the Sky
+
+This is one of the greatest and best secrets of Woodcraft--The Medicine
+in the Sky.
+
+Let me tell you a story about it. There was once an Indian who left his
+own people, to live with the white man, in the East. But the Great
+Spirit was displeased, for he did not mean the Indian to live in houses
+or cities. After a year, the red man came back very thin and sick,
+coughing nearly all night, instead of sleeping. He believed himself
+dying.
+
+The wise old Medicine Man of his tribe said, "You need the Medicine of
+the Sky." He took it and got quite well and strong.
+
+Another Indian, who had gone to visit with a distant tribe of red men,
+came back with some sickness on his skin that made it very sore. It was
+far worse than Poison Ivy, for it began to eat into his flesh. The
+Medicine Man said, "Sky Medicine will cure you." And it did.
+
+One day a white man, a trader, came with chest protectors to sell to the
+Indians. He was sure they needed them, because he did; and, although so
+well wrapped up, he was always cold. He suffered whenever the wind blew.
+The old Medicine Man said, "We don't need your chest pads, and you would
+not if you took the Sky Medicine." So the trader tried it, and by and
+by, to his surprise and joy, no matter whether it was hot or cold
+outdoors, he was comfortable.
+
+This man had a friend who was a learned professor in a college, and he
+told him about the great thing he had learned from the old Indian. The
+professor was not old, but he was very sick and feeble in body. He could
+not sleep nights. His hair was falling out, and his mind filled with
+gloomy thoughts. The whole world seemed dark to him. He knew it was a
+kind of disease, and he went away out West to see his friend. Then he
+met the Medicine Man and said to him, "Can you help me?"
+
+The wise old Indian said, "Oh, white man, where do you spend your days?"
+
+"I spend them at my desk, in my study, or in the classroom."
+
+"Yes, and your nights?"
+
+"In my study among my books."
+
+"And where do you sleep?"
+
+"I don't sleep much, though I have a comfortable bed."
+
+"In the house?"
+
+"Yes, of course."
+
+"Listen, then, O foolish white man. The Great Spirit set Big Medicine in
+the sky to cure our ills. And you hide from it day and night. What do
+you expect but evil? This do and be saved. Take the Sky Medicine in
+measure of your strength."
+
+He did so and it saved him. His strength came back. His cheeks grew
+ruddy, his hands grew steady, his hair ceased falling out, he slept like
+a baby. He was happy.
+
+Now what is the Sky Medicine? It is the glorious sunlight, that cures so
+many human ills. We ask every Woodcrafter to hold on to its blessings.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And in this wise, O Guide, you must give it to the little ones. Make it
+an honourable exploit to be sunburnt to the elbows without blistering;
+another to be sunburnt to the shoulders; another to the waist; and
+greatest of all, when sunburnt all over. How are they to get this? Let
+them go to some quiet place for the last, and let the glory fall on
+their naked bodies, for ten minutes each day. Some more, and some less,
+according to their strength, and this is the measure--so long as it is
+pleasant, it is good.
+
+In this way they will inherit one of the good things of the woods and be
+strong and hardened, for there is no greater medicine than the Sun in
+the sky.
+
+
+TALE 72
+
+The Angel of the Night
+
+O Guide of the young Tribe! Know you the Twelfth Secret of the Woods?
+Know you what walked around your tent on that thirtieth night of your
+camp out? No! I think you knew, if you continued for thirty nights, but
+you knew not that you knew. These things, then, you should have in
+heart, and give to those you are leading.
+
+The Great Spirit does not put out good air in the daytime and poison air
+at night. It is the same pure air at night, only cooler. Therefore use
+more clothing while you sleep. But while the outdoor air is pure, the
+indoor may be foul. Therefore sleep out of doors, and you will learn the
+blessedness of the night, and the night air, with its cooling kindly
+influence laden.
+
+Those who come here to our Camp from life in town and sleeping in close
+rooms, are unaccustomed, and nervous it may be, so that they sleep
+little at first. But each night brings its balm of rest. Strength comes.
+Some know it in a week. The town-worn and nerve-weary find it at
+farthest in half a moon. And in one full moon be sure of this, when the
+night comes down you will find the blessed balm that the Great Spirit
+meant for all of us. You will sleep, a calm sweet vitalizing sleep.
+
+You will know this the twelfth secret of the woods: What walked around
+your tent that thirtieth night? You know not, you heard nothing, for you
+slept. Yet when the morning comes you feel and know that round your
+couch, with wings and hands upraised in blessed soothing influence,
+there passed the Angel of the Night, with healing under her wings, and
+peace. You saw her not, you heard her not, but the sweet healing of her
+presence will be with you for many after moons.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[C] The Guide will note that there are rare exceptions to these rules.
+
+[D] The Guide will remember that Totemism and Tabuism were ideas which
+grew up long after the use of Totems began.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO DO
+
+[Illustration: Nests of Kingbird, Oriole, Vireo, Robin, Goldfinch,
+Phoebe (1/4 life size)]
+
+
+
+
+Things to Do
+
+
+TALE 73
+
+Bird-nesting in Winter
+
+What good are old bird-nests? These are some of the ends they serve. A
+Deermouse seeking the safety of a bramble thicket and a warm house, will
+make his own nest in the forsaken home of a Cat-bird. A Gray Squirrel
+will roof over the open nest of a Crow or Hawk and so make it a castle
+in the air for himself. But one of the strangest uses is this: The
+Solitary Sandpiper is a bird that cannot build a tree nest for itself
+and yet loves to give to its eggs the safety of a high place; so it lays
+in the old nest of a Robin, or other tree bird, and there its young are
+hatched. But this is only in the Far North. There are plenty of old
+bird-nests left for other uses, and for you.
+
+Bird-nesting in summer is wicked, cruel, and against the law. But
+bird-nesting in winter is good fun and harms no one, if we take only the
+little nests that are built in forked twigs, or on rock ledges. For most
+little birds prefer to make a new nest for themselves each season.
+
+If you get: A Goldfinch, floss nest;
+
+A Phoebe, moss nest;
+
+A Robin, mud nest;
+
+A Vireo, good nest;
+
+A Kingbird, rag nest;
+
+An Oriole, bag nest;
+
+you have six different kinds of beautiful nests that are easily kept
+for the museum, and you do no harm in taking them.
+
+
+TALE 74
+
+The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite
+
+[Illustration: The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite]
+
+Do you know that "Daisy" means "day's eye," because the old country
+Daisy opens its eyes when day comes, and shuts them every night. But our
+Daisy is different and much bigger, so we have got into the way of
+calling it "Ox-eye." Some of our young people call it "Love-me;
+love-me-not," because they think it can tell if one is loved. They pull
+out the white rays of the flower one by one, saying, "He loves me; he
+loves me not; he loves me; he loves me not." Then what they are saying
+as the last is pulled, settles the question. If the Daisy says "He loves
+me," they take a second Daisy and ask the next question, "Will he marry
+me?" Then, pulling the rays as before, "This year, next year, some time,
+never." And in this way they learn all that the Daisies know about these
+important matters.
+
+We call it "our Daisy," but it is not a true native of America. Its home
+is Europe. The settlers of New England, missing the flower of their
+homeland, brought it over and planted it in their gardens. It spread
+widely in the North; but it did not reach the South until the time of
+the Civil War, when it is said to have gone in with the hay for
+Sherman's Army, to become a troublesome weed in the fields.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This scrap of history is recorded in a popular ballad.
+
+        There's a story told in Georgia
+          'Tis in everybody's mouth,
+        That 'twas old Tecumseh Sherman
+          Brought the Daisy to the South.
+        Ne'er that little blossom stranger
+          In our land was known to be,
+        Till he marched his blue-coat army
+          From Atlanta to the sea.
+
+[Illustration: The Monkeys in the Tree Tops]
+
+
+TALE 75
+
+A Monkey-hunt
+
+We all love to go a-hunting; every one of us in some way; and it is only
+the dislike of cruelty and destruction that keeps most of us from
+hunting animals continually, as our forebears did.
+
+Some of my best days were spent in hunting. The Arabs say, "Allah
+reckons not against a man's allotted span the days he spends in the
+chase."
+
+I hope that I may help many of you to go a-hunting, and to get the good
+things of it, with the bad things left out.
+
+Come! Now it is the spring of the year, and just the right time for a
+Monkey-hunt. We are going prowling along the brookside where we are
+pretty sure of finding our game. "See, there is a Monkey tree and it is
+full of the big Monkeys!"
+
+"What! That pussy-willow?"
+
+Yes, you think they are only pussy-willows, but wait until you see. We
+shall take home a band of the Monkeys, tree and all, and you will learn
+that a pussy-willow is only a baby Monkey half done.
+
+Now let us get a branch of live elderberry and one or two limbs of the
+low red sumac. It is best to use sumac because it is the only handy wood
+that one can easily stick a pin through, or cut. The pieces should be
+five or six inches long and about half an inch to an inch thick. They
+should have as many odd features as possible, knots, bumps, fungus,
+moss, etc.; all of which add interest to the picture.
+
+To these we must add a lot of odd bits of dry cane, dry grasses, old
+flower-stalks, moss, and gravel, etc., to use for background and
+foreground in the little jungle we are to make for our Monkeys to play
+in. It is delightful to find the new interest that all sorts of queer
+weeds take on, when we view them as canes or palms for our little
+jungle.
+
+Now with the spoils of our hunt, let us go home and preserve the
+trophies.
+
+Cut off about three inches of the elderberry wood and have it clear of
+knots; cut a flat ended ramrod so as just to fit the bore, and force out
+the pith with one clean sharp push: or else whittle away the surrounding
+wood. The latter way gives a better quality of pith.
+
+Now take a piece of the pith about one-third the size of a big
+pussy-willow, use a very sharp knife and you will find it easy to
+whittle it into a Monkey's head about the shape of "a" and "b."
+
+Use a very sharp-pointed, soft black pencil to make the eyes, nose, the
+line for the mouth and the shape of the ears; or else wait till the pith
+is _quite dry_, then use a fine pen with ink.
+
+If you are skilful with the knife you may cut the ears so that they hang
+as in "d."
+
+Stick an ordinary pin right down through the crown of the head into a
+big pussy-willow that will serve as a body (e). If you glue the head on
+it is harder to do, but it keeps the body from being mussed up. Cut two
+arms of the pith (ff) and two feet (gg), drawing the lines for the
+fingers and toes, with the sharp black pencil, or else ink as before.
+
+Cut a long, straight pointed piece of pith for a tail, dip it in boiling
+water, then bend it to the right shape "h."
+
+Cut a branch of the sumac so that it is about four inches high, and of
+the style for a tree; nail this on a block of wood to make it stand.
+Sometimes it is easier to bore a hole in the stand and wedge the branch
+into that.
+
+Set the Monkey on the limb by driving the pin into it as at "i," or else
+glueing it on; and glue on the limbs and tail. Sometimes a little wad
+of willow-down on the Monkey's crown is a great help. It hides the pin.
+
+Now set this away for the glue to harden.
+
+Meanwhile take an ordinary cigar box about two inches deep, line it with
+white paper pasted in; or else paint it with water colour in Chinese
+white. Colour the upper part sky colour; the lower, shaded into green,
+getting very dark on the bottom. Lay a piece of glass or else a scrap of
+an old motor-car window-isinglass on the bottom, and set in a couple of
+tacks alongside to hold it; this is for a pool.
+
+Make a mixture of liquid glue, one part; water, five parts; then stir in
+enough old plaster of Paris, whitening, or even fine loam to make a soft
+paste. Build banks of this paste around the pool and higher toward the
+back sides. Stick the tree, with its stand and its Monkeys, in this, to
+one side; dust powder or rotten wood over the ground to hide its
+whiteness; or paint it with water colours.
+
+Use all the various dry grasses, etc., to form a jungle; sticking them
+in the paste, or glueing them on.
+
+And your jungle with its Monkeys is complete.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Many other things may be used for Monkeys. I have seen good ones made of
+peanuts, with the features inked on, and a very young black birch catkin
+for tail. Beautiful birds also can be made by using a pith body and
+bright feathers or silks glued on for plumes. The pith itself is easily
+coloured with water colours.
+
+You will be delighted to see what beautiful effects you can get by use
+of these simple wild materials, helped with a little imagination.
+
+And the end of the Monkey-hunt will be that you have learned a new kind
+of hunting, with nothing but pleasant memories in it, and trophies to
+show for proof.
+
+[Illustration: The Horsetail and the Jungle]
+
+
+TALE 76
+
+The Horsetail and the Jungle
+
+Long, long ago, millions of years ago, this world was much hotter than
+it is now. Yes, in mid-winter it was hotter than it is now in
+mid-summer. Over all Pennsylvania there were huge forests of things that
+looked a little like palms, but some looked like pipes with joints, and
+had wheels of branches or limb wheels at every joint. They were as tall
+as some palms, and grew in swamps.
+
+When one of those big joint-wheels fell over, it sank into the mud and
+was forgotten. So at last the swamp was filled up solid with their
+trunks.
+
+Then for some unknown reason all the big joint-trees died, and the sand,
+mud, and gravel levelled off the swamp. There they lay, and slowly
+become blacker and harder under the mud, until they turned into coal.
+
+That is what we burn to-day, the trunks of the wheel-jointed swamp
+trees. But their youngest great-grandchild is still with us, and shows,
+in its small way, what its great ancestors were like.
+
+You will find it along some railway bank, or in any damp woods. Country
+people who know it, call it Joint Grass or Horsetails; the books call it
+Equisetum. The drawing will show you what to look for.
+
+Gather a handful and take them home. Then get some of the moss known as
+ground-pine, a small piece of glass (the Guide should see that the edges
+of the glass are well rubbed with a stone, to prevent cutting the
+fingers), a cigar box, and white paste or putty, as in the Monkey-hunt.
+
+Make a pool with the glass, and banks around it of the paste. Now cover
+these banks with the ground pine; using a little glue on the under side
+of each piece, but leave an open space without moss at the back, near
+the pool. Take a pointed stick and make holes through the moss into the
+clay or putty, and in each hole put one of the Horsetails, cutting it
+off with scissors if too tall for the top, till you have a thicket of
+these stems on each side; only make more on one side than on the other.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now for the grand finish. You must make an extinct monster. Get half a
+walnut shell; cut a notch at one end where the neck will be; fill the
+shell with putty; stick in wooden pegs for legs, tail, and head. The
+central stalk of a tulip-tree fruit makes a wonderful sculptured tail;
+the unopened buds of dogwood do for legs, also cloves have been used.
+Any nobby stick serves for head if you make eyes and teeth on it.
+
+When dry this makes a good extinct monster. Set it on the far bank of
+the water, and you have a jungle, the old Pennsylvania jungle of the
+days when the coal was packed away.
+
+
+TALE 77
+
+The Woods in Winter
+
+Go out to the nearest chestnut tree, and get half a small burr; trim it
+neatly. Fill it with putty; set four wooden pegs in this for legs, a
+large peg for a head and a long thin one for a tail. On the head put two
+little black pins for eyes. Now rub glue on the wooden pegs and sprinkle
+them with powdered rotten wood, or fine sand, and you have a Burr
+Porcupine. Sometimes carpet tacks are used for legs. You will have to
+wear strong leather gloves in making this, it is so much like a real
+Porcupine.
+
+Now go into your woods and get a handful of common red cedar twigs with
+leaves on, or other picturesque branches, some creeping moss of the
+kind used by flower dealers to pack plants, various dried grasses, and a
+few flat or sharp-cornered pebbles. Take these home. Get a cigar box or
+a candy-box, some paper, clay or putty and glass, as already described
+for the Monkey-hunt. Make a pond with the glass and a bank with the clay
+and pebbles. Paint the top of the clay, and tops of the pebbles with the
+thin glue, and also part of the glass; then sprinkle all with powdered
+chalk, whitening, plaster of Paris or talcum powder for snow. Put the
+Porcupine in the middle, and you have the "Woods in Winter."
+
+
+TALE 78
+
+The Fish and the Pond
+
+[Illustration: The Fish and the Pond--and the Cone]
+
+Go out and get the cone of a Norway Spruce tree, or a White Spruce; this
+is the body of your Fish. Cut two round spots of white paper for eyes,
+glue them on, and when dry, put a black ink spot in the middle of each.
+Add a curved piece of paper on each side for gills. Then with an awl or
+with the point of the scissors make holes in the sides, in which put
+fins cut out of brown paper, fixing them in with glue. Then, with the
+knife blade, make a long cut in the back, and split the tail, and in
+each cut glue a thick piece of brown paper cut fin shape. When dry, draw
+lines on these with ink. Now you have a good Fish.
+
+For the pond, take a cigar-box, paint the lower quarter of it dark
+green, and the upper part shaded into light blue, for sky. Glue a piece
+of glass or else carwindow celluloid level across this near the bottom.
+This is for water. Hide all the back and side edges of the glass with
+clay banks as described in the Monkey-hunt, or with moss glued on. Put a
+fine black thread to the Fish's back, another to his tail, and hang
+him level above the water by fastening the threads to the top of the
+box. Label it "Pond Life" or the "Fish at Home."
+
+
+TALE 79
+
+Smoke Prints of Leaves
+
+[Illustration: Smoke Prints of Leaves]
+
+Collect one or two leaves that have strongly marked ribs; elm and
+raspberry are good ones. Take a piece of paper that is strong, but
+rather soft, and about as big as this page. Grease, or oil it all over
+with paint-oil, butter, or lard. Then hold it, grease-side down, in the
+smoke of a candle, close to the flame, moving it about quickly so that
+the paper won't burn, until it is everywhere black with soot.
+
+Lay the paper flat on a table, soot-side up, on a piece of blotting
+paper. Lay the leaf on this; then, over that, a sheet of paper. Press
+this down over all the leaf. Lift the leaf and lay it on a piece of
+soft, white paper; press it down as before, with a paper over it, on
+which you rub with one hand while the other keeps it from slipping; lift
+the leaf, and on the lower paper you will find a beautiful line-drawing
+of the leaf, done in black ink; which, once it is dry, will never rub
+out or fade away.
+
+At one corner write down the date and the name of the leaf.
+
+
+TALE 80
+
+Bird-boxes
+
+[Illustration: Bird-boxes]
+
+You can win honours in Woodcraft if you make a successful bird-box. That
+is one made by yourself, and used by some bird to raise its brood in.
+
+There are three kinds of birds that are very ready to use the nesting
+places you make. These are the Robin, Wren, and Phoebe. But each
+bird wants its own kind exactly right, or will not use it.
+
+First the Robin wants a shelf, as in the picture. It should be hung
+against a tree or a building, about ten feet up, and not much exposed to
+the wind. It should also be in a shady place or at least not where it
+gets much sun.
+
+The nails sticking up on the floor are to hold the nest so the wind will
+not blow it away. The Phoebe-shelf is much the same only smaller.
+
+The Wren-box should be about four or five inches wide and six inches
+high inside, with a hole exactly seven eighths inch wide. If any bigger,
+the Wren does not like it so well, and other birds may drive the Wren
+away. Many Wren-boxes are made of tomato tins, but these are hard to cut
+a hole in. The Wren-box should be hung where the sun never shines on it
+all summer, as that would make it too hot inside.
+
+
+TALE 81
+
+A Hunter's Lamp
+
+[Illustration: A Hunter's Lamp]
+
+In the old pioneer days, every hunter used to make himself a lamp, for
+it was much easier to make than a candle. It is a good stunt in
+Woodcraft to make one. Each woodcrafter should have one of his own
+handiwork. There are four things needed in it: The bowl, the wick, the
+wick-holder and some fat, grease, or oil.
+
+For the bowl a big clam shell does well.
+
+For wick a strip of cotton rag rolled into a cord as thick as a slate
+pencil, and about two inches long; a cotton cord will do, or perhaps the
+fibrous bark of milkweed or other native stuff is the truly woodcraft
+thing.
+
+For wick-holder get a piece of brick, stone, or a small clam shell about
+as big as a half dollar. Bore a hole through the middle to hold the
+wick. It is not easy to get the hole through without splitting the
+stone, but sometimes one can find a flat pebble already bored. Sometimes
+one can make a disc of clay with a hole in it, then burn this hard in a
+fierce fire, but the most primitive way is to rub the bump of a small
+clam shell on a flat stone till it is worn through.
+
+For oil use the fat, grease, lard, or butter of any animal, if it is
+fresh, that is without salt in it.
+
+Fill the bowl with the grease, soak the wick in grease and set it in the
+holder so that half an inch sticks up; the rest is in the grease. The
+holder rests on the bottom of the bowl.
+
+Light the end that sticks up. It will burn with a clear, steady light
+till all the oil is used up.
+
+To have made a lamp that will burn for half an hour is counted an
+"honour" in Woodcraft, and may win you a badge if you belong to a
+Woodcraft Tribe.
+
+
+TALE 82
+
+The Coon Hunt
+
+Take a little bundle of white rags, or paper, as large as a walnut; call
+this the "Coon." While all the young folks hide their eyes or go out of
+the room, the Guide puts the Coon on some place, high or low, but in
+plain view; then, going away from it, shouts "Coon!"
+
+Now the young scouts have to find that Coon, each looking about for
+himself. As soon as one sees it, he says nothing, but sits down. Each
+must find it for himself, then sit down silently, until all are down.
+Last down is the "booby"; first down is the winner; and the winner has
+the right to place the Coon the second time, if the Guide does not wish
+to do it.
+
+This is often played indoors and sometimes a thimble is used for the
+Coon.
+
+
+TALE 83
+
+The Indian Pot
+
+This is something everyone can make, no matter how young, and each,
+including the Guide, should make one.
+
+Get a lump of good stiff clay; yellow is better than blue, only because
+it is a better colour when finished.
+
+Work the clay up with water till soft, pick out all stones, lumps, and
+straws. Then roll it out like a pancake; use a knife to cut this into
+laces a foot long and about as thick as a pencil.
+
+Dip your fingers in water, take one of these laces and coil it round and
+round as in "a," soldering it together with water rubbed on and into the
+joints. Keep on adding, shaping and rubbing, till you have a saucer
+about three inches across and a quarter of an inch thick. Put this away
+in some shady place to set, or harden a little; otherwise it would fall
+down of its own weight.
+
+After about an hour, wet the rim, and build up on that round and round
+with laces as before, until you have turned the saucer into a cup, about
+four inches across, and, maybe three inches high. Set this away to
+stiffen. Then finish the shape, by adding more coils, and drawing it in
+a little. When this has stiffened, make a "slip" or cream of clay and
+water, rub this all over the pot inside and out; use your fingers and a
+knife to make it smooth and even. When this is done, use a sharp point,
+and draw on the pot any of the Indian designs show in the sketches,
+using lines and dots for the shading.
+
+[Illustration: The Indian Pot]
+
+Now set the pot in some shady place to dry. High above the stove in the
+kitchen is a good place, so long as it is not too near the stove-pipe.
+After one day bring it nearer the heat. Then about the second day, put
+it in the oven. Last of all, and this is the hardest part to do, let
+the Guide put the bone-dry pot right into the fire, deep down into the
+red coals at night, and leave it there till next day. In the morning
+when the fire is dead, the pot should be carefully lifted out, and, if
+all is well, it will be of hard ringing red terra cotta.
+
+The final firing is always the hardest thing to do, because the pots are
+so easily cracked. If they be drawn out of the fire while they are yet
+hot, the sudden touch of cold air usually breaks them into pieces.
+
+Now remember, O Guide! A pot is made of the earth, and holds the things
+that come out of the earth to make life, that feed us and keep us. So on
+it, you should draw the symbols that stand for these things. At the foot
+of preceding page you see some of them.
+
+
+TALE 84
+
+Snowflakes, the Sixfold Gems of Snowroba
+
+[Illustration: Snowflakes]
+
+You have heard of the lovely Snowroba, white calm beautiful Snowroba,
+the daughter of King Jackfrost the Winter King, whose sad history was
+told in the first Tale. You remember how her robe was trimmed with white
+lace and crystal gems, each gem with six points and six facets and six
+angles, for that is one of the strange laws of the white Kingdom, the
+sixfold rule of gems. I did not give a good portrait of the White
+Princess, but I can show you how to make the Jewels which sparkled on
+her robe.
+
+Take a square of thin white paper three or four inches wide (a). Fold it
+across (b), and again, until it is a square (c), half as wide as "a."
+Mark on it the lines as in "d," and fold it in three equal parts as in
+"e." Now with pencil draw the heavy black lines as in "f, g, h." Cut
+along these lines with scissors, open out the central piece, and you
+have your snow-gems as on facing page.
+
+You can see for yourself that these are true to the gem-law of the White
+Kingdom, if, when next the snow comes down, you look for the biggest
+flakes as they lie on some dark surface. You will find many patterns all
+of them beautiful, and all of them fashioned in accordance with the law.
+
+
+Are You Alive?
+
+Little boy or girl, are you all alive? Just as alive as an Indian? Can
+you see like a hawk, feel like a blind man, hear like an owl? Are you
+quick as a cat? You do not know! Well, let us find out in the next eight
+tales. In these tests 100 is kept in view as a perfect score in each
+department, although it is possible in some cases to go over that.
+
+
+TALE 85
+
+Farsight
+
+1. Hold up a page of this book, and see how far off you can read it. If
+at 60 inches, measured with a tapeline from your eye to the book, then
+your eye number is 60, which is remarkably good. Very few get as high as
+70.
+
+2. Now go out at night and see how many Pleiades you can count; see Tale
+52. If you see a mere haze, your star number is 0; if you see 4 little
+pin points in the haze, your number is 8; if you see 6, your number is
+12. If you see 7 your number is 14; and you will not get beyond that.
+
+3. Now look for the Pappoose on the Squaw's back, as in Tale 50. If you
+do not see it, you score nothing. If you can see it, and prove that you
+see it, your number is 14 more.
+
+Now add up these, thus: 60 plus 14 plus 14; this gives 88 as your
+_farsight_ number. Anything over 60 means you can see like a hawk.
+
+
+TALE 86
+
+Quicksight
+
+Take two boards, cards or papers, each about half a foot square; divide
+them with black lines into 25 squares each, i. e. 5 each way; get 6 nuts
+and 4 pebbles, or 6 pennies and 4 beans; or any other set of two things
+differing in size and shape.
+
+Let the one to be tested turn his back, while the Guide places 3 nuts
+and 2 pebbles on one of the boards, in any pattern he pleases, except
+that there must be only one on a square.
+
+Now, let the player see them for 5 seconds by the watch; then cover it
+up.
+
+From memory, the player must place the other 3 nuts and 2 pebbles on the
+other board, in exactly the same pattern. Counting one for every one
+that was right. Note that a piece exactly on the line does not count;
+but one chiefly in a square is reckoned to be in that square.
+
+Do this 4 times. Then multiply the total result by 5. This gives his
+_quicksight_ number, to be added to his _aliveness_ score.
+
+
+TALE 87
+
+Hearing
+
+Can you hear like an owl? An owl can find his prey by hearing after
+dark. His ears are wonderful. Let us try if yours are.
+
+1. _Watch-test._ First, you must be blindfolded, and in some perfectly
+quiet place indoors. Now have the Guide hold a man's watch (open if
+hunting-cased), near your head; if you can hear it at 40 inches,
+measured on a tapeline, and prove that you do, by telling exactly where
+it is, in several tries, your hearing number is 40, which is high. If at
+20 inches, it is low (20 pts.); if at 60 inches (60 pts.), it is
+remarkable. Anything over 50 points means you can hear like an owl. In
+this you go by your best ear.
+
+2. _Pindrop-test._ Sometimes it is difficult to get a good watch-test.
+Then the trial may be made with an ordinary, silvered brass stick-pin,
+1-1/8 inches long, with small head. Lay the pin on a block of wood that
+is exactly half an inch thick. Set this on a smooth polished board, or
+table top of hardwood, not more than an inch thick, and with open space
+under it. Set it away from the edge of the table so as to be clear of
+the frame and legs. After the warning "ready," let the Guide tip the
+block of wood, so the pin drops from the block to the table top (half an
+inch). If you hear it at 35 feet in a perfectly still room, your hearing
+is normal, and your hearing number is 35. If 20 feet is your farthest
+limit of hearing it, your number is 20, which is low. If you can hear it
+at 70 feet, your number is 70, which is remarkable.
+
+You can use either the watch-test or the pin-test. If you use both, you
+add the totals together, and divide by 2, to get your _hearing_ number.
+
+
+TALE 88
+
+Feeling
+
+1. Have you got wise fingers like a blind man?
+
+Put 10 nickels, 10 coppers and 10 dimes in a hat or in one hand if you
+like. Then, while blindfolded, separate them into three separate piles,
+all of each kind in a separate pile, within 2 minutes. If it takes you
+the full 2 minutes (120 seconds), you are slow, and your feel number is
+0. If you do it without a mistake in 1 minute and 20 seconds, your feel
+number is 40, one point for each second you are less than 2 minutes. But
+you must take off 3 points for every one wrongly placed, so 3 wrongly
+placed would reduce your 40 to 31. I have known some little boys on the
+East Side of New York to do it in 50 seconds without a mistake, so their
+feel-number by coins was 70. That is, 120 seconds minus 50 seconds
+equals 70. This is the best so far.
+
+2. Now get a quart of corn or beans. Then when blindfolded, and using
+but one hand, lay out the corn or beans in "threes"; that is, three at a
+time laid on the table for 2 minutes. The Guide may move the piles aside
+as they are made. Then stop and count all that are exactly three in a
+pile (those with more or less do not count at all). If there are 40
+piles with 3 in each, 40 is your number, by corn.
+
+3. The last test is: Can you lace your shoes in the dark, or
+blind-folded, finishing with a neat double bow knot?
+
+Arrange it so your two shoes together have a total of at least 20 holes
+or hooks to be used in the test, i. e., which do not have the lace in
+them when you begin. Allow 1 point for each hole or hook, i. e., 20
+points, finish the lacing in 2 minutes, in any case stop when the 2
+minutes is up; then take off 2 points for each one that is wrongly
+laced, or not laced. Thus: Supposing 4 are wrong, take off 4 times 2
+from 20, and your blindfold lacing number is 12; if the number wrong was
+10 or more, your lacing number is 0; if you had 3 wrong, your number is
+14.
+
+Suppose by these three tests--coins, corn, and laces--you scored 40,
+30, and 14; add these together and they give your _feel_ number; 84.
+
+
+TALE 89
+
+Quickness
+
+Put down 12 potatoes (or other round things) in a row, each one exactly
+6 feet from the last, and the last 12 feet from a box with a hole in it,
+just large enough to take in one potato. Now at the word "go," run and
+get the first potato, put it through the hole into the box; then get the
+second, bring it to the box, and so on, one at each trip. After one
+minute, stop. Now multiply the number of potatoes in the box by 10, and
+you have your _quickness_ number. If you have 8 in the box, you score 80
+points, you are as quick as a cat. Very few get over 80. No one so far
+has made 100 points.
+
+
+TALE 90
+
+Guessing Length
+
+Take two common nails, or other thin bits of metal, and lay them on a
+table or board, at what you guess to be exactly one yard (36 inches)
+apart. Then let the Guide lay the tape-line on it, and, allowing 20
+points for exactly right, take off 1 point for each half inch you are
+wrong, over or under. Do not count quarter inches, but go by the nearest
+half-inch mark. Do this 5 times, add up the totals, that will give your
+_guessing-length_ number.
+
+Thus, if your first guess turns out to be 37 inches, that is, 2
+half-inches too much, 2 from 20 gives 18 points. Your next guess was 34
+inches, that is 4 half-inches too little, 4 from 20 gives 16 points.
+Your next guess gave 12 points, your next 17, and your last 19. The
+total, 18 plus 16 plus 12 plus 17 plus 19, equals your number of
+_guessing length_ or 82.
+
+
+TALE 91
+
+Aim or Limb-control
+
+Take 25 medium-sized potatoes, and set up a bucket or bag whose mouth is
+round and exactly one foot across. Draw a line exactly 10 feet from the
+bucket or bag. Toe that line, and throw the potatoes, one by one, into
+the bag. Those that go in, then bounce out, are counted as in. Do it
+four times, then add up all the four totals of those that went in; that
+gives your _aim_ or _control_ number.
+
+For example, suppose that in the 4 tries you got 10 in the first time,
+15 in the second, 20 in the third, 19 in the fourth. Add these together,
+it gives your arm-control or _aim_ number as 64.
+
+Now add up all these high numbers:
+
+        Farsight                   88
+        Quicksight                 50
+        Hearing                    50
+        Feeling                    84
+        Quickness                  80
+        Guessing Length            82
+        Aim                        64
+
+        Your aliveness number is  498
+
+But very few can score so high. If you can score 400 you are surely
+alive; you can see like a hawk, you can take in at a glance, you can
+hear like an owl, you can feel like a blind man, you are quick as a cat,
+you are a good judge of size, and you can aim true; That is, you are as
+_alive as an Indian_.
+
+
+TALE 92
+
+A Treasure Hunt
+
+Make 24 little white sticks, each about three inches long, and as thick
+as a pencil. They are easy to make of willow shoots, after the bark is
+peeled off. While the young folk hide their eyes, the Guide walks off in
+the woods, ties a white rag on a tall stake or limb, for the point of
+beginning. Then, one step apart and in a very crooked line, sets each of
+the little white sticks in the ground, standing straight up. Under the
+last stick should be buried the treasure; usually a stick of chocolate.
+This the players are to find by following the sticks.
+
+When the young folk get used to it, the line should be longer, the
+sticks farther apart, and the last one may be ten steps from the last
+but one.
+
+When they are well trained at it, scraps of paper, white beans, corn, or
+even chalk marks on trees, instead of sticks, will serve for trail; and
+still later holes prodded in the ground with a sharp pointed cane will
+do.
+
+This game can be played in the snow; in which case, the track of the
+Guide, when he hides the treasure, takes the place of the sticks.
+
+Finally it makes a good game for indoors on a rainy day. In which case
+we use buttons, corn, or scraps of white cotton for trail sticks. Of
+course the trail now should be upstairs and down, and as long and
+crooked as possible.
+
+
+TALE 93
+
+Moving Pictures
+
+One of the best developers of imagination is the Moving Picture.
+Sometimes called Pantomime, or Dumb-show which means all signs without
+sounds.
+
+The one who is to put on the "movie" is given a subject and must then
+stand out on the stage or Council Ring, and carry all the story to the
+spectators, without using any sound and with as few accessories as
+possible.
+
+The "print between the reels" is supplied by the Guide who simply
+announces what is needed to explain.
+
+The following subjects have been used successfully (unless otherwise
+stated they are for one actor each):
+
+    Miss Muffet and the Spider--the well-known
+      Nursery Rhyme
+    Old Mother Hubbard
+    Little Jack Horner
+    Mary and her Little Lamb
+    Red Ridinghood--walk through the woods,
+      meeting the wolf, etc.
+    Robinson Crusoe--finding the track of a man
+      in the sand
+    A Barber Shop--shaving a customer (two actors)
+    The Man's First Speech at a Dinner
+    The Politician who was rotten-egged after vainly
+      trying to control a meeting
+    Joyride in a Ford Car--ending in a bad upset
+      (two actors)
+    The Operation--a scene in a hospital following
+      the accident (two or more)
+    The Professor of Hypnotism and His Subject (two actors)
+    The Man who Found a Hair in His Soup
+    The Young Lady Finds a Purse, on opening it a mouse
+      jumps out and she remembers that it is 1st of April
+    A Young Man Telephoning to His Best Girl
+    A Man Meeting and Killing a Rattlesnake
+    Lighting a Lamp
+    Drawing a Cork
+    Looking for a Lost Coin--finding it in one pocket or
+      shoe
+    A Musician Playing His Own Composition
+    The Sleeping Beauty and the Prince (two actors)
+    Goldilocks and the Three Bears
+    William Tell and the Apple (best rendered in caricature
+      with a pumpkin and two actors)
+    Eliza Crossing the Ice
+    The Kaiser Signing His Abdication
+    The Judgment of Solomon (three actors)
+    Brutus Condemning His Two Sons to Death.
+
+
+TALE 94
+
+A Natural Autograph Album
+
+If you live in the country, I can show you an old Woodcraft trick. Look
+for a hollow tree. Sometimes you can pick one out afar, by the dead top,
+and sometimes by noting a tree that had lost one of the biggest limbs
+years ago. In any case, basswoods, old oaks and chestnuts are apt to be
+hollow; while hickories and elms are seldom so, for once they yield to
+decay at all, they go down.
+
+Remember that every hollow tree is a tenement house of the woods. It may
+be the home of a score of different families. Some of these, like Birds
+and Bats, are hard to observe, except at nesting time. But the fourfoots
+are easier to get at. For them, we will arrange a visitors' book at the
+foot of the tree, so that every little creature in fur will write his
+name, and some passing thought, as he comes to the tree.
+
+How?
+
+Oh, it is simple; I have often done it. First clear and level the ground
+around the tree for three or four feet; then cover it with a coat of
+dust, ashes, or sand--whichever is easiest to get; rake and brush it
+smooth; then wait over one night.
+
+Next morning--most quadrupeds are night-walkers--come back; and you
+will find that every creature on four feet that went to the tree
+tenement-house has left us its trail; that is its track or trace.
+
+No two animals make the same trail, so that every Squirrel that climbed,
+every 'Coon or 'Possum, every Tree-mouse, and every Cottontail that went
+by, has clearly put himself on record without meaning to do so; and we
+who study Woodcraft can read the record, and tell just who passed by in
+the night.
+
+
+TALE 95
+
+The Crooked Stick
+
+Once upon a time there was a girl who was very anxious to know what sort
+of a husband she should get; so, of course, she went to the old
+wood-witch.
+
+The witch asked a few questions, then said to the girl: "You walk
+straight through that woods, turn neither to right nor left, and never
+turn back an inch, and pick me out a straight stick, the straighter the
+better; but pick only one, and bring it back."
+
+So the girl set out. Soon she saw a fine-looking stick close at hand;
+but it had a slight blemish near one end, so she said: "No; I can do
+better than that." Then she saw another that was perfect but for a
+little curve in the middle, so she passed it by.
+
+Thus she went, seeing many that were nearly perfect; but walking on,
+seeking one better, till she was quite through the woods. Then she
+realized her chances were nearly gone; so she had to take the only stick
+she could find, a very crooked one indeed, and brought it to the witch,
+saying that she "could have got a much better one had she been more
+easily satisfied at the beginning."
+
+The witch took the stick, waved it at the girl and said: "then this is
+your fortune; _through the woods and through the woods and out with a
+crooked stick_. If you were less hard to please, you would have better
+luck; but you will pass many a good man by, and come out with a crooked
+stick."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Maybe some of our Woodcraft girls can find an initiation in this. Put it
+just as the witch did it, but let it be considered a success if the
+stick is two feet long and nowhere half an inch out of true line. Let me
+add a Woodcraft proverb which should also have its mead of comfort--The
+Great Spirit can draw a straight line with a crooked stick.
+
+
+TALE 96
+
+The Animal Dance of Nana-bo-jou
+
+For this we need a Nana-bo-jou; that is, a grown-up who can drum and
+sing. He has a drum and drumstick, and a straw or paper club; also two
+goblins, these are good-sized boys or girls wearing ugly masks, or at
+least black hoods with two eyeholes, made as hideous as possible; and
+any number of children, from three or four up, for animals. If each has
+the marks, colours, etc., of some bird or beast, so much the better.
+
+First, Nana-bo-jou is seen chasing the children around the outside of
+the circle, trying to catch one to eat; but failing, thinks he'll try a
+trick and he says: "Stop, stop, my brothers. Why should we quarrel?
+Come, let's hold a council together and I will teach you a new dance."
+
+The animals whisper together and the Coyote comes forward, barks, then
+says:
+
+"Nana-bo-jou, I am the Coyote. The animals say that they will come to
+council if you will really make peace and play no tricks."
+
+"Tricks!" says Nana-bo-jou, "I only want to teach you the new songs from
+the South."
+
+Then all the animals troop in and sit in a circle. Nana-bo-jou takes his
+drum and begins to sing:
+
+        "New songs from the South, my brothers,
+         Dance to the new songs."
+
+Turning to one, he says: "Who are you and what can you dance?"
+
+The answers are, "I am the Beaver [or whatever it is] and I can dance
+the Beaver Dance."
+
+"Good! Come and show me how."
+
+So the Beaver dances to the music, slapping the back of his flat right
+hand, up and under his left hand for a tail, holding up a stick in both
+paws to gnaw it, and lumbering along in time to the music, at the same
+time imitating the Beaver's waddle.
+
+Nana-bo-jou shouts: "Fine! That is the best Beaver Dance I ever saw. You
+are wonderful; all you need to be perfect is wings. Wouldn't you like to
+have wings so you could fly over the tree-tops, like the Eagle?"
+
+"Yes," says the Beaver.
+
+"I can make strong medicine and give you wings, if all the animals will
+help me," says Nana-bo-jou. "Will you?"
+
+"Yes," they all cry.
+
+"Then all close your eyes tight and cover them with your paws. Don't
+look until I tell you. Beaver, close your eyes and dance very fast and I
+will make magic to give you wings."
+
+All close and cover their eyes. Nana-bo-jou sings very loudly and,
+rushing on the Beaver, hits him on the head with the straw club. The
+Beaver falls dead. The two goblins run in from one side and drag off the
+body.
+
+Then Nana-bo-jou shouts: "Look, look, now! See how he flies away! See,
+there goes the Beaver over the tree-tops." All look as he points and
+seem to see the Beaver going.
+
+Different animals and birds are brought out to dance their dances and
+are killed as before. Then the Crow comes out, hopping, flopping,
+cawing. Nana-bo-jou looks at him and says: "You are too thin. You are no
+good. You don't need any more wings," and so sends him to sit down.
+
+Then the Coyote comes out to do the Coyote Dance, imitating Coyote,
+etc.; but he is very suspicious and, in answer to the questions, says:
+"No; I don't want wings. The Great Spirit gave me good legs, so I am
+satisfied"; then goes back to his seat.
+
+Next the Deer, the Sheep, etc., come out and are killed; while all the
+rest are persuaded that the victims flew away. But the Coyote and the
+Loon have their doubts. They danced in their turns, but said they didn't
+want any change. They are satisfied as the Great Spirit made them. They
+are slow about hiding their eyes. At last, they peek and realize that it
+is all a trap and the Loon shouts: "Nana-bo-jou is killing us! It is all
+a trick! Fly for your lives!"
+
+As they all run away, Nana-bo-jou pursues the Loon, hitting him behind
+with the club, which is the reason that the Loon has no tail and has
+been lame behind ever since.
+
+The Loon shouts the Loon battle-cry, a high-pitched quavering
+LUL-L-L-O-O-O and faces Nana-bo-jou; the animals rally around the Loon
+and the Coyote to attack the magician. All point their fingers at him
+shouting "Wakan Seecha" (or Black Magic). He falls dead in the circle.
+They bury him with branches, leaves, or a blanket, and all the animals
+do their dances around him.
+
+Before beginning, the story of the dance should be told to the
+audience.
+
+
+TALE 97
+
+The Caribou Dance
+
+[Illustration: Horns for the Caribou Dance]
+
+The easiest of our campfire dances to learn, and the best for quick
+presentation, is the Caribou Dance. It has been put on for public
+performance after twenty minutes' rehearsing, with those who never saw
+it before, because it is all controlled and called off by the Chief. It
+does equally well for indoor gymnasium or for campfire in the woods.
+
+In the way of fixings for this, you need only four pairs of horns and
+four cheap bows. Real deer horns may be used, but they are scarce and
+heavy. It is better to go out where you can get a few crooked limbs of
+oak, cedar, hickory or apple tree; and cut eight pairs, as near like
+those in the cut as possible, each about two feet long and one inch
+thick at the butt. Peel these, for they should be white; round off all
+sharp points of the branches, then lash them in pairs, as shown. A pair,
+of course, is needed for each Caribou. These are held in the hand and
+above the head, or in the hand resting on the head.
+
+The four Caribou look best in white. Three or four hunters are needed.
+They should have bows, but no arrows. The Chief should have a drum and
+be able to sing the Muje Mukesin, or other Indian dance tune. One or two
+persons who can howl like Wolves should be sent off to one side, and
+another that can yell like a Lynx or a Panther on the other side, well
+away from the ring. Otherwise the Chief or leader can do the imitations.
+Now we are ready for
+
+
+THE DANCE OF THE WHITE CARIBOU
+
+The Chief begins by giving three thumps on his drum to call attention;
+then says in a loud, singing voice: "The Caribou have not come on our
+hunting grounds for three snows. We need meat. Thus only can we bring
+them back, by the big medicine of the Caribou Dance, by the power of the
+White Caribou."
+
+He rolls his drum, then in turn faces each of the winds, beckoning,
+remonstrating, and calling them by name; Kitchi-nodin (West); Keeway-din
+(North); Wabani-nodin (East); Shawani-nodin (South). Calling last to the
+quarter whence the Caribou are to come, finishing the call with a long
+KO-KEE-NA. Then as he thumps a slow single beat the four Caribou come in
+in single file, at a stately pace timed to the drum. Their heads are
+high, and they hold the horns on their heads, with one hand, as they
+proudly march around. The Chief shouts: "The Caribou, The Caribou!"
+After going round once in a sun circle (same way as the sun), they go
+each to a corner. The Chief says: "They honour the symbol of the Great
+Spirit." The drum stops; all four march to the fire. They bow to it
+together, heads low, and utter a long bellow.
+
+Then the Chief shouts: "They honour the four Winds, the Messengers."
+
+Then the Caribou back up four paces each, turn suddenly and make a short
+bow, with a short bellow, then turn and again face the fire.
+
+The Chief shouts: "Now they live their wild free lives on the plain." He
+begins any good dance song and beats double time. The Caribou dance
+around once in a circle.
+
+The Chief shouts: "Full of life they fight among themselves."
+
+The first and second Caribou, and third and fourth, close in combat.
+They lower their heads, lock horns held safely away from the head,
+snort, kick up the dust, and dance around each other two or three
+times.
+
+The music begins again, and they cease fighting and dance in a circle
+once more.
+
+The music stops. The Chief shouts: "They fight again." Now the first and
+fourth and second and third lock horns and fight.
+
+After a round or so the music begins again and they cease fighting and
+again circle, dancing as before.
+
+The Chief calls out: "The Wolves are on their track."
+
+Now the howling of Wolves is heard in the distance, from the fellows
+already posted.
+
+The Caribou rush toward that side and face it in a row, threatening,
+with horns low, as they snort, stamp, and kick up the dust.
+
+The Wolf-howling ceases. The Caribou are victorious. The Chief shouts:
+"They have driven off the Wolves." They turn away and circle once to the
+music, holding their heads high.
+
+Now Panther-yelling (or other menacing sound) is heard in the other
+direction. The Chief shouts: "But now the Panthers have found them out."
+
+Again the Caribou line up and show fight. When it ceases, the Chief
+cries out: "They have driven off the Panther." Now they dance proudly
+around, heads up, chests out as they step, for they have conquered every
+foe.
+
+Then the Chief calls out: "But another, a deadlier enemy comes. The
+hunters are on their trail." The hunters appear, crawling very low and
+carrying bows. They go half around the ring, each telling those behind
+by signs, "Here they are; we have found them," "Four big fellows," "Come
+on," etc. When they come opposite the Caribou, the first hunter lets off
+a short "yelp." The Caribou spring to the opposite side of the ring, and
+then line up to defy this new noise; but do not understand it, so gaze
+as they prance about in fear. The hunters draw their bows together, and
+make as though each lets fly an arrow. The first Caribou drops, the
+others turn in fear and run around about half of the ring, heads low,
+and not dancing; then they dash for the timber. The hunters run forward
+with yells. The leader holds up the horns. All dance and yell around the
+fallen Caribou and then drag it off the scene.
+
+The Chief then says: "Behold, it never fails; the Caribou dance brings
+the Caribou. It is great medicine. Now there is meat in the lodge and
+the children cry no longer."
+
+
+TALE 98
+
+The Council Robe
+
+The Woodcraft Council Robe is something which every one may have, and
+should make for himself. It may be of any shade, of gray, buff, orange,
+or scarlet. The best ones are of a bright buff. In size they are about
+five feet by six feet, and the stuff may be wool, cotton, silk, or a
+mixture. My own is of soft or blanket cotton.
+
+The robe is used as a wall banner, a personal robe, or a bed spread, and
+has for the first purpose two or more tag-loops sewn on the top. For the
+second, it has a head-hole or poncho-hole, an upright slit near one end
+(hh), and for the last, there are one or two buttons or tie-strings to
+close the poncho-hole. These are the useful features of the robe.
+
+The ornamental features are the records on it. While these vary with
+each owner, the following usually appear: The Fourfold fire, near the
+middle; the Woodcraft shield, the owner's totem, the symbols of each
+coup and each degree won by the owner.
+
+To this many add a pictographic record of great events or of camps they
+have visited.
+
+[Illustration: The Council Robe]
+
+The easiest way to make the robe is to use paints on the cotton fabric.
+
+The favourite way and more beautiful way, is to use appliqués of
+coloured cloths for the design.
+
+The most beautiful is to embroider in silk or mercerized cotton. But the
+last is very slow, and calls for much labour as well as some money.
+
+On the preceding page are shown four different styles of robe; you may
+choose or adapt which you please, except that only a Sagamore may use
+the one with the 24 feathers in the centre.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO REMEMBER
+
+
+
+
+Things to Remember
+
+
+TALE 99
+
+How the Wren Became King of the Birds
+
+The story is very old, and it may not be true, but this is how they tell
+it in many countries.
+
+The animals had chosen the lion for their King because his looks and his
+powers seemed to fit him best of all for the place. So the birds made up
+their minds that they also would have a royal leader.
+
+After a long council it was decided that, in spite of strong opposition
+from the Ostrich and his followers, the one with the greatest powers of
+flight should be King. And away all flew to see which could go the
+highest.
+
+One by one they came down tired out, till only two were to be seen in
+the air: the Eagle and the Turkey-buzzard still going up. At last they
+got so high that the Turkey-buzzard froze his ears off for they were
+naked. Then he gave it up. The Eagle went still higher to show how
+strong he was, then sailed downward to claim the royal honours.
+
+But just as they were about to give him the crown, the Wren hopped off
+the top of the Eagle's head, where he had been hiding in the long
+feathers, and squeaked out, "No matter how high he was, I was a little
+bit higher, so I am King."
+
+"You," said the Eagle; "Why I carried you up."
+
+"Nothing to do with it," said the Wren.
+
+"Then let's try it over," said the Eagle.
+
+"No, no," said the Wren, "one try was agreed on, and it's settled now, I
+was higher than you."
+
+And they have been disputing over it ever since. The lawyers take the
+Wren's side and the soldiers take the Eagle's side.
+
+The peasants in Europe sometimes speak of the Eagle as "the King of the
+Birds," but they always call the Wren the "Little King." And that is why
+we call our gold-crowned Wrens, Kinglets, or Kingwrens and I suppose
+that is why they wear a crown of gold.
+
+
+TALE 100
+
+The Snowstorm
+
+It was at the great winter Carnival of Montreal not long ago. Looking
+out of a window on a stormy day were five children of different races:
+an Eskimo, a Dane, a Russian, an Indian, and a Yankee. The managers of
+the Carnival had brought the first four with their parents; but the
+Yankee was the son of a rich visitor.
+
+"Look," cried the little Eskimo from Alaska, as he pointed to the
+driving snow. "Look at the ivory chips falling! El Sol is surely carving
+a big Walrus tusk into a fine dagger for himself. See how he whittles,
+and sends the white dust flying."
+
+Of course he didn't say "El Sol," but used the Eskimo name for him.
+
+Then the Dane said: "No, that isn't what makes it. That is Mother Earth
+getting ready for sleep. Those are the goose feathers of her feather
+bed, shaken up by her servants before she lies down and is covered with
+her white mantle."
+
+The little Indian, with his eyes fixed on the storm, shook his head
+gravely and said: "My father taught me that these are the ashes from
+Nana-bo-jou's pipe; he has finished his smoke and is wrapping his
+blanket about him to rest. And my father always spake true."
+
+"Nay, you are all wrong," said the little Russian. "My grandmother told
+me that it is Mother Carey. She is out riding in her strongest, freshest
+steed, the White Wind. He has not been out all summer; he is full of
+strength and fury; he spumes and rages. The air is filled with the foam
+from his bridle, and froth from his shoulders, as she rides him, and
+spurs him, and rides him. I love to see it, and know that she is filling
+the air with strength and with messages. They carry me back to my own
+dear homeland. It thrills me with joy to see the whiteness."
+
+But the Yankee boy said: "Why, it's just snowing."
+
+
+TALE 101
+
+The Fairy Lamps
+
+There was once a little barelegged, brown-limbed boy who spent all his
+time in the woods. He loved the woods and all that was in them. He used
+to look, not at the flowers, but deep down into them, and not at the
+singing bird, but into its eyes, to its little heart; and so he got an
+insight better than most others, and he quite gave up collecting birds'
+eggs.
+
+But the woods were full of mysteries. He used to hear little bursts of
+song, and when he came to the place he could find no bird there. Noises
+and movements would just escape him. In the woods he saw strange tracks,
+and one day, at length, he saw a wonderful bird making these very
+tracks. He had never seen the bird before, and would have thought it a
+great rarity had he not seen its tracks everywhere. So he learned that
+the woods were full of beautiful creatures that were skillful and quick
+to avoid him.
+
+One day, as he passed by a spot for the hundredth time, he found a
+bird's nest. It must have been there for long, and yet he had not seen
+it; and so he learned how blind he was, and he exclaimed: "Oh, if only I
+could see, then I might understand these things! If only I knew! If I
+could see but for once, how many there are, and how near! If only every
+bird would wear over its nest this evening a little lamp to show me!"
+
+The sun was down now; but all at once there was a soft light on the
+path, and in the middle of it the brown boy saw a Little Brown Lady in a
+long robe, and in her hand a rod.
+
+She smiled pleasantly and said: "Little boy, I am the Fairy of this
+Woods. I have been watching you for long. I like you. You seem to be
+different from other boys. Your request shall be granted."
+
+Then she faded away. But at once the whole landscape twinkled over with
+wonderful little lamps--long lamps, short lamps, red, blue, and green,
+high and low, doubles, singles, and groups; wherever he looked were
+lamps--twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, here and everywhere, until the forest
+shone like the starry sky. He ran to the nearest, yes, a nest; and here
+and there, each different kind of lamp stood for another kind of nest. A
+beautiful purple blaze in a low tangle caught his eye. He ran to it, and
+found a nest he had never seen before. It was full of purple eggs, and
+there was the rare bird he had seen but once. It was chanting the weird
+song he had often heard, but never traced. But the eggs were the
+marvelous things. His old egg-collecting instinct broke out. He reached
+forth to clutch the wonderful prize, and--in an instant all the lights
+went out. There was nothing but the black woods about him. Then on the
+pathway shone again the soft light. It grew brighter, till in the
+middle of it he saw the Little Brown Lady--the Fairy of the Woods. But
+she was not smiling now. Her face was stern and sad, as she said: "I
+fear I set you over-high. I thought you better than the rest. Keep this
+in mind:
+
+        "Who reverence not the
+         lamp of life can never
+         see its light."
+
+Then she faded from his view, and he never saw the lamps again.
+
+
+TALE 102
+
+The Sweetest Sad Song in the Woods
+
+Once a great American poet was asked which he thought was the sweetest
+voice in the woods. He said: "The sweetest sound in Nature is the
+calling of the Screech Owl."
+
+Sometimes, though rarely, it does screech, but the sound it most often
+makes is the soft mournful song that it sings in the woods at night,
+especially in the autumn nights.
+
+It seems to be moaning a lament for the falling leaves, a sad good-bye
+to the dear dying summer.
+
+Last autumn one sat above my head in the dark October woods, and put his
+little soul into a song that seemed to be
+
+        Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
+        The leaves are falling:
+        Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
+        A sad voice calling;
+        Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
+        The Woodbirds flying;
+        Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
+        Sweet summer's dying,
+        Dying, Dying.
+
+[Illustration: The Lament of the Owl.
+
+Notation by Ann Seton]
+
+A mist came into my eyes as I listened, and yet I thanked him. "Dear
+voice in the trees, you have said the things I felt, and could not say;
+but voicing my sadness you have given it wings to fly away."
+
+
+TALE 103
+
+Springtime, or the Wedding of Maka Ina and El Sol
+
+Oh, that was a stirring, glowing time! All the air, and the underwood
+seemed throbbed with pleasant murmuring voices. The streams were
+laughing, the deep pools smiling, as pussy-willows scattered catkins on
+them from above. The oak trees and the birches put on little
+glad-hangers, like pennants on a gala ship. The pine trees set up their
+green candles, one on every big tip-twig. The dandelions made haste to
+glint the early fields with gold. The song toads and the peepers sang in
+volleys; the blackbirds wheeled their myriad cohorts in the air, a guard
+of honour in review. The woodwale drummed. The redbud draped its naked
+limbs in early festal bloom; and Rumour the pretty liar smiled and
+spread the news.
+
+All life was smiling with the frank unselfish smile, that tells of
+pleasure in another's joy.
+
+The love of love is wider than the world. And one who did not know their
+speech could yet have read in their reflected joy a magnitude of joyful
+happening, could guess that over two beings of the highest rank, the
+highest rank of happiness impended.
+
+Yes, all the living world stood still at gaze: the story of the
+bridegroom, the gracious beauty of the bride were sung, for the wedding
+day had come. And Mother Carey, she was there, for were they not her
+peers? And the Evil One--he came, but slunk away, for the blessing of
+the one Great Oversoul was on them.
+
+Oh, virile, radiant one, El Sol! Oh, Maka Ina! bounteous mother earth,
+the day of joining hand in hand passed by. The joy is with us yet;
+renewed each year, when March is three weeks gone. Look, then, ye
+wanderers in the woods! Seek in the skies, seek in the growing green,
+but find it mostly in your souls, and _sing_!
+
+
+TALE 104
+
+Running the Council
+
+Every good Woodcrafter should know the way of the Council Ring.
+
+Select some quiet level place out of doors; in the woods if possible,
+for it is so much better if surrounded by trees.
+
+Make a circle of low seats; the circle should be not less than 12 feet
+or more than 20 feet across, depending somewhat on the number to take
+part.
+
+In the middle prepare for a small fire. At one side is a special seat
+for the Chief; this is called the Council Rock.
+
+On very important occasions take white sand or lime, and draw a circle
+around the fire. Then from that draw the four lamps and the twelve laws
+as in Tale 105.
+
+When all is ready with the Guide on the Council Rock, and the Scouts in
+their seats, the Guide stands up and says: "Give ear my friends, we are
+about to hold a council. I appoint such a one, Keeper of the fire and
+so-and-so, Keeper of the tally. Now let the Fire-keeper light the fire."
+
+Next the Tally-keeper calls the roll. After which the business part of
+the Council is carried on exactly the same as any ordinary meeting,
+except that instead of addressing the "Chairman," they say, "O Chief";
+instead of "yes" they say "ho," instead of "no" they say "wah."
+
+The order of doings in Council is:--
+
+        Opening and fire-lighting
+        Roll Call
+        Reading and accepting tally of last Council
+        Reports of Scouts (things observed or done)
+        Left-over business
+        New business
+        Honours
+        Honourable mention
+        (For the good of the Tribe) Complaints and suggestions.
+          (_Here business ends and entertainment begins._)
+        Challenges
+        Games, contests, etc.
+        Close by singing Omaha Prayer (Tale 108)
+
+
+TALE 105
+
+The Sandpainting of the Fire
+
+[Illustration: The Sandpainting of the Fire]
+
+When I was staying among the Navaho Indians, I met John Wetherall, the
+trader. He had spent half his life among them, and knew more of their
+ways than any other white man that I met. He told me that part of the
+education of Navaho priest was knowing the fifty sandpaintings of his
+tribe. A sandpainting is a design made on the ground or floor with dry
+sands of different colours--black, white, gray, yellow, red, etc. It
+looks like a rug or a blanket on the ground, and is made up of many
+curious marks which stand for some man, place, thing, or idea. Thus, the
+first sandpainting is a map of the world as the Navaho knew it, with
+rivers and hills that are important in their history. These
+sandpaintings cannot be moved; a careless touch spoils them, and a gust
+of wind can wipe them out. They endure only in the hearts and memories
+of the people who love them.
+
+In the Woodcraft Camp there is but one sandpainting that is much used;
+that is, the Sandpainting of the Fourfold Fire. When I make it in camp,
+I use only white sand or powdered lime; but indoors, or on paper, I use
+yellow (or orange) and white.
+
+This is the story of the sandpainting. The fire is the symbol of the
+Great Spirit; around that we draw a great circle, as in the diagram.
+
+At each of the four sides we light another fire; these four are called
+Fortitude, Beauty, Truth, and Love, and come from the Fire through
+Spirit, Body, Mind, and Service.
+
+Then from each of these we draw three golden rays. These stand for the
+twelve laws of Woodcraft, and they are named in this way:
+
+        Be Brave, Be Silent and Obey;
+        Be Clean, Be Strong, Protect Wild Life alway;
+        Speak True, Be Reverent, Play Fair as you Strive!
+        Be Kind; Be Helpful; Glad you are alive.
+
+And the final painting is as in the drawing. Of course the names are not
+written on the real thing though the Woodcraft scout should know them.
+
+
+TALE 106
+
+The Woodcraft Kalendar
+
+[Illustration: The Woodcraft Kalendar]
+
+The Woodcraft Kalendar is founded on the Indian way of noting the
+months. Our own ancestors called them "Moons" much as the Indians did.
+Our word "month" was once written "moneth" or "monath" which meant a
+"moon or moon's time of lasting." The usual names for the moons to-day
+are Latin, but we find we get closer to nature if we call them by
+their Woodcraft names, and use the little symbols of the Woodcraft
+Kalendar.
+
+
+TALE 107
+
+Climbing the Mountain
+
+Afar in our dry southwestern country is an Indian village; and in the
+offing is a high mountain, towering up out of the desert. It is
+considered a great feat to climb this mountain, so that all the boys of
+the village were eager to attempt it. One day the Chief said: "Now boys,
+you you may all go to-day and try to climb the mountain. Start right
+after breakfast, and go each of you as far as you can. Then when you are
+tired, come back: but let each one bring me a twig from the place where
+he turned."
+
+Away they went full of hope, each feeling that he surely could reach the
+top.
+
+But soon a fat, pudgy boy came slowly back, and in his hand he held out
+to the Chief a leaf of cactus.
+
+The Chief smiled and said: "My boy, you did not reach the foot of the
+mountain; you did not even get across the desert."
+
+Later a second boy returned. He carried a twig of sagebrush.
+
+"Well," said the Chief. "You reached the mountain's foot but you did not
+climb upward."
+
+The next had a cottonwood spray.
+
+"Good," said the Chief; "You got up as far as the springs."
+
+Another came later with some buckthorn. The Chief smiled when he saw it
+and spoke thus: "You were climbing; you were up to the first slide
+rock."
+
+Later in the afternoon, one arrived with a cedar spray, and the old man
+said: "Well done. You went half way up."
+
+An hour afterward, one came with a switch of pine. To him the Chief
+said: "Good; you went to the third belt; you made three quarters of the
+climb."
+
+The sun was low when the last returned. He was a tall, splendid boy of
+noble character. His hand was empty as he approached the Chief, but his
+countenance was radiant, and he said: "My father, there were no trees
+where I got to; I saw no twigs, but I saw the Shining Sea."
+
+Now the old man's face glowed too, as he said aloud and almost sang: "I
+knew it. When I looked on your face, I knew it. You have been to the
+top. You need no twigs for token. It is written in your eyes, and rings
+in your voice. My boy, you have felt the uplift, you have seen the glory
+of the mountain."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Oh Ye Woodcrafters, keep this in mind, then: the badges that we offer
+for attainment, are not "_prizes_"; prizes are things of value taken by
+violence from their rightful owners. These are merely tokens of what you
+have done, of where you have been. They are mere twigs from the trail to
+show how far you got in climbing the mountain.
+
+[Illustration: THE OMAHA TRIBAL PRAYER.
+
+Harmonized by PROF. J. C. FILLMORE.]
+
+        Wa-kon-da dhe-dhu Wa-pa dhin a-ton-he.
+
+        Wa-kon-da dhe-dhu Wa-pa-dhin a-ton-he.
+
+(By permission from Alice C. Fletcher's "Indian Story and Song.")
+
+Translation:
+
+        Father a needy one stands before thee;
+        I that sing am he.
+
+This old Indian prayer is sung by the Council standing in a great circle
+about the fire with feet close together, hands and faces uplifted, for
+it is addressed to the Great Spirit. At the final bars the hands and
+faces are lowered to the fire.
+
+
+
+
+Books by Ernest Thompson Seton
+
+
+WILD ANIMALS I HAVE KNOWN, 1898
+
+The stories of Lobo, Silverspot, Molly Cottontail, Bingo, Vixen, The
+Pacing Mustang, Wully and Redruff. (Scribners.)
+
+
+THE TRAIL OF THE SANDHILL STAG, 1899
+
+The story of a long hunt that ended without a tragedy. (Scribners.)
+
+
+BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY, 1900
+
+The story of old Wahb from cubhood to the scene in Death Gulch. (The
+Century Company.)
+
+
+LOBO, RAG AND VIXEN, 1900
+
+This is a school edition of "Wild Animals I Have Known," with some of
+the stories and many of the pictures left out. (Scribners.)
+
+
+THE WILD ANIMAL PLAY, 1900
+
+A musical play in which the parts of Lobo, Wahb, Vixen, etc., are taken
+by boys and girls. Out of print. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+THE LIVES OF THE HUNTED, 1901
+
+The stories of Krag, Randy, Johnny Bear, The Mother Teal, Chink, The
+Kangaroo Rat, and Tito, the Coyote. (Scribners.)
+
+
+PICTURES OF WILD ANIMALS, 1901
+
+Twelve large pictures for framing (no text), viz., Krag, Lobo, Tito Cub,
+Kangaroo Rat, Grizzly, Buffalo, Bear Family, Johnny Bear, Sandhill Stag,
+Coon Family, Courtaut the Wolf, Tito and her family. Out of print.
+(Scribners.)
+
+
+KRAG AND JOHNNY BEAR, 1902
+
+This is a school edition of "The Lives of the Hunted" with some of the
+stories and many of the pictures left out. (Scribners.)
+
+
+TWO LITTLE SAVAGES, 1903
+
+A book of adventure and woodcraft and camping out for boys, telling how
+to make bows, arrows, moccasins, costumes, teepee, war-bonnet, etc., and
+how to make a fire with rubbing sticks, read Indian signs, etc.
+(Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+MONARCH, THE BIG BEAR OF TALLAC, 1904
+
+The story of a big California grizzly that is living yet. (Scribners.)
+
+
+ANIMAL HEROES, 1905
+
+The stories of a Slum Cat, a Homing Pigeon, The Wolf That Won, A Lynx, A
+Jackrabbit, A Bull-terrier, The Winnipeg Wolf, and a White Reindeer.
+(Scribners.)
+
+
+WOODMYTH AND FABLE, 1905
+
+A collection of fables, woodland verses, and camp stories. (The Century
+Company.)
+
+
+BIRCH-BARK ROLL, 1906
+
+The Manual of the Woodcraft Indians, first edition, 1902. (Doubleday,
+Page & Co.)
+
+THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE TEN COMMANDMENTS, 1907
+
+Showing the Ten Commandments to be fundamental laws of all creation. 78
+pages. (Scribners.)
+
+
+THE BIOGRAPHY OF A SILVER FOX, 1909
+
+or Domino Reynard of Goldur Town, with 100 illustrations by the author.
+209 pages.
+
+A companion volume to "Biography of a Grizzly." (The Century Company.)
+
+
+LIFE HISTORIES OF NORTHERN ANIMALS, 1909
+
+In two sumptuous quarto volumes with 68 maps and 560 drawings by the
+author. Pages, 1267.
+
+Said by Roosevelt, Allen, Chapman, and Hornaday to be the best work ever
+written on the Life Histories of American Animals. (Scribners.)
+
+
+BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA, 1910
+
+A handbook of Woodcraft, Scouting, and Life Craft Including the
+Birch-Bark Roll. 192 pages. Out of print. (Doubleday, Page & Co.) The
+year-book of the Boy Scouts of America is now handled by the American
+News Co.
+
+
+ROLF IN THE WOODS, 1911
+
+The Adventures of a Boy Scout with Indian Quonab and little dog Skookum.
+Over 200 drawings by the author. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+THE ARCTIC PRAIRIES, 1911
+
+A canoe journey of 2,000 miles in search of the Caribou. 415 pages with
+many maps, photographs, and illustrations by the author. (Scribners.)
+
+
+THE BOOK OF WOODCRAFT AND INDIAN LORE, 1912
+
+with over 500 drawings by the author. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+THE FORESTER'S MANUAL, 1912
+
+One hundred of the best-known forest trees of eastern North America,
+with 100 maps and more than 200 drawings. Out of print. (Doubleday, Page
+& Co.)
+
+
+WILD ANIMALS AT HOME, 1913
+
+with over 150 sketches and photographs by the author. 226 pages. In this
+Mr. Seton gives for the first time his personal adventures in studying
+wild animals. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+MANUAL OF THE WOODCRAFT INDIANS, 1915
+
+The fourteenth Birch-Bark Roll. 100 pages. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+WILD ANIMAL WAYS, 1916
+
+More animal stories introducing a host of new four-footed friends, with
+200 illustrations by the author. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+WOODCRAFT MANUAL FOR BOYS, 1917
+
+A handbook of Woodcraft and Outdoor life for members of the Woodcraft
+League. 440 pp. 700 ills. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+WOODCRAFT MANUAL FOR GIRLS, 1917
+
+Like the foregoing but adapted for girls. 424 pp., Illus. (Doubleday,
+Page & Co.)
+
+
+THE PREACHER OF CEDAR MOUNTAIN, 1917
+
+A novel. A tale of the open country. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+SIGN TALK, 1918
+
+A Universal Signal Code, Without Apparatus, for use in the Army, the
+Navy, Camping, Hunting, Daily Life and among the Plains Indians.
+(Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+WOODLAND TALES, 1921
+
+Delightful children's stories, of fable and fairy-tale flavour, with the
+wild things of the woodland for their heroes. In the heart of each some
+nature secret is revealed. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+BY MRS. ERNEST THOMPSON SETON
+
+(Published by DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO.)
+
+
+A WOMAN TENDERFOOT, 1901
+
+A book of outdoor adventures and camping for women and girls. How to
+dress for it, where to go, and how to profit the most by camp life.
+
+
+NIMROD'S WIFE, 1907
+
+A companion volume, giving Mrs. Seton's side of the many campfires she
+and her husband lighted together in the Rockies from Canada to Mexico.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
+
+Page 79, "gr  dy" changed to "greedy" (as greedy as he)
+
+Page 134, "throught he" changed to "through the" (through the outer)
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Woodland Tales, by Ernest Seton-Thompson
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODLAND TALES ***
+
+***** This file should be named 23667-8.txt or 23667-8.zip *****
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+Music transcribed by Linda Cantoni
+
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Woodland Tales, by Ernest Thompson Seton.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Woodland Tales, by Ernest Seton-Thompson
+
+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: Woodland Tales
+
+Author: Ernest Seton-Thompson
+
+Release Date: November 30, 2007 [EBook #23667]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODLAND TALES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper, Emmy and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+Music transcribed by Linda Cantoni
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 281px;">
+<img src="images/icover.png" width="281" height="400" alt="Cover" title="Cover" />
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class='bbox'>
+<h1>WOODLAND TALES</h1>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2>ERNEST THOMPSON SETON</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
+<img src="images/title.png" width="200" height="155" alt="Little man and squirrel" title="Little man and squirrel" />
+</div><div class='center'><br />
+<br />
+WITH 100 DRAWINGS<br />
+<br />
+BY<br />
+<br />
+THE AUTHOR<br />
+<br />
+<small>AUTHOR OF "WILD ANIMALS AT HOME," "WILD<br />
+ANIMALS I HAVE KNOWN," "TWO LITTLE SAVAGES,"<br />
+"BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY," "LIFE<br />
+HISTORIES OF NORTHERN ANIMALS," "ROLF IN<br />
+THE WOODS," "THE BOOK OF WOODCRAFT."<br />
+CHIEF OF THE WOODCRAFT LEAGUE OF AMERICA</small><br />
+<br />
+<small>GARDEN CITY  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;    NEW YORK</small><br />
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE &amp; COMPANY<br />
+1922<br /></div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'><small>
+COPYRIGHT, 1905, 1920, 1921, BY<br />
+<br />
+ERNEST THOMPSON SETON<br />
+<br />
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION<br />
+INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN<br />
+<br />
+COPYRIGHT 1903, 1904, BY THE CENTURY COMPANY<br />
+<br />
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES<br />
+AT<br />
+THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.<br /></small></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>PREFACE</h2>
+
+<div class='center'><i>To the Guide</i></div>
+
+
+<p><span class='smcap'>These</span> Mother Carey Tales were written for children of
+all ages, who have not outgrown the delight of a fairy tale.
+It might almost be said that they were written chiefly for myself,
+for I not only have had the pleasure of telling them to
+the little ones, and enjoying their quick response, but have
+also had the greater pleasure of thinking them and setting
+them down.</p>
+
+<p>As I write, I look from a loved window, across a landscape
+that I love, and my eye rests on a tall beautiful pine planted
+with my own hands years ago. It is a mass of green fringes,
+with gem-like tips of buds and baby cones, beautiful, exquisitely
+beautiful, whether seen from afar as a green spire,
+or viewed close at hand as jewellery. It is beautiful, fragile
+and&mdash;unimportant, as the world sees it; yet through its wind-waved
+mass one can get little glimpses of the thing that
+backs it all, the storm-defying shaft, the enduring rigid
+living growing trunk of massive timber that gives it the
+nobility of strength, and adds value to the rest; sometimes
+it must be sought for, but it always surely is there, ennobling
+the lesser pretty things.</p>
+
+<p>I hope this tree is a fair image of my fairy tale. I know
+my child friends will love the piney fringes and the jewel
+cones, and they can find the unyielding timber in its underlying
+truth, if they seek for it. If they do not, it is enough
+to have them love the cones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All are not fairy tales. Other chapters set forth things
+to see, thing to do, things to go to, things to know, things to
+remember. These, sanctified in the blue outdoors, spell
+"Woodcraft," the one pursuit of man that never dies or palls,
+the thing that in the bygone ages gifted him and yet again
+will gift him with the seeing eye, the thinking hand, the body
+that fails not, the winged soul that stores up precious memories.</p>
+
+<p>It is hoped that these chapters will show how easy and
+alluring, and how good a thing it is.</p>
+
+<p>While they are meant for the children six years of age
+and upward, it is assumed that Mother (or Father) will be
+active as a leader; therefore it is addressed, first of all, to
+the parent, whom throughout we shall call the "Guide."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Some of these stories date back to my school days, although
+the first actually published was "Why the Chicadee Goes
+Crazy Twice a Year." This in its original form appeared in
+"Our Animal Friends" in September, 1893. Others, as
+"The Fingerboard Goldenrod," "Brook-Brownie," "The
+Bluebird," "Diablo and the Dogwood," "How the Violets
+Came," "How the Indian Summer Came," "The Twin
+Stars," "The Fairy Lamps," "How the Littlest Owl Came,"
+"How the Shad Came," appeared in slightly different form
+in the <i>Century Magazine</i>, 1903 and 1904.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>My thanks are due to the Authorities of the American
+Museum who have helped me with specimens and criticism;
+to the published writings of Dr. W. J. Holland and Clarence
+M. Weed for guidance in insect problems; to Britton and
+Browne's "Illustrated Flora, U. S. and Canada"; and to
+the Nature Library of Doubleday, Page &amp; Co., for light
+in matters botanic; to Mrs. Daphne Drake and Mrs. Mary
+S. Dominick for many valuable suggestions, and to my wife,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span>
+Grace Gallatin Seton, for help with the purely literary
+work.</p>
+
+<p>Also to Oliver P. Medsger, the naturalist of Lincoln High
+School, Jersey City, N. J., for reading with critical care
+those parts of the manuscript that deal with flowers and
+insects, as well as for the ballad of the Ox-eye, the story of
+its coming to America, and the photograph of the Mecha-meck.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>Things to See in Springtime</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><i>The Seeing Eye</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'><small>TALE NO.</small></td><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='left'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>1.</td><td align='left'>Blue-eyes, the Snow-child, or the Story of Hepatica</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>2.</td><td align='left'>The Story of the Dawnsinger, or How the Bloodroot Came</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>3.</td><td align='left'>The Prairie-girl with Yellow Hair</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>4.</td><td align='left'>The Cat's-eye Toad, a child of Maka Ina</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>5.</td><td align='left'>How the Bluebird Came</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>6.</td><td align='left'>Robin, the Bird that Loves to Make Clay Pots</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>7.</td><td align='left'>Brook Brownie, or How the Song Sparrow Got his Streaks</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>8.</td><td align='left'>Diablo and the Dogwood</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>9.</td><td align='left'>The Woolly-bear</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>10.</td><td align='left'>How the Violets Came</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>11.</td><td align='left'>Cocoons</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>12.</td><td align='left'>Butterflies and Moths</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>13.</td><td align='left'>The Mourning-cloak Butterfly or the Camberwell Beauty</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>14.</td><td align='left'>The Wandering Monarch</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>15.</td><td align='left'>The Bells of the Solomon Seal</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>16.</td><td align='left'>The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br />Things to See in Summertime</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>17.</td><td align='left'>How the Mouse-bird made Fun of the Brownie</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>18.</td><td align='left'>The Pot-herb that Sailed with the Pilgrims</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>19.</td><td align='left'>How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span>20.</td><td align='left'>The Shamrock and Her Three Sisters</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>21.</td><td align='left'>The Indian Basket-Maker</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>22.</td><td align='left'>Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>23.</td><td align='left'>The Mecha-meck</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>24.</td><td align='left'>Dutchman's Breeches</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>25.</td><td align='left'>The Seven Sour Sisters</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>26.</td><td align='left'>Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>27.</td><td align='left'>The Four Butterflies You See Every Summer</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>28.</td><td align='left'>The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>29.</td><td align='left'>The Great Splendid Silk-moth or <i>Samia Cecropia</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>30.</td><td align='left'>The Green Fairy with the Long Train</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>31.</td><td align='left'>The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>32.</td><td align='left'>The Fairy Bird or the Humming-bird Moth</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>33.</td><td align='left'>Ribgrass or Whiteman's-Foot</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>34.</td><td align='left'>Jack-in-the-Pulpit</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>35.</td><td align='left'>How the Indian Pipe Came</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>36.</td><td align='left'>The Cucumber Under the Brownie's Umbrella</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>37.</td><td align='left'>The Hickory Horn-Devil</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br />Things to See in Autumntime</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>38.</td><td align='left'>The Purple and Gold of Autumn</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>39.</td><td align='left'>Why the Chicadee Goes Crazy Twice a Year</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>40.</td><td align='left'>The Story of the Quaking Aspen or Poplar</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>41.</td><td align='left'>The Witch-hazel</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>42.</td><td align='left'>How the Shad Came and How the Chestnut Got Its Burrs</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>43.</td><td align='left'>How the Littlest Owl Came</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>44.</td><td align='left'>The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>45.</td><td align='left'>The Mud-dauber Wasp</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>46.</td><td align='left'>The Cicada and the Katydid</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>47.</td><td align='left'>The Digger Wasp That Killed the Cicada</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>48.</td><td align='left'>How the Indian Summer Came</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br />Things to See in Wintertime</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>49.</td><td align='left'>The North Star, or the Home Star</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>50.</td><td align='left'>The Pappoose on the Squaw's Back</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>51.</td><td align='left'>Orion the Hunter, and his Fight with the Bull</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span>52.</td><td align='left'>The Pleiades, that Orion Fired at the Bull</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>53.</td><td align='left'>The Twin Stars</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>54.</td><td align='left'>Stoutheart and His Black Cravat</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>55.</td><td align='left'>Tracks and the Stories They Tell</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>56.</td><td align='left'>A Rabbit's Story of His Life</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>57.</td><td align='left'>The Singing Hawk</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>58.</td><td align='left'>The Fingerboard Goldenrod</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>59.</td><td align='left'>Woodchuck Day&mdash;February Second</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br />Things to Know</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><i>The Story of The Trail</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>60.</td><td align='left'>How the Pine Tree Tells its Own Story</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>61.</td><td align='left'>Blazes</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>62.</td><td align='left'>Totems</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>63.</td><td align='left'>Symbols</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>64.</td><td align='left'>Sign Language</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>65.</td><td align='left'>The Language of Hens</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>66.</td><td align='left'>Why the Squirrel Wears a Bushy Tail</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>67.</td><td align='left'>Why the Dog Wags His Tail</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>68.</td><td align='left'>Why the Dog Turns Around Three Times Before Lying Down</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>69.</td><td align='left'>The Deathcup of Diablo</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>70.</td><td align='left'>The Poison Ivy, or the Three-fingered Demon of the Woods</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>71.</td><td align='left'>The Medicine in the Sky</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>72.</td><td align='left'>The Angel of the Night</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br />Things to Do</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><i>The Thinking Hand</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>73.</td><td align='left'>Bird-nesting in Winter</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>74.</td><td align='left'>The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>75.</td><td align='left'>The Monkey-hunt</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>76.</td><td align='left'>The Horsetail and the Jungle</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>77.</td><td align='left'>The Woods in Winter</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>78.</td><td align='left'>The Fish and the Pond</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span>79.</td><td align='left'>Smoke Prints of Leaves</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>80.</td><td align='left'>Bird-boxes</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>81.</td><td align='left'>A Hunter's Lamp</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>82.</td><td align='left'>The Coon Hunt</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>83.</td><td align='left'>The Indian Pot</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>84.</td><td align='left'>Snowflakes</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>85.</td><td align='left'>Are you Alive? Farsight</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>86.</td><td align='left'>Are you Alive? Quicksight</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>87.</td><td align='left'>Are you Alive? Hearing</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>88.</td><td align='left'>Are you Alive? Feeling</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>89.</td><td align='left'>Are you Alive? Quickness</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>90.</td><td align='left'>Are you Alive? Guessing Length</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>91.</td><td align='left'>Are you Alive? Aim or Limb-control</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>92.</td><td align='left'>A Treasure Hunt</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>93.</td><td align='left'>Moving Pictures</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>94.</td><td align='left'>The Natural Autograph Album</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>95.</td><td align='left'>The Crooked Stick</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>96.</td><td align='left'>The Animal Dance of Nana-bo-jou</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>97.</td><td align='left'>The Caribou Dance</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>98.</td><td align='left'>The Council Robe</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br />Things to Remember</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><i>The Winged Soul that Stores up Precious Memories.</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>99.</td><td align='left'>How the Wren Became King of the Birds</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>100.</td><td align='left'>The Snowstorm</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>101.</td><td align='left'>The Fairy Lamps</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>102.</td><td align='left'>The Sweetest Sad Song in the Woods</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>103.</td><td align='left'>Springtime, or the Wedding of Maka Ina and El Sol</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>104.</td><td align='left'>Running the Council</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>105.</td><td align='left'>The Sandpainting of the Fire</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>106.</td><td align='left'>The Woodcraft Kalendar</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>107.</td><td align='left'>Climbing the Mountain</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>108.</td><td align='left'>The Omaha Prayer</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>A List of Books by the Author</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td></tr>
+</table></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+
+<div class='center'><i>Mother Carey</i></div>
+
+
+<p><span class='smcap'>All-mother!</span> Mater Cara! I have never seen you, but
+I hungered so to know you that I understood it when you
+came, unseen, and silently whispered to me that first time
+in the long ago.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot tell the children what you look like, Mother
+Carey, for mortal eye hath never rested on your face; and
+yet I can offer them a portrait, O strong Angel of the Wild
+Things, neither young nor old&mdash;Oh! loving One that neither
+trembles nor relents!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>A mink he was, a young mink and foolish. One of a
+happy brood, who were seeing the world with their mother&mdash;a
+first glimpse of it. She was anxious and leading, happy
+and proud, warning, sniffing, inviting, loving, yet angersome
+at trivial disobedience, doling out her wisdom in nips and
+examples and shrill warnings that all heeded; except this
+one, the clever fool of the family, the self-satisfied smart one.
+He would not be warned, the thing smelt so good. He
+plunged ahead. Mother was a fool; he was wiser than
+Mother. Here was a merry feasting for him. Then <i>clank!</i>
+The iron jaws of a trap sprang from the hiding grass, and
+clutched on his soft young paws. Screams of pain, futile
+strainings, writhings, ragings and moanings; bloody jaws
+on the trap; the mother distraught with grief, eager to take
+all the punishment herself, but helpless and stunned, unable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span>
+to leave; the little brothers, aghast at this first touch of
+passion, this glimpse of reality, skurrying, scared, going
+and coming, mesmerized, with glowing eyes and bristling
+shoulder-fur. And the mother, mad with sorrow, goaded
+by the screaming, green-eyed, vacant-minded, despairing&mdash;till
+a new spirit entered into her, the spirit of Cara the All-mother,
+Mother Carey the Beneficent, Mother Carey the
+wise Straightwalker. Then the mother mink, inspired,
+sprang on her suffering baby. With all the power of her
+limbs she sprang and clutched; with all the power of her
+love she craunched. His screams were ended; his days in
+the land were ended. He had not heeded her wisdom; the
+family fool was finished. The race was better, better for
+the suffering fool mink; better for the suffering mother mink.</p>
+
+<p>The spirit left her; left her limp and broken-hearted.
+And away on the wind went riding, grimly riding her empire.</p>
+
+<p>Four swift steeds for riding, has she, the White Wind,
+the West Wind, the Wet Wind and the Waking Wind. But
+mostly she rides the swift West Wind.</p>
+
+<p>She is strong, is Mother Carey, strong, wise, inexorable,
+calm and direct as an iceberg. And beneficent; but she
+loves the strong ones best. She ever favours the wise ones.
+She is building, ceaselessly building. The good brick she
+sets in a place of honour, and the poor one she grinds into
+gravel for the workmen to walk on.</p>
+
+<p>She loves you, but far less than she does your race. It
+may be that you are not wise, and if it seem best, she will
+drop a tear and crush you into the dust.</p>
+
+<p>Three others there be of power, like Mother Carey:
+Maka Ina who is Mother Earth; El Sol, the Sun in the Sky,
+and Diablo the Evil Spirit of Disease and Dread. But over
+all is the One Great Spirit, the Beginning and the Ruler
+with these and many messengers, who do His bidding. But
+mostly you shall hear of Mother Carey.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It is long ago since first I heard her whisper, and though
+I hear better now than then, I have no happier memory
+than that earliest message.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho Wayseeker," she called, "I have watched your struggle
+to find the pathway, and I know that you will love the
+things that belong to it. Therefore, I will show you the
+trail, and this is what it will lead you to: a thousand pleasant
+friendships that will offer honey in little thorny cups,
+the twelve secrets of the underbrush, the health of sunlight,
+suppleness of body, the unafraidness of the night, the delight
+of deep water, the goodness of rain, the story of the trail,
+the knowledge of the swamp, the aloofness of knowing,&mdash;yea,
+more, a crown and a little kingdom measured to your
+power and all your own.</p>
+
+<p>"But there is a condition attached. When you have
+found a trail you are thereby ordained a guide. When
+you have won a kingdom you must give it to the world or
+lose it. For those who have got power must with it bear
+responsibility; evade the one, the other fades away."</p>
+
+<p>This is the pledge I am trying to keep; I want to be your
+Guide. I am offering you my little kingdom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THINGS TO SEE IN SPRINGTIME</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 303px;">
+<img src="images/i018.png" width="303" height="400" alt="Blue-eyes the Snow Child" title="Blue-eyes the Snow Child" />
+<span class="caption">Blue-eyes the Snow Child</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>Things to See in Springtime</h2>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 1<br />
+
+Blue-eyes, the Snow Child, or The Story of Hepatica</h3>
+
+<p class='cap'>HAVE you ever seen El Sol, the Chief of the Wonder-workers,
+brother to Mother Carey? Yes, you
+have, though probably you did not know it; at
+least you could not look him in the face. Well, I am going
+to tell you about him, and tell of a sad thing that
+happened to him, and to some one whom he loved more
+than words can tell.</p>
+
+<p>Tall and of blazing beauty was El Sol, the King of the
+Wonder-workers; his hair was like shining gold, and stood
+straight out a yard from his head, as he marched over the
+hilltops.</p>
+
+<p>Everyone loved him, except a very few, who once had
+dared to fight him, and had been worsted. Everyone else
+loved him, and he liked everybody, without really loving
+them. Until one day, as he walked in his garden, he suddenly
+came on a beautiful white maiden, whom he had never
+seen before. Her eyes were of the loveliest blue, her hair was
+so soft that it floated on the air, and her robe was white,
+covered with ferns done in white lace.</p>
+
+<p>He fell deeply in love with her at once, but she waved a
+warning hand, when he tried to come near.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you, oh radiant princess? I love you even
+before I hear you speak."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am Snowroba, the daughter of the great King Jackfrost,"
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I love you as I never loved any one. Will you marry
+me? I am the King of the Wonder-workers. I will make
+you the Queen."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said she, "I cannot marry you, for it is written that
+if one of my people marry one of your people, she will sink
+down and die in a day."</p>
+
+<p>Then El Sol was very sad. But he said, "May I not see
+you again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered, "I will meet you here in the morning,
+for it is pleasant to look on your beauty," and her voice
+tinkled sweetly.</p>
+
+<p>So she met him in the morning, and again on the third
+morning. He loved her madly now, and though she held
+back, he seized her in his arms and kissed her tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>Then her arms fell weakly to her sides, and her eyes half
+closed as she said: "I know now that the old writing spake
+truth. I love you, I love you, my love; but you have killed
+me."</p>
+
+<p>And she sank down, a limp white form, on the leafy
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>El Sol was wild with grief. He tried to revive her, to
+bring her back.</p>
+
+<p>She only whispered, "Good-bye, my love. I am going fast.
+You will see me no more, but come to this place a year from
+now. It may be Maka Ina will be kind, and will send you
+a little one that is yours and mine."</p>
+
+<p>Her white body melted away, as he bent over it and wept.</p>
+
+<p>He came back every morning, but saw Snowroba no more.
+One year from that day, as he lingered sadly over the sacred
+spot, he saw a new and wonderful flower come forth. Its
+bloom was of the tenderest violet blue, and it was full of
+expression. As he gazed, he saw those eyes again; the scald<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>ing
+tears dropped from his eyes, and burned its leaves into
+a blotched and brownish colour. He remembered, and
+understood her promise now. He knew that this was their
+blue-eyed little one.</p>
+
+<p>In the early springtime we can see it. Three sunny
+days on the edge of the snowdrift will bring it forth. The
+hunterfolk who find it, say that it is just one of the spring
+flowers, out earlier than any other, and is called Liverleaf,
+but we Woodcrafters know better. We know it is Hepatica,
+the child of El Sol and Snowroba.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 2<br />
+
+The Story of the White Dawnsinger<br />
+
+or<br />
+
+How the Bloodroot Came</h3>
+
+<p><span class='smcap'>Have</span> you noticed that there are no snow-white birds
+in our woods during summer? Mother Carey long ago
+made it a rule that all snow-white landbirds should go
+north, when the snow was gone in the springtime. And
+they were quite obedient; they flew, keeping just on the
+south edge of the melting snow.</p>
+
+<p>But it so happened that one of the sweetest singers of
+all&mdash;the snow-white Dawnsinger with the golden bill and
+the ruby legs&mdash;was flying northward with his bride, when
+she sprained her wing so she could not fly at all.</p>
+
+<p>There was no other help for it; they must stay in that
+thicket till her wing grew strong again.</p>
+
+<p>The other white birds flew on, but the Dawnsinger waited.
+He sang his merriest songs to cheer her. He brought her
+food: and he warned her when enemies were near.</p>
+
+<p>A moon had come and gone. Now she was well again,
+and strong on the wing. He was anxious to go on to their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
+northern home. A second warning came from Mother
+Carey, "White birds go north."</p>
+
+<p>But the sunny woodside had become very pleasant, food
+was abundant, and the little white lady said, "Why should
+we go north when it is so much nicer right here?"</p>
+
+<p>The Dawnsinger felt the same way, and the next time the
+warning came, "White birds go north," he would not listen
+at all, and they settled down to a joyful life in the woods.</p>
+
+<p>They did not know anything about the Yellow-eyed
+Whizz. They never would have known, had they gone
+north at their right time. But the Yellow-eyed Whizz was
+coming. It came, and It always goes straight after white
+things in the woods, for brown things It cannot see.</p>
+
+<p>Dawnsinger was high on a tree, praising the light in a
+glorious song, that he had just made up, when It singled
+him out by his whiteness, and pierced him through.</p>
+
+<p>He fell fluttering and dying; and as she flew to him, with a
+cry of distress, the Yellow-eyed wicked Whizz struck her
+down by his side.</p>
+
+<p>The Chewinks scratched leaves over the two white bodies,
+and&mdash;I think&mdash;that Mother Carey dropped a tear on the
+place.</p>
+
+<p>That was the end of the White Dawnsinger and his bride.
+Yet every year, at that same place, as the snow goes, the
+brown leaves move and part, and up from beneath there
+comes a beautiful white flower.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 295px;">
+<img src="images/i023.png" width="295" height="400" alt="The Story of the White Dawnsinger" title="The Story of the White Dawnsinger" />
+<span class="caption">The Story of the White Dawnsinger</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Its bloom threads are yellow like the Dawnsinger's beak,
+and its stem is ruby like his legs; all the rest is snow-white like
+his plumes. It rises, looks about, faces the sun, and sings
+a little odour-song, a little aroma-lay. If you look deep
+down into the open soul of the Dawnsinger you will see the
+little golden thoughts he sings about. Then up from the
+same grave comes another, just the same, but a little
+smaller, and for a while they stand up side by side, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
+praise the light. But the Wither-bloom that haunts the
+flowers as the Yellow-eyed Whizz does the birds, soon finds
+them out; their song is ended, their white plumes are scattered,
+and they shrink back into their grave, to be side by
+side again.</p>
+
+<p>You can find their little bodies, but deal gently with them,
+for they are wounded; you may make them bleed again.</p>
+
+<p>And when you hear the Chewinks scratching in the underbrush,
+remember they are putting leaves on the grave of the
+White Dawnsinger.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Surely you have guessed the secret; the flower is the
+Bloodroot, and the Whizz is the Sharp-shinned Hawk.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 3<br />
+
+The Prairie-girl with Yellow Hair</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 268px;">
+<img src="images/i025.png" width="268" height="400" alt="The Prairie-girl" title="The Prairie-girl" />
+<span class="caption">The Prairie-girl</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Tall</span> and fair was the Prairie-girl. She was not very
+pretty, but her form was slender and graceful, and her head
+was covered with a mass of golden hair that made you see
+her from afar off. It has been whispered that she was deeply
+in love with El Sol, for wherever he went, she turned her head
+to look at him; and when she could not see him, she drooped
+and languished. But he never seemed to notice her. As
+she grew older her golden head turned white, and at last
+the swish of Mother Carey's horses carried away all her
+white hair, and left her old, bald, and ugly. So she pined
+and died, and Maka Ina buried her poor little body under
+the grass. But some say it was Father Time that blew her
+hair away, and that El Sol had the body cremated.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>If you look on the lawns or the fields in springtime, you
+are sure to find the Prairie-girl. The Guide can show her to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+you, if you do not know her. But he will call her "Common
+Dandelion," and I do not know of any flower that has so
+many things for us children to remember.</p>
+
+<p>If you are learning French, you will see how it got the
+name "Dandelion"; it used to be written <i>dent de lion;</i> that
+is, "tooth of a lion"; because its leaves are edged with sharp
+teeth, like a lion's jaw.</p>
+
+<p>Its golden-yellow flower is said to open when the Swallows
+arrive from the south, that is, in April; and though it blooms
+chiefly in springtime it keeps on blooming till long after
+the Swallows fly away. It certainly thrives as long as the
+sun shines on it, and fades when the cold dark season comes.
+But I have seen it out in November; that is, the Dandelion
+blooms for fully nine months. I do not know of any other
+flower that does; most of them are done in one month.</p>
+
+<p>When the yellow flower is over, its place is taken by a
+beautiful globe of soft, white plumes; this is why the story
+says its golden hair turns white with age. The children
+believe that this woolly head will tell you the time of day.
+You hold it up, then pretend you are Father Time blowing
+her hair away, blow a sharp puff with your breath, then
+another and another, till the plumes are blown away. If
+it takes four blows, they say it means four o'clock; but it is
+not a very true clock.</p>
+
+<p>Some children make a wish, then blow once and say,
+"this year"; the second time, "next year"; the third time,
+"some time"; the fourth time, "never." Then begin all
+over, and keep on as long as any plumes are left, to tell when
+the wish is coming true.</p>
+
+<p>Now pull the head off the stalk. You will find it leaves
+a long, open tube that sounds like a trumpet when you blow
+through it from the small end. If you force your finger into
+the big end, and keep pushing, you split the tube into two
+or three pieces; put these in your mouth and they will curl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
+up like ringlets. Some children hang these on their ears
+for ornaments. Take a stalk for each year of your age;
+pull its head off. Then you will find that the top end will
+go into the bottom and make a ring. Use all the stalks you
+have gathered, to make a chain; now throw this chain into a
+low tree. If it sticks the first time, your wish will come
+true this year. Each time it falls puts your wish a year
+farther away.</p>
+
+<p>This may not be true; but it is a game to play. Some
+big girls use it, to find out when they are going to be
+married.</p>
+
+<p>Now dig up the whole plant, root and all&mdash;the gardener
+will be much obliged to you for doing so&mdash;take it home, and
+ask the Guide to make the leaves into a salad; you will find
+it good to eat; most Europeans eat it regularly, either raw,
+or boiled as greens.</p>
+
+<p>Last of all, ask the Guide to roast the root, till it is brown
+and crisp, then grind it in a coffee-mill, and use it to make
+coffee. Some people think it better than real coffee; at any
+rate, the doctors say it is much healthier, for it is nourishing
+food, and does not do one any harm at all. But perhaps
+you will not like it. You may think all the time you are
+eating the body of the poor little Prairie-girl, who died of
+love.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 4<br />
+
+The Cat's-eye Toad, a Child of Maka Ina</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">When</span> you were little, O Guide! didn't you delight in the
+tales of gnomes or <i>nibelungen</i>, those strange underground
+creatures that lived hidden from the light, and busied themselves
+with precious stones and metals? How unwillingly
+we gave up those glad beliefs, as we inevitably grew old
+and lost our fairyland eyes!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 326px;">
+<img src="images/i028.png" width="326" height="400" alt="The Cat&#39;s eye Toad (life size)" title="The Cat&#39;s eye Toad (life size)" />
+<span class="caption">The Cat&#39;s eye Toad (life size)</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But you must not give up all your joyful creeds; you must
+keep on believing in the weird underground dwarfs; for
+I am going to tell you of one that the cold calculating Professor
+Science has at last accepted, and that lives in your
+own back-yard. That is, the Cat's-eye Toad or Spadefoot.
+It is much like a common Toad, but a little smoother, the
+digging spade on its hind foot is bigger and its eye, its beautiful
+gold-stone eye, has the pupil up and down like that of a
+Cat, instead of level as in its cousin, the warty Hoptoad.</p>
+
+<p>But the wonderful thing about the Cat's-eye is that it
+spends most of its life underground, coming out in the early
+springtime for a few days of the most riotous honeymoon
+in some small pond, where it sings a loud chorus till mated,
+lays a few hundred eggs, to be hatched into tadpoles, then
+backs itself into its underground world by means of the boring
+machine on its hind feet, to be heard no more that season,
+and seen no more, unless some one chance to dig it out,
+just as Hans in the story dug out the mole-gnome.</p>
+
+<p>In the fairy tale the Shepherd-boy was rewarded by the
+gnome for digging him out; for he received both gold and
+precious stones. But our gnome does not wish us to dig
+him out; nevertheless, if you do, you will be rewarded with a
+golden fact, and a glimpse of two wonderful jewel eyes.</p>
+
+<p>According to one who knows him well, the Cat's-eye
+buries itself far underground, and sleeps days, or weeks,
+<i>perhaps years</i> at a time. Once a grave-digger found a Cat's-eye
+three feet two inches down in the earth with no way out.</p>
+
+<p>How and when are we then to find this strange creature?
+Only during his noisy honeymoon in April.</p>
+
+<p>Do you know the soft trilling whistle of the common
+Hoptoad in May? The call of the Cat's-eye is of the same
+style but very loud and harsh, and heard early in April.
+If on some warm night in springtime, you hear a song which
+sounds like a cross between a Toad's whistle and a Chicken's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
+squawk, get a searchlight and go quietly to the place. The
+light will help you to come close, and in the water up to his
+chin, you will see him, his gold-stone eyes blazing like jewels
+and his throat blown out like a mammoth pearl, each time
+he utters the "squawk" which he intends for a song. And
+it is a song, and a very successful one, for a visit to the
+same pond a week or two later, will show you&mdash;not the
+Cat's-eye or his mate, they have gone a-tunnelling&mdash;but a
+swarm of little black pin-like tadpole Cat's-eyes, born and
+bred in the glorious sunlight but doomed and ready, if
+they live, to follow in their parents' tracks far underground.
+Sure proof that the song did win a mate, and was crowned
+with the success for which all woodland, and marshland
+song first was made.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 5<br />
+
+How the Bluebird Came</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nana-bo-jou</span>, that some think is the Indian name for
+El Sol and some say is Mother Carey, was sleeping his
+winter's sleep in the big island just above the thunder-dam
+that men call Niagara. Four moons had waned, but
+still he slept. The frost draperies of his couch were gone;
+his white blanket was burnt into holes. He turned over
+a little; then the ice on the river cracked like near-by thunder.
+When he turned again, it began to slip over the big
+beaver-dam of Niagara, but still he did not awake.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 323px;">
+<img src="images/i031.png" width="323" height="343" alt="How the Bluebird Came" title="How the Bluebird Came" />
+<span class="caption">How the Bluebird Came</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The great Er-Beaver in his pond, that men call Lake
+Erie, flapped his tail, and the waves rolled away to the shore,
+and set the ice heaving, cracking, and groaning; but
+Nana-bo-jou slept on.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Ice-demons pounded the shore of the island with
+their clubs. They pushed back the whole river-flood till<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
+the channel was dry, then let it rush down like the end of all
+things, and they shouted together:</p>
+
+<p>"Nana-bo-jou! Nana-bo-jou! Nana-bo-jou! Wake
+up!"</p>
+
+<p>But still he slept calmly on.</p>
+
+<p>Then came a soft, sweet voice, more gentle than the mating
+turtle of Miami. It was in the air, but it was nowhere,
+and yet it was in the trees, in the water, and it was in Nana-bo-jou
+too. He felt it, and it awoke him. He sat up and
+looked about. His white blanket was gone; only a few
+tatters of it were to be seen in the shady places. In the
+sunny spots the shreds of the fringe with its beads had taken
+root and were growing into little flowers with beady eyes,
+Spring Beauties as they are called now. The small voice
+kept crying: "Awake! the spring is coming!"</p>
+
+<p>Nana-bo-jou said: "Little voice, where are you? Come
+here."</p>
+
+<p>But the little voice, being everywhere, was nowhere, and
+could not come at the hero's call.</p>
+
+<p>So he said: "Little voice, you are nowhere because you
+have no place to live in; I will make you a home."</p>
+
+<p>So Nana-bo-jou took a curl of birch bark and made a
+little wigwam, and because the voice came from the skies
+he painted the wigwam with blue mud, and to show that it
+came from the Sunland he painted a red sun on it. On the
+floor he spread a scrap of his own white blanket, then for a
+fire he breathed into it a spark of life, and said: "Here, little
+voice, is your wigwam." The little voice entered and took
+possession, but Nana-bo-jou had breathed the spark of
+life into it. The smoke-vent wings began to move and to
+flap, and the little wigwam turned into a beautiful Bluebird
+with a red sun on its breast and a shirt of white. Away
+it flew, but every year it comes as winter wanes, the Bluebird
+of the spring. The voice still dwells in it, and we feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
+that it has lost nothing of its earliest power when we hear
+it cry: "Awake! the spring is coming!"</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 6<br />
+Robin, the Bird that Loves to Make Clay Pots</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Everyone</span> knows the Robin; his reddish-brown breast,
+gray back, white throat, and dark wings and tail are easily
+remembered. If you colour the drawing, you will always
+remember it afterward. The Robin comes about our
+houses and lawns; it lets us get close enough to see it. It
+has a loud, sweet song. All birds have a song<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a>; and all sing
+when they are happy. As they sing most of the time,
+except when they are asleep, or when moulting, they must
+have a lot of happiness in their lives.</p>
+
+<p>Here are some things to remember about the Robin. It is
+one of the earliest of all our birds to get up in the morning,
+and it begins to sing long before there is daylight.</p>
+
+<p>Birds that live in the trees, <i>hop;</i> birds that live on the
+ground, <i>walk</i> or <i>run;</i> but the Robin lives partly in the trees
+and partly on the ground, so sometimes he hops and sometimes
+he runs.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 325px;">
+<img src="images/i034.png" width="325" height="400" alt="The Robin Making Clay Pots" title="The Robin Making Clay Pots" />
+<span class="caption">The Robin Making Clay Pots</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>When he alights on a fence or tree, he looks at you and
+flashes the white spots on the outer corners of his tail. Again
+and again he does this. Why? That is his way of letting
+you know that he is a Robin. He is saying in signal code&mdash;flash
+and wig-wag&mdash;"I'm a Robin, I'm a Robin, I'm a
+Robin." So you will not mistake him for some bird that is
+less loved.</p>
+
+<p>The Robin invented pottery before men did; his nest is
+always a clay pot set in a little pile of straws. Sometime,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+get a Robin's nest after the bird is done with it; dry it well,
+put it on the fire very gently; leave it till all the straws are
+burned away, and then if it does not go to pieces, you will
+find you have a pretty good earthen pot.</p>
+
+<p>The Robin loves to make these pots. I have known a
+cock Robin make several which he did not need, just for the
+fun of making them.</p>
+
+<p>A friend of mine said to me once, "Come, and I will show
+you the nest of a crazy Robin." We went to the woodshed
+and there on a beam were six perfectly good Robin nests all
+in a row; all of them empty.</p>
+
+<p>"There," said my friend. "All of these six were built by a
+cock Robin in about ten days or two weeks. He seemed
+to do nothing but sing and build nests. Then after finishing
+the last one, he disappeared. Wasn't he crazy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, "not at all. He was not crazy; he was industrious.
+Let me finish the chapter. The hen Robin was
+sitting on the eggs, the cock bird had nothing else to do,
+so he put in the time at the two things he did the best and
+loved the most: singing and nest-building. Then after
+the young were hatched in the home nest, he had plenty
+to do caring for them, so he ceased both building and singing,
+for that season."</p>
+
+<p>I have often heard of such things. Indeed, they are
+rather common, but not often noticed, because the Robin
+does not often build all the extra nests in one place.</p>
+
+<p>Do you know the lovely shade called Robin's-egg blue?
+The next time you see a Robin's nest with eggs in it you
+will understand why it was so named and feel for a moment,
+when first you see it, that you have found a casket
+full of most exquisite jewels.</p>
+
+<p>Next to nest-building, singing is the Robin's gift, and the
+songs that he sings are full of joy. He says, "<i>cheerup,
+cheer up, cheerily cheer-up</i>"; and he means it too.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Some, like the Turkey-buzzards, have not yet been heard to sing, but I
+believe they do.</p></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 7<br />
+
+Brook Brownie, or How the Song Sparrow Got
+His Streaks</h3>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">His</span> Mother was the Brook and his sisters were the Reeds,<br />
+They, every one, applauded when he sang about his deeds.<br />
+His vest was white, his mantle brown, as clear as they could be,<br />
+And his songs were fairly bubbling o'er with melody and glee.<br />
+But an envious Neighbour splashed with mud our Brownie's coat and vest,<br />
+And then a final handful threw that stuck upon his breast.<br />
+The Brook-bird's mother did her best to wash the stains away;<br />
+But there they stuck, and, as it seems, are very like to stay.<br />
+And so he wears the splashes and the mud blotch, as you see;<br />
+But his songs are bubbling over still with melody and glee.<br />
+</div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
+<img src="images/i037.png" width="320" height="400" alt="Brook Brownie" title="Brook Brownie" />
+<span class="caption">Brook Brownie</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 8<br />
+
+Diablo and the Dogwood</h3>
+
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 267px;">
+<img src="images/i038.png" width="267" height="400" alt="The Dogwood Bloom" title="The Dogwood Bloom" />
+<span class="caption">The Dogwood Bloom</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">What</span> a glorious thing is the Maytime Dogwood in our
+woods! How it does sing out its song! More loudly and
+clearly it sings than any other spring flower! For it is not
+one, but a great chorus; and I know it is singing that "The
+spring, the very spring is in the land!"</p>
+
+<p>I suppose if one had King Solomon's fayland ears, one
+might hear the Dogwood music like a lot of church bells
+pealing, like the chorus of the cathedral where Woodthrush
+is the preacher-priest and the Veeries make responses.</p>
+
+<p>It was Adam's favourite tree, they say, in the Garden of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
+Eden. And it grew so high, flowered so wonderfully, and
+gave so much pleasure that Diablo, who is also called the
+Devil, wanted to kill it. He made up his mind that he
+would blight and scatter every shining leaf of its snowy
+bloom. So one dark night he climbed a Honey Locust
+tree near the gate, and swung by his tail over the wall, intending
+to tear off all the lovely blossoms. But he got a
+shock when he found that every flower was in the <i>shape
+of a cross</i>, which put them beyond his power to blight. He
+was furious at not being able to destroy its beauty, so did
+the worst he could. Keeping away from the cross he bit
+a piece out of the edge of every snowy flower leaf, and then
+jumped back to the Honey Locust tree.</p>
+
+<p>The Locust was ashamed when she found that she had
+helped Diablo to do such a mean bit of mischief, so she
+grew a bristling necklace of strong spikes to wear; they were
+so long and sharp that no one since, not even Diablo himself,
+has ever been able to climb that Honey Locust tree.</p>
+
+<p>But it was too late to save the Dogwood bloom. The
+bites were out, and they never healed up again, as you can
+see to this very day.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 9<br />
+
+The Woolly-bear</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 264px;">
+<img src="images/i040.png" width="264" height="400" alt="The Woolly-bear (the moth is 1-1/4 life size)" title="The Woolly-bear (the moth is 1-1/4 life size)" />
+<span class="caption">The Woolly-bear (the moth is 1-1/4 life size)</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Do</span> you know the Woolly-bear Caterpillar? It is divided
+into three parts; the middle one brown, the two ends black.
+Everyone notices the Woolly-bear, because it comes out in
+early spring, as soon as the frost is over, and crawls on the
+fences and sidewalks as though they belonged to it. It does
+not seem to be afraid of any one or anything. It will march
+across the road in front of a motor car, or crawl up the leg
+of your boot. Sometimes when you brush it off with your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+hand, little hairs are left sticking in your fingers, because it
+is really like a small porcupine, protected by short spears
+sticking out of its skin in all directions. Here at the side
+of the picture, is one of these hairs seen under a microscope.</p>
+
+<p>Where did the Woolly-bear come from? It was hatched
+from an egg last summer.</p>
+
+<p>And now what is going to happen? It will stuff itself with
+rib-grass or other low plants, till it has grown bigger; then it
+will get a warning from the All-mother to prepare for the
+great change. In some low dry place under a log, stone or
+fence-rail, it will spin a cocoon with its own spikey hairs
+outside for a protector. In this rough hairy coffin it will
+roll itself up, for its "little death," as the Indians call it, and
+Mother Carey will come along with her sleeping wand, and
+touch it, so it will go into sound sleep, but for only a few
+days. One bright sunny morning old Mother Carey comes
+around again, touches the Woolly-bear bundle-baby, and
+out of it comes the Woolly-bear, only now it is changed like
+the Prince in the story into a beautiful Moth called the
+Tiger-Moth! Out he comes, and if you look up at one end
+of the coffin he is leaving, you may see the graveclothes he
+wore when first he went to sleep. Away he flies now to
+seek his beautiful mate, and soon she lays a lot of eggs, from
+each of which will come another little Woolly-bear to grow
+into a big Woolly-bear, and do it all over again.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 10<br />
+
+How the Violets Came</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">The</span> Meadow she was sorry<br />
+For her sister Sky, you see,<br />
+'Cause, though her robe of blue was bright,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>'Twas plain as it could be.<br />
+<br />
+And so she sent a skylark up<br />
+To trim the Sky robe right<br />
+With daisies from the Meadow<br />
+(You can see them best at night).<br />
+<br />
+And every scrap of blue cut out<br />
+To make those daisies set<br />
+Came tumbling down upon the grass<br />
+And grew a violet.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 11<br />
+
+Cocoons</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Everyone</span> loves to go a-hunting. Our forebears were
+hunters for so many ages that the hunting spirit is strong
+in all of us, even though held in check by the horror of giving
+pain to a fellow being. But the pleasure of being outdoors,
+of seeking for hidden treasures, of finding something that
+looks at first like old rubbish, and then turns out to be a
+precious and beautiful thing, that is ours by right of the old
+law&mdash;finders, keepers. That is a kind of hunting that every
+healthy being loves, and there are many ways and chances
+for you to enjoy it.</p>
+
+<p>Go out any time between October and April, and look in
+all the low trees and high bushes for the little natural rag-bundles
+called "cocoons." Some are bundle-shaped and
+fast to a twig their whole length. Some hang like a Santa
+Claus bag on a Christmas tree; but all may be known by
+their hairiness or the strong, close cover of fine gray or
+brown fibre or silk, without seams and woven to keep out
+the wet.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 267px;">
+<img src="images/i043.png" width="267" height="400" alt="Cocoons" title="Cocoons" />
+<span class="caption">Cocoons</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>They are so strongly fastened on, that you will have to
+break the twig to get the bundle down. If it seems very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
+light, and rattled when you shake it, you will likely see
+one or more small, sharp, round holes in it. This means
+that an insect enemy has destroyed the little creature sleeping
+within. If the Cocoon is perfect and seems solid and
+heavy, take it home, and put it in a cardboard, or wooden
+box, which has a wire screen, or gauze cover. Keep it in a
+light place, not too dry, till the springtime comes; then one
+day a miracle will take place. The case will be cut open
+from within, and out will come a gorgeous Moth. It is
+like the dull, dark grave opening up at the resurrection to
+let forth a new-born, different being with wings to fly in the
+heavens above.</p>
+
+<p>In the drawing I have shown five different kinds of bundle-baby,
+then at the bottom have added the jug-handled
+bundle-baby of the Tomato worm; it does not make a Cocoon
+but buries itself in the ground when the time comes
+for the Great Sleep. Kind Mother Earth protects it as
+she does the Hickory Horn-Devil, so it does not need to
+make a Cocoon at all.</p>
+
+<p>There is a wonderful story about each of these bundle-babies.
+You will never get weary if you follow and learn
+them, for each one differs from the last. Some of them I
+hope to tell you in this book, and before we begin I want you
+to know some of the things that men of science have learned,
+and why a Butterfly is not a Moth.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 12<br />
+Butterflies and Moths</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Do you</span> remember the dear old fairy tale of Beauty and
+the Beast? How Beauty had to marry the Beast to save
+her father's life? But as soon as she had bravely agreed
+to sacrifice herself&mdash;as soon as she gave the fateful "Yes"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+the Beast stood up on his hind legs, his horns, hoofs and
+hide rolled off, and he was turned back into his true shape,
+a splendid young Prince whom she could not help loving;
+and they lived happy ever after.</p>
+
+<p>Do you know that just such transformations and happy
+weddings are going on about us all the time? The Beast
+is an ugly Caterpillar, the Princess Beauty is the Butterfly or
+the Moth. And when the Beast is changed into the Prince
+Charming and meets with Princess Beauty, they are just as
+madly happy as they tell it in the fairy books. I know
+it, for I have seen the transformation, and I have seen the
+pair go off on their wedding flight.</p>
+
+<p>Men of science have been trying to explain these strange
+transformations, and to discover why the Prince and Princess
+do not need to eat or drink, once they have won their
+highest form, their life of wings and joy. But they have not
+got much farther than giving names to the things we have
+long loved and seen as children, dividing the winged wonders
+into two big families called Butterflies and Moths.</p>
+
+<p>Do you know the difference between a Butterfly and a
+Moth?</p>
+
+<p>Taken together they make a large group that are called
+Scale-wings, because they alone among insects, have scales
+or tiny feathers like dust on the wings. Butterflies are
+Scale-wings that fly by day, and have club-shaped feelers;
+they mostly fold one wing against the other when they
+alight, and in the chrysalis, or bundle-baby stage, they are
+naked and look like an African ear-drop.</p>
+
+<p>Moths are Scale-wings that fly by night, and have switch
+or feather-shaped feelers; they keep their wings spread open
+when they alight, and in the bundle-baby stage, they are
+wrapped in a cocoon. There are some that do not keep
+to these rules, but they are rare, and the shape of the feelers
+will tell whether it is a Moth or a Butterfly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All of these Scale-wings are hatched from eggs, and
+come first, as a worm, grub, or caterpillar; next as a chrysalis
+pupa or bundle-baby; last as the winged creature. That
+is, first a Beast and last a Beauty. Each of them must
+at one time be the ugly one, before the great change comes.
+But I must tell you a truth that the Fairy Books left out,
+and which maybe you have guessed&mdash;Princess Beauty too
+was at one time forced to live and look like a Beast, till she
+had fought her own fight, had worked out her own high
+destiny, and won her way to wings.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 13<br />The Mourning-cloak Butterfly, or the Camberwell
+Beauty</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was once a lady who dwelt in Camberwell. She
+was so good to see that people called her "The Camberwell
+Beauty." She dressed so magnificently that her robe was
+covered with gold, and spangled with precious stones of
+most amazing colours. Especially proud was she, of the
+row of big blue diamonds that formed the border; and she
+loved to go forth into the world to see and be seen; although
+she knew that the country was full of robbers who would be
+sure to steal her jewels if they could. Then she made a
+clever plan, she kept on the beautiful things that she loved
+to dress in, but over all she hung a black velvet mourning
+cloak which nobody could possibly want to steal. Then
+she went up and down the roads as much as she pleased.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 301px;">
+<img src="images/i047.png" width="301" height="400" alt="Mourning-cloak Butterfly (3/4 life size)" title="Mourning-cloak Butterfly (3/4 life size)" />
+<span class="caption">Mourning-cloak Butterfly (3/4 life size)</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Well, this story may be not quite true, but it is partly true,
+and the beautiful lady is known to-day as the Mourning-cloak
+Butterfly. There it is, plain to be seen, the black
+mourning cloak, but peeping from under it, you can see the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+golden border and some of the blue diamonds too, if you
+look very carefully.</p>
+
+<p>In the North Woods where I spent my young days, the
+first butterfly to be seen in the springtime was the Mourning-cloak,
+and the reason we saw it so early in the season,
+yes, even in the snowtime, was because this is one of the Butterflies
+that sometimes sleep all winter, and so live in two
+different seasons.</p>
+
+<p>Its eggs are laid on the willows, elms, or poplars, in early
+springtime. The young soon hatch, and eat so much, and
+grow so fast, that five weeks after the eggs are laid, and three
+after they are hatched, the caterpillar is full grown, and hangs
+itself up as a chrysalis under some sheltering board or rail.
+In two weeks more, the wonderful event takes place, the
+perfect Butterfly comes forth; and there is another
+Mourning-cloak to liven the roadside, and amaze us with
+its half-hidden beauty.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 14<br />The Wandering Monarch</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Did</span> you ever read the old Greek story of Ulysses, King
+of Ithaca, the Wandering Monarch, who for twenty years
+roamed over sea and land away from home&mdash;always trying
+to get back, but doomed to keep on travelling, homesick
+and weary, but still moving on; until his name became a
+byword for wandering?</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 308px;">
+<img src="images/i049.png" width="308" height="400" alt="MONARCH BUTTERFLY &quot;The Wanderer&quot; in Three Stages: Cocoon, Caterpillar,
+and Butterfly" title="MONARCH BUTTERFLY &quot;The Wanderer&quot; in Three Stages: Cocoon, Caterpillar,
+and Butterfly" />
+<span class="caption">MONARCH BUTTERFLY<br />
+&quot;The Wanderer&quot; in Three Stages: Cocoon, Caterpillar,
+and Butterfly</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>In our own woods and our own fields in America we have a
+Wandering Monarch&mdash;the "Big Red Butterfly" as we children
+called it&mdash;the "Monarch" as it is named by the butterfly
+catchers.</p>
+
+<p>It is called the "Wanderer" chiefly because it is the only
+one of our Butterflies that migrates like the birds. In the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+late summer it gathers in great swarms when the bright
+days are waning, and flies away to warmer lands. I have
+often seen it going, yet I do not remember that I ever saw
+it come back in the springtime; but it comes, though not
+in great flocks like those that went south.</p>
+
+<p>One of the common names of this splendid creature is
+"Milkweed Butterfly" because its grub or caterpillar is fond
+of feeding on the leaves of the common milkweed.</p>
+
+<p>The drawing shows the size and style of the grub; in colour
+it is yellow or yellowish green with black bands.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as it is grown big enough and fat enough, the grub
+hangs itself up as a "chrysalis" which is a Greek word that
+may be freely rendered into "golden jewel." The middle
+drawing shows its shape; in colour it is of a pale green with
+spots of gold, or as it has been described "a green house with
+golden nails."</p>
+
+<p>After about two weeks the great change takes place, and
+the bundle-baby or chrysalis opens to let out the splendid
+red-brown Butterfly, of nearly the same red as a Cock
+Robin's breast in springtime, with lines and embroidery
+of black and its border set with pearls. Near the middle
+of the hind wing is a dark spot like a thickening of one rib.
+This has been called a "sachet bag" or "scent-pocket,"
+and though not very ornamental to look at, is of more use to
+it than the most beautiful white pearl of the border. For
+this is the battery of its wireless telegraph. We think our
+ships and aeroplanes very far advanced because they can
+signal miles away, and yet the Wandering Monarch had
+an outfit for sending messages long before it was ever
+dreamed of by man. Maybe it is not a very strong battery,
+but it certainly reaches for miles; and maybe its messages
+are not very clear, but they serve at least to let the Monarchs
+know where their wives are, and how to find them, which is
+something.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There is one other reason for calling this the Wanderer.
+Although it is an American by birth, it has travelled to
+England and the Philippines and is ever going farther over
+the world till at last no doubt it will have seen all lands and
+possessed them.</p>
+
+<p>It makes old Ulysses look like a very stay-at-home, for
+his farthest travels never went beyond the blue Mediterranean,
+and his whole twenty years of voyaging covered less
+than the states east of the Mississippi&mdash;much less than
+our Red Wanderer covers in a single summer.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 15<br />
+The Bells of the Solomon Seal</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Let</span> us go out into the woods, and look for the Solomon
+Seal. This is May and we should find it in some half open
+place, where it is neither wet nor dry. Here it is! See
+the string of bells that hangs from its curving stem. Dig
+out its roots, wash off the earth, and you will see the mark
+of King Solomon's Seal that gives its name to the plant.
+Now listen to the story of it all.</p>
+
+<p>King Solomon had the "second sight" that means the
+deeper sight, the magic eyesight which made him see
+through a stone wall, or read men's thoughts. King Solomon
+had fayland ears; which means, he could hear all sounds
+from A to Z; while common ears, like yours and mine, hear
+only the middle sounds from K to Q.</p>
+
+<p>Everything that lives and moves is giving out music;
+every flower that blooms is singing its song. We cannot
+hear, our ears are too dull; but King Solomon could. And
+one day, as he walked through the woods, he heard a new
+flower-song that made him stop and listen. It had strange
+music with it, and part of that was a chime of golden bells.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 292px;">
+<img src="images/i052.png" width="292" height="400" alt="The Bells of the Solomon Seal" title="The Bells of the Solomon Seal" />
+<span class="caption">The Bells of the Solomon Seal</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The great King sat down on a bank. His fayland eyes
+could see right into the ground. He saw the fat fleshy root
+like a little goblin, reaching its long white fingers down into
+the soil, picking out the magic crystals to pack away in its
+pockets; and he could see the tall stem like a wood-elf carrying
+them up, and spreading them upon its flat hands, so
+they could soak up the juices of the sun and air. He could
+see them turning into a wonderful stuff like amber dew,
+with a tang like new-cut timber. But it was not yet done,
+so he could not tell just what it might be good for. Now
+it was springtime, and it would be harvest red moon
+before the little worker would have the magic healing stored
+in its treasure bags underground. So to prevent any one
+harming or hindering the plant till its work was done, the
+King took out his seal ring and stamped seal marks all
+along the root, where they are unto this day. And then
+to make it sure he made the golden bell chimes become
+visible so every one could see them. There they hang like
+a row of ringing bells.</p>
+
+<p>But the King never came back to learn the rest of it, for
+he had to build the temple; and he had many wives who took
+up a great deal of his time. So the world has never found
+out just what is the magic power of the plant. But it is
+there, be sure of that, just as surely as the peal of golden
+bells is there, and the marks of the great King's Seal.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 16<br />
+The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 276px;">
+<img src="images/i054.png" width="276" height="400" alt="The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal" title="The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal" />
+<span class="caption">The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Over</span> a month later, the King suddenly remembered that
+he had not been out to see the plant whose root he had sealed.
+He was very busy at the time, as he had the temple to build,
+and many wives to look after; so he called Djin, a good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+goblin, who does hard work and said, "Go and see that no
+one has harmed that plant," then told him how to find it.</p>
+
+<p>Away went the good goblin, like a flash. He was a very
+obedient servant, but not very bright; and when he came
+to the woods, he looked all around for the plant with the
+chime of bells, for King Solomon had forgotten to say that
+the bells do not ring after June, and it was now July. So
+the goblin looked about for a long time. He did not dare
+to go back and say he could not find it&mdash;that would have
+been a terrible crime, so he looked and looked. At last
+he heard a little tinkle of bells away off in the woods. He
+flew to the place, and there was a plant like the one he sought
+but its bells were of silver, and all in a bunch instead of a
+long string. The good goblin dug down to the big fat root
+in the ground and found that the seal marks had grown
+over&mdash;at least he thought they had&mdash;for they were nowhere
+to be seen. So he looked around for something to help.
+His eye fell on an acorn cup. He took this, and using it for
+a seal, he stamped the root all over.</p>
+
+<p>Then he took a piece of the root and a sprig and flew
+back to show the King. Solomon smiled and said: "You
+did the best you could, but you have marked the wrong
+root. Listen! This is not the golden chime, but the chime
+of silver bells."</p>
+
+<p>That is the story of it and that is why it has ever since
+been called the False Solomon Seal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THINGS TO SEE IN SUMMERTIME</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
+<img src="images/i058.png" width="264" height="400" alt="The Brownie and the Mouse-bird" title="The Brownie and the Mouse-bird" />
+<span class="caption">The Brownie and the<br />
+Mouse-bird</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Things to See in Summertime</h2>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 17<br />
+How the Mouse-bird Made Fun of the Brownie</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> there was a conceited Brownie, who thought
+he could do more things and do them better than
+any other of his people. He had not tried yet,
+for he was very young, but he said he was going to do them
+some day!</p>
+
+<p>One morning a sly old Brownie, really making fun of
+him, said: "Why don't you catch that Phoebe-bird? It
+is quite easy if you put a little salt on his tail." Away went
+Smarty Brownie to try. But the Phoebe would not sit
+still, and the Brownie came back saying: "He bobbed his
+tail so, the salt would not stay on."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the sly old Brownie, "there is a little Mouse-bird
+whose tail never bobs. You can easily catch him, for
+you see, he does not even fly, but crawls like a mouse up
+the tree," and he pointed to a little brown Creeper. By
+this time the young Brownie knew that the others were
+laughing at him, so he said rather hotly, "I'll just show you
+right now."</p>
+
+<p>He took an acorn cup full of salt, and went after the
+Mouse-bird. It was at the bottom of the big tree, creeping
+up, round and round, as if on a spiral staircase, and the
+Brownie began to climb in the same way. But every little
+while the climber had to stop and rest. This had strange<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[43]</a></span>
+results, for there is a law in Brownie land, that wherever
+one of the little people stops to sit down, or rest, a toadstool
+must spring up for him to sit on. So the track of the
+Brownie up the trunk became one long staircase of toadstool
+steps, some close, some far apart, but each showing where the
+Brownie had rested. They came closer together toward the
+top where the Brownie had got tired, but he was coming very
+near to the Creeper now. He got his pinch of salt all ready,
+as his friends down below kept calling and jeering: "Now
+you've got him, now is your chance." But just as he was
+going to leap forward and drop the salt on its tail, the
+Creeper gave a tiny little laugh like "<i>Tee-tee-tee</i>," spread
+its wings, for it could fly very well, and sailed away to
+the bottom of the next tree to do the spiral staircase all
+over again, while Smarty Brownie was so mad that he
+jumped to the ground and hid away from his friends for
+two days. When he came back he did not talk quite so
+much as he used to. But to this day you can see the staircase
+of toadstools on the tree trunks where the Brownie
+went up.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 18<br />
+The Pot-herb that Sailed with the Pilgrims</h3>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Come</span>," said the Guide, "to-day I am going to show you
+a Pot-herb that came from England with the Pilgrim Fathers
+and spread over the whole of America. There is a story
+about it that will keep it ever in your memory."</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 248px;">
+<img src="images/i061.png" width="248" height="400" alt="The Pilgrim&#39;s Pot-herb" title="The Pilgrim&#39;s Pot-herb" />
+<span class="caption">The Pilgrim&#39;s Pot-herb</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Pilgrims had landed in Massachusetts, and slowly
+made farms for themselves as they cleared off the forest.
+They had a very hard time at first, but the Indians helped
+them; sometimes with gifts of venison, and sometimes by
+showing them which things in the woods were good to eat.</p>
+
+<p>There was a Squaw named Monapini, "the Root-digger,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+who was very clever at finding forest foods. She became
+friendly with a white woman named Ruth Pilgrim, and so
+Ruth's family got the benefit of it, and always had on the
+table many good things that came from the woods.</p>
+
+<p>One day, long after the farms were cleared and doing well,
+the white woman said, "See, Mother Monapini, thou hast
+shown me many things, now I have somewhat to show thee.
+There hath grown up in our wheat field a small herb that
+must have come from England with the wheat, for hitherto
+I have not seen it elsewhere. We call it lamb's-quarter,
+for the lamb doth eat it by choice. Or maybe because
+we do eat it with a quarter of lamb. Nevertheless it maketh
+a good pot-herb when boiled."</p>
+
+<p>The old Indian woman's eyes were fixed on the new plant
+that was good to eat: and she said, "Is it very good, oh
+white sister?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and our medicine men do say that it driveth out
+the poison that maketh itch and spots on the skin." After
+a moment Monapini said, "It looketh to me like the foot
+of a wild goose."</p>
+
+<p>"Well found," chuckled Ruth, "for sometimes our people
+do call it by that very name."</p>
+
+<p>"That tells me different," said the Indian.</p>
+
+<p>"What mean you," said Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>"Is not a goose foot very strong, so it never catcheth cold
+in the icy water?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And this hath the shape of a goose foot?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then my Shaman tells that it is by such likeness that
+the Great Spirit showeth the goose foot plant to be charged
+with the driving out of colds."</p>
+
+<p>"It may be so," said the white woman, "but this I know.
+It is very good and helpeth the whole body."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Indian picked a handful of the pot-herbs, then stared
+hard at the last; a very tall and strong one.</p>
+
+<p>"What hast thou now, Monapini?" The red woman
+pointed to the stem of the lamb's-quarter, whereon were
+long red streaks, and said: "This I see, that, even as the
+white-man's herb came over the sea and was harmless
+and clean while it was weak, but grew strong and possessed
+this field, then was streaked to midheight with blood, so also
+shall they be who brought it&mdash;streaked at last to the very
+waist with blood&mdash;not the white men's but the dark purple
+blood of the Indian. This the voices tell me is in the coming
+years, that this is what we shall get again for helping you&mdash;destruction
+in return for kindness. Mine inner eyes have
+seen it." She threw down the new pot-herb and glided away,
+to be seen no more in the settlements of the white men.</p>
+
+<p>And Ruth, as she gazed after her, knew that it was true.
+Had she not heard her people talking and planning? For
+even as the weed seed came with the wheat, so evil spirits
+came with the God-fearing Pilgrims, and already these were
+planning to put the heathens to the sword, when the Colony
+was strong enough.</p>
+
+<p>So the Indian woman read the truth in the little pot-herb
+that sailed and landed with the Pilgrims; that stands
+in our fields to this day, streaked with the blood of the passing
+race&mdash;standing, a thing of remembrance.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 19<br />
+How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its
+Leaves</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 312px;">
+<img src="images/i064.png" width="312" height="400" alt="How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves" title="How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves" />
+<span class="caption">How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> upon a time a Bee, a Bug, and a Cow went marching
+up to Mother Carey's palace in the hemlock grove, to tell
+her of their troubles. They complained that food was poor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+and scarce, and they were tired of the kinds that grew along
+the roadsides.</p>
+
+<p>Mother Carey heard them patiently, then she said: "Yes,
+you have some reason to complain, so I will send you a new
+food called Clover. Its flower shall be full of honey for
+the Bee, its leaves full of cowfood and its cellar shall be
+stocked with tiny pudding bags of meal for the Bug, that
+is for good little Bug-folks who live underground."</p>
+
+<p>Now the tribes of the Bee, the Bug, and the Cow had a
+fine time feasting, for the new food was everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>But Cows are rather stupid you know. They found the
+new food so good that they kept on munching everything
+that had three round leaves, thinking it was Clover, and
+very soon a lot of them were poisoned with strange plants
+that no wise Cow would think of eating.</p>
+
+<p>So Mother Carey called a Busy Brownie, and put him on
+guard to keep the Cows from eating the poison plants by
+mistake.</p>
+
+<p>At first it was good fun, and the Brownie enjoyed it because
+it made him feel important. But he got very tired
+of his job and wanted to go to the ball game.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down on a toadstool, and looked very glum. He
+could hear the other Brownies shouting at the game, and
+that made him feel worse. Then he heard a great uproar,
+and voices yelling "A home run!" "A home run!" That
+drove him wild. He had been whittling the edge of the
+toadstool with his knife, and now he slashed off a big piece
+of the cap, he was so mad.</p>
+
+<p>Then up he got and said to the Cows: "See here, you fool
+Cows, I can't stay here for ever trying to keep you
+from eating poison, but I'll do this much. I'll stamp
+all the good-to-eat leaves with a mark that will be your
+guide."</p>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 284px;">
+<img src="images/i066.png" width="284" height="400" alt="The Shamrock" title="The Shamrock" />
+<span class="caption">The Shamrock</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>So he made a rubber stamp out of part of the toadstool<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+he was sitting on, and stamped every Clover leaf in that
+pasture, so the Cows could be sure, then skipped away to
+the ball game.</p>
+
+<p>When Mother Carey heard of his running away from his
+job, she was very angry. She said: "Well, you Bad
+Brownie, you should be ashamed, but that white mark was a
+good idea so I'll forgive you, if you go round, and put it on
+every Clover leaf in the world."</p>
+
+<p>He had to do it, though it looked like an endless task,
+and he never would have finished it, had not the other
+Brownies all over the world come to help him; so it was
+done at last. And that is the reason that every Clover
+leaf to-day has on it the white mark like an arrowhead,
+the Brownie sign for "good-to eat."</p>
+
+<p>The Cows get along better now, but still they are very
+stupid; they go munching ahead without thinking, and will
+even eat the blossoms which belong to the Bees. And the
+Bees have to buzz very loudly and even sting the Cows on
+their noses to keep them from stealing the bee-food. The
+good little Bugs underground have the best time, for there
+the Cows can not harm them, and the Bees never come
+near. They eat when they are hungry and sleep when they
+are cold, which is their idea of a good time; so except for
+some little quarrels between the Cows and the Bees they
+have all gotten along very well ever since.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 20<br />
+The Shamrock and Her Three Sisters</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 249px;">
+<img src="images/i068.png" width="249" height="400" alt="Yellow-haired Hob" title="Yellow-haired Hob" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Shamrock is really the White Clover. It is much
+the same shape as the Red Clover, and has the same food
+bags in its cellar. It is just as good for Cows and even better
+for Bees; so the Brownie stamped all its leaves with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
+the white arrow mark, as you can plainly see. This plant,
+as you know, is the emblem of Ireland.</p>
+
+<p>The story-tellers say that St. Patrick was preaching to
+Leary, the heathen King of Tara in Ireland hoping to turn
+him into a Christian. The king listened attentively, but
+he was puzzled by St. Patrick's account of the Trinity.
+"Stop," said the king. "How can there be three Gods in
+one and only one God where there are three. That is
+impossible." St. Patrick stooped down and picking up a
+Shamrock leaf, said: "See, there it is, growing in your own
+soil; there are three parts but only one leaf." The king was
+so much struck by this proof that he became a Christian and
+ever since the Shamrock has been the emblem of Ireland.</p>
+
+<p>Now to fill out the history of the Clovers, I should tell you
+of the other three. The next is called Alsike, or the Pink
+Clover.</p>
+
+<p>When you look at this Alsike or Alsatian Clover, you
+might think its mother was a red clover and its father a
+white one, for it is about half way between them in size,
+and its bloom is pink on the outside and white in the middle.
+Evidently, the Brownie didn't think much of it, for he did
+not put his arrow mark on its leaves. Still the Cows think
+it is good, the Bees think it is fine, and it always carried
+lots of food bags in its cellar. So also does the next sister&mdash;Melilot,
+the Yellow Clover or Honey-lotus&mdash;and the last
+and sweetest of them all, is the Sweet Clover that spreads
+sweet smells in the old-fashioned garden.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 21<br />
+The Indian Basket-maker</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 272px;">
+<img src="images/i070.png" width="272" height="400" alt="The Indian Basket" title="The Indian Basket" />
+<span class="caption">The Indian Basket</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Come</span>, little Nagami, my Bird-Singer, you are ten
+years old, it is time you learned to make baskets. I made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+my first when I was but eight," said Mother Akoko proudly,
+for she was the best basket-maker on the river.</p>
+
+<p>So they took a sharp stick, and went into the woods.
+Akoko looked for spruce trees that had been blown down
+by the storm, but found none, so she stopped under some
+standing spruce, at a place with no underbrush and said:
+"See, Nagami, here we dig for wattap."</p>
+
+<p>The spruce roots or "wattap" were near the surface and
+easily found, but not easily got out, because they were long,
+tangled and criss-crossed. Yet, by pulling up, and cutting
+under, they soon got a bundle of roots like cords, and of
+different lengths, from two feet to a yard, or more.</p>
+
+<p>"Good," said Akoko; "this is enough and we need not
+soak them, for it is summer, and the sap is running. If it
+were fall we should have to boil them. Now you must
+scrape them clear of the brown bark." So Nagami took
+her knife and worked for an hour, then came with the bundle
+saying: "See, Mother, they are smooth, and so white that
+they have not a brown spot left." "Good," said Akoko,
+"now you need some bark of the willow for sewing cord.
+Let us look along the river bank."</p>
+
+<p>There they found the round-leafed, or fish-net willow,
+and stripped off enough of its strong bark to make a bundle
+as big as one hand could hold.</p>
+
+<p>This also had to be scraped clear of the brown skin, leaving
+only the strong whitish inner bark, which, when split
+into strips, was good for sewing.</p>
+
+<p>"See, my Nagami, when I was a little girl I had only a
+bone needle made from the leg of a deer, but you have easy
+work; here is a big steel packing needle, which I bought for
+you from a trader. This is how you make your basket."</p>
+
+<p>So Akoko began a flat coil with the spruce roots, and
+sewed it together with the willow bark for thread, until it
+was a span wide. And whenever a new root was to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+added, she cut both old piece and new, to a long point, so
+they would overlap without a bump.</p>
+
+<p>Then the next coil of the spruce roots was laid on, not
+flat and level, but raised a little. Also the next, until the
+walls were as high as four fingers. Then Akoko said, "Good,
+that is enough. It is a fine corn basket. But we must give
+it a red rim for good luck."</p>
+
+<p>So they sought in a sunny place along the shore, and
+found the fruit of the squawberry or blitum. "See," said
+Akoko, "the miscawa. Gather a handful, my Nagami.
+They make the red basket-dye."</p>
+
+<p>They crushed the rich red berries, saving the red juice in
+a clam shell, and soaked a few strands of the white willow
+bark in the stain. When they were dry, Nagami was taught
+to add a rim to her basket, by sewing it over and over as
+in the picture.</p>
+
+<p>Then Akoko said, "Good, my little Bird-Singer, you have
+done well, you have made some old black roots into a beautiful
+basket."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>N.B. The Guide will remember that rattan and raffia can
+be used for this when it is impossible to get spruce roots
+and willow bark. Good dyes may be made from many
+different berries.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 22<br />
+Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It has</span> long been the custom of the Brownies to have a
+great feast on the first of the merry month of May, to celebrate
+the return of the spring.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 302px;">
+<img src="images/i073.png" width="302" height="400" alt="The Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?" title="The Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?" />
+<span class="caption">The Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>One springtime long ago, they got ready as usual. The
+King of the Brownies had invited all the leaders; the
+place for the dinner was chosen in a grove of mandrakes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
+whose flat umbrellas made a perfect roof, rain or shine.
+The Bell Bird, whose other name is Wood Thrush, was
+ringing his bell, and calling all the Chief Brownies by
+name.</p>
+
+<p>"Ta-rool-ya! <i>ting-a-ling-ling-ling.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Oka-lee! <i>ting-a-ling-ling-ling.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Cherk! <i>ting-a-ling-ling-ling.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Come to the feasting! <i>ting-a-ling-ling-ling.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>A hundred glow worms were told to hurry up with their
+lights and be ready for that night, and busy Brownies
+gathered good things from woods and waters, for the
+feast.</p>
+
+<p>May Day came bright and beautiful. The busy ones
+had all the "eats" in the Mandrake Hall, the glowworms
+were sleeping soundly to fill their storage batteries ready
+for the night. It made the salamanders' mouths water
+to see so many good things; but they were not asked, so
+stayed away. There were dewdrops in acorn cups, and
+honey on the wax. There were clam shells piled up with
+red checkerberries, and caddis worms on the half shell, with
+spicebush nubbins. A huge white Mecha-meck was the
+chief dish, with bog nuts on the side. There were lovely
+long crinkle salads. And last, there were gumdrops from
+the sweet birch, while at each place was a pussy willow
+to dust the food over with golden pollen that gave it
+a pleasant peppery tang. All the guests were there, and
+the feast was nearly over, when a terrible thing took
+place!</p>
+
+<p>Of all the dreaded happenings in the world of beauty
+there is nothing else so feared as the forest fire. There is
+not much danger of it in springtime, but it is possible at
+any season, after a long dry spell. Words cannot tell of
+the horror it spreads, as it comes raging through the woods
+destroying all beautiful living things.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And right in the middle of the feast, the dreadful news
+was carried by a flying Night-bird.</p>
+
+<p>"Fire, Fire, Fire, Fire!" he screamed, and almost at once
+the smoke came drifting through the banquet hall, so they
+knew it was true.</p>
+
+<p>There was mad haste to escape, and only two ways were
+open. One was to get across some big stream, and the
+other was to hide in a cave underground. The birds took
+the first way, and the Brownies the second. Every Woodchuck
+den was just packed with Brownies within a few
+minutes. But the busy Brownie who was chief steward
+and had charge of the feast, had no idea of leaving all the
+good things to burn up, if he could help it. First he sent
+six of his helpers to make a deep pit for the big Mecha-meck,
+and while they did that he began hiding all the dishes
+in the ground. Last he dug some deep holes and quickly
+buried all the crinkle salads; then he ran for his life into a
+cave.</p>
+
+<p>The raging fire came along. It is too horrible to tell
+about, for it was sent by the Evil One. The lovely woods
+were left black without a living thing. But the very next
+day, Mother Carey and Mother Earth and El Sol, set about
+saving the wreck, and in a marvellously short time actually
+had made it green again. The mayflowers came up a second
+time that year, the violets came back, and in each place
+where the Brownies had hid a salad there came up a curious
+plant that never had been seen before. It had three
+saw-edged leaves and a long wand, much like the one
+carried by the Chief Steward. I never was able to
+find out his name for sure, but I think it was Trileaf
+or Three-leaves. Anyway, if you dig under his sign and
+sceptre wand, you will surely find the salad, and very
+good indeed it is to eat; it was not hurt in the least by
+the fire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But from that day, the Brownies have been very shy
+of feasting during dry weather in the woods. They generally
+have their banquets now in some meadow, and afterward
+you can tell the place of the feast by the circle of
+little toadstools called fairy rings. For you know that
+wherever a Brownie sits, a toadstool must spring up for
+him to sit on.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 335px;">
+<img src="images/i076.png" width="335" height="400" alt="The Mecha-meck" title="The Mecha-meck" />
+<span class="caption">The Mecha-meck</span>
+</div>
+
+<h3>TALE 23<br />
+The Mecha-meck</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">That</span> fearful time when the forest fire set all the Brownies
+busy burying their food and dishes at the feast-hall, you
+remember it took six of them to carry and hide the Mecha-meck.
+For it is a large fat white root as big as a baby, and
+sometimes it has arms or legs, so that when Monapini
+told Ruth Pilgrim about it she called it "Man-of-the-earth."</p>
+
+<p>You remember that the busy Brownie hid all the Crinkle
+salads, and so saved them; and most of us have found the
+Crinkleroot and eaten it since. But how many of us have
+found the Mecha-meck? I know only one man who has.
+We call him the Wise Woodman. He found and dug out
+the one from which I made the picture. It was two and a
+half feet long and weighed fifteen pounds&mdash;fifteen pounds
+of good food. Think of it! Above it and growing out
+of its hiding place was a long trailing vine that looked like a
+white morning-glory. There is always one of these over
+the Mecha-meck. And by that you may find it, if you
+look along the sunny banks outside of the woods. But
+still it is very hard to find. I never yet got one, though
+I have found many of the crinkle-root salads. Of
+course, that is easy to explain, for the busy Brownies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
+buried hundreds of the salads, but only one of the big
+fat Mecha-meck.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 24<br />
+Dutchman's Breeches</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 278px;">
+<img src="images/i078.png" width="278" height="400" alt="Dutchman&#39;s Dive Dutchman&#39;s Breeches" title="Dutchman&#39;s Dive Dutchman&#39;s Breeches" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Of course</span> they are not, for no Dutchman I ever saw
+could wear such tiny things. I will tell you what they really
+are and how that came to be.</p>
+
+<p>You remember how the Brownies assembled for the feast
+on May Day when the Glow worms were the lamps and the
+Wood Thrush rang the bell. Well, it so happened that day
+that a great crowd of the merrymakers gathered long before
+the feast was ready, and while they were wondering what
+to do someone shouted: "See, how fine and warm the water
+is where the brook spreads out into the ditch. Let us have
+our first swim of the season right now!"</p>
+
+<p>So they all went with a whoop! stripped off their clothes,
+and into their swimming breeches with a perfect riot of
+glee.</p>
+
+<p>Then how they did splash! Some blind folks thought
+it must be a million early pollywogs splashing. But the
+swim ended with another racket when the dinner bell
+rang.</p>
+
+<p>Each splashing Brownie hopped out and hung up his
+breeches to dry as he got into his clothes.</p>
+
+<p>Then you remember the fire came along and scared them
+away. Of course the breeches were wet, so they didn't get
+singed; and there you can see them hanging to this day on
+the first of May. That is what they really are&mdash;Brownies'
+Breeches. And because the Brownies often swim in a
+ditch, they are called ditch-man's breeches; but believe
+me, they are not Dutchman's breeches and never
+could be.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 263px;">
+<img src="images/i080.png" width="263" height="400" alt="The Seven Sour Sisters" title="The Seven Sour Sisters" />
+<span class="caption">The Seven Sour Sisters</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 25<br />
+The Seven Sour Sisters</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">If you</span> look along any half-open bank in the edge of the
+woods, or even in the woods itself, you are sure to see one
+of the Seven Sorrel Sisters, with leaves a little like Clover,
+only notched in the end and without the white marks, that
+the Brownie put on the Clover. There are seven of them,
+according to most doctors; five have yellow eyes, one purple,
+and one white streaked with blood. Their Latin name
+means "vinegar" and their Greek name means "acid."
+"Sorrel" itself means "Little sour one," so you see they have
+the reputation of a sour bunch. If you eat one of the
+leaves, you will agree that the name was well-chosen, and
+understand why the druggists get the tart "salt of lemons"
+from this family. The French use these Sour Sisters for
+their sour soup. But in spite of their unsweetness, they
+are among the pretty things of the woods; their forms are
+delicate and graceful; their eyes are like jewels, and when
+the night comes down, they bow their heads, gracefully
+fold their hands, and sleep like a lot of tired children.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 26<br />
+Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 271px;">
+<img src="images/i082.png" width="271" height="400" alt="Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass" title="Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass" />
+<span class="caption">Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">You</span> should know the history of the lowly little flower
+called Blue-curls; and you must remember that flowers
+have their troubles just as you have. For one thing,
+flowers must get their pollen or yellow flower-dust, carried
+to some other of their kind, or they cannot keep on growing
+good seed. And since the flower cannot walk about finding
+places for its pollen, it generally makes a bargain with a
+bee. It says, "If you will carry my pollen to my cousins<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+yonder, I will give you a sweet sip of nectar." That is
+where the bees get the stuff for all their honey, and that is
+how the pollen is carried.</p>
+
+<p>Well, the modest little Blue-curls long had had a working
+agreement with the Meadow Bees, and got on nicely.
+But one summer Blue-curls became discontented. She
+saw all the other plants with wonderful gifts that had power
+to cure pain and sickness; while she was doing nothing
+but live her own easy life, and she felt she was a nobody.</p>
+
+<p>So one day as Mother Carey's slowest steed was swishing
+over the grass, Blue-curls cried out: "Mother Carey, Mother
+Carey, won't you hear me and grant me a gift?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, little one?" said the All-mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mother Carey, the pansy cures heartache, the
+monkshood cures canker-lip, the tansy cures colds, and all the
+others have some joy and honour of service, but I am good for
+nothing, Mother Carey so the wise men despise me. Won't
+you give me a job? Won't you give me some little power?"</p>
+
+<p>"Little one, such an asking never finds me deaf. I love
+those who would help. I will give you a little bit of <i>all
+healing</i> so that you shall be good medicine, if not the best,
+for all ills, and men shall call you 'Self-heal' and 'All-heal'
+for you shall have all healing in yourself."</p>
+
+<p>And it has been so ever since. So that some who go by
+looks call the modest little meadow flower, "Blue-curls
+in the Grass," but the old herb-men who know her goodness
+call her "All-heal" or "Self-heal."</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 27<br />
+The Four Butterflies You See Every Summer</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 323px;">
+<img src="images/i084.png" width="323" height="339" alt="Summer Butterflies (a little over life size)" title="Summer Butterflies (a little over life size)" />
+<span class="caption">Summer Butterflies (a little over life size)</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are four Butterflies that you are sure to see every
+summer, on our fields; and remember that each of them goes
+through the same changes. First it is an egg, then a greedy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+grub, next a hanging bundle-baby, and last a beautiful
+winged fairy, living a life of freedom and joy.</p>
+
+<p>In the picture I have shown the butterflies life size, but
+you must add the colour as you get each one to copy.</p>
+
+<p>The first is the <i>White</i> or <i>Cabbage Butterfly</i> that flits over
+our gardens all summer long.</p>
+
+<p>It is not a true American, but came from Europe in 1860
+and landed at Quebec, from whence it has spread all over
+the country. In the drawing I have shown the female;
+the male is nearly the same but has only one round dark
+spot on the front wings. Its grub is a little naked green
+caterpillar, that eats very nearly a million dollars' worth
+of cabbages a year; so it is a pity it was ever allowed to
+land in this country. There are moths that we should like
+to get rid of, but this is the only butterfly that is a pest.</p>
+
+<p>2nd. The <i>Yellow</i> or <i>Clouded Sulphur Butterfly</i>. You are
+sure to find it, as soon as you begin to look for butterflies.
+This is the one that is often seen in flocks about mud puddles.</p>
+
+<p>When I was a very small boy, I once caught a dozen of
+them, and made a little beehive to hold them, thinking
+that they would settle down and make themselves at home,
+just like bees or pigeons. But the grown-ups made me let
+them fly away, for the Sulphur is a kindly creature, and
+does little or no harm.</p>
+
+<p>One of the most beautiful things I ever came across, was,
+when about ten years old, I saw on a fence stake ahead of
+me a big bird that was red, white and blue, with a flaming
+yellow fan-crest. Then as I came closer, I knew that it
+was a red-headed woodpecker, with a Sulphur Butterfly in his
+beak; this made the crest; what I thought was blue turned
+out to be his glossy black back reflecting the blue sky.</p>
+
+<p>3rd. The next is the <i>Red Admiral</i> or <i>Nettle Butterfly</i>.
+The "red" part of the name is right, but why "Admiral"?
+I never could see unless it was misprint for "Admirable."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 327px;">
+<img src="images/i086.png" width="327" height="400" alt="Red Admiral" title="Red Admiral" />
+<span class="caption">Red Admiral</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 270px;">
+<img src="images/i087.png" width="270" height="400" alt="Tiger Swallowtail (life size)" title="Tiger Swallowtail (life size)" />
+<span class="caption">Tiger Swallowtail (life size)</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This beautiful insect lays its eggs and raises its young on
+nettles, and where nettles are, there is the Red Admiral also.
+And that means over nearly all the world! Its caterpillar
+is not very well protected with bristles, not at all when
+compared with the Woolly-bear, but it lives in the nettles,
+and, whether they like it or not, the hospitable nettles
+with their stings protect the caterpillar. The crawler may
+be grateful, but he shows it in a poor way, for he turns on
+the faithful nettle, and eats it up. In fact the only food
+he cares about is nettle-salad, and he indulges in it several
+times a day, yes all day long, eating, growing and bursting
+his skin a number of times, till he is big enough to hang himself
+up for the winter, probably in a nettle. Then next
+spring he comes forth, in the full dress uniform of a Red
+Admiral, gold lace, red sash, silver braid and all.</p>
+
+<p>4th. The last of the four is the <i>Tiger Swallowtail</i>. You
+are sure to see it some day&mdash;the big yellow butterfly that
+is striped like a tiger, with peacock's feathers in its train,
+and two long prongs, like a swallow-tail, to finish off with.
+It is found in nearly all parts of the Eastern States and
+Canada. I saw great flocks of them on the Slave River
+of the North.</p>
+
+<p>It is remarkable in that there are both blondes and brunettes
+among its ladies. The one shown in the drawing is a
+blonde. The brunettes are so much darker as to be nearly
+black; and so different that at one time everyone thought
+they were of a different kind altogether.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 28<br />
+The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 323px;">
+<img src="images/i089.png" width="323" height="389" alt="The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar (the moth is a little over life size)" title="The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar (the moth is a little over life size)" />
+<span class="caption">The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar (the moth is a little over life size)</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> lovely Io Moth is one that you will see early, and
+never forget, for it is common, and ranges over all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+country from Canada to the Gulf. When you see it, you will
+be inclined to spell its name Eye-oh&mdash;for it has on each
+wing a splendid eye like that on a peacock's tail-feather,
+while the rest of its dress is brown velvet and gold.</p>
+
+<p>There is a strange chapter in the life of Io, which you
+should know because it shows that Mother Carey never
+gives any wonderful gift to her creatures without also giving
+with it some equal burden of sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>This is how it all came about.</p>
+
+<p>Long ago when the little ones of the Io Moth were small,
+they were, like most caterpillars, very ugly little things.
+They felt very badly about it, and so they set out one day
+for the great Home Place of Mother Carey in the Whispering
+Grove of the Ages.</p>
+
+<p>There they prayed, "Dear Mother Carey, we are not of
+an ugly race, why should we be so ugly as caterpillars?
+Will you not make us beautiful, for beauty is one of the best
+things of all?"</p>
+
+<p>Mother Carey smiled and waved a finger toward a little
+Brownie, who came with a tray on which were two cups;
+one full of bright sparkling pink stuff, and the other with
+something that looked like dark green oil. But the glasses
+were joined at the top, there was but one place to drink,
+and that reached both.</p>
+
+<p>Then Mother Carey said, "These are the goblets of
+life, one is balm and will give you joy, the other is gall
+and will give you suffering. You may drink little or much,
+but you must drink equally of both. Now what would
+ye?"</p>
+
+<p>The little ugly creatures whispered together, then one
+said: "Mother Carey, if we drink, will it give us beauty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my children, the red goblet of life will give you
+beauty, but with it the other will give you grief."</p>
+
+<p>They whispered together, then all the little crawlers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
+went silently forward, and each took a long drink of the
+double goblet.</p>
+
+<p>Then they crawled away, and at once became the most
+beautiful of all caterpillars, brilliant jewel-green with stripes
+of pink, velvet, and gold. Never before were there seen
+such exquisite little crawlers.</p>
+
+<p>But now a sad thing happened. They were so beautiful
+that many creatures became their enemies, and began to
+kill them and eat them one after another. They crawled
+as fast as they could, and hid away, but many of them were
+killed by birds and beasts of prey, as well as by big fierce
+insects.</p>
+
+<p>They did not know what to do, so next day the few that
+were left crawled back to the Grove of Ages, and once more
+stood before Mother Carey.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my Beauty-crawlers," she said, "what would
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mother Carey, it is fearful, everyone seeks to destroy
+us. Most of us are killed, and many of us wounded.
+Will you not protect us?"</p>
+
+<p>"You drank of the two goblets, my children. I warned
+you that your beauty would bring terrible trouble with it."</p>
+
+<p>They bowed their little heads in silent sorrow, for they
+knew that that was true.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said the All-Mother, "do you wish to go back
+and be ugly again?"</p>
+
+<p>They whispered together and said: "No, Mother Carey,
+it is better to be beautiful and die."</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 323px;">
+<img src="images/i092.png" width="323" height="244" alt="The Splendid Silk-Moth (about 1/2 life size)" title="The Splendid Silk-Moth (about 1/2 life size)" />
+<span class="caption">The Splendid Silk-Moth (about 1/2 life size)</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Then Mother Carey looked on them very kindly, and
+said: "Little ones, I love your brave spirit. You shall not
+die. Neither shall you lose your beauty. I will give you
+a defence that will keep off all your enemies but one, that
+is the Long-stinger Wasp, for you must in some way pay
+for your loveliness." She waved her wand, and all over each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
+of the Beauty-crawlers, there came out bunches of sharp
+stickers like porcupine quills, only they were worse than
+porcupine quills for each of the stickers was poisoned at
+the tip, so that no creature could touch the Beauty-crawlers
+without being stung.</p>
+
+<p>The birds and beasts let them alone now, or suffer a
+terrible punishment from the poison spears. You children,
+too, must beware of them; touch them not, they will give
+you festering wounds. There is only one creature now that
+the Beauty-crawlers truly fear; that is the Long-stinger
+Wasp. He does indeed take toll of their race, but that is
+the price they still must pay for their beauty. Did they
+not drink of the double goblet?</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 29<br />
+
+The Great Splendid Silk-Moth or <i>Samia Cecropia</i></h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">When</span> I was a very small boy, I saw my father bring in
+from the orchard a ragged looking thing like parchment
+wrapped up with some tangled hair; it was really the bundle-baby
+of this Moth. He kept it all winter, and when the
+spring came, I saw for the first time the great miracle of the
+insect world&mdash;the rag bundle was split open, and out came
+this glorious creature with wings of red and brown velvet,
+embroidered with silver and spots that looked like precious
+stones. It seemed the rarest thing in the world, but I
+have found out since, that it is one of our common moths,
+and any of you can get one, if you take the trouble.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Now listen, and you shall hear of what happened long
+ago to a green crawler who was born to be a splendid
+Silk-Moth, but who spoiled it all by a bad temper.</p>
+
+<p>It had been a very cold, wet summer, and one day, when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+the wind was whispering, he cried out: "Mother Carey,
+when I have done with my working life, and go into the
+Great Sleep, grant that it may never rain on me for I
+hate rain, and it has done nothing but pour all summer
+long." And he shivered the red knobs on his head with
+peevishness.</p>
+
+<p>"You silly little green crawler, don't you think I know
+better than you what is good for you? Would you like
+there to be no rain?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I would," said the red-knobbed Samia rebelliously.</p>
+
+<p>"Would <i>you?</i>" said the All-Mother to another green
+crawler, who hung on a near-by limb.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother Carey, we have had a wet, cold summer, and
+the rain has been miserable, but I know you will take care
+of us."</p>
+
+<p>"Good," said the All-Mother: "then, in this way it shall
+be. You little Red-Knobs shall have what you so much
+wish, you shall hang up in a dry loft where not a drop of
+dew even shall touch you in your bundle-baby sleep. And
+you little Yellow-Knobs shall hang under a limb where
+every rain that comes shall drench your outer skin." And
+she left them.</p>
+
+<p>When the time came to hang up, Red-Knobs was led to
+a place as dry as could be, under a shed and swung his
+bundle-baby hammock from the rafters.</p>
+
+<p>Yellow-Knobs hung up his hammock under a twig in
+the rose garden.</p>
+
+<p>The winter passed, and the springtime came with the
+great awakening day. Each of the bundle-babies awoke
+from his hammock and broke his bonds. Each found his
+new wings, and set about shaking them out to full size
+and shape. Those of the rain-baby came quickly to their
+proper form, and away he flew to rejoice in perfect life.
+But though the other shook and shook, his wings would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+not fluff out. They seemed dried up; they were numbed
+and of stunted growth.</p>
+
+<p>Shake as he would, the wings stayed small and twisted.
+And as he struggled, a Butcher-bird came by. His fierce
+eye was drawn by the fluttering purple thing. It had no
+power to escape. He tore its crumpled wings from its
+feathery form, and made of it a meal. But before dying
+it had time to say, "Oh, Mother Carey, now I know that
+your way was the best."</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 30<br />
+The Green Fairy with the Long Train</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Some</span> fairies are Brownies and some are Greenies, and of
+all that really and truly dance in the moonlight right here
+in America, Luna Greenie seems the most wonderful; and
+this is her history:</p>
+
+<p>Once upon a time there was a seed pearl that dropped
+from the robe of a green fairy. It stuck on the leaf of a
+butternut tree till one warm day Mother Carey, who knows
+all the wild things and loves them all, touched it with her
+magic wand, called Hatch-awake, and out of the seed pearl
+came an extraordinarily ugly little dwarf, crawling about
+on many legs. He was just as <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'gr  dy'">greedy</ins> as he was ugly, and
+he ate leaf after leaf of the butternut tree, and grew so
+fat that he burst his skin. Then a new skin grew, and he
+kept on eating and bursting until he was quite big. But
+he had also become wise and gentle; he had learned many
+things, and was not quite so greedy now.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 302px;">
+<img src="images/i096.png" width="302" height="400" alt="The Green Fairy With the Long Train (about 4/5 life size)" title="The Green Fairy With the Long Train (about 4/5 life size)" />
+<span class="caption">The Green Fairy With the Long Train (about 4/5 life size)</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mother Carey, the All-Mother, had been watching him,
+and knew that now he was ready for the next step up. She
+told him to make himself a hammock of rags and leaves,
+in the butternut tree. When he had crawled into it, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+touched him with her wand, the very same as the one she
+used when she sent the Sleeping Beauty into her long sleep.
+Then that little dwarf went soundly to sleep, hanging in
+his hammock.</p>
+
+<p>Summer passed; autumn came; the leaves fell from the
+butternut tree, taking the bundle-baby with them, exactly
+as in the old rhyme:</p>
+
+<p>
+Rock-a-bye baby on the tree-top,<br />
+When the wind blows, your cradle will rock,<br />
+When the cold weather makes all the leaves fall,<br />
+Down tumbles baby and cradle and all.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>But the hammock, with its sleeper, landed in a deep
+bed of leaves, and lay there all winter, quite safe and
+warm.</p>
+
+<p>Then when the springtime sun came over the hill, Mother
+Carey came a-riding on the Warm Wind, and waving her
+wand. She stopped and kissed the sleeping bundle-baby,
+just as the Prince kissed the Sleeping Beauty, and instantly
+the baby awoke. Then happened the strangest thing.
+Out of that ragged old hammock there came the most wonderful
+and beautiful Green Fairy ever seen, with wings
+and with two trains; and as it came out and looked shyly
+around, trembling with new life, Mother Carey whispered,
+"Go to the butternut grove and see what awaits you
+there."</p>
+
+<p>So away she went. Oh, how easy and glorious it is to
+fly! She could remember how once she used to crawl everywhere.
+And through the soft sweet night she flew, as she
+was told, straight to the butternut grove. As she came near
+she saw many green fairies&mdash;a great crowd of them&mdash;gathered
+in the moonlight, and dancing round and round in
+fluttering circles, swooping about and chasing each other,
+or hiding in the leaves. They did not feast, for these fairies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+never eat, and they drink only honey from flowers. But
+there was a spirit of great joy over them all. And there
+were some there with longer head plumes than those she
+wore. They seemed stronger and one of them came with a
+glad greeting to the new Green Dancer and though she flew
+away, she was bursting with joy that he should single her
+out. He pursued her till he caught her, and hand in hand
+they danced together in the moonlight. She was happier
+than she had known it was possible to be, and danced all
+night&mdash;that wonderful wedding dance. But she was very
+tired when morning was near, and high in the tree she slept
+so soundly that she never noticed that many seed pearls that
+were clustered on the lining of her robe had got loose and
+rolled into the crevices of the trunk. There they lay until
+Mother Carey came to touch them with her magic wand,
+so each became a crawler-dwarf, then a bundle-baby, and
+at last a dancing fairy.</p>
+
+<p>But the Green Dancer did not know that&mdash;she knew only
+that it was a glorious thing to be alive, and fly, and to
+dance in the moonlight.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>You must never fail to watch under the butternut tree
+on mid-summer nights, for it is quite possible that you may
+see the wedding dance of the Luna Greenie and her sisters
+with the long-trained robes.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 31<br />
+The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow
+Dragon</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 288px;">
+<img src="images/i099.png" width="288" height="400" alt="The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon" title="The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon" />
+<span class="caption">The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> upon a time, there was a beautiful little Yellow
+Dragon, who lived a happy and innocent life on the high
+banks of a prattling stream. The Dragon himself was dumb<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+but he loved a merry noise, and nothing pleased him more
+than the prattling of the water. Sometimes this pleasant
+little Dragon went up stream, where it was noisy, and
+sometimes he went down stream, where it was very silent,
+and rested awhile in little pools. Here it was that he met
+with his first enemy, a warty Hoptoad with jealous eyes.
+That Toad thought that he owned the pools because he
+bathed there every springtime, and though it was a kind
+little Dragon, the Toad hated him, and began to plot against
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho! little Yellow Dragon," he said, "you are very wonderful
+to see, and you must be very clever; but you haven't
+got everything you want, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>The Dragon smiled, shook his head, and made silent
+signs with his lips. Then the Toad understood, for he said:
+"Ho-ho, I understand that you cannot speak. But are
+you happy?"</p>
+
+<p>The Dragon smiled sweetly and nodded, then pointed
+to the stream.</p>
+
+<p>That made the Toad madder than ever, for he thought
+it meant that the Dragon was claiming the whole
+stream. So the Toad said: "See, Dragon, there is a
+wonderful food that you have never tasted, that is a
+poached egg."</p>
+
+<p>This he said with his heart full of guile, for he knew full
+well that poached eggs are deadly poison to Dragons.</p>
+
+<p>The Dragon looked puzzled, and the Toad said, "Have
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>The Dragon shook his head. "Well," said the Toad, "it
+is the most delicious thing in the woods; now you wait
+and see."</p>
+
+<p>He went hoppity-hop, to a sand-bank where he had seen
+a Turtle lay its eggs that morning. He dug out one. He
+rolled it upon a stone, and split it open with the sharp spur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+on his heel. As soon as it was stiffened by the sun heat,
+he said, "Here now, Dragon, swallow it down, while I get
+another for myself."</p>
+
+<p>The poor innocent little Dragon did not know any better.
+He tried to swallow the poached egg. The moment he did,
+it stuck in his throat, and poisoned him. At once his toes
+sank into the ground. He turned green all over, and his
+head was changed into a strange new flower. There it is
+to this day, standing silently where it can hear the brook
+a-prattling. Its body is green all over, and its head is yellow
+and its jaws are wide open with a poached egg stuck in its
+throat. And that is how it all came about. Some call
+it Toad Flax, and some call it Butter and Eggs, but we who
+know how it happened call it the Dragon and the Poached
+Egg.</p>
+
+<p>Poor dear little Yellow Dragon!</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 32<br />
+The Fairy Bird or the Humming-bird Moth</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">When</span> I was a schoolboy, a number of my companions
+brought the news that the strangest bird in the world had
+come that day to our garden and hovered over the flowers.
+It was no bigger than a bumble-bee. "No! It was not a
+humming-bird," they said, "it was smaller by far, much
+more beautiful, and it came and went so fast that no one
+could see it go."</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 292px;">
+<img src="images/i102.png" width="292" height="400" alt="The Fairy Bird (1-1/2 life size)" title="The Fairy Bird (1-1/2 life size)" />
+<span class="caption">The Fairy Bird (1-1/2 life size)</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Every guess that I made seemed not to fit the wonderful
+bird, or help to give it a name that would lead us to its
+history in the books. The summer went by, several schoolmates
+saw the Wonderbird, and added stories of its marvellous
+smallness and mysterious habits. Its body, they
+said, was of green velvet with a satin-white throat; it had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+a long beak&mdash;at least an inch long&mdash;a fan-tail of many
+feathers, two long plumes from its head, "the littlest feet
+you ever have seen," and large lustrous eyes that seemed
+filled with human intelligence. "It jest looked right at
+you, and seemed like a fairy looking at you."</p>
+
+<p>The wonder grew. I made a sketch embodying all the
+points that my companions noted about the Fairy Bird.
+The first drawing shows what it looked like, and also gives
+the exact size they said it was.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed a cruel wrong that let so many of them see the
+thing that was of chief interest to me, yet left me out. It
+clearly promised a real fairy, an elfin bird, a wonderful
+messenger from the land I hungered to believe in.</p>
+
+<p>But at last my turn came. One afternoon two of the
+boys ran toward me, shouting: "Here it is, the little Fairy
+Bird, right in the garden over the honeysuckle. C'mon,
+quick!"</p>
+
+<p>I rushed to the place, more excited than I can tell. Yes,
+there it was, hovering over the open flowers&mdash;tiny, wonderful,
+humming as it swung on misty wings. I made a quick
+sweep of my insect net and, marvellous to relate, scooped
+up the Fairy Bird. I was trembling with excitement now,
+not without a sense of wickedness that I should dare to
+net a fairy&mdash;practically an angel. But I had done it, and
+I gloated over my captive, in the meshes. Yes, the velvet
+body and snowy throat were there, the fan-tail, the plumes
+and the big dark eyes, but the creature was <i>not a bird;</i> it
+was an insect! Dimly now I remembered, and in a few
+hours, learned, as I had feared, that I had not captured a
+young angel or even a fairy&mdash;it was nothing but a Humming-bird
+Moth, a beautiful insect&mdash;common in some regions,
+scarce in some, such as mine&mdash;but perfectly well known
+to men of science and never afterward forgotten by any
+of that eager schoolboy group.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 33<br />
+Ribgrass or Whiteman's-Foot</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">If you</span> live in the country or in a small town, you will
+not have to go many steps, in summer time, before you
+find the little plant known as Ribgrass, Plantain, or Whiteman's-foot.
+If you live in a big city, you may find it in any
+grassy place, but will surely see it, as soon as you reach the
+suburbs. It grows on the ground, wherever it can see the
+sun, and is easily known by the strong ribs, each with a
+string in it when you pull the leaf apart. The Indians
+call it Whiteman's-foot, not because it is broad and flat,
+but because it came from Europe with the white man; it
+springs up wherever he sets his foot, and it has spread over
+all America. Gardeners think it a troublesome weed;
+but the birds love its seed; canary birds delight in it; and
+each plant of the Ribgrass may grow many thousands of
+seeds in a summer.</p>
+
+<p>How many? Let us see! Take a seed-stalk of the Plantain
+and you will find it thickly set with little cups, as in
+the drawing. Open one of these cups, and you find in it
+five seeds. Count the cups; there are two hundred on this
+stalk, each with about five seeds, that is, one thousand
+seeds; but the plant has five or more seed-stalks, some have
+more (one before me now has seventeen), but suppose it has
+only ten; then there are 10,000 seeds each summer from one
+little plant. Each seed can grow up into a new plant; and,
+if each plant were as far from the next as you can step, the
+little ones in a row the following summer would reach for
+nearly six miles; that is, from the City Hall to the end of
+Central Park, New York.<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 313px;">
+<img src="images/i105.png" width="313" height="400" alt="The Ribgrass" title="The Ribgrass" />
+<span class="caption">The Ribgrass</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>On the third year if all had the full number of seed, and
+all the seed grew into plants, there would be enough to go
+more than twice round the world. No wonder it has spread
+all over the country.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Let the Guide illustrate with some local measure.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>TALE 34<br />
+Jack-in-the-Pulpit</h3>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 291px;">
+<img src="images/i106.png" width="291" height="400" alt="Jack-in-the-Pulpit" title="Jack-in-the-Pulpit" />
+<span class="caption">Jack-in-the-Pulpit</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> upon a time there was a missionary named
+the Rev. John T. Arum, who set out to preach to the
+Indians. He had a good heart but a bitter, biting tongue.
+He had no respect for the laws of the Indians, so they killed
+him, and buried him in the woods. But out of his grave
+came a new and wonderful plant, shaped like a pulpit, and
+right in the middle of it, as usual, was the Reverend Jack
+hard at it, preaching away.</p>
+
+<p>If you dig down under the pulpit you will find the preacher's
+body, or his heart, in the form of a round root. Taste
+it and you will believe that the preacher had a terribly
+biting tongue, but treat it properly, that is boil it, and
+you will find out that after all he had a good little heart
+inside. Even the Indians have discovered his good qualities
+and have become very fond of him.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 35<br />
+How the Indian Pipe Came</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 353px;">
+<img src="images/i108.png" width="353" height="400" alt="How the Indian Pipe Came" title="How the Indian Pipe Came" />
+<span class="caption">How the Indian Pipe Came</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">In the</span> last tale you learned the fate of the Rev. John
+T. Arum, and the origin of Jack-in-the-Pulpit. But you
+must not suppose for a moment that the Indians decided
+in a hurry to kill the missionary. No, they had too much
+sense of fair play for that. They held a great many councils
+first to find some way of curbing his tongue, and making
+him mind his own business. In fact, they got into the habit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+of holding a council every few minutes to discuss the question,
+no matter where they were or what else they were doing.
+So that pretty nearly every part of the woods was in time
+used for a council ring to discuss the fate of the Rev. John
+T. Arum.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, you know that no Indian can hold a council
+without smoking the Peace Pipe, and when the council
+is over, he empties out the ashes of the pipe. So that when
+all those councils were over, when the matter was settled,
+when the missionary was buried, and when the warrior
+had gone to the ghost land, there came solemnly poking
+its white bowl and stem from under the leaves an Indian
+pipe, at the very spot where the Councillors had emptied
+the ashes. It is a beautifully shaped pipe, with a curved
+and feathered stem, but it has none of the bright colours
+of the old Peace Pipe. It cannot have them for this is only
+a ghost Pipe to show where the council used to be; and
+one pipe there is for each council held on that spot, so you
+see how many, many councils the Indians had, before they
+killed the troublesome preacher. And sometimes you can
+find a pipe that has the bowl still filled with ghost tobacco
+or even a little red ghost fire, showing that the warriors
+had to hurry away before that council was finished. Whenever
+you find the ghost pipe in the woods, you are sure to
+see close by either a log, a bank or a rock on which the Councillors
+sat to talk it over.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 36<br />
+The Cucumber Under the Brownie's Umbrella</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Indians had Brownies, only they called them Pukwudjies,
+and I am going to tell you a story of an Indian
+Brownie.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 229px;">
+<img src="images/i110.png" width="229" height="400" alt="The Cucumber Under the Brownie&#39;s Umbrella" title="The Cucumber Under the Brownie&#39;s Umbrella" />
+<span class="caption">The Cucumber Under the Brownie&#39;s Umbrella</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Whenever the Indians got together for a council, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+Brownies did the same thing, in the woods near by. It
+was a kind of Brownie Fair, and some of the little people
+used to have stands and sell refreshments. Berries were
+scarce in the springtime, but the Brownies were very fond
+of cucumber. So there were always one or two Cucumber
+Brownies, who set up their little umbrellas, and sold slices
+of Cucumber to the others.</p>
+
+<p>When it was time to go home, or when the sun got so hot
+that the cucumbers were likely to spoil, they would bury
+them in the ground, but leave the umbrella to mark the
+place. And there they are yet; many a time have I found
+the umbrella, and dug under it to find the cucumber. It
+is delicious eating; everything that Brownies like is. You
+can find it, and try it. It is one of the things that Monapini
+taught Ruth Pilgrim to eat. (Tale 18).</p>
+
+<p>Of course, the Brownies do not like you to dig up their
+treasure or good-to-eats, but there are plenty more, far
+more than they ever need. "Yet what about it," you say,
+"if the Brownie happens to be there?"</p>
+
+<p>He may be sitting right under the umbrella, but remember
+the little people are invisible to our eyes. You will not
+see him; at least I never did.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 37<br />
+The Hickory Horn-devil</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Hush</span>, whisper! Did you ever meet a Hickory Horn-devil?
+No! Well I did, and I tell you he is a terror.
+Look at this picture of him. It is true, only he is not quite
+so big as that, though he looks as if he might be. And I
+was not quite so small as that, only I felt as if I were!
+And everything about him looked horribly strong, poisonous
+and ugly. He was a real devil.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 305px;">
+<img src="images/i112.png" width="305" height="400" alt="The Hickory Horn-devil (1/2 life size)" title="The Hickory Horn-devil (1/2 life size)" />
+<span class="caption">The Hickory Horn-devil (1/2 life size)</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I did not know his history then; I did not learn it for a
+long time after, but I can tell it to you now.</p>
+
+<p>Once upon a time there was a little, greenish, blackish
+worm. He loved pretty things, and he hated to be ugly,
+as he was. No one wanted him, and he was left all alone,
+a miserable little outcast. He complained bitterly to
+Mother Carey, and asked if she would not bless him with
+some grace, to help him in his troubles.</p>
+
+<p>Mother Carey said: "Little ugly worm; you are having
+a hard time, because in your other life, before you came into
+this shape, you had an ugly, hateful spirit. You must go
+through this one as you are, until the Great Sleep comes;
+after that, you will be exactly what you have made of
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Then the little ugly worm said: "Oh Mother Carey, I
+am as miserable as I can be; let me be twice as ugly, if, in
+the end, I may be twice as beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>Mother Carey said gravely, "Do you think you could
+stand it, little worm? We shall see."</p>
+
+<p>From that time the worm got bigger and uglier, no creature
+would even talk to him. The birds seemed to fear
+him, and the Squirrels puffed out little horror-snorts, when
+they saw him coming, even the other worms kept away
+from him.</p>
+
+<p>So he went on his lonely life, uglier and more hated than
+ever. He lived chiefly on a big hickory tree, so men called
+him the Hickory Horn-devil.</p>
+
+<p>One day as he was crawling on a fence, a hen with chickens
+came running after him, to eat him. But when she saw how
+ugly he was she cried: "Oh, Lawk, lawk! Come away,
+children, at once!"</p>
+
+<p>At another time he saw a Chipmunk teaching its little
+ones to play tag. They looked so bright and happy, he
+longed, not to join them because he could only crawl, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+to have the happiness of looking on. But when he came
+slowly forward, and the old Chipmunk saw him waving his
+horns and looking like a green poisonous reptile, she
+screamed, "Run, my children!" and all darted into their
+hole while Mother Chipmunk stuffed up the doorway with
+earth.</p>
+
+<p>But the most thrilling thing of all that he saw was one
+day as the sun went down, a winged being of dazzling beauty
+alighted for a moment on his hickory tree. Never had the
+Horn-devil seen such a dream of loveliness. Her slender
+body was clad in rose velvet, and her wings were shining
+with gold. The very sight of her made him hate himself,
+yet he could not resist the impulse to crawl nearer, to gaze
+at her beauty.</p>
+
+<p>But her eyes rested a moment on his horrible shape, and
+she fled in fear, while a voice near by said: "The Spangled
+Queen does not love poisonous reptiles." Then the
+poor little Horn-devil wished he were dead. He hid away
+from sight for three days. Hunger however forced him
+out, and as he was crawling across a pathway, a man who
+came along was going to crush him underfoot, but Mother
+Carey whispered, "No, don't do it." So the man let him
+live, but roughly kicked the worm aside, and bruised him
+fearfully.</p>
+
+<p>Then came Mother Carey and said: "Well, little ugly
+worm! Is your spirit strong, or angry?"</p>
+
+<p>The worm said bravely, though feebly: "Mother, Mother
+Carey, I am trying to be strong. I want to win."</p>
+
+<p>The breezes were losing their gentle warmth when
+Mother Carey came to him one day, and said: "Little one,
+your trial has been long, but it is nearly over.</p>
+
+<p>"Prepare to sleep now, my little horny one, you have
+fought a brave fight; your reward is coming. Because your
+soul has been made beautiful by your suffering, I will give<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
+you a body blazing with such beauty as shall make all stand
+in adoration when you pass." Then Mother Earth said,
+"Our little one shall have extra care because he has had
+extra trials." So the tired little Horn-devil did not even
+have to make himself a hammock, for Mother Earth received
+him and he snuggled into her bosom. As Mother
+Carey waved her wand, he dropped off asleep. And he
+slept for two hundred days.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the great Awakening Day, the resurrection
+day of the woods. Many new birds arrived. Many new
+flowers appeared. Sleepers woke from underground, as
+Mother Carey's silent trumpeters went bugling ahead of
+her, and her winged horse, the Warm Wind, came sweeping
+across the meadows, with the white world greening as he
+came.</p>
+
+<p>The bundle-baby of the Horn-devil woke up. He was
+cramped and sleepy, but soon awake. Then he knew that
+he was a prisoner, bound up in silken cords of strength.
+But new powers were his now, he was able to break the
+cords and crawl out of his hole. He put up his feelers to
+find those horrible horns, but they were gone, and his devil
+form fell off him like a mask. He had wings, jewelled
+wings! on his back now. Out he came to fluff the newfound
+wings awhile, and when they were spread and supple
+he flew into the joyful night, one of the noblest of all the
+things that fly, gorgeous in gold and velvet, body and wings;
+filled with the joy of life and flight, he went careering through
+the soft splendour of the coming night. And as he flew,
+he glimpsed a radiant form ahead, a being like himself, with
+wings of velvet and gold. At first he thought it was the
+Princess of the Hickory Tree, but now his eyes were perfect,
+and he could see that this was a younger and more
+beautiful Spangled Princess than the one of his bygone
+life, and all his heart was filled with the blazing fire of love.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+Fearlessly now he flew to overtake her; for was she not of
+his own kind? She sped away, very fast at first, but maybe
+she did not go as fast as she could, for soon he was sailing
+by her side. At first she turned away a little, but she was
+not cross or frightened now. She was indeed inclined to
+play and tease. Then in their own language, he asked her
+to marry him, and in their own language she said, "yes."
+Away they flew and flew on their wedding flight, high in
+the trees in the purple night, glorious in velvet and gold,
+more happy than these printed words can tell.</p>
+
+<p>The wise men who saw them said, "There go the Royal
+Citheronia and his bride." And Mother Carey smiled
+as she saw their bliss, and remembered the Hickory Horn-devil.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THINGS TO SEE IN AUTUMNTIME</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 289px;">
+<img src="images/i118.png" width="289" height="400" alt="The Purple and Gold of Autumn" title="The Purple and Gold of Autumn" />
+<span class="caption">The Purple and Gold of Autumn</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Things to See in Autumntime</h2>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 38<br />
+The Purple and Gold of Autumn</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was once an old gentleman named Father
+Time, and he had four beautiful daughters.</p>
+
+<p>The eldest was called Winter Time. She was
+tall and pale. She dressed chiefly in white wool trimmed
+with wonderful lacework. She was much admired by some,
+but others considered her very cold and distant. And
+most agreed that she was the least winsome of the sisters.</p>
+
+<p>The second one was called Spring Time, and she was
+dressed in beautiful golden-green satin. She had a gentle,
+sunny disposition; some thought her the loveliest.</p>
+
+<p>The third was Summer Time, and her robe was dark-green
+velvet. She was warm-hearted and most attractive,
+full of life and energy, and as unlike the eldest sister as
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>The youngest was Autumn Time. She certainly was a
+wonderful creature, with red rosy cheeks, plump form,
+and riotous good spirits. Her robes were gorgeous and
+a little extravagant, for she wore a new one every day,
+and of all that she had, the one that she loved the best
+and wore the latest was of purple and gold. We can go
+out in October and see the purple and gold, and gather
+some scraps of the robe, for it is on every wayside and
+every hillside.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 39<br />
+Why the Chicadee Goes Crazy Twice a Year</h3>
+
+<p>A <span class="smcap">long</span> time ago, when it was always summer in our
+woods, the Chicadees lived merrily with their cousins, and
+frolicked the whole year round. But one day Mother
+Carey sent the small birds a warning that they must move
+to the South, when the leaves fell from the trees, for hard
+frost and snow were coming, and maybe starvation too.</p>
+
+<p>All the cousins of the Chicadees listened to the warning
+and got ready to go; but Tomtit, their leader, only laughed
+and turned a dozen wheels around a twig that served him
+for a bar.</p>
+
+<p>"Go to the South?" said he. "Not I; I am too happy
+here; and as for frost and snow, I never saw any, and I
+don't believe there are such things."</p>
+
+<p>Very soon the leaves fell from the trees and the Nut-hatches
+and the King-wrens were so busy getting ready to
+go that the Chicadees left off play for a minute, to ask
+questions. They were not pleased with the answer they
+got, for the messenger had said that all of them were to take
+a long, long journey that would last for days, and the little
+King-wrens had actually to go as far as the Gulf of Mexico.
+Besides, they were to fly by night, to avoid their enemies,
+the Hawks, and the weather at this season was sure to be
+stormy. So the Chicadees said it was all nonsense, and
+went off, singing and chasing one another through the woods,
+led by Tomtit singing a new song in which he made fun of
+the travellers.</p>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+Tom Tom Tiddy-Mouse!<br />
+Hid away in our house,<br />
+Hid his brother in the cellar,<br />
+Wasn't he a silly feller?<br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But their cousins were quite serious. They picked out
+wise leaders and formed themselves into bands. They
+learned that they must follow their leader, they must twitter
+as they flew in the darkness, so as to let those behind know
+where\he leaders were; they must follow the great rivers
+southward; they must wait for a full moon before starting,
+and never travel by day.</p>
+
+<p>The noisy, rollicking Chicadees continued to make fun
+of their cousins as they saw them now gathering in the
+woods along the river; and at length, when the moon was
+big, bright, and full, the cousins arose to the call of the
+leaders and all flew away in the gloom. The Chicadees
+said that all the cousins were crazy, made some good jokes
+about the Gulf of Mexico, and then dashed away on their
+favourite game of tag and tumble through the woods, which,
+however, did seem rather quiet now, and bare of leaves;
+while the weather, too, was certainly turning uncomfortably
+cool.</p>
+
+<p>At length the frost and snow really did come, and the
+Chicadees were in a bad way. Indeed, they were frightened
+out of their wits, and dashed hither and thither, seeking
+in vain for some one to set them aright on the way to the
+warm land. They flew wildly about the woods, till they
+were truly crazy. I suppose there was not a squirrel-hole
+or a hollow log in the neighbourhood that some Chicadee
+did not enter to inquire if this was the Gulf of Mexico.
+But no one could tell anything about it, no one was going
+that way, and the great river was hidden under ice and
+snow.</p>
+
+<p>About this time a messenger from Mother Carey was
+passing with a message to the Caribou in the Far North;
+but all he could tell the Chicadees was that he could not
+be their guide, as he had other business. "Besides," he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>said, "you had the same notice as your cousins whom you
+called 'crazy.' And from what I know of Mother Carey,
+you will probably have to stick it out here all through the
+snow, not only now, but in every winter after this; so you
+may as well make the best of it."</p>
+
+<p>This was sad news for the Chicadee Tomtits; but they
+were brave little fellows, and seeing they could not help
+themselves, they went about making the best of it. Before
+a week had gone by they were in their usual good spirits
+again, scrambling about the snowy twigs, or chasing one
+another as before.</p>
+
+<p>They were glad to remember now that Mother Carey
+said that winter would end. They told each other about
+it so much that even at its beginning, when a fresh blizzard
+came on, they would gleefully remark to one another that
+it was a "sign of spring," and one or another of the flock
+would lift his voice in the sweet little chant that we all
+know so well:</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/i122a.png" width="100" height="54" alt="Spring soon" title="Spring soon" />
+<span class="caption">Spring soon</span>
+</div><div class="center">[<small><i>You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking</i> <a href="music/i122a.midi">here</a>.</small>]</div>
+
+<div class='unindent'>Another would take it up and answer back:</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;">
+<img src="images/i122b.png" width="125" height="57" alt="Spring com-ing" title="Spring com-ing" />
+<span class="caption">Spring com-ing</span>
+</div><div class="center">[<small><i>You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking</i> <a href="music/i122b.midi">here</a>.</small>]</div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'>and they would keep on repeating the song until the dreary
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>woods rang again with the good news, and the wood-people
+learned to love the brave little bird that sets his face so
+cheerfully, to meet so hard a case.</div>
+
+<p>And winter did end. Spring did come at last. And the
+sign of its coming was when the ice broke on the stream
+and the pussy willow came purring out above it. The air
+was full of the good news. The Chicadees felt it, and knew
+it through and through. They went mad with joy, chasing
+each other round and round the trees and through the
+hollow logs, shouting "The spring is here, the spring is
+here, Hurree, Hurree, Hurree," and in another week
+their joyous lives were going on as before the trouble
+came.</p>
+
+<p>But to this day, when the chill wind blows through the
+deserted woods, the Chicadees seem to lose their wits for a
+few days, and dart into all sorts of queer places. They
+may then be found in great cities, or open prairies, cellars,
+chimneys, and hollow logs; and the next time you find one
+of the wanderers in any out-of-the-way corner, be sure to
+remember that the Chicadee goes crazy twice a year, in the
+fall and in the spring, and probably went into his strange
+hole or town in search of the Gulf of Mexico.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 40<br />
+
+The Story of the Quaking Aspen or Poplar</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> leaf of the Quaking Asp is like the one marked
+"a" in the drawing. Its trunk is smooth, greenish, or
+whitish, with black knots of bark like "c". All the
+farmers know it as Popple, or White Poplar; but the
+hunters call it Quaking Asp or Aspen.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 247px;">
+<img src="images/i124.png" width="247" height="400" alt="The Story of the Quaking Aspen" title="The Story of the Quaking Aspen" />
+<span class="caption">The Story of the Quaking Aspen</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The name "quaking" was given because it is for ever
+shaking its leaves; the slightest wind sets them all rustling.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>They move so easily because each leaf-stem is like a thin,
+flat strap set on edge; while the leaf-stem of such as the oak
+is nearly round and scarcely rustles at all. Why does the
+Quaking Asp do this? No doubt, because it lives in places
+where the hot dust falls thick on the leaves at times, and
+if it did not have some trick of shaking it off, the leaf would
+be choked and bent so that the tree could scarcely breathe;
+for the leaves are the lungs of the trees. So remember,
+when the Poplar rustles loudly, it is coughing to clear its
+lungs of the dust.</p>
+
+<p>Some trees try to hide their troubles, and quickly cover
+up their wounds; but the Aspen has a very touchy skin and,
+once it is wounded, it shows the scar as long as it lives.
+We can, therefore, go to any Aspen tree, and have it tell
+us the story of its life. Here is the picture of one. The
+black marks at the forks (c) are scars of growth; the belts
+of dots (d) were wounds given by a sapsucker to rob it of its
+sap; the flat places (e) show where a Red Squirrel gnawed off
+the outer bark.</p>
+
+<p>If a Raccoon climbed the tree (f), or an insect bored into
+the trunk, we are sure to see a record of it in this sensitive
+bark.</p>
+
+<p>Now, last of all, the paper on which this story is printed
+was likely made out of Aspen wood.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 41<br />
+
+The Witch-hazel</h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 317px;">
+<img src="images/i126.png" width="317" height="400" alt="Witch-hazel" title="Witch-hazel" />
+<span class="caption">Witch-hazel</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">These</span> are the things to make you remember the Witch-hazel;
+its forked twig was used&mdash;nay, still is used&mdash;as a
+magic rod to show where there is running water underground;
+that is, where it is possible to find water by sinking
+a well. Its nuts are explosive, and go off with a <i>snap</i>,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>shooting the seeds that are inside, ten or twenty feet away,
+when the cold dry days of autumn come. Third, its curious
+golden-thread flowers appear in the fall.</p>
+
+<p>As Cracked Jimmy used to sing:-</p>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+Witch-hazel blossoms in the fall,<br />
+To cure the chills and fevers all.<br />
+<br />
+<div class='right'>&mdash;<i>Two Little Savages.</i></div><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>On November 16, 1919, after a sharp frost, I went
+out in the morning to get some Witch-hazel flowers
+for this drawing, and found them blooming away in the
+cold air, vigorously as ever. Imagine a flower that can
+bloom while it is freezing. In the drawing I have shown
+the flower, like a 4-lipped cup with four yellow snakes coiling
+out of it.</p>
+
+<p>But these are not the deadly snakes one hears about.
+They are rather symbols of old &AElig;sculapius, the famous
+healer of the long ago, whose emblem was the cup of life
+with curling snakes of wisdom about it. In the Witch-hazel
+has been found a soothing balm for many an
+ache and pain. The Witch-hazel you buy in the
+drugstores, is made out of the bark of this tree. If you
+chew one of the little branches you will know it by the
+taste.</p>
+
+<p>Near the top is a flower that is finished, its snakes have
+fled; and at the top of all is a bud for next year. That is,
+they are&mdash;<i>is</i>, <i>has-been</i> and <i>going-to-be</i>. The nuts are shown
+in the corner.</p>
+
+<p>Note, last of all, that it is a sociable little tree; it always
+goes with a crowd. There are generally three or four
+Witch-hazels from one root, and there is always a family
+of cousins not far away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 42<br />
+How the Shad Came and How the Chestnut Got
+Its Burrs</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">In the</span> woods of Poconic there once roamed a very discontented
+Porcupine. She was forever fretting. She complained
+that everything was wrong, till it was perfectly
+scandalous, and Wahkonda, the Great Spirit, getting tired
+of her grumbling, said:</p>
+
+<p>"You and the world I have made don't seem to fit;
+one or the other must be wrong. It is easier to change you.
+You don't like the trees, you are unhappy on the ground,
+and think everything is upside down, therefore I'll turn
+you inside out, and put you in the water." And so the
+Porcupine was turned into a new creature, a fish, called
+the Shad. That is why he is so full of little sharp
+bones.</p>
+
+<p>Then after the old Porcupine had been turned into a Shad,
+the young ones missed their mother, and crawled up into a
+high Chestnut tree to look for her coming. Wahkonda
+happened to pass that way, and they all chattered their
+teeth at him, thinking themselves safe. They were not
+wicked, but at heart quite good, only badly brought up;
+oh, so ill-trained, and some of them chattered and groaned
+as Wahkonda came nearer. Then Wahkonda was sorry
+for them, remembering that he had taken their mother from
+them, and said: "You look very well up there, you little
+Porkys, so you had better stay there for always, and be
+part of the Chestnut tree." And he touched each one
+with his magic wand and turned it into a burr that grew
+tight to the tree. That is how it came about. There they
+hang like a lot of little Porcupines on the twigs of the
+tree. They are spiney and dangerous, utterly without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+manners, and yet most of them have a good little heart
+inside.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 43<br />
+How the Littlest Owl Came</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">After</span> the Great Spirit had made the world and the creatures
+in it, he made the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo. This was
+like an Owl, but bigger than anything else alive, and his
+voice was like a river plunging over a rocky ledge. He
+was so big that he thought he had done it all himself, and
+he became puffed up. He forgot the Great Spirit, who
+decided to teach him a lesson in this wise:</p>
+
+<p>He called the Blue-jay, the mischief-maker of the woods,
+and told him what to do. Away went the Blue-jay to the
+mountain at the top of which was the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo
+making thunder in his throat. The Blue-jay flew up to his
+ear, and said: "Pooh, Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo, you don't
+call that a big noise! You should hear Niagara; then
+you would never twitter again."</p>
+
+<p>The Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo was so mad at hearing his big
+wonderful song called a twitter, that he said: "Niagara,
+Niagara! I'm sick of hearing about Niagara. I will go
+and silence Niagara with my voice." So he flew to Niagara
+while the Blue-jay snickered and followed to see the
+fun.</p>
+
+<p>Now when Niagara Falls was made the Great Spirit
+said to it, "Flow on for ever." That last word of the
+Great Spirit it took up as it rushed on, and never ceases
+to thunder out "For ever! For ever! For ever!"</p>
+
+<p>When they came to Niagara the mighty cataract, the
+Blue-jay said, "Now, Gitchee, you can beat that I am
+sure." So Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo began bawling to drown
+the noise of it, but could not make himself heard.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Wa-wa-wa," said the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo, with great
+effort and only for a few heart beats.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>For ever, For ever, For ever</i>," thundered the river, steadily,
+easily, ceaselessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Wa-wa-wa&mdash;!" shrieked Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo; but his
+voice was so utterly lost that he could not hear it himself,
+and he began to feel small, and smaller; and as he began
+to feel small, a strange thing happened&mdash;he began to get
+small and smaller, until he was no bigger than a Sparrow;
+and his voice, instead of being like a great cataract, became
+like the dropping of water, just a little</p>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+Tink-tank-tink,<br />
+Tink-tank-tink.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>And this is why the Indians give to this smallest of the
+Owls the name of "The Water-dropping Bird," who was once
+the greatest of all creatures, but is now shrunk to be the
+littlest of the Owls, because he became proud and forgot
+the Great Spirit.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 44<br />
+The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> upon a time there was a rich boy, who knew all
+about the city, and nothing about the woods. He went for
+an outing into the wilderness, and got lost. He wandered
+all day until he was very tired and hungry. The
+sun was low when he came to a little pathway. He followed
+it, and it led to a small log cabin. When he knocked, an
+old woman opened the door. He said, "Please, Ma'am, I
+am lost and very hungry, will you give me something to
+eat?"</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 251px;">
+<img src="images/i131.png" width="251" height="400" alt="The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts" title="The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts" />
+<span class="caption">The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The old woman looked sharply at his clothes, and knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+that he was rich, so she said: "Poor people are wise, they
+can take care of themselves in the woods. They don't
+get lost. But you rich people are fools, and I wish you
+would go away."</p>
+
+<p>"I will, if you'll give me something to eat," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>Then the old woman said: "Listen, foolish rich boy,
+in the woods beside you right now is a friend who feeds
+the poor people, maybe she will feed you. She is tall and
+slim, her eyes are brownish purple and her hair is green,
+and by this you may know her&mdash;she has five fingers on one
+hand and seven on the other. Her house is in the brier
+thicket; she climbs to the roof and stands there all day
+waving her hands, and shouting out in wood-talk, 'There
+are cocoanuts in my cellar.'</p>
+
+<p>"Now go and find her, maybe she will feed you. She
+always feeds us poor folks," and the witch slammed the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>The boy was puzzled. As he stood in doubt, there was a
+loud noise, and his friends arrived. They brought him
+the food and comfort that he needed.</p>
+
+<p>Then he said: "I wish to know what that old wood-witch
+meant by the lady with the purple eyes and green hair."
+So he went again to the log cabin and knocked.</p>
+
+<p>When the old woman came, and saw a lot of people about,
+she was frightened for she knew she had been unkind.
+But the boy said: "Now Granny, you needn't be afraid,
+I want you to show me the friend that has seven fingers
+and a cellar full of cocoanuts."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll show you, if you promise to do me no harm," she
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I'll promise," replied the boy.</p>
+
+<p>Then Granny Wood-witch went hobbling to the nearest
+thicket and cackled out loud, as she pointed out a trailing
+vine that had sometimes five leaflets on a stalk and sometimes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+seven. "See, see, that's the lady. See seven fingers on
+that hand and five on this. Now follow her feet down and
+dig in the ground."</p>
+
+<p>They dug and found strings of lovely brown nuts as big
+as walnuts.</p>
+
+<p>"See, see," chuckled the wood-witch. "See the cocoanuts
+in the cellar."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Go forth and look for it, ye Woodcrafters. You will find
+it throughout Eastern America on the edge of every wood.
+Its flower is like a purple-brown sweet-pea, and is in bloom
+all summer long. Follow down its vine, dig out a few of
+the potatoes or nuts, and try them, raw, boiled, or if ye
+wish to eat them as Indian Cake, clean them, cut them in
+slices, dry till hard, pound them up into meal, and make a
+cake the same as you would of oatmeal.</p>
+
+<p>The wild things love them, the Indians love them, and this
+was the bread of the wood-witch. The books call it Bog
+Potato and Ground Nuts. It is the third secret of the
+woods.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 45<br />
+The Mud-dauber Wasp</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">If you</span> look under the roof of any wooden barn in Eastern
+America you are likely to see the nest of the common
+Mud-wasp.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/i134.png" width="300" height="353" alt="The Mud-dauber Wasp (life size)" title="The Mud-dauber Wasp (life size)" />
+<span class="caption">The Mud-dauber Wasp (life size)</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>If you look on warm sunny days along the edge of some
+mud puddle you are sure to see a curious steel-blue wasp,
+with a very thin waist, working away at a lump of mud.
+She seems to be breathing hard with her body, as she works
+with her yellow legs, but she finally goes off laden with a
+gob of mud. This is the Mud-wasp at work, building a
+strong mud-nest for her family. The nest is the one we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+have seen hung under the roof of the shed, always put
+where no rain can reach it.</p>
+
+<p>In the drawing are two of these nests.</p>
+
+<p>Once the cradle is ready, the mother Wasp goes spider-hunting.
+Whenever she can find a spider, she pounces
+on it, and with her sting, she stabs it in the body, so as to
+paralyze it, but not kill it. Then she carries it to the mud
+cell and packs it in, at the far end. Many spiders are caught
+and preserved this way, for they do not usually die though
+they cannot move.</p>
+
+<p>When the cell is full, the Wasp lays an egg on the last
+spider, and seals up the opening with a mud lid.</p>
+
+<p>Very soon the egg hatches out a little white grub which
+begins on the spider next to him, eating the legs first, and the
+body last, so as to keep it alive as long as possible, though
+of course the spider has no feeling. Then he eats the next
+spider, and the next, growing as he eats, until he nearly
+fills the cell, and the spiders are all eaten up.</p>
+
+<p>Now the grub goes to sleep, and next spring comes out as
+a full-grown Mud-wasp to do exactly as the mother did,
+though it never saw that Mother or had a lesson from any
+one in the many strange things it must do to live.</p>
+
+<p>I went into my boat-house to-day, November 20, 1919,
+to get a mud nest for this drawing. There were 86 on the
+roof; some of them with 20 or 30 cells, and besides there
+was a lot of paper nests by other Wasps. The nest I took
+had two cells, one open and empty, and the other with a
+mud lid on tight. This held a long, shiny brown transparent
+case, in which was a white grub much too small for the
+big coat he was wearing. The grub was sound asleep,
+and would have come out next spring, as a big steel-blue
+Mud-wasp had I let him alone. But there are plenty of
+Mud-wasps so I fed him to the Chicadees, which likely is
+what Mother Carey would have done.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 273px;">
+<img src="images/i136.png" width="273" height="400" alt="The Cicada and the Katydid (life size)" title="The Cicada and the Katydid (life size)" />
+<span class="caption">The Cicada and the Katydid (life size)</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 46<br />
+The Cicada and the Katydid</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> upon a time, long, long ago, the birds whose job
+it was to make the woods merry with their songs, decided
+to go on strike. They said, "We have sung all day, all
+springtime, and half way through the summer, but now we
+are moulting, the weather is frightfully hot; we need a rest,
+and we are going to stop singing, to take a holiday."</p>
+
+<p>Then Dame Nature, who is sometimes called the All-mother,
+or Mother Carey, said: "Dear me, this will never
+do! No songbirds, woods silent all through the dog-days.
+Now who will be strike-breakers and volunteer to supply the
+music till the birds get once more in a good humour?"</p>
+
+<p>Then up at that question got a long-winged insect
+like a big fly, and a long-legged insect like a green grasshopper,
+and both said at once, "I will." Amid low murmurs
+of "Scab! Scab!" from many of the Wood-birds.</p>
+
+<p>"You. I forgot that you two had any voices at all!"
+said Mother Carey.</p>
+
+<p>Then the long-winged creature, whose name is Cicada,
+began, "True, my voice isn't much, but I have invented a
+most successful musical Castanet. Listen!"</p>
+
+<p>Then he began an extraordinary racket like an alarm
+clock, a threshing machine, and a buzz-saw all going together.
+He filled the grove with his noise, and set all the
+woodfolk laughing with his funny performance. Though,
+of course, he didn't mean to be funny; he thought it was fine.</p>
+
+<p>Then as the Cicada ceased, Mother Carey said to the
+Green Hopper, whose name was Katy, "Now, Katy, what
+can you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not brag of my voice, dear Mother," said she, "but
+I am a thrilling performer on the violin."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then she humped herself up over a green fiddle that she
+had under her cloak, and nearly deafened them with its
+hoarse screechings.</p>
+
+<p>There was no doubt that these two could make as much
+noise as a wood full of birds; both were eager to take sole
+charge, and a bitter dispute arose as to whose idea it was
+first.</p>
+
+<p>But Mother Carey settled it by dividing the time. "You,"
+she said to Cicada, "can take charge of the music by day,
+and you," she said to the Green one, "must take it up at
+sundown in place of the nightingale, and keep it up, till
+the night breaks, and both of you continue till the frost
+comes, or until the birds are back on the job."</p>
+
+<p>That is how it all came about.</p>
+
+<p>But there is considerable feeling yet among the Katies,
+that they should get all the night work, and never be seen
+performing. They think that their ancestor was the original
+inventor of this cheap substitute for bird song. And
+it is made all the worse by a division among themselves.
+Some say "she did" and some say "she didn't." If you
+notice in early August, they are nearly all shouting, "Katy-did."
+Then by the end of the month, "Katy-didn't" is
+stronger. In September it is still mixed. In October
+their work is over, the chorus ended, but you hear an occasional
+"Katy-did" and finally as late as Indian Summer,
+which is Hallowe'en, I have heard the last of the fiddlers
+rasp out "she did"; and do it in daytime, too, as though to
+flout the followers of Cicada. And, if the last word be
+truth, as they say, we may consider it settled, that Katy
+really and truly <i>did</i>. And yet I believe next year the same
+dispute will arise, and we shall have the noisy argument all
+over again.</p>
+
+<p>If you look at the portraits of Cicada, the Hotweather-bug
+or Locust, and of the Katydid, you will not see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+their musical instruments very plainly, but believe me they
+have them; and you can hear them any late summer hot-weather
+time, in any part of the Eastern States and some
+parts of southern Canada.</p>
+
+<p>And now let me finish with a secret. Katy is not a lady at
+all, but a he-one disguised in green silk stockings, and a green
+satin dress.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 47<br />
+The Digger Wasp that Killed the Cicada</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Strange</span> things are done in the realm of Mother Carey;
+strange things and cruel. At least so they seem to us, for
+we do not know the plan that is behind them. We know
+only that sometimes love must be cruel. I am going to
+tell you of a strange happening, that you may see any hot
+day in August. And this is how it came about.</p>
+
+<p>At that meeting in the woods when the Cicada and the
+Katydid undertook to be musicians, while the birds were on
+strike, there was one strong insect who gave off an angry
+"<i>Bizz, Bizz</i>" that sounded like "<i>Scab, Scab</i>." That was
+the big yellow-and-black Digger Wasp, the biggest of the
+wasps, with a sting that is as bad as that of a baby rattlesnake.
+And that very day she declared war on the Cicada
+and his kind. The Katydids she could not touch, because
+the Wasp cannot see at night.</p>
+
+<p>But the Cicada was easy to find. As soon as the day
+got hot, and that awful buzzing began in the trees, the Big
+Digger got her sting ready, and went booming along in
+the direction of the sound.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 308px;">
+<img src="images/i140.png" width="308" height="400" alt="The Digger Wasp (life size)" title="The Digger Wasp (life size)" />
+<span class="caption">The Digger Wasp (life size)</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Now Mother Carey had given the Cicada bright eyes
+and strong wings, and it was his own business to take care
+of himself; but he was so pleased with his music that he
+never saw the fierce Digger Wasp, till she charged on him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+And before he could spread his wings, she had stabbed him
+through.</p>
+
+<p>His song died away in a few shrieks, and then the Cicada
+lay still. But not dead, for the Digger had stuck her poison
+dagger into the nerve centre, so that he was paralyzed and
+helpless, but still living.</p>
+
+<p>Now the Digger set about a plan. She wanted to get
+that Cicada body into her den, to feed her young ones with
+it. But the Cicada was bigger and heavier than she was,
+so that she could not carry it. However, she was bent on
+doing it, she got all ready, took tight hold with her claws,
+then swooped from the tree, flying as strongly as she could,
+till the weight of the Cicada brought her to the ground
+within fifty feet, while the den was fully a hundred feet
+away. But the Wasp dragged the Cicada up the trunk of
+another tree, then took another long sloping flight as before.
+One more climb and skid down, brought her to her den&mdash;a
+hole in a bank that she had dug out; that is why she is called
+the Digger Wasp. The passage was a foot long and had a
+crook in the middle. At the end was a round room an
+inch and a half high. Here the Digger left her victim's
+body and right on its breast, to one side, laid an egg.</p>
+
+<p>This hatched in two or three days, and began to feed on
+the Cicada. In a week it had eaten the Cicada and grown
+to be a big fat grub. Then it spun a cocoon, and made
+itself into a bundle-baby, resting all autumn and all winter
+in that dark den.</p>
+
+<p>But when the spring came with its glorious wakening up,
+great changes came over the bundle-baby of the Digger.
+It threw off the cocoon and its outer skin, and came forth
+from the gloom into the sunshine, a big strong Digger
+Wasp with a sting of its own, and a deadly feud with all
+screaming Cicadas. Although it never saw its mother,
+or got any lessons from her, it goes after the buzzing hot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>weather-bugs,
+when August comes, and treats them exactly
+as she did.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 48<br />
+How the Indian Summer Came</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Wahkonda</span>, the Great Spirit, the Ruler of the World,
+had found pleasure the whole summer long in making
+mountains, lakes, and forests. Then when the autumn
+came, and the leaves fell from the trees, He lighted His pipe
+and sat down to look over the things He had made.</p>
+
+<p>As He did so, the north wind arose for Cold Time was
+coming, and blew the smoke and ashes of the pipe into His
+face. Then He said: "Cease your blowing, all ye winds,
+until I have finished smoking." So, of course, there was
+dead calm.</p>
+
+<p>Wahkonda smoked for ten days, and during all that time
+there were no clouds in the sky, for there was no wind to
+bring them; there was unbroken, calm sunny weather.
+But neither was there any wind to carry off the smoke,
+so it hung, as the teepee smoke hangs at sunrise, and it
+drifted over the valleys and forests in a blue haze.</p>
+
+<p>Then at last when the Great Spirit finished His smoke
+and His meditation, He emptied out His pipe. That was the
+signal, the north wind broke loose, and came howling down
+from the hills, driving the leaves before it, and warning all
+wild things to be ready, for soon there would be winter in
+the woods.</p>
+
+<p>And it hath been so ever since. When the leaves have
+fallen and before yet the Ice-king is here, there come, for a
+little while, the calm dreamy days, when the Great Spirit
+is smoking His pipe, and the smoke is on the land. The Red-men
+call them the Smoking Days, but we call it Indian
+Summer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THINGS TO SEE IN WINTERTIME</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i144.png" width="600" height="440" alt="The North Star or Home Star" title="The North Star or Home Star" />
+<span class="caption">The North Star or Home Star</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Things to See in Wintertime</h2>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 49<br />
+The North Star, or the Home Star</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">If you</span> are going to be a Woodcrafter, you must begin
+by knowing the North Star, because that is the star
+which will show you the way home, if you get lost in
+the woods at night. That is why the Indians call it the
+"Home Star."</p>
+
+<p>But first, I must tell you how it came to be, and the story
+begins a long, long time ago.</p>
+
+<p>In those far-off days, we are told, there were two wonderful
+hunters, one named Orion, and the other named Bo&ouml;tes
+(Bo-o-tees). Orion hunted everything and I shall have
+to leave him for another story. Bo&ouml;tes was an ox-driver
+and only hunted bears to save his cattle. One day he
+went after a Mother Bear, that had one little cub.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/i146.png" width="300" height="299" alt="The Pappoose on the Squaw&#39;s Back" title="The Pappoose on the Squaw&#39;s Back" />
+<span class="caption">The Pappoose on the Squaw&#39;s Back</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He chased them up to the top of a mountain so high, that
+they leaped off into the sky, and just as they were going,
+Bo&ouml;tes shot his arrows after them. His very first arrow
+hit the Little Bear in the tail&mdash;they had long tails in those
+days&mdash;and pinned him to the sky. There he has hung ever
+since, swinging round and round, on the arrow in his tail,
+while his mother runs bawling around him, with Bo&ouml;tes
+and his dogs chasing her. He shot arrows into her tail,
+which was long and curved, into her body, and into her
+shoulder. Seven big arrows he shot, and there they are yet,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+in the form of a dipper pointing always to the cub who is
+called the "Little Bear." The shining head of the big arrow
+in the end of the Little Bear's tail is called the North Star
+or Pole Star. You can always tell which is the North Star,
+by the two Pointers; these are the two bright stars that
+make the outer side of the Dipper on the Big Bear's
+shoulder. A line drawn through them, points out the
+North Star.</p>
+
+<p>The Dipper, that is the Big Bear, goes round and round
+the Pole Star, once in about twenty-four hours; so that sometimes
+the Pointers are over, sometimes under, to left or to
+right; but always pointing out the Pole Star or North Star.</p>
+
+<p>This star shows nearly the true north; and, knowing that,
+a traveller can find his way in any strange country, so long
+as he can see this friendly Home Star.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 50<br />
+The Pappoose on the Squaw's Back</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Now</span> that you know how the Bears and the Big Dipper
+came, you should know the Indian story of the Old Squaw.</p>
+
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/i148.png" width="300" height="284" alt="Orion Fighting the Bull" title="Orion Fighting the Bull" />
+<span class="caption">Orion Fighting the Bull</span>
+</div><p>First find the bright star that is at the bend of the Dipper
+handle. This is called the "Old Squaw"; on her back is a
+tiny star that they call "The Pappoose."</p>
+
+<p>As soon as an Indian boy is old enough to understand, his
+mother takes him out into the night when it is calm and
+clear, and without any moon or any bright lights near,
+and says, "My child, yonder is the Old Squaw, the second
+of the seven stars; she is going over the top of the hill; on
+her back she carries her pappoose. Tell me, my child, can
+you see the pappoose?"</p>
+
+
+<p>Then the little redskin gazes, and from his mother's
+hand he takes two pebbles, a big one and a little one, and he
+sets them together on her palm, to show how the two stars<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
+seem to him. When the mother is sure that he did see
+them clearly, she rejoices. She goes to the fire and drops
+a pinch of tobacco into it, for incense to carry her message,
+then looking toward the sky she says: "Great Spirit, I
+thank Thee that my child has the eyes of a hunter."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>These things are not new, O Woodcrafter. The wise
+men of our race call the Big Star "Mizar" one of the chariot
+horses, and the little star "Alcor" or the Rider. In all ages
+it has been considered proof of first-class eyes, to see this
+little star. Can you see it? Have you the eyes of a hunter?</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 51<br />
+Orion the Hunter, and His Fight With the Bull</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">In the</span> 49th Tale I told you there were two giants among
+the mighty hunters in the sky, Bo&ouml;tes, whose adventure with
+the Bears you have already heard, and Orion. (O-ry&acute;-on).</p>
+
+<p>Orion was the most famous of all. In his day men had no
+guns; they had nothing but clubs, spears, and arrows to fight
+with, and the beasts were very big and fierce as well as
+plentiful, yet Orion went whenever he was needed, armed
+chiefly with his club, fought the wild beasts, all alone, killing
+them or driving them out, and saving the people, for the
+joy of doing it. Once he killed a lion with his club, and
+ever afterward wore the lion's skin on his arm. Bears
+were as nothing to him; he killed them as easily as most
+hunters would rabbits, but he found his match, when he
+went after a ferocious wild Bull as big as a young elephant.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the Bull saw him, it came rushing at him.
+It happened to be on the other side of a stream, and as it
+plunged in, Orion drew his bow and fired seven quick shots
+at the Bull's heart. But the monster was coming head on,
+and the seven arrows all stuck in its shoulder, making it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
+madder than ever. So Orion waved his lion skin in his left
+hand, and with his club in the right, ran to meet the Bull,
+as it was scrambling up the bank from the water.</p>
+
+<p>The first whack of the club tumbled the Bull back into
+the water, but it turned aside, went to another place, and
+charged again. And again Orion landed a fearful blow
+with the club on the monster's curly forehead.</p>
+
+<p>By this time, all the animals had gathered around to see
+the big fight, and the gods in heaven got so interested that
+they shouted out, "Hold on, that is good enough for us to
+see. Come up here."</p>
+
+<p>So they moved the mighty Hunter and the Bull, and the
+River and all the animals, up to heaven, and the fight has
+gone on there ever since.</p>
+
+<p>In the picture I have shown a lot of animals besides Orion
+and the Bull, but the only things I want you to look now
+in the sky, are Orion's belt with the three stars on it, and
+the Pleiades on the Bull's shoulder, the seven spots where
+the seven arrows struck.</p>
+
+<p>And remember these stars cannot be seen in summer,
+they pass over us in winter time. You can find Orion by
+drawing a straight line across the rim of the Dipper, beginning
+at the inner or handle side, passing <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'throught he'">through the</ins> outer
+or Pointers side, and continued for twice the length of the
+Dipper, handle and all, this will bring you to Betelgeuze,
+the big star in the Giant's right shoulder, below that are the
+three stars of his belt, sometimes called the "Three Kings."</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 52<br />
+The Pleiades, that Orion Fired at the Bull</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/i151.png" width="300" height="248" alt="The Pleiades" title="The Pleiades" />
+<span class="caption">The Pleiades</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">When</span> late autumn comes the Pleiades (Ply'-a-dees)
+appear in the evening sky to the eastward. These are the
+seven shots in the Bull's shoulder, the seven arrows from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+Orion's bow. The Guide can locate them by continuing
+the line of Orion's belt, eight times the length of the belt to
+the right, as one faces the Hunter, so Orion must have been
+very close indeed. At first they look like a faint light with a
+few bright pin-points scattered through. Tennyson described
+them as:</p>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+Glittering like a swarm of fireflies<br />
+Tangled in a silver braid.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>The best time to see them is some clear night about
+Christmas, when there is no moon, and the Pleiades are
+nearly overhead, above the mist and smoke of the horizon,
+and there are no electric lights near by.</p>
+
+<p>Study them attentively. Make a tube of your two hands
+and look through. Look on the ground, then look back
+again; look not straight at them, but a little to one side;
+and at last, mark down on paper how many you can clearly
+see, putting a big spot for the big one, and little spots for
+the little ones. Poor eyes see nothing but a haze; fairly
+good eyes see four of the pin-points; good eyes see five;
+the best of eyes see seven. I can see seven on a clear winter
+night when there are no clouds and no moon. This is as
+high as you need expect to get, although it is said that some
+men in clear air on a mountain top have seen ten, while
+the telescope shows that there are 2,000.</p>
+
+<p>In taking these eyesight tests you may use your spectacles
+if you usually wear them.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 53<br />
+The Twin Stars</h3>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+<span class="smcap">Two-Bright-Eyes</span> went wandering out<br />
+To chase the Whippoorwill;<br />
+Two-Bright-Eyes got lost and left<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>Our teepee&mdash;oh, so still!<br />
+<br />
+Two-Bright-Eyes was carried up<br />
+To sparkle in the skies<br />
+And look like stars&mdash;but we know well<br />
+That that's our lost Bright-Eyes.<br />
+<br />
+She is looking for the camp,<br />
+She would come back if she could;<br />
+She still peeps thro' the tree-tops<br />
+For the teepee in the wood.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 54<br />
+Stoutheart and His Black Cravat</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Do you</span> know the bird that wears a black cravat, which
+he changes once a year? It is the English Sparrow, the
+commonest of all our birds. His hair is gray, but he must
+have been red-headed once, for just back of his ears there
+is still a band of red; and his collar, maybe, was white once,
+but it is very dingy now. His shirt and vest are gray; his
+coat is brown with black streaks&mdash;a sort of sporting tweed.
+The new cravat comes when the new feathers grow in late
+summer; and, at first, it is barred with gray as if in half
+mourning for his sins. As the gray tips wear off, it becomes
+solid black; that is, in March or April. In summer, it
+gets rusty and worn out; so every year he puts on a new
+one in late August.</p>
+
+<p>The hen sparrow is quite different and wears no cravat.
+She has a black-and-brown cape of the sporting pattern,
+but her dress is everywhere of brownish Quaker gray.</p>
+
+<p>The song of the English Sparrow is loud and short; but
+he tries to make up, by singing it over and over again, for
+many minutes.</p>
+
+<p>He eats many bad bugs, and would be well liked, if he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+did not steal the nests and the food of Bluebirds, Woodpeckers,
+Swallows, and others that are prettier and more
+useful birds, as well as far better singers than he is.</p>
+
+<p>But there is much to admire in the Sparrow. I do not
+know of any bird that is braver, or more ready to find a way
+out of trouble; and if he cannot find a way, he cheerfully
+makes the best of it.</p>
+
+<p>Some years ago I was at Duluth during a bitterly cold
+spell of weather. The thermometer registered 20&deg; or 30&deg;
+below zero, and the blizzard wind was blowing. Oh my,
+it was cold. But out in the street were dozens of English
+Sparrows chirruping and feeding; thriving just as they do
+in warmer lands and in fine weather.</p>
+
+<p>When black night came down, colder yet, I wondered
+what the little stout-hearts would do. Crawl into some
+hole or bird-house, maybe? or dive into a snowdrift? as
+many native birds do.</p>
+
+<p>I found out; and the answer was most unexpected.</p>
+
+<p>In front of the hotel was a long row of electric lights. At
+nine o'clock, when I chanced to open the window for a
+breath of air, my eye fell on these; on every bulb was an
+English Sparrow sound asleep with the overarching reflector
+to turn the storm, and the electric bulb below him to warm
+his toes. My hat is off. Our Department of Agriculture
+may declare war on the Sparrow; but what is the use?
+Don't you think that a creature who is not afraid of blizzard
+or darkness, and knows how to use electric lights, is going
+to win its life-battle, and that he surely is here to stay?</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 55<br />
+Tracks, and the Stories They Tell</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 284px;">
+<img src="images/i155.png" width="284" height="400" alt="Tracks, and the Stories They Tell" title="Tracks, and the Stories They Tell" />
+<span class="caption">Tracks, and the Stories They Tell</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sometimes</span>, in town, just after rain, when the gutters
+are wet, and the pavement dry, look for the tracks of some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+Dog that walked with wet feet on the pavement. You will
+find that they are like "a" in the drawing. A Dog has five
+toes on his front feet, but only four touch the pavement as
+he walks. The claws also touch, and make each a little
+mark.</p>
+
+<p>Now look for the track of a Cat; it is somewhat like that
+of the Dog, but it is smaller, softer, and the claws do not
+show (b). They are too good to be wasted on a pavement;
+she keeps them pulled in, so they are sharp when she has
+use for them.</p>
+
+<p>Make a drawing of each of these, and make it life size.</p>
+
+<p>When there is dust on the road, or snow, look for Sparrow
+tracks; they are like "c."</p>
+
+<p>Note how close together the front three toes are. The
+inner two are really fast together, so they cannot be separated
+far and the hind toe is very large. Last of all, note
+that the tracks go two and two, because the Sparrow goes
+"hop hop, hop." These things mean that the Sparrow is
+really a tree bird; and you will see that, though often on the
+ground he gets up into a tree when he wishes to feel safe.</p>
+
+<p>Look for some Chicken tracks in the dust; they are like
+"d" in the drawing because the Chicken does not go "hop,
+hop, hop" like the Sparrow, but "walk, walk, walk." The
+Chicken is a ground bird. Most of the song birds hop
+like the Sparrow, and most of the game birds walk like a
+Chicken. But the Robin (e) goes sometimes hopping and
+sometimes running, because part of his life is in the trees,
+and part on the ground.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 56<br />
+A Rabbit's Story of His Life, Written by Himself</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Yes</span>, the Rabbit wrote it himself and about himself in
+the oldest writing on earth, that is the tracks of his feet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 277px;">
+<img src="images/i157.png" width="277" height="400" alt="A WOODCRAFT TRAGEDY As shown by the Tracks and Signs in the Snow" title="A WOODCRAFT TRAGEDY As shown by the Tracks and Signs in the Snow" />
+<span class="caption">A WOODCRAFT TRAGEDY<br />As shown by the Tracks and Signs in the Snow</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In February of 1885, one morning after a light snowfall,
+I went tramping through the woods north of Toronto, when
+I came on something that always makes me stop and look&mdash;the
+fresh tracks of an animal. This was the track of a Cottontail
+Rabbit and I followed its windings with thrills
+of interest. There it began under a little brush pile (a);
+the bed of brown leaves showing that he settled there, before
+the snow-fall began. Now here (b) he leaped out after
+the snow ceased, for the tracks are sharp, and sat looking
+around. See the two long marks of his hind feet and in
+front the two smaller prints of his front feet; behind
+is the mark made by his tail, showing that he was sitting
+on it.</p>
+
+<p>Then he had taken alarm at something and dashed off at
+speed (c), for now his hind feet are tracking ahead of the
+front feet, as in most bounding forefoots, and the faster he
+goes, the farther ahead those hind feet get.</p>
+
+<p>See now how he dodged about here and there, this way
+and that, among the trees, as though trying to escape
+some dreaded enemy (c, d, e, f).</p>
+
+<p>But what enemy? There are no other tracks, and still
+the wild jumping went on.</p>
+
+<p>I began to think that the Rabbit was crazy, flying from
+an imaginary foe; possibly that I was on the track of a
+March Hare. But at "g" I found on the trail for the first
+time a few drops of blood. That told me that the Rabbit
+was in real danger but gave no clue to its source.</p>
+
+<p>At "h" I found more blood and at "j" I got a new thrill,
+for there, plain enough on each side of the Rabbit track, were
+finger-like marks, and the truth dawned on me that these
+were the prints of great wings. The Rabbit was fleeing from
+an eagle, a hawk, or an owl. Some twenty yards farther "k"
+I found in the snow the remains of the luckless Rabbit
+partly devoured. Then I knew that the eagle had not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+done it, for he would have taken the Rabbit's body away, not
+eaten him up there. So it must have been a hawk or an
+owl. I looked for something to tell me which, and I got it.
+Right by the Rabbit's remains was the large twin-toed
+track (l) that told me that an owl had been there, and
+that therefore he was the criminal. Had it been a hawk
+the mark would have been as shown in the left lower corner,
+three toes forward and one back, whereas the owl usually
+sets his foot with two toes forward and two backward, as
+in the sketch. This, then, I felt sure was the work of an
+owl. But which owl? There were two, maybe three kinds
+in that valley. I wished to know exactly and, looking
+for further evidence, I found on a sapling near by a big
+soft, downy, owlish feather (m) with three brown bars across
+it; which told me plainly that a Barred Owl or Hoot Owl
+had been there recently, and that he was almost certainly
+the killer of the Cottontail.</p>
+
+<p>This may sound like a story of Sherlock Holmes among
+the animals&mdash;a flimsy tale of circumstantial evidence. But
+while I was making my notes, what should come flying
+through the woods but the Owl himself, back to make
+another meal, no doubt. He alighted on a branch just
+above my head, barely ten feet up, and there gave me the
+best of proof, next to eye witness of the deed, that all I had
+gathered from the tracks and signs in the snow was quite
+true.</p>
+
+<p>I had no camera in those days, but had my sketch book,
+and as he sat, I made a drawing which hangs to-day among
+my pictures that are beyond price.</p>
+
+<p>Here, then, is a chapter of wild life which no man saw,
+which man could not have seen, for the presence of a man
+would have prevented it. And yet we know it was true,
+for it was written by the Rabbit himself.</p>
+
+<p>If you have the seeing eye, you will be able to read many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+strange and thrilling happenings written for you thus in
+the snow, the mud, and even the sand and the dust.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 57<br />
+The Singing Hawk</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Listen</span>, Guide and young folk, I want to add another
+bird to your list to-day; another secret of the woods to your
+learning.</p>
+
+<p>I want you to know the Singing Hawk. Our nature writers
+nearly always make their hawks scream, but I want you
+to know a wonderful Hawk, right in your own woods, that
+really and truly sings, and loves to do it.</p>
+
+<p>It is a long time ago since I first met him. I was going
+past a little ravine north of Toronto, on a bright warm mid-winter
+day, when a loud call came ringing down the valley
+and the bird that made it, a large hawk, appeared, sailing
+and singing, <i>kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-ye-o, ky-ye-o,
+ky-oodle, ky-oodle, kee-o, kee-o</i> and on; over and over again,
+in a wild-wood tone that thrilled me. He sailed with set
+wings to a near-by tree, and ceased not his stirring call; there
+was no answer from the woods, but there was a vibrant
+response in my heart. It moved me through and through.
+How could it do so much, when it was so simple? I did not
+know how to tell it in words, but I felt it in my boyish soul.
+It expressed all the wild-wood life and spirit, the joy of
+living, the happy brightness of the day, the thrill of the
+coming spring, the glory of flight; all, all it seemed to voice
+in its simple ringing, "<i>kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-yi-o</i>"; never
+before had I seen a bird so evidently rejoicing in his flight;
+then singing, it sailed away from sight; but the song has
+lingered ever since in the blessed part of my memory. I
+often heard it afterward, and many times caught the Blue-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>jay
+in a feeble imitation of its trumpet note. I never forgot
+the exact timbre of that woodland call; so when at length,
+long after, I traced it to what is known in books as the "Red-shouldered
+Hawk," it was a little triumph and a little disappointment.
+The books made it all so commonplace.
+They say it has a loud call like "kee-o"; but they do not
+say that it has a bugle note that can stir your very soul if
+you love the wild things, and voices more than any other
+thing on wings the glory of flight, the blessedness of being
+alive.</p>
+
+<p>To-day, as I write, is December 2, 1917; and this morning
+as I walked in my homeland, a sailing, splendid hawk came
+pouring out the old refrain, "<i>kee-yi-o, kee-yi-o, kee-oh</i>."
+Oh, it was glorious! I felt little prickles in the roots of
+my hair as he went over; and I rejoiced above all things
+to realize that he sang just as well as, yes maybe a little
+better than that first one did, that I heard in the winter
+woods some forty years ago.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 58<br />
+The Fingerboard Goldenrod</h3>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Oh, Mother Carey!</span> All-mother! Lover of us little
+plants as well as the big trees! Listen to us little slender
+Goldenrods.</p>
+
+<p>"We want to be famous, Mother Carey, but our stems are
+so little and our gold is so small, that we cannot count in
+the great golden show of autumn, for that is the glory
+of our tall cousins. They do not need us, and they do not
+want us. Won't you give us a little job all our own, our
+very own, for we long to be doing something?"</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 258px;">
+<img src="images/i162.png" width="258" height="400" alt="The Compass Goldenrod Pointing Toward the North" title="The Compass Goldenrod Pointing Toward the North" />
+<span class="caption">The Compass Goldenrod Pointing Toward the North</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Then Mother Carey smiled so softly and sweetly and
+said: "Little slender Goldenrods, I am going to give you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+something to do that will win you great honour among all
+who understand. In the thick woods the moss on the trunk
+shows the north side; when the tree is alone and in the open,
+the north side is known by its few branches; but on the
+open prairie, there is no plant that stands up like a finger
+post to point the north for travellers, while the sun is
+hid."</p>
+
+<p>"This, then do, little slender Goldenrods; face the noon
+sun, and as you stand, throw back your heads proudly, for
+you are in service now. Throw back your heads till
+your golden plumes are pointing backward to the north&mdash;so
+shall you have an honourable calling and travellers
+will be glad that I have made you a fingerboard on the
+plains."</p>
+
+<p>So the slender Goldenrod and his brothers rejoiced and
+they stood up straight, facing the noon sun, and bent backward,
+throwing out their chests till their golden caps and
+plumes were pointed to the north.</p>
+
+<p>And many a traveller, on cloudy days and dark nights,
+has been cheered by the sight of the Compass Goldenrod,
+pointing to the north and helping him to get home.</p>
+
+<p>This does not mean that every one of them points to the
+north all the time. They do their best but there are always
+some a little wrong. Yet you can tell the direction at night
+or on dark days if you look at a bed of them that grew out
+in full sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>"Yon is the north," they keep on singing, all summer
+long, and even when winter comes to kill the plant, and end
+its bloom, the brave little stalk stands up there, in snow to
+its waist, bravely pointing out the north, to those who have
+learned its secret. And not only in winter storms, but I
+have even found them still on guard after the battle,
+when the snow melted in springtime. Once when I was
+a boy, I found a whole bank of them by a fence, when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
+the snow went off in April, and I wrote in their honour
+this verse:</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Some of them bowed are, and broken<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And battered and lying low</span><br />
+But the few that are left stand like spearmen staunch<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each pointing his pike at the foe.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 59<br />
+Woodchuck Day, February Second
+Sixth Secret of the Woods</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 285px;">
+<img src="images/i164.png" width="285" height="400" alt="WOODCHUCK DAY: COLD WEATHER &quot;To be, or not to be&quot;" title="WOODCHUCK DAY: COLD WEATHER &quot;To be, or not to be&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">WOODCHUCK DAY: COLD WEATHER<br />
+&quot;To be, or not to be&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It was</span> Monapini that told Ruth Pilgrim, and Ruth
+Pilgrim told the little Pilgrims, and the little Pilgrims told
+the little Dutchmen, and the little Dutchmen told it to all
+the little Rumours, and the grandchild of one of these little
+Rumours told it to me, so you see I have it straight and on
+good authority, this Sixth Secret of the Woods.</p>
+
+<p>The story runs that every year the wise Woodchuck retires
+to sleep in his cozy home off the subway that he made,
+when the leaves begin to fall, and he has heard the warning.
+Mother Carey has sung the death-song of the red leaves;
+sung in a soft voice that yet reaches the farthest hills:</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"Gone are the summer birds.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Hide, hide, ye slow-foots.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Hide, for the blizzard comes."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>And Mother Earth, who is Maka Ina, cries to her own:
+"Come, hide in my bosom, my little ones." And the wise
+Woodchuck waits not till the blizzard comes, but hides
+while he may make good housing, and sleeps for three long
+moons.</p>
+
+<p>But ever on the second sun of the Hunger-moon (and this
+is the Sixth Secret) he rouses up and ventures forth. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+if so be that the sun is in the sky, and the snow on the bosom
+of his Mother Earth, so that his shadow shall appear on it,
+he goeth back to sleep again for one and a half moons more&mdash;for
+six long weeks. But if the sky be dark with clouds
+and the earth all bared of snow so that no shadow shows,
+he says, "The blizzard time is over, there is food when the
+ground is bare," and ends his sleep.</p>
+
+<p>This is the tale and this much I know is true: In the
+North, if he venture forth on Woodchuck Day, he sees both
+sun and snow, so sleeps again; in the South there is no snow
+that day, and he sleeps no more; and in the land between,
+he sleeps in a cold winter, and in an open winter rouses to
+live his life.</p>
+
+<p>These things I have seen, and they fit with the story of
+Monapini, so you see the little Rumour told me true.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THINGS TO KNOW</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 262px;">
+<img src="images/i168.png" width="262" height="400" alt="How the Pine Tree Tells Its Own Story" title="How the Pine Tree Tells Its Own Story" />
+<span class="caption">How the Pine Tree Tells Its Own Story</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Things to Know</h2>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 60<br />
+How the Pine Tree Tells Its Own Story</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Suppose</span> you are in the woods, and your woods in
+Canada, or the Northern States; you would see
+at once two kinds of trees: Pines and Hardwoods.</p>
+
+<p>Pines, or Evergreens, have leaves like needles, and are
+green all the year round; they bear cones and have soft wood.</p>
+
+<p>The Hardwoods, or Broadleaves, sometimes called Shedders,
+have broad leaves that are shed in the fall; they bear
+nuts or berries and have hard wood.</p>
+
+<p>Remember this, every tree that grows has flowers and
+seeds; and the tree can always be told by its seeds, that is,
+its fruit. If you find a tree with cones on it, you know it belongs
+to the Pine family. If you find one with broad leaves
+and nuts or berries, it belongs to the Hardwoods.<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></p>
+
+<p>Of these the Pines always seem to me more interesting.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>In September, 1002, I had a good chance to study Pine
+trees in the mountains of Idaho. There was a small one
+that had to be cut down, so I made careful drawings of it.
+It was fourteen years old, and across the stump it showed one
+ring of wood for each year of growth, and a circle of branches
+on the trunk for each year. Notice that between the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+branches, the trunk did <i>not</i> taper; it was an even cylinder,
+but got suddenly smaller at each knot by the same
+amount of wood as was needed by those branches for their
+wood.</p>
+
+<p>If we begin in the centre of the stump, and at the bottom
+of the trunk, we find that the little tree tells us its own story
+of its life and troubles. Its first year, judging by the bottom
+section of the trunk (No. 1) and by the inmost ring, was just
+ordinary. Next year according to section 2 and ring 2,
+it had a fine season and grew nearly twice as much as the
+first year. The third year the baby Pine had a very hard
+time, and nearly died. Maybe it was a dry summer, so
+the little tree grew only 2-1/2 inches higher while the ring
+of wood it added was no thicker than a sheet of paper.
+Next year, the fourth, it did better. And the next was
+about its best year, for it grew 7-1/2 inches higher, and put on
+a fine fat ring of wood, as you see.</p>
+
+<p>In its eleventh year, it had some new troubles; either the
+season was dry, or the trees about too shady, or maybe
+disease attacked it. For it grew but a poor shoot on the
+top, and the ring of wood on the stump is about the thinnest
+of all.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, a saw-cut along the second joint showed but
+thirteen rings, and the third but twelve while one through
+the top joint, the one which grew this year, showed but a
+single ring.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the Pine tree has in itself a record of its whole life;
+and this is easy to read when the tree is small; but in later
+life the lower limbs disappear, and the only complete record
+is in the rings of growth that show on the stump. These
+never fail to tell the truth.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, you are not to go around cutting down trees
+merely to count their rings and read their history, but you
+should look at the rings whenever a new stump gives you a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+good chance. Then Hardwoods as well as Pines will spread
+before you the chapters of their life; one ring for each year
+that they have lived.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> The Guide will note that there are rare exceptions to these rules.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 61<br />
+Blazes</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">All</span> hunters and Indians have signs to let their people
+know the way. Some of these signs are on trees, and are
+called "Blazes." One of those much used is a little piece
+of bark chipped off to show the white wood; it means: "This
+is the way, or the place." Another sign is like an arrow,
+and means: "Over there," or "Go in that direction." No
+matter what language they speak, the blazes tell everyone
+alike. So a blaze is a simple mark that tells us something
+without using words or letters, and it depends on
+where it is placed for part of its meaning.</p>
+
+<p>On the following page are some blazes used in our towns
+to-day. You will find many more if you look, some in
+books; some on the adjoining page.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 263px;">
+<img src="images/i172.png" width="263" height="400" alt="BLAZES." title="BLAZES." />
+</div>
+<h3>TALE 62<br />
+
+Totems<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor"><small>[D]</small></a></h3>
+
+
+
+<p>A Totem is a simple form used as the emblem or symbol of
+a man, a group of men, an animal, or an idea; it does not use
+or refer to words or letters, so it is the same in all languages.
+Unlike the blaze it does not depend on its position for part
+of its meaning.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 277px;">
+<img src="images/i173.png" width="277" height="400" alt="Some well known TOTEMS" title="Some well known TOTEMS" />
+</div>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 276px;">
+<img src="images/i174.png" width="276" height="400" alt="Indian Symbols" title="Indian Symbols" />
+<span class="caption">Indian Symbols</span>
+</div>
+<p>Among peoples that cannot read or write, each leading
+man had a Totem that he used, instead of writing his name.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>
+He put this mark on his property, and at length put it on
+his shield and armour to distinguish him in battle. Out
+of this grew heraldry.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>Modern trade-marks are Totems though often spoiled
+by words or letters added. The Totem continues in use
+because it is so easy to see a long way off, and can be understood
+by all, no matter what their language. Most of
+the great railway companies have a Totem and the use of
+such things is increasing to-day.</p>
+
+<p>Here in the drawing are some Totems seen daily in our
+towns. Doubtless you can add to the number.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> The Guide will remember that Totemism and Tabuism were ideas which
+grew up long after the use of Totems began.</p></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 63<br />
+Symbols</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">If you</span> have thought much about it, O Guide! you
+will surely find that, for decoration, it is better to use a
+beautiful symbol of anything, rather than a good
+photograph of it. For the symbol lets the imagination
+loose, and the other chains it to the ground; the one is
+the spirit, and the other the corpse. These things you
+cannot tell to the little folks, but you can prove them to
+yourself, and you will see why I wish to give some symbols
+here for use.</p>
+
+<p>There is another reason, one which you <i>can</i> give to them.
+It is this: Only the highly trained artist can make a good
+portrait drawing, while the smallest child, if it sticks to
+symbols, is sure, in some degree, of a pleasant success in its
+very first effort.</p>
+
+<p>These that I give, are copied from Indian art, and whether
+in colour, in raised modelling, or in black lines, can be used
+successfully to decorate anything that you are likely to
+make.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 64<br />
+Sign Language</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 256px;">
+<img src="images/i176.png" width="256" height="400" alt="Seventeen Gestures Currently Used in the Sign Language" title="Seventeen Gestures Currently Used in the Sign Language" />
+<span class="caption">Seventeen Gestures Currently Used in the Sign Language</span>
+</div><p><span class="smcap">All</span> men, especially wild men, and some animals have
+a language of signs. That is, they talk to each other without
+making any sounds; using instead, the movements of
+parts of the body. This is "eye talk," while words are
+"ear talk."</p>
+
+<p>Among the animals, horses bob their heads when they are
+hungry and paw with a front foot when thirsty or eager to be
+off. Dogs wag their tails when pleased, and cows shake
+their heads when angry.</p>
+
+<p>Policemen, firemen, railway men, and others use signs
+because there is too much noise to be heard. School children
+use signs because they are not allowed to talk in school.
+Most children know the signs for "yes" and "no," "come
+here," "go away," "hurry up," "you can't touch me,"
+"hush!", "shame on you!", "up," "down," "word of
+honour," "swimming," etc.</p>
+
+<p>The traffic policeman is using signs all day long. By a
+movement of the hand he signals:&mdash;stop, go on, come here,
+hurry up, wait, turn around, go by, stay back, over there,
+you look out, right here, and one or two others.</p>
+
+<p>How many signs can you add to these two lists?</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 65<br />
+The Language of Hens</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Yes</span>; Hens talk somewhat as we do; only they haven't
+so many words, and don't depend on them as we have to.</p>
+
+<p>There are only ten words in ordinary hen-talk.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>cluck, cluck</i> of the mother means "Come along,
+kiddies."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The low <i>kawk</i> of warning, usually for a hawk.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>chuck, chuck</i> of invitation means, "Good food."</p>
+
+<p>The <i>tuk-ut-e-ah-tuk</i> means, "Bless my soul, what is that?"</p>
+
+<p>The <i>cut, cut, get your hair cut</i>, of a Hen that has just laid
+and is feeling greatly relieved; no doubt, saying, "Thank
+goodness, that's done!" or maybe it is a notice to her mate
+or friend that "Business is over, let's have some fun. Where
+are you?"</p>
+
+<p>The soft, long-drawn <i>tawk&mdash;tawk&mdash;tawk</i>, that is uttered
+as the Hen strolls about, corresponds to the whistling of the
+small boy; that is, it is a mere pastime, expressing freedom
+from fear or annoyance.</p>
+
+<p>The long, harsh, <i>crauk, crauk</i> of fear when captured.</p>
+
+<p>The quick <i>clack, clack, clatter</i> when springing up in fear
+of capture.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>put, put</i> of hunger.</p>
+
+<p>And, of course, the <i>peep, peep</i> of chickens and the <i>cock-a-doodle-doo</i>,
+which is the song of the Rooster.</p>
+
+<p>Some Hens may have more; but these given here are hen-talk
+for mother-love, warning, invitation, surprise, exultation,
+cheerfulness, fear, astonishment, and hunger. Not a
+bad beginning in the way of language.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 66<br />
+Why the Squirrel Wears a Bushy Tail</h3>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Oh, Mother</span>, look at that Gray Squirrel!" shouted
+Billie. "What a beautiful bushy tail he has!" Then,
+after a pause he added, "Mother, what is its tail for? Why
+is it so big and fluffy? I know a 'Possum has a tail to hang
+on a limb with, and a Fish can swim with his tail, but why
+is a Gray Squirrel's tail so bushy and soft?"</p>
+
+<p>Alas! Mother didn't know, and couldn't tell where to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+find out. It was long after, that little Billie got the answer
+to his childish, but really important question. The Alligator
+may use his tail as a club, the Horse, his tail as a fly-flapper,
+the Porcupine his tail as a spiked war-club, the
+'Possum his as a hooked hanger, the Fox his as a muffler,
+the Fish his as a paddle; but the Gray Squirrel's tail is a
+parachute, a landeasy. I have seen a Gray Squirrel fall
+fifty feet to the ground, but his tail was in good condition;
+he spread it to the utmost and it landed him safely right
+side up.</p>
+
+<p>I remember also a story of a Squirrel that lost his tail
+by an accident. It didn't seem to matter much for a while.
+The stump healed up, and the Squirrel was pert as ever;
+but one day he missed his hold in jumping, and fell to the
+ground. Ordinarily, that would have been a small matter;
+but without his tail he was jarred so severely that a dog,
+who saw him fall, ran up and killed him before he could
+recover and climb a tree.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 67<br />
+Why a Dog Wags His Tail</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">There</span> is an old story that the Dog said to the Cat: "Cat,
+you are a fool; you growl when you are pleased and wag your
+tail when you are angry." Which happens to be true;
+and makes us ask: Why does a Dog wag his tail to mean
+friendship?</p>
+
+<p>The fact is, it is part of a wig-wag code, which is doubly
+interesting now that all our boys are learning wig-wagging
+with a white flag. We think that our army people invented
+this method; but Woodcraft men know better.</p>
+
+<p>First, notice that any Dog that has any white on his
+body has at least a little white on the end of his tail. This<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
+is well known; and the reason is that the wild ancestor had a
+white brush on the end of his tail; a white flag, indeed;
+and this was the flag of his signal code.</p>
+
+<p>Suppose, then, that a wild Dog, prowling through the
+woods, sights some other animal. Instantly he crouches;
+for it is good woodcraft to avoid being seen and then watch
+from your hiding-place. As the stranger comes near, the
+crouching Dog sees that it is one of his own kind, and that
+it is needless to hide any longer; indeed, that it is impossible
+to remain hidden. So the moment the stranger stops and
+looks at the crouching Dog, the latter stands straight up
+on all fours, raises his tail up high, and wags the white tip
+from side to side in the sign which means, "Let's be friends."</p>
+
+<p>Every Dog knows the sign, every Dog in every town does
+it yet; every boy has seen it a thousand times. We flatter
+ourselves that we invented the wig-wag code with our little
+white flag. Maybe so; but the Dog had it long before
+we did.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 68<br />
+Why the Dog Turns Around Three Times Before
+Lying Down</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Yes</span>, they all do it; the big St. Bernard, the foolish littlest
+lap Dog, the ragged street Dog; give them bare boards, or a
+silken cushion, or snow, three turns around and down they
+go.</p>
+
+<p>Why? Not so hard to answer as some simple questions.
+Long, long ago, the wild great-great-grandfather of the
+Dog&mdash;a yellow creature with black hair sprinkled on his
+back, sharp ears, light spots over his eyes, and a white tail-tip&mdash;used
+to live in the woods, or on the prairies. He did
+not have a home to which he might return every time he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+wanted to rest or sleep; so he camped wherever he found
+himself, on the plains, in a thicket, or even in some hole in a
+rock; and he carried his bedclothes on his back. But he
+always found it worth while to add a little comfort by
+smoothing the grass, the leaves, the twigs, or the pebbles
+before lying down; and the simplest way to do this was by
+curling up, and turning round three times, with the body
+brushing the high grass or pebbles into a comfortable shape
+for a bed.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, and they all do it to-day just the same, big and little,
+which is only one of the many proofs that they are descended
+from the same wild-wood great-grandfather, and
+still remember his habits.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 69<br />
+The Deathcup of Diablo</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 313px;">
+<img src="images/i182.png" width="313" height="400" alt="The Deathcup Toadstool" title="The Deathcup Toadstool" />
+<span class="caption">The Deathcup Toadstool</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> world went very well in those bright days of the
+long ago, when the wedding of El Sol and Maka Ina set all
+living things rejoicing. Green youth and sparkling happiness
+were everywhere. Only one there was&mdash;Diablo&mdash;who
+found in it poor comfort. He had no pleasure in the
+growing grass. The buttercups annoyed him with the gayness
+of their gold. It was at this time he chewed their
+stalks, so that many ever since have been flattened and
+mangled. And the cherry with its fragrant bloom he
+breathed on with his poison breath, so its limbs were burnt
+and blackened into horrid canker bumps. And poisonous
+froth he blew on the sprouting rose leaves, so they blackened
+and withered away. The jewel weed, friend of the humming
+birds, he trampled down, but it rose so many times and so
+bravely, that he left the yellow dodder like an herb-worm,
+or a root-born leech to suck its blood all summer long, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+break it down. Then to trail over the trunks of trees and
+suck their life, he left the demon vine, the Poison Ivy with
+its touch of burning fire. He put the Snapping Turtle
+in the beautiful lakes to destroy its harmless creatures and
+the Yellow-eyed Whizz he sent, and the Witherbloom with
+its breath of flame.</p>
+
+<p>And last he made the Deathcup Toadstool, and sowed
+it in the woods.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the Squirrels eating and storing up the sweet red
+russula. He saw it furnish food to mice and deer, so he
+fashioned the Deathcup Amanita to be like it; and scattered
+it wherever good mushrooms grew, a trap for the unwary.</p>
+
+<p>Tall and shapely is the Deathcup; beautiful to look upon
+and smelling like a mushroom. But beware of it, a very
+little is enough, a morsel of the cup; the next night or maybe
+a day later the poison pangs set in. Too late perhaps for
+medicine to help, and Amanita, the Deathcup, the child
+of Diablo, has claimed another victim.</p>
+
+<p>How shall we know the deadly Amanita among its kindly
+cousins, the good mushrooms? Wise men say by these:&mdash;The
+poison cup from which its springs; the white kid collar
+on its neck; the white or yellow gills; and the white spores
+that fall from its gills if the cup, without the stem, be laid
+gills down on a black paper for an hour.</p>
+
+<p>By these things we may know the wan Demon of the
+woods, but the wisest Guides say to their tribe:&mdash;"Because
+death lurks in that shapely mushroom, though there are a
+hundred good for food, they are much alike, and safety
+bids you shun them; let them all alone."</p>
+
+<p>So Diablo went on his way rejoicing because he had
+spoiled so much good food for good folk.</p>
+
+<p>This, the danger of the Deathcup, is the Seventh Secret
+of the Woods.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 70<br />
+Poison Ivy or the Three-Fingered Demon of the
+Woods</h3>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 275px;">
+<img src="images/i184.png" width="275" height="400" alt="The Poison Ivy" title="The Poison Ivy" />
+<span class="caption">The Poison Ivy</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="smcap">You</span> have been hearing about good fairies and good
+old Mother Carey and Medicine in the Sky. Now
+I am going to warn you against the three-fingered
+Demon, the wicked snakevine that basks on stone walls
+and climbs up the tree trunk, and does more harm than
+all the other plants, vines, trees, and bushes put together;
+for it is not like the Deathcup, easy to see and easy to
+let alone.</p>
+
+<p>This is the Poison Ivy. Does it not look poisonous as
+it crawls snake-like up some trunk, sending suckers out into
+the tree to suck the sap; and oozing all over its limbs with
+poison in tiny wicked little drops? Sometimes it does not
+climb but crawls on the ground, but by this ye may always
+know it: It has only three fingers on its hand; that is, only
+three leaflets on each stalk.</p>
+
+<p>The one thing that looks like it, is the Boston Ivy, but
+that does not grow in the woods, and the Poison Ivy leaf
+always has the little bump and bite out on the side of the
+leaf as you see in the drawing.</p>
+
+<p>It is known and feared for its power to sting and blister
+the skin when it is handled or even touched. The sting
+begins with an unpleasant itching which gets worse, especially
+if rubbed, until it blisters and breaks open with sores
+which are very hard to heal.</p>
+
+<p>The cause of the sting is a blistering oil, which is found
+in tiny drops on all parts of the leaf and branches; it is a
+fixed oil; that is, it will not dry up, and as long as it is
+on the skin, it keeps on burning and blistering, worse
+and worse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'>THE CURE</div>
+
+<p>And this is the cure for the sting of the Demon Vine:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Anything that will dissolve and remove oil without injuring
+the skin:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Hot water, as hot as you can stand it, is good; a little salt
+in it helps.</p>
+
+<p>Hot soapy water is good.</p>
+
+<p>Hot water with washing soda is good.</p>
+
+<p>A wash of alcohol is good.</p>
+
+<p>But best of all is a wash of strong alcohol in which is a
+little sugar of lead as an antiseptic.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The Guide should remember that three persons out of
+five are immune from Poison Ivy, while a few are so sensitive
+that they are poisoned by flies carrying it to them on
+their feet. It can be easily cured if treated at once; if
+neglected it often becomes very bad and may need the help
+of a doctor.</p>
+
+<p>This is the Eighth Secret of the Woods.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 71<br />
+The Medicine in the Sky</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">This</span> is one of the greatest and best secrets of Woodcraft&mdash;The
+Medicine in the Sky.</p>
+
+<p>Let me tell you a story about it. There was once an
+Indian who left his own people, to live with the white man,
+in the East. But the Great Spirit was displeased, for he
+did not mean the Indian to live in houses or cities. After a
+year, the red man came back very thin and sick, coughing
+nearly all night, instead of sleeping. He believed himself
+dying.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The wise old Medicine Man of his tribe said, "You need
+the Medicine of the Sky." He took it and got quite well
+and strong.</p>
+
+<p>Another Indian, who had gone to visit with a distant tribe
+of red men, came back with some sickness on his skin that
+made it very sore. It was far worse than Poison Ivy, for it
+began to eat into his flesh. The Medicine Man said, "Sky
+Medicine will cure you." And it did.</p>
+
+<p>One day a white man, a trader, came with chest protectors
+to sell to the Indians. He was sure they needed them,
+because he did; and, although so well wrapped up, he was
+always cold. He suffered whenever the wind blew. The
+old Medicine Man said, "We don't need your chest pads,
+and you would not if you took the Sky Medicine." So
+the trader tried it, and by and by, to his surprise and joy,
+no matter whether it was hot or cold outdoors, he was comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>This man had a friend who was a learned professor in a
+college, and he told him about the great thing he had learned
+from the old Indian. The professor was not old, but he
+was very sick and feeble in body. He could not sleep nights.
+His hair was falling out, and his mind filled with gloomy
+thoughts. The whole world seemed dark to him. He
+knew it was a kind of disease, and he went away out West
+to see his friend. Then he met the Medicine Man and
+said to him, "Can you help me?"</p>
+
+<p>The wise old Indian said, "Oh, white man, where do
+you spend your days?"</p>
+
+<p>"I spend them at my desk, in my study, or in the classroom."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and your nights?"</p>
+
+<p>"In my study among my books."</p>
+
+<p>"And where do you sleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't sleep much, though I have a comfortable bed."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"In the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, then, O foolish white man. The Great Spirit
+set Big Medicine in the sky to cure our ills. And you hide
+from it day and night. What do you expect but evil?
+This do and be saved. Take the Sky Medicine in measure
+of your strength."</p>
+
+<p>He did so and it saved him. His strength came back.
+His cheeks grew ruddy, his hands grew steady, his hair
+ceased falling out, he slept like a baby. He was happy.</p>
+
+<p>Now what is the Sky Medicine? It is the glorious sunlight,
+that cures so many human ills. We ask every Woodcrafter
+to hold on to its blessings.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>And in this wise, O Guide, you must give it to the little
+ones. Make it an honourable exploit to be sunburnt to the
+elbows without blistering; another to be sunburnt to the
+shoulders; another to the waist; and greatest of all, when
+sunburnt all over. How are they to get this? Let them
+go to some quiet place for the last, and let the glory fall
+on their naked bodies, for ten minutes each day. Some
+more, and some less, according to their strength, and this
+is the measure&mdash;so long as it is pleasant, it is good.</p>
+
+<p>In this way they will inherit one of the good things of
+the woods and be strong and hardened, for there is no greater
+medicine than the Sun in the sky.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 72<br />
+The Angel of the Night</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">O Guide</span> of the young Tribe! Know you the Twelfth
+Secret of the Woods? Know you what walked around
+your tent on that thirtieth night of your camp out? No!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
+I think you knew, if you continued for thirty nights, but
+you knew not that you knew. These things, then, you
+should have in heart, and give to those you are leading.</p>
+
+<p>The Great Spirit does not put out good air in the daytime
+and poison air at night. It is the same pure air at night,
+only cooler. Therefore use more clothing while you sleep.
+But while the outdoor air is pure, the indoor may be foul.
+Therefore sleep out of doors, and you will learn the blessedness
+of the night, and the night air, with its cooling kindly
+influence laden.</p>
+
+<p>Those who come here to our Camp from life in town and
+sleeping in close rooms, are unaccustomed, and nervous
+it may be, so that they sleep little at first. But each night
+brings its balm of rest. Strength comes. Some know it
+in a week. The town-worn and nerve-weary find it at
+farthest in half a moon. And in one full moon be sure of
+this, when the night comes down you will find the blessed
+balm that the Great Spirit meant for all of us. You will
+sleep, a calm sweet vitalizing sleep.</p>
+
+<p>You will know this the twelfth secret of the woods: What
+walked around your tent that thirtieth night? You know
+not, you heard nothing, for you slept. Yet when the morning
+comes you feel and know that round your couch, with
+wings and hands upraised in blessed soothing influence,
+there passed the Angel of the Night, with healing under her
+wings, and peace. You saw her not, you heard her not, but
+the sweet healing of her presence will be with you for many
+after moons.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THINGS TO DO</h2><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 294px;">
+<img src="images/i192.png" width="294" height="400" alt="Nests of Kingbird, Oriole, Vireo, Robin, Goldfinch, Phoebe (1/4 life size)" title="Nests of Kingbird, Oriole, Vireo, Robin, Goldfinch, Phoebe (1/4 life size)" />
+<span class="caption">Nests of Kingbird, Oriole, Vireo, Robin, Goldfinch, Phoebe (1/4 life size)</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Things to Do</h2>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 73<br />
+Bird-nesting in Winter</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">What</span> good are old bird-nests? These are some
+of the ends they serve. A Deermouse seeking
+the safety of a bramble thicket and a warm house,
+will make his own nest in the forsaken home of a Cat-bird.
+A Gray Squirrel will roof over the open nest of a Crow or
+Hawk and so make it a castle in the air for himself. But
+one of the strangest uses is this: The Solitary Sandpiper
+is a bird that cannot build a tree nest for itself and yet loves
+to give to its eggs the safety of a high place; so it lays in the
+old nest of a Robin, or other tree bird, and there its young
+are hatched. But this is only in the Far North. There
+are plenty of old bird-nests left for other uses, and for you.</p>
+
+<p>Bird-nesting in summer is wicked, cruel, and against the
+law. But bird-nesting in winter is good fun and harms no
+one, if we take only the little nests that are built in forked
+twigs, or on rock ledges. For most little birds prefer to
+make a new nest for themselves each season.</p>
+
+<p>If you get: A Goldfinch, floss nest;</p>
+
+<p>A Phoebe, moss nest;</p>
+
+<p>A Robin, mud nest;</p>
+
+<p>A Vireo, good nest;</p>
+
+<p>A Kingbird, rag nest;</p>
+
+<p>An Oriole, bag nest;</p>
+
+<div class='unindent'>you have six different kinds of beautiful nests that are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>
+easily kept for the museum, and you do no harm in taking
+them.</div>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 74<br />
+The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 258px;">
+<img src="images/i194.png" width="258" height="400" alt="The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite" title="The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite" />
+<span class="caption">The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Do you</span> know that "Daisy" means "day's eye," because
+the old country Daisy opens its eyes when day comes, and
+shuts them every night. But our Daisy is different and
+much bigger, so we have got into the way of calling it
+"Ox-eye." Some of our young people call it "Love-me; love-me-not,"
+because they think it can tell if one is loved. They
+pull out the white rays of the flower one by one, saying,
+"He loves me; he loves me not; he loves me; he loves me
+not." Then what they are saying as the last is pulled, settles
+the question. If the Daisy says "He loves me," they take
+a second Daisy and ask the next question, "Will he marry
+me?" Then, pulling the rays as before, "This year, next
+year, some time, never." And in this way they learn
+all that the Daisies know about these important matters.</p>
+
+<p>We call it "our Daisy," but it is not a true native of America.
+Its home is Europe. The settlers of New England,
+missing the flower of their homeland, brought it over and
+planted it in their gardens. It spread widely in the North;
+but it did not reach the South until the time of the Civil
+War, when it is said to have gone in with the hay for Sherman's
+Army, to become a troublesome weed in the fields.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>This scrap of history is recorded in a popular ballad.</p>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+There's a story told in Georgia<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis in everybody's mouth,</span><br />
+That 'twas old Tecumseh Sherman<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brought the Daisy to the South.</span><br />
+Ne'er that little blossom stranger<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In our land was known to be,</span><br />
+Till he marched his blue-coat army<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Atlanta to the sea.</span><br /></div><p>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 75<br />
+A Monkey-hunt</h3><div class="figright" style="width: 280px;">
+<img src="images/i196.png" width="280" height="400" alt="The Monkeys in the Tree Tops" title="The Monkeys in the Tree Tops" />
+<span class="caption">The Monkeys in the Tree Tops</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">We all</span> love to go a-hunting; every one of us in some way;
+and it is only the dislike of cruelty and destruction that
+keeps most of us from hunting animals continually, as our
+forebears did.</p>
+
+<p>Some of my best days were spent in hunting. The Arabs
+say, "Allah reckons not against a man's allotted span the
+days he spends in the chase."</p>
+
+<p>I hope that I may help many of you to go a-hunting, and
+to get the good things of it, with the bad things left out.</p>
+
+<p>Come! Now it is the spring of the year, and just the
+right time for a Monkey-hunt. We are going prowling
+along the brookside where we are pretty sure of finding
+our game. "See, there is a Monkey tree and it is full of
+the big Monkeys!"</p>
+
+<p>"What! That pussy-willow?"</p>
+
+<p>Yes, you think they are only pussy-willows, but wait
+until you see. We shall take home a band of the Monkeys,
+tree and all, and you will learn that a pussy-willow is only
+a baby Monkey half done.</p>
+
+<p>Now let us get a branch of live elderberry and one or two
+limbs of the low red sumac. It is best to use sumac because
+it is the only handy wood that one can easily stick a pin
+through, or cut. The pieces should be five or six inches
+long and about half an inch to an inch thick. They should
+have as many odd features as possible, knots, bumps, fungus,
+moss, etc.; all of which add interest to the picture.</p>
+
+<p>To these we must add a lot of odd bits of dry cane, dry
+grasses, old flower-stalks, moss, and gravel, etc., to use for
+background and foreground in the little jungle we are to
+make for our Monkeys to play in. It is delightful to find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
+the new interest that all sorts of queer weeds take on, when
+we view them as canes or palms for our little jungle.</p>
+
+<p>Now with the spoils of our hunt, let us go home and preserve
+the trophies.</p>
+
+<p>Cut off about three inches of the elderberry wood and have
+it clear of knots; cut a flat ended ramrod so as just to fit the
+bore, and force out the pith with one clean sharp push: or
+else whittle away the surrounding wood. The latter way
+gives a better quality of pith.</p>
+
+<p>Now take a piece of the pith about one-third the size of a
+big pussy-willow, use a very sharp knife and you will find it
+easy to whittle it into a Monkey's head about the shape of
+"a" and "b."</p>
+
+<p>Use a very sharp-pointed, soft black pencil to make the
+eyes, nose, the line for the mouth and the shape of the ears;
+or else wait till the pith is <i>quite dry</i>, then use a fine pen with
+ink.</p>
+
+<p>If you are skilful with the knife you may cut the ears
+so that they hang as in "d."</p>
+
+<p>Stick an ordinary pin right down through the crown of
+the head into a big pussy-willow that will serve as a body
+(e). If you glue the head on it is harder to do, but it
+keeps the body from being mussed up. Cut two arms
+of the pith (ff) and two feet (gg), drawing the lines for the
+fingers and toes, with the sharp black pencil, or else ink
+as before.</p>
+
+<p>Cut a long, straight pointed piece of pith for a tail, dip it
+in boiling water, then bend it to the right shape "h."</p>
+
+<p>Cut a branch of the sumac so that it is about four inches
+high, and of the style for a tree; nail this on a block of wood
+to make it stand. Sometimes it is easier to bore a hole in
+the stand and wedge the branch into that.</p>
+
+<p>Set the Monkey on the limb by driving the pin into it
+as at "i," or else glueing it on; and glue on the limbs and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>
+tail. Sometimes a little wad of willow-down on the
+Monkey's crown is a great help. It hides the pin.</p>
+
+<p>Now set this away for the glue to harden.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile take an ordinary cigar box about two inches
+deep, line it with white paper pasted in; or else paint it with
+water colour in Chinese white. Colour the upper part
+sky colour; the lower, shaded into green, getting very
+dark on the bottom. Lay a piece of glass or else a scrap
+of an old motor-car window-isinglass on the bottom,
+and set in a couple of tacks alongside to hold it; this is
+for a pool.</p>
+
+<p>Make a mixture of liquid glue, one part; water, five parts;
+then stir in enough old plaster of Paris, whitening, or even
+fine loam to make a soft paste. Build banks of this paste
+around the pool and higher toward the back sides. Stick
+the tree, with its stand and its Monkeys, in this, to one side;
+dust powder or rotten wood over the ground to hide its
+whiteness; or paint it with water colours.</p>
+
+<p>Use all the various dry grasses, etc., to form a jungle;
+sticking them in the paste, or glueing them on.</p>
+
+<p>And your jungle with its Monkeys is complete.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Many other things may be used for Monkeys. I have
+seen good ones made of peanuts, with the features inked
+on, and a very young black birch catkin for tail. Beautiful
+birds also can be made by using a pith body and bright
+feathers or silks glued on for plumes. The pith itself is
+easily coloured with water colours.</p>
+
+<p>You will be delighted to see what beautiful effects you
+can get by use of these simple wild materials, helped with a
+little imagination.</p>
+
+<p>And the end of the Monkey-hunt will be that you have
+learned a new kind of hunting, with nothing but pleasant
+memories in it, and trophies to show for proof.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 76<br />
+The Horsetail and the Jungle</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 312px;">
+<img src="images/i200.png" width="312" height="400" alt="The Horsetail and the Jungle" title="The Horsetail and the Jungle" />
+<span class="caption">The Horsetail and the Jungle</span>
+</div><p><span class="smcap">Long</span>, long ago, millions of years ago, this world was
+much hotter than it is now. Yes, in mid-winter it was hotter
+than it is now in mid-summer. Over all Pennsylvania there
+were huge forests of things that looked a little like palms,
+but some looked like pipes with joints, and had wheels of
+branches or limb wheels at every joint. They were as
+tall as some palms, and grew in swamps.</p>
+
+<p>When one of those big joint-wheels fell over, it sank into
+the mud and was forgotten. So at last the swamp was
+filled up solid with their trunks.</p>
+
+<p>Then for some unknown reason all the big joint-trees
+died, and the sand, mud, and gravel levelled off the swamp.
+There they lay, and slowly become blacker and harder under
+the mud, until they turned into coal.</p>
+
+<p>That is what we burn to-day, the trunks of the wheel-jointed
+swamp trees. But their youngest great-grandchild
+is still with us, and shows, in its small way, what its great
+ancestors were like.</p>
+
+<p>You will find it along some railway bank, or in any damp
+woods. Country people who know it, call it Joint Grass
+or Horsetails; the books call it Equisetum. The drawing
+will show you what to look for.</p>
+
+<p>Gather a handful and take them home. Then get some
+of the moss known as ground-pine, a small piece of glass
+(the Guide should see that the edges of the glass are well
+rubbed with a stone, to prevent cutting the fingers), a cigar
+box, and white paste or putty, as in the Monkey-hunt.</p>
+
+<p>Make a pool with the glass, and banks around it of the
+paste. Now cover these banks with the ground pine; using
+a little glue on the under side of each piece, but leave an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+open space without moss at the back, near the pool. Take
+a pointed stick and make holes through the moss into the
+clay or putty, and in each hole put one of the Horsetails,
+cutting it off with scissors if too tall for the top, till you
+have a thicket of these stems on each side; only make more
+on one side than on the other.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Now for the grand finish. You must make an extinct
+monster. Get half a walnut shell; cut a notch at one end
+where the neck will be; fill the shell with putty; stick in
+wooden pegs for legs, tail, and head. The central stalk of a
+tulip-tree fruit makes a wonderful sculptured tail; the unopened
+buds of dogwood do for legs, also cloves have been
+used. Any nobby stick serves for head if you make eyes and
+teeth on it.</p>
+
+<p>When dry this makes a good extinct monster. Set it
+on the far bank of the water, and you have a jungle, the
+old Pennsylvania jungle of the days when the coal was
+packed away.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 77<br />
+The Woods in Winter</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Go out</span> to the nearest chestnut tree, and get half a small
+burr; trim it neatly. Fill it with putty; set four wooden
+pegs in this for legs, a large peg for a head and a long thin
+one for a tail. On the head put two little black pins for
+eyes. Now rub glue on the wooden pegs and sprinkle them
+with powdered rotten wood, or fine sand, and you have a
+Burr Porcupine. Sometimes carpet tacks are used for
+legs. You will have to wear strong leather gloves in making
+this, it is so much like a real Porcupine.</p>
+
+<p>Now go into your woods and get a handful of common
+red cedar twigs with leaves on, or other picturesque branches,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
+some creeping moss of the kind used by flower dealers to
+pack plants, various dried grasses, and a few flat or sharp-cornered
+pebbles. Take these home. Get a cigar box
+or a candy-box, some paper, clay or putty and glass, as already
+described for the Monkey-hunt. Make a pond with
+the glass and a bank with the clay and pebbles. Paint
+the top of the clay, and tops of the pebbles with the thin
+glue, and also part of the glass; then sprinkle all with powdered
+chalk, whitening, plaster of Paris or talcum powder for
+snow. Put the Porcupine in the middle, and you have the
+"Woods in Winter."</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 78<br />
+The Fish and the Pond</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 308px;">
+<img src="images/i204.png" width="308" height="400" alt="The Fish and the Pond&mdash;and the Cone" title="The Fish and the Pond&mdash;and the Cone" />
+<span class="caption">The Fish and the Pond&mdash;and the Cone</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Go out</span> and get the cone of a Norway Spruce tree, or a
+White Spruce; this is the body of your Fish. Cut two round
+spots of white paper for eyes, glue them on, and when dry,
+put a black ink spot in the middle of each. Add a curved
+piece of paper on each side for gills. Then with an awl
+or with the point of the scissors make holes in the sides, in
+which put fins cut out of brown paper, fixing them in with
+glue. Then, with the knife blade, make a long cut in the
+back, and split the tail, and in each cut glue a thick piece
+of brown paper cut fin shape. When dry, draw lines on
+these with ink. Now you have a good Fish.</p>
+
+<p>For the pond, take a cigar-box, paint the lower quarter
+of it dark green, and the upper part shaded into light blue,
+for sky. Glue a piece of glass or else carwindow celluloid
+level across this near the bottom. This is for water. Hide
+all the back and side edges of the glass with clay banks as
+described in the Monkey-hunt, or with moss glued on.
+Put a fine black thread to the Fish's back, another to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+tail, and hang him level above the water by fastening the
+threads to the top of the box. Label it "Pond Life" or
+the "Fish at Home."</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 79<br />
+Smoke Prints of Leaves</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 283px;">
+<img src="images/i206.png" width="283" height="400" alt="Smoke Prints of Leaves" title="Smoke Prints of Leaves" />
+<span class="caption">Smoke Prints of Leaves</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Collect</span> one or two leaves that have strongly marked
+ribs; elm and raspberry are good ones. Take a piece of
+paper that is strong, but rather soft, and about as big
+as this page. Grease, or oil it all over with paint-oil, butter,
+or lard. Then hold it, grease-side down, in the smoke of a
+candle, close to the flame, moving it about quickly so that
+the paper won't burn, until it is everywhere black with soot.</p>
+
+<p>Lay the paper flat on a table, soot-side up, on a piece
+of blotting paper. Lay the leaf on this; then, over that, a
+sheet of paper. Press this down over all the leaf. Lift the
+leaf and lay it on a piece of soft, white paper; press it down
+as before, with a paper over it, on which you rub with one
+hand while the other keeps it from slipping; lift the leaf,
+and on the lower paper you will find a beautiful line-drawing
+of the leaf, done in black ink; which, once it is dry, will
+never rub out or fade away.</p>
+
+<p>At one corner write down the date and the name of the
+leaf.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 80<br />
+Bird-boxes</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 253px;">
+<img src="images/i207.png" width="253" height="400" alt="Bird-boxes" title="Bird-boxes" />
+<span class="caption">Bird-boxes</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">You</span> can win honours in Woodcraft if you make a successful
+bird-box. That is one made by yourself, and used
+by some bird to raise its brood in.</p>
+
+<p>There are three kinds of birds that are very ready to use
+the nesting places you make. These are the Robin, Wren,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
+and Phoebe. But each bird wants its own kind exactly
+right, or will not use it.</p>
+
+<p>First the Robin wants a shelf, as in the picture. It
+should be hung against a tree or a building, about ten feet
+up, and not much exposed to the wind. It should also be
+in a shady place or at least not where it gets much sun.</p>
+
+<p>The nails sticking up on the floor are to hold the nest so
+the wind will not blow it away. The Phoebe-shelf is much
+the same only smaller.</p>
+
+<p>The Wren-box should be about four or five inches wide
+and six inches high inside, with a hole exactly seven eighths
+inch wide. If any bigger, the Wren does not like it so well,
+and other birds may drive the Wren away. Many Wren-boxes
+are made of tomato tins, but these are hard to cut a
+hole in. The Wren-box should be hung where the sun never
+shines on it all summer, as that would make it too hot inside.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 81<br />
+A Hunter's Lamp</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 283px;">
+<img src="images/i208.png" width="283" height="356" alt="A Hunter&#39;s Lamp" title="A Hunter&#39;s Lamp" />
+<span class="caption">A Hunter&#39;s Lamp</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">In the</span> old pioneer days, every hunter used to make himself
+a lamp, for it was much easier to make than a candle.
+It is a good stunt in Woodcraft to make one. Each woodcrafter
+should have one of his own handiwork. There are
+four things needed in it: The bowl, the wick, the wick-holder
+and some fat, grease, or oil.</p>
+
+<p>For the bowl a big clam shell does well.</p>
+
+<p>For wick a strip of cotton rag rolled into a cord as thick
+as a slate pencil, and about two inches long; a cotton cord
+will do, or perhaps the fibrous bark of milkweed or other
+native stuff is the truly woodcraft thing.</p>
+
+<p>For wick-holder get a piece of brick, stone, or a small clam
+shell about as big as a half dollar. Bore a hole through the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
+middle to hold the wick. It is not easy to get the hole
+through without splitting the stone, but sometimes one
+can find a flat pebble already bored. Sometimes one can
+make a disc of clay with a hole in it, then burn this hard in
+a fierce fire, but the most primitive way is to rub the bump
+of a small clam shell on a flat stone till it is worn through.</p>
+
+<p>For oil use the fat, grease, lard, or butter of any animal,
+if it is fresh, that is without salt in it.</p>
+
+<p>Fill the bowl with the grease, soak the wick in grease and
+set it in the holder so that half an inch sticks up; the rest is
+in the grease. The holder rests on the bottom of the bowl.</p>
+
+<p>Light the end that sticks up. It will burn with a clear,
+steady light till all the oil is used up.</p>
+
+<p>To have made a lamp that will burn for half an hour is
+counted an "honour" in Woodcraft, and may win you a
+badge if you belong to a Woodcraft Tribe.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 82<br />
+The Coon Hunt</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Take</span> a little bundle of white rags, or paper, as large as
+a walnut; call this the "Coon." While all the young folks
+hide their eyes or go out of the room, the Guide puts the
+Coon on some place, high or low, but in plain view; then,
+going away from it, shouts "Coon!"</p>
+
+<p>Now the young scouts have to find that Coon, each
+looking about for himself. As soon as one sees it, he says
+nothing, but sits down. Each must find it for himself,
+then sit down silently, until all are down. Last down is
+the "booby"; first down is the winner; and the winner has
+the right to place the Coon the second time, if the Guide
+does not wish to do it.</p>
+
+<p>This is often played indoors and sometimes a thimble is
+used for the Coon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 83<br />
+The Indian Pot</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">This</span> is something everyone can make, no matter how
+young, and each, including the Guide, should make one.</p>
+
+<p>Get a lump of good stiff clay; yellow is better than blue,
+only because it is a better colour when finished.</p>
+
+<p>Work the clay up with water till soft, pick out all stones,
+lumps, and straws. Then roll it out like a pancake; use a
+knife to cut this into laces a foot long and about as thick as
+a pencil.</p>
+
+<p>Dip your fingers in water, take one of these laces and
+coil it round and round as in "a," soldering it together with
+water rubbed on and into the joints. Keep on adding,
+shaping and rubbing, till you have a saucer about three
+inches across and a quarter of an inch thick. Put this away
+in some shady place to set, or harden a little; otherwise it
+would fall down of its own weight.</p>
+
+<p>After about an hour, wet the rim, and build up on that
+round and round with laces as before, until you have turned
+the saucer into a cup, about four inches across, and, maybe
+three inches high. Set this away to stiffen. Then finish the
+shape, by adding more coils, and drawing it in a little.
+When this has stiffened, make a "slip" or cream of clay
+and water, rub this all over the pot inside and out; use your
+fingers and a knife to make it smooth and even. When
+this is done, use a sharp point, and draw on the pot any of
+the Indian designs show in the sketches, using lines and
+dots for the shading.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 298px;">
+<img src="images/i212.png" width="298" height="400" alt="The Indian Pot" title="The Indian Pot" />
+<span class="caption">The Indian Pot</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Now set the pot in some shady place to dry. High above
+the stove in the kitchen is a good place, so long as it is not
+too near the stove-pipe. After one day bring it nearer the
+heat. Then about the second day, put it in the oven.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>
+Last of all, and this is the hardest part to do, let the Guide
+put the bone-dry pot right into the fire, deep down into
+the red coals at night, and leave it there till next day. In
+the morning when the fire is dead, the pot should be carefully
+lifted out, and, if all is well, it will be of hard ringing
+red terra cotta.</p>
+
+<p>The final firing is always the hardest thing to do, because
+the pots are so easily cracked. If they be drawn out of the
+fire while they are yet hot, the sudden touch of cold air
+usually breaks them into pieces.</p>
+
+<p>Now remember, O Guide! A pot is made of the earth,
+and holds the things that come out of the earth to make
+life, that feed us and keep us. So on it, you should draw
+the symbols that stand for these things. At the foot of
+preceding page you see some of them.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 84<br />
+Snowflakes, the Sixfold Gems of Snowroba</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 297px;">
+<img src="images/i214.png" width="297" height="400" alt="Snowflakes" title="Snowflakes" />
+<span class="caption">Snowflakes</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">You</span> have heard of the lovely Snowroba, white calm beautiful
+Snowroba, the daughter of King Jackfrost the Winter
+King, whose sad history was told in the first Tale. You
+remember how her robe was trimmed with white lace and
+crystal gems, each gem with six points and six facets and
+six angles, for that is one of the strange laws of the white
+Kingdom, the sixfold rule of gems. I did not give a good
+portrait of the White Princess, but I can show you how
+to make the Jewels which sparkled on her robe.</p>
+
+<p>Take a square of thin white paper three or four inches wide
+(a). Fold it across (b), and again, until it is a square (c), half as
+wide as "a." Mark on it the lines as in "d," and fold it in three
+equal parts as in "e." Now with pencil draw the heavy black
+lines as in "f, g, h." Cut along these lines with scissors, open<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
+out the central piece, and you have your snow-gems as
+on facing page.</p>
+
+<p>You can see for yourself that these are true to the gem-law
+of the White Kingdom, if, when next the snow comes down,
+you look for the biggest flakes as they lie on some dark
+surface. You will find many patterns all of them beautiful,
+and all of them fashioned in accordance with the law.</p>
+
+
+<h3>Are You Alive?</h3>
+
+<p>Little boy or girl, are you all alive? Just as alive as an
+Indian? Can you see like a hawk, feel like a blind man,
+hear like an owl? Are you quick as a cat? You do not
+know! Well, let us find out in the next eight tales. In
+these tests 100 is kept in view as a perfect score in each department,
+although it is possible in some cases to go over
+that.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 85<br />
+Farsight</h3>
+
+<p>1. <span class="smcap">Hold</span> up a page of this book, and see how far off you
+can read it. If at 60 inches, measured with a tapeline
+from your eye to the book, then your eye number is 60,
+which is remarkably good. Very few get as high as 70.</p>
+
+<p>2. Now go out at night and see how many Pleiades you
+can count; see Tale 52. If you see a mere haze, your star
+number is 0; if you see 4 little pin points in the haze, your
+number is 8; if you see 6, your number is 12. If you see
+7 your number is 14; and you will not get beyond that.</p>
+
+<p>3. Now look for the Pappoose on the Squaw's back, as
+in Tale 50. If you do not see it, you score nothing. If
+you can see it, and prove that you see it, your number is
+14 more.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Now add up these, thus: 60 plus 14 plus 14; this gives
+88 as your <i>farsight</i> number. Anything over 60 means you
+can see like a hawk.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 86<br />
+Quicksight</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Take</span> two boards, cards or papers, each about half a
+foot square; divide them with black lines into 25 squares
+each, i. e. 5 each way; get 6 nuts and 4 pebbles, or 6 pennies
+and 4 beans; or any other set of two things differing in
+size and shape.</p>
+
+<p>Let the one to be tested turn his back, while the Guide
+places 3 nuts and 2 pebbles on one of the boards, in any
+pattern he pleases, except that there must be only one on
+a square.</p>
+
+<p>Now, let the player see them for 5 seconds by the watch;
+then cover it up.</p>
+
+<p>From memory, the player must place the other 3 nuts
+and 2 pebbles on the other board, in exactly the same pattern.
+Counting one for every one that was right. Note
+that a piece exactly on the line does not count; but one
+chiefly in a square is reckoned to be in that square.</p>
+
+<p>Do this 4 times. Then multiply the total result by 5.
+This gives his <i>quicksight</i> number, to be added to his <i>aliveness</i>
+score.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 87<br />
+Hearing</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Can</span> you hear like an owl? An owl can find his prey by
+hearing after dark. His ears are wonderful. Let us try
+if yours are.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>1. <i>Watch-test.</i> First, you must be blindfolded, and in
+some perfectly quiet place indoors. Now have the Guide
+hold a man's watch (open if hunting-cased), near your
+head; if you can hear it at 40 inches, measured on a tapeline,
+and prove that you do, by telling exactly where it is, in
+several tries, your hearing number is 40, which is high. If
+at 20 inches, it is low (20 pts.); if at 60 inches (60 pts.), it is
+remarkable. Anything over 50 points means you can hear
+like an owl. In this you go by your best ear.</p>
+
+<p>2. <i>Pindrop-test.</i> Sometimes it is difficult to get a good
+watch-test. Then the trial may be made with an ordinary,
+silvered brass stick-pin, 1-1/8 inches long, with small head.
+Lay the pin on a block of wood that is exactly half an inch
+thick. Set this on a smooth polished board, or table top
+of hardwood, not more than an inch thick, and with open
+space under it. Set it away from the edge of the table so
+as to be clear of the frame and legs. After the warning
+"ready," let the Guide tip the block of wood, so the pin
+drops from the block to the table top (half an inch). If
+you hear it at 35 feet in a perfectly still room, your hearing
+is normal, and your hearing number is 35. If 20 feet is your
+farthest limit of hearing it, your number is 20, which is low.
+If you can hear it at 70 feet, your number is 70, which is
+remarkable.</p>
+
+<p>You can use either the watch-test or the pin-test. If
+you use both, you add the totals together, and divide by
+2, to get your <i>hearing</i> number.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 88<br />
+Feeling</h3>
+
+<p>1. <span class="smcap">Have</span> you got wise fingers like a blind man?</p>
+
+<p>Put 10 nickels, 10 coppers and 10 dimes in a hat or in one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+hand if you like. Then, while blindfolded, separate them
+into three separate piles, all of each kind in a separate pile,
+within 2 minutes. If it takes you the full 2 minutes (120
+seconds), you are slow, and your feel number is 0. If you
+do it without a mistake in 1 minute and 20 seconds, your
+feel number is 40, one point for each second you are less
+than 2 minutes. But you must take off 3 points for every
+one wrongly placed, so 3 wrongly placed would reduce your
+40 to 31. I have known some little boys on the East Side
+of New York to do it in 50 seconds without a mistake, so
+their feel-number by coins was 70. That is, 120 seconds
+minus 50 seconds equals 70. This is the best so far.</p>
+
+<p>2. Now get a quart of corn or beans. Then when blindfolded,
+and using but one hand, lay out the corn or beans
+in "threes"; that is, three at a time laid on the table for
+2 minutes. The Guide may move the piles aside as they
+are made. Then stop and count all that are exactly three
+in a pile (those with more or less do not count at
+all). If there are 40 piles with 3 in each, 40 is your number,
+by corn.</p>
+
+<p>3. The last test is: Can you lace your shoes in the
+dark, or blind-folded, finishing with a neat double bow
+knot?</p>
+
+<p>Arrange it so your two shoes together have a total of at
+least 20 holes or hooks to be used in the test, i. e., which
+do not have the lace in them when you begin. Allow 1
+point for each hole or hook, i. e., 20 points, finish the lacing
+in 2 minutes, in any case stop when the 2 minutes is
+up; then take off 2 points for each one that is wrongly laced,
+or not laced. Thus: Supposing 4 are wrong, take off 4
+times 2 from 20, and your blindfold lacing number is 12;
+if the number wrong was 10 or more, your lacing number is
+0; if you had 3 wrong, your number is 14.</p>
+
+<p>Suppose by these three tests&mdash;coins, corn, and laces&mdash;you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+scored 40, 30, and 14; add these together and they give your
+<i>feel</i> number; 84.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 89<br />
+Quickness</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Put</span> down 12 potatoes (or other round things) in a row,
+each one exactly 6 feet from the last, and the last 12 feet
+from a box with a hole in it, just large enough to take in one
+potato. Now at the word "go," run and get the first potato,
+put it through the hole into the box; then get the second,
+bring it to the box, and so on, one at each trip. After one
+minute, stop. Now multiply the number of potatoes in the
+box by 10, and you have your <i>quickness</i> number. If you
+have 8 in the box, you score 80 points, you are as quick as a
+cat. Very few get over 80. No one so far has made 100
+points.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 90<br />
+Guessing Length</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Take</span> two common nails, or other thin bits of metal,
+and lay them on a table or board, at what you guess to be
+exactly one yard (36 inches) apart. Then let the Guide
+lay the tape-line on it, and, allowing 20 points for exactly
+right, take off 1 point for each half inch you are wrong, over
+or under. Do not count quarter inches, but go by the nearest
+half-inch mark. Do this 5 times, add up the totals,
+that will give your <i>guessing-length</i> number.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, if your first guess turns out to be 37 inches, that
+is, 2 half-inches too much, 2 from 20 gives 18 points. Your
+next guess was 34 inches, that is 4 half-inches too little, 4
+from 20 gives 16 points. Your next guess gave 12 points,
+your next 17, and your last 19. The total, 18 plus 16<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
+plus 12 plus 17 plus 19, equals your number of <i>guessing
+length</i> or 82.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 91<br />
+Aim or Limb-control</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Take</span> 25 medium-sized potatoes, and set up a bucket or
+bag whose mouth is round and exactly one foot across.
+Draw a line exactly 10 feet from the bucket or bag. Toe
+that line, and throw the potatoes, one by one, into the
+bag. Those that go in, then bounce out, are counted
+as in. Do it four times, then add up all the four totals
+of those that went in; that gives your <i>aim</i> or <i>control</i>
+number.</p>
+
+<p>For example, suppose that in the 4 tries you got 10 in the
+first time, 15 in the second, 20 in the third, 19 in the fourth.
+Add these together, it gives your arm-control or <i>aim</i> number
+as 64.</p>
+
+<div class='unindent'>Now add up all these high numbers:</div>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Aliveness Number">
+<tr><td align='left'>Farsight</td><td align='right'>88</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Quicksight</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hearing</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Feeling</td><td align='right'>84</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Quickness</td><td align='right'>80</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Guessing Length</td><td align='right'>82</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Aim</td><td align='right'>64</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><br />Your aliveness number is&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align='right'><br />498</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p>But very few can score so high. If you can score 400
+you are surely alive; you can see like a hawk, you can take
+in at a glance, you can hear like an owl, you can feel like a
+blind man, you are quick as a cat, you are a good judge of
+size, and you can aim true; That is, you are as <i>alive as an
+Indian</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 92<br />
+A Treasure Hunt</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Make</span> 24 little white sticks, each about three inches long,
+and as thick as a pencil. They are easy to make of willow
+shoots, after the bark is peeled off. While the young folk
+hide their eyes, the Guide walks off in the woods, ties a white
+rag on a tall stake or limb, for the point of beginning. Then,
+one step apart and in a very crooked line, sets each of the
+little white sticks in the ground, standing straight up.
+Under the last stick should be buried the treasure; usually
+a stick of chocolate. This the players are to find by following
+the sticks.</p>
+
+<p>When the young folk get used to it, the line should be
+longer, the sticks farther apart, and the last one may be
+ten steps from the last but one.</p>
+
+<p>When they are well trained at it, scraps of paper, white
+beans, corn, or even chalk marks on trees, instead of sticks,
+will serve for trail; and still later holes prodded in the ground
+with a sharp pointed cane will do.</p>
+
+<p>This game can be played in the snow; in which case, the
+track of the Guide, when he hides the treasure, takes the
+place of the sticks.</p>
+
+<p>Finally it makes a good game for indoors on a rainy day.
+In which case we use buttons, corn, or scraps of white cotton
+for trail sticks. Of course the trail now should be upstairs
+and down, and as long and crooked as possible.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 93<br />
+Moving Pictures</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">One</span> of the best developers of imagination is the Moving
+Picture. Sometimes called Pantomime, or Dumb-show
+which means all signs without sounds.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The one who is to put on the "movie" is given a subject
+and must then stand out on the stage or Council Ring, and
+carry all the story to the spectators, without using any sound
+and with as few accessories as possible.</p>
+
+<p>The "print between the reels" is supplied by the Guide
+who simply announces what is needed to explain.</p>
+
+<p>The following subjects have been used successfully
+(unless otherwise stated they are for one actor each):</p>
+
+<p>Miss Muffet and the Spider&mdash;the well-known Nursery
+Rhyme</p>
+
+<p>
+Old Mother Hubbard</p>
+<p>Little Jack Horner</p>
+<p>Mary and her Little Lamb</p>
+<p>Red Ridinghood&mdash;walk through the woods, meeting the wolf, etc.</p>
+<p>Robinson Crusoe&mdash;finding the track of a man in the sand</p>
+<p>A Barber Shop&mdash;shaving a customer (two actors)</p>
+<p>The Man's First Speech at a Dinner</p>
+<p>The Politician who was rotten-egged after vainly trying to control a meeting</p>
+<p>Joyride in a Ford Car&mdash;ending in a bad upset (two actors)</p>
+<p>The Operation&mdash;a scene in a hospital following the accident (two or more)</p>
+<p>The Professor of Hypnotism and His Subject (two actors)</p>
+<p>The Man who Found a Hair in His Soup</p>
+<p>The Young Lady Finds a Purse, on opening it a mouse jumps out and she remembers that it is 1st of April</p>
+<p>A Young Man Telephoning to His Best Girl</p>
+<p>A Man Meeting and Killing a Rattlesnake</p>
+<p>Lighting a Lamp</p>
+<p>Drawing a Cork</p>
+<p>Looking for a Lost Coin&mdash;finding it in one pocket or shoe</p>
+<p>A Musician Playing His Own Composition</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>The Sleeping Beauty and the Prince (two actors)</p>
+<p>Goldilocks and the Three Bears</p>
+<p>William Tell and the Apple (best rendered in caricature with a pumpkin and two actors)</p>
+<p>Eliza Crossing the Ice</p>
+<p>The Kaiser Signing His Abdication</p>
+<p>The Judgment of Solomon (three actors)</p>
+<p>Brutus Condemning His Two Sons to Death.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 94<br />
+A Natural Autograph Album</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">If you</span> live in the country, I can show you an old
+Woodcraft trick. Look for a hollow tree. Sometimes you
+can pick one out afar, by the dead top, and sometimes by
+noting a tree that had lost one of the biggest limbs years
+ago. In any case, basswoods, old oaks and chestnuts are apt
+to be hollow; while hickories and elms are seldom so, for once
+they yield to decay at all, they go down.</p>
+
+<p>Remember that every hollow tree is a tenement house of
+the woods. It may be the home of a score of different
+families. Some of these, like Birds and Bats, are hard to
+observe, except at nesting time. But the fourfoots are
+easier to get at. For them, we will arrange a visitors'
+book at the foot of the tree, so that every little creature
+in fur will write his name, and some passing thought, as
+he comes to the tree.</p>
+
+<p>How?</p>
+
+<p>Oh, it is simple; I have often done it. First clear and
+level the ground around the tree for three or four feet;
+then cover it with a coat of dust, ashes, or sand&mdash;whichever
+is easiest to get; rake and brush it smooth; then wait over
+one night.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning&mdash;most quadrupeds are night-walkers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>&mdash;come
+back; and you will find that every creature on four
+feet that went to the tree tenement-house has left us its
+trail; that is its track or trace.</p>
+
+<p>No two animals make the same trail, so that every Squirrel
+that climbed, every 'Coon or 'Possum, every Tree-mouse,
+and every Cottontail that went by, has clearly put himself
+on record without meaning to do so; and we who study
+Woodcraft can read the record, and tell just who passed
+by in the night.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 95<br />
+The Crooked Stick</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> upon a time there was a girl who was very anxious
+to know what sort of a husband she should get; so, of course,
+she went to the old wood-witch.</p>
+
+<p>The witch asked a few questions, then said to the girl:
+"You walk straight through that woods, turn neither to
+right nor left, and never turn back an inch, and pick me out
+a straight stick, the straighter the better; but pick only one,
+and bring it back."</p>
+
+<p>So the girl set out. Soon she saw a fine-looking stick
+close at hand; but it had a slight blemish near one end, so
+she said: "No; I can do better than that." Then she saw
+another that was perfect but for a little curve in the middle,
+so she passed it by.</p>
+
+<p>Thus she went, seeing many that were nearly perfect; but
+walking on, seeking one better, till she was quite through
+the woods. Then she realized her chances were nearly gone;
+so she had to take the only stick she could find, a very
+crooked one indeed, and brought it to the witch, saying that
+she "could have got a much better one had she been more
+easily satisfied at the beginning."</p>
+
+<p>The witch took the stick, waved it at the girl and said:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>
+"then this is your fortune; <i>through the woods and through
+the woods and out with a crooked stick</i>. If you were less hard
+to please, you would have better luck; but you will pass
+many a good man by, and come out with a crooked stick."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Maybe some of our Woodcraft girls can find an initiation
+in this. Put it just as the witch did it, but let it be considered
+a success if the stick is two feet long and nowhere half
+an inch out of true line. Let me add a Woodcraft proverb
+which should also have its mead of comfort&mdash;The Great
+Spirit can draw a straight line with a crooked stick.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 96<br />
+The Animal Dance of Nana-bo-jou</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">For</span> this we need a Nana-bo-jou; that is, a grown-up who
+can drum and sing. He has a drum and drumstick, and a
+straw or paper club; also two goblins, these are good-sized
+boys or girls wearing ugly masks, or at least black hoods
+with two eyeholes, made as hideous as possible; and any
+number of children, from three or four up, for animals.
+If each has the marks, colours, etc., of some bird or beast,
+so much the better.</p>
+
+<p>First, Nana-bo-jou is seen chasing the children around the
+outside of the circle, trying to catch one to eat; but failing,
+thinks he'll try a trick and he says: "Stop, stop, my brothers.
+Why should we quarrel? Come, let's hold a council together
+and I will teach you a new dance."</p>
+
+<p>The animals whisper together and the Coyote comes forward,
+barks, then says:</p>
+
+<p>"Nana-bo-jou, I am the Coyote. The animals say that
+they will come to council if you will really make peace and
+play no tricks."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Tricks!" says Nana-bo-jou, "I only want to teach you
+the new songs from the South."</p>
+
+<p>Then all the animals troop in and sit in a circle. Nana-bo-jou
+takes his drum and begins to sing:</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"New songs from the South, my brothers,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Dance to the new songs."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Turning to one, he says: "Who are you and what can you
+dance?"</p>
+
+<p>The answers are, "I am the Beaver [or whatever it is] and
+I can dance the Beaver Dance."</p>
+
+<p>"Good! Come and show me how."</p>
+
+<p>So the Beaver dances to the music, slapping the back of
+his flat right hand, up and under his left hand for a tail,
+holding up a stick in both paws to gnaw it, and lumbering
+along in time to the music, at the same time imitating the
+Beaver's waddle.</p>
+
+<p>Nana-bo-jou shouts: "Fine! That is the best Beaver
+Dance I ever saw. You are wonderful; all you need to be
+perfect is wings. Wouldn't you like to have wings so you
+could fly over the tree-tops, like the Eagle?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," says the Beaver.</p>
+
+<p>"I can make strong medicine and give you wings, if all the
+animals will help me," says Nana-bo-jou. "Will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," they all cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Then all close your eyes tight and cover them with your
+paws. Don't look until I tell you. Beaver, close your eyes
+and dance very fast and I will make magic to give you
+wings."</p>
+
+<p>All close and cover their eyes. Nana-bo-jou sings very
+loudly and, rushing on the Beaver, hits him on the head with
+the straw club. The Beaver falls dead. The two goblins
+run in from one side and drag off the body.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then Nana-bo-jou shouts: "Look, look, now! See how
+he flies away! See, there goes the Beaver over the tree-tops."
+All look as he points and seem to see the Beaver
+going.</p>
+
+<p>Different animals and birds are brought out to dance their
+dances and are killed as before. Then the Crow comes out,
+hopping, flopping, cawing. Nana-bo-jou looks at him and
+says: "You are too thin. You are no good. You don't
+need any more wings," and so sends him to sit down.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Coyote comes out to do the Coyote Dance,
+imitating Coyote, etc.; but he is very suspicious and, in
+answer to the questions, says: "No; I don't want wings.
+The Great Spirit gave me good legs, so I am satisfied";
+then goes back to his seat.</p>
+
+<p>Next the Deer, the Sheep, etc., come out and are killed;
+while all the rest are persuaded that the victims flew away.
+But the Coyote and the Loon have their doubts. They
+danced in their turns, but said they didn't want any change.
+They are satisfied as the Great Spirit made them. They
+are slow about hiding their eyes. At last, they peek and
+realize that it is all a trap and the Loon shouts: "Nana-bo-jou
+is killing us! It is all a trick! Fly for your lives!"</p>
+
+<p>As they all run away, Nana-bo-jou pursues the Loon,
+hitting him behind with the club, which is the reason that
+the Loon has no tail and has been lame behind ever since.</p>
+
+<p>The Loon shouts the Loon battle-cry, a high-pitched
+quavering LUL-L-L-O-O-O and faces Nana-bo-jou; the
+animals rally around the Loon and the Coyote to attack
+the magician. All point their fingers at him shouting
+"Wakan Seecha" (or Black Magic). He falls dead in the
+circle. They bury him with branches, leaves, or a blanket,
+and all the animals do their dances around him.</p>
+
+<p>Before beginning, the story of the dance should be told
+to the audience.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 97<br />
+The Caribou Dance</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 340px;">
+<img src="images/i229.png" width="340" height="400" alt="Horns for the Caribou Dance" title="Horns for the Caribou Dance" />
+<span class="caption">Horns for the Caribou Dance</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> easiest of our campfire dances to learn, and the best
+for quick presentation, is the Caribou Dance. It has been
+put on for public performance after twenty minutes' rehearsing,
+with those who never saw it before, because it is
+all controlled and called off by the Chief. It does equally
+well for indoor gymnasium or for campfire in the woods.</p>
+
+<p>In the way of fixings for this, you need only four pairs
+of horns and four cheap bows. Real deer horns may be
+used, but they are scarce and heavy. It is better to go out
+where you can get a few crooked limbs of oak, cedar, hickory
+or apple tree; and cut eight pairs, as near like those in the
+cut as possible, each about two feet long and one inch thick
+at the butt. Peel these, for they should be white; round off
+all sharp points of the branches, then lash them in pairs,
+as shown. A pair, of course, is needed for each Caribou.
+These are held in the hand and above the head, or in the
+hand resting on the head.</p>
+
+<p>The four Caribou look best in white. Three or four
+hunters are needed. They should have bows, but no arrows.
+The Chief should have a drum and be able to sing the Muje
+Mukesin, or other Indian dance tune. One or two persons
+who can howl like Wolves should be sent off to one side,
+and another that can yell like a Lynx or a Panther on the
+other side, well away from the ring. Otherwise the Chief
+or leader can do the imitations. Now we are ready for</p>
+
+
+<div class='center'>THE DANCE OF THE WHITE CARIBOU</div>
+
+<p>The Chief begins by giving three thumps on his drum to
+call attention; then says in a loud, singing voice: "The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+Caribou have not come on our hunting grounds for three
+snows. We need meat. Thus only can we bring them
+back, by the big medicine of the Caribou Dance, by the
+power of the White Caribou."</p>
+
+<p>He rolls his drum, then in turn faces each of the winds,
+beckoning, remonstrating, and calling them by name;
+Kitchi-nodin (West); Keeway-din (North); Wabani-nodin
+(East); Shawani-nodin (South). Calling last to the quarter
+whence the Caribou are to come, finishing the call with
+a long KO-KEE-NA. Then as he thumps a slow single
+beat the four Caribou come in in single file, at a stately pace
+timed to the drum. Their heads are high, and they hold the
+horns on their heads, with one hand, as they proudly march
+around. The Chief shouts: "The Caribou, The Caribou!"
+After going round once in a sun circle (same way as the sun),
+they go each to a corner. The Chief says: "They honour
+the symbol of the Great Spirit." The drum stops; all
+four march to the fire. They bow to it together, heads low,
+and utter a long bellow.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Chief shouts: "They honour the four Winds,
+the Messengers."</p>
+
+<p>Then the Caribou back up four paces each, turn suddenly
+and make a short bow, with a short bellow, then turn and
+again face the fire.</p>
+
+<p>The Chief shouts: "Now they live their wild free lives on
+the plain." He begins any good dance song and beats
+double time. The Caribou dance around once in a
+circle.</p>
+
+<p>The Chief shouts: "Full of life they fight among themselves."</p>
+
+<p>The first and second Caribou, and third and fourth, close
+in combat. They lower their heads, lock horns held safely
+away from the head, snort, kick up the dust, and dance
+around each other two or three times.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The music begins again, and they cease fighting and dance
+in a circle once more.</p>
+
+<p>The music stops. The Chief shouts: "They fight again."
+Now the first and fourth and second and third lock horns
+and fight.</p>
+
+<p>After a round or so the music begins again and they
+cease fighting and again circle, dancing as before.</p>
+
+<p>The Chief calls out: "The Wolves are on their track."</p>
+
+<p>Now the howling of Wolves is heard in the distance, from
+the fellows already posted.</p>
+
+<p>The Caribou rush toward that side and face it in a row,
+threatening, with horns low, as they snort, stamp, and kick
+up the dust.</p>
+
+<p>The Wolf-howling ceases. The Caribou are victorious.
+The Chief shouts: "They have driven off the Wolves."
+They turn away and circle once to the music, holding their
+heads high.</p>
+
+<p>Now Panther-yelling (or other menacing sound) is heard
+in the other direction. The Chief shouts: "But now the
+Panthers have found them out."</p>
+
+<p>Again the Caribou line up and show fight. When it
+ceases, the Chief cries out: "They have driven off the
+Panther." Now they dance proudly around, heads up,
+chests out as they step, for they have conquered every foe.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Chief calls out: "But another, a deadlier enemy
+comes. The hunters are on their trail." The hunters
+appear, crawling very low and carrying bows. They go
+half around the ring, each telling those behind by signs,
+"Here they are; we have found them," "Four big fellows,"
+"Come on," etc. When they come opposite the Caribou,
+the first hunter lets off a short "yelp." The Caribou spring
+to the opposite side of the ring, and then line up to defy this
+new noise; but do not understand it, so gaze as they prance
+about in fear. The hunters draw their bows together, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>
+make as though each lets fly an arrow. The first Caribou
+drops, the others turn in fear and run around about half
+of the ring, heads low, and not dancing; then they dash
+for the timber. The hunters run forward with yells. The
+leader holds up the horns. All dance and yell around the
+fallen Caribou and then drag it off the scene.</p>
+
+<p>The Chief then says: "Behold, it never fails; the Caribou
+dance brings the Caribou. It is great medicine. Now there
+is meat in the lodge and the children cry no longer."</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 98<br />
+The Council Robe</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Woodcraft Council Robe is something which every
+one may have, and should make for himself. It may be
+of any shade, of gray, buff, orange, or scarlet. The best ones
+are of a bright buff. In size they are about five feet by six
+feet, and the stuff may be wool, cotton, silk, or a mixture.
+My own is of soft or blanket cotton.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 290px;">
+<img src="images/i233.png" width="290" height="400" alt="The Council Robe" title="The Council Robe" />
+<span class="caption">The Council Robe</span>
+</div><p>The robe is used as a wall banner, a personal robe, or a bed
+spread, and has for the first purpose two or more tag-loops
+sewn on the top. For the second, it has a head-hole or
+poncho-hole, an upright slit near one end (hh), and for
+the last, there are one or two buttons or tie-strings to close
+the poncho-hole. These are the useful features of the
+robe.</p>
+
+<p>The ornamental features are the records on it. While
+these vary with each owner, the following usually appear:
+The Fourfold fire, near the middle; the Woodcraft shield,
+the owner's totem, the symbols of each coup and each degree
+won by the owner.</p>
+
+<p>To this many add a pictographic record of great events or
+of camps they have visited.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The easiest way to make the robe is to use paints on the
+cotton fabric.</p>
+
+<p>The favourite way and more beautiful way, is to use
+appliqu&eacute;s of coloured cloths for the design.</p>
+
+<p>The most beautiful is to embroider in silk or mercerized
+cotton. But the last is very slow, and calls for much labour
+as well as some money.</p>
+
+<p>On the preceding page are shown four different styles of
+robe; you may choose or adapt which you please, except
+that only a Sagamore may use the one with the 24 feathers
+in the centre.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THINGS TO REMEMBER</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Things to Remember</h2>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 99<br />
+How the Wren Became King of the Birds</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> story is very old, and it may not be true, but
+this is how they tell it in many countries.</p>
+
+<p>The animals had chosen the lion for their King
+because his looks and his powers seemed to fit him best of
+all for the place. So the birds made up their minds that
+they also would have a royal leader.</p>
+
+<p>After a long council it was decided that, in spite of strong
+opposition from the Ostrich and his followers, the one with
+the greatest powers of flight should be King. And away
+all flew to see which could go the highest.</p>
+
+<p>One by one they came down tired out, till only two were
+to be seen in the air: the Eagle and the Turkey-buzzard still
+going up. At last they got so high that the Turkey-buzzard
+froze his ears off for they were naked. Then he
+gave it up. The Eagle went still higher to show how strong
+he was, then sailed downward to claim the royal honours.</p>
+
+<p>But just as they were about to give him the crown, the
+Wren hopped off the top of the Eagle's head, where he had
+been hiding in the long feathers, and squeaked out, "No
+matter how high he was, I was a little bit higher, so I am
+King."</p>
+
+<p>"You," said the Eagle; "Why I carried you up."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to do with it," said the Wren.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Then let's try it over," said the Eagle.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said the Wren, "one try was agreed on, and it's
+settled now, I was higher than you."</p>
+
+<p>And they have been disputing over it ever since. The
+lawyers take the Wren's side and the soldiers take the
+Eagle's side.</p>
+
+<p>The peasants in Europe sometimes speak of the Eagle
+as "the King of the Birds," but they always call the Wren
+the "Little King." And that is why we call our gold-crowned
+Wrens, Kinglets, or Kingwrens and I suppose that
+is why they wear a crown of gold.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 100<br />
+The Snowstorm</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It was</span> at the great winter Carnival of Montreal not long
+ago. Looking out of a window on a stormy day were five
+children of different races: an Eskimo, a Dane, a Russian,
+an Indian, and a Yankee. The managers of the Carnival
+had brought the first four with their parents; but the Yankee
+was the son of a rich visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"Look," cried the little Eskimo from Alaska, as he
+pointed to the driving snow. "Look at the ivory chips
+falling! El Sol is surely carving a big Walrus tusk into a
+fine dagger for himself. See how he whittles, and sends the
+white dust flying."</p>
+
+<p>Of course he didn't say "El Sol," but used the Eskimo
+name for him.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Dane said: "No, that isn't what makes it. That
+is Mother Earth getting ready for sleep. Those are the
+goose feathers of her feather bed, shaken up by her servants
+before she lies down and is covered with her white mantle."</p>
+
+<p>The little Indian, with his eyes fixed on the storm, shook<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>
+his head gravely and said: "My father taught me that these
+are the ashes from Nana-bo-jou's pipe; he has finished his
+smoke and is wrapping his blanket about him to rest. And
+my father always spake true."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, you are all wrong," said the little Russian. "My
+grandmother told me that it is Mother Carey. She is out
+riding in her strongest, freshest steed, the White Wind.
+He has not been out all summer; he is full of strength and
+fury; he spumes and rages. The air is filled with the foam
+from his bridle, and froth from his shoulders, as she rides
+him, and spurs him, and rides him. I love to see it, and
+know that she is filling the air with strength and with messages.
+They carry me back to my own dear homeland.
+It thrills me with joy to see the whiteness."</p>
+
+<p>But the Yankee boy said: "Why, it's just snowing."</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 101<br />
+The Fairy Lamps</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was once a little barelegged, brown-limbed boy
+who spent all his time in the woods. He loved the woods
+and all that was in them. He used to look, not at the
+flowers, but deep down into them, and not at the singing
+bird, but into its eyes, to its little heart; and so he got an
+insight better than most others, and he quite gave up collecting
+birds' eggs.</p>
+
+<p>But the woods were full of mysteries. He used to hear
+little bursts of song, and when he came to the place he could
+find no bird there. Noises and movements would just
+escape him. In the woods he saw strange tracks, and one
+day, at length, he saw a wonderful bird making these very
+tracks. He had never seen the bird before, and would have
+thought it a great rarity had he not seen its tracks every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>where.
+So he learned that the woods were full of beautiful
+creatures that were skillful and quick to avoid him.</p>
+
+<p>One day, as he passed by a spot for the hundredth time,
+he found a bird's nest. It must have been there for long,
+and yet he had not seen it; and so he learned how blind he
+was, and he exclaimed: "Oh, if only I could see, then I
+might understand these things! If only I knew! If I
+could see but for once, how many there are, and how near!
+If only every bird would wear over its nest this evening a
+little lamp to show me!"</p>
+
+<p>The sun was down now; but all at once there was a soft
+light on the path, and in the middle of it the brown boy saw
+a Little Brown Lady in a long robe, and in her hand a rod.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled pleasantly and said: "Little boy, I am the
+Fairy of this Woods. I have been watching you for long.
+I like you. You seem to be different from other boys.
+Your request shall be granted."</p>
+
+<p>Then she faded away. But at once the whole landscape
+twinkled over with wonderful little lamps&mdash;long lamps,
+short lamps, red, blue, and green, high and low, doubles,
+singles, and groups; wherever he looked were lamps&mdash;twinkle,
+twinkle, twinkle, here and everywhere, until the
+forest shone like the starry sky. He ran to the nearest,
+yes, a nest; and here and there, each different kind of lamp
+stood for another kind of nest. A beautiful purple blaze
+in a low tangle caught his eye. He ran to it, and found
+a nest he had never seen before. It was full of purple eggs,
+and there was the rare bird he had seen but once. It was
+chanting the weird song he had often heard, but never traced.
+But the eggs were the marvelous things. His old egg-collecting
+instinct broke out. He reached forth to clutch
+the wonderful prize, and&mdash;in an instant all the lights went
+out. There was nothing but the black woods about him.
+Then on the pathway shone again the soft light. It grew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>
+brighter, till in the middle of it he saw the Little Brown
+Lady&mdash;the Fairy of the Woods. But she was not smiling
+now. Her face was stern and sad, as she said: "I fear I
+set you over-high. I thought you better than the rest.
+Keep this in mind:</p>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+"Who reverence not the<br />
+<span style="margin-left: .5em;">lamp of life can neve</span>r<br />
+<span style="margin-left: .5em;">see its light."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Then she faded from his view, and he never saw the lamps
+again.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 102<br />
+The Sweetest Sad Song in the Woods</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> a great American poet was asked which he thought
+was the sweetest voice in the woods. He said: "The
+sweetest sound in Nature is the calling of the Screech Owl."</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, though rarely, it does screech, but the sound
+it most often makes is the soft mournful song that it sings
+in the woods at night, especially in the autumn nights.</p>
+
+<p>It seems to be moaning a lament for the falling leaves, a
+sad good-bye to the dear dying summer.</p>
+
+<p>Last autumn one sat above my head in the dark October
+woods, and put his little soul into a song that seemed to be</p>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+Ohhhh! Ohhhh!<br />
+The leaves are falling:<br />
+Ohhhh! Ohhhh!<br />
+A sad voice calling;<br />
+Ohhhh! Ohhhh!<br />
+The Woodbirds flying;<br />
+Ohhhh! Ohhhh!<br />
+Sweet summer's dying,<br />
+Dying, Dying.<br /></div><p>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;">
+<img src="images/i242.png" width="336" height="400" alt="The Lament of the Owl. Notation by Ann Seton" title="The Lament of the Owl. Notation by Ann Seton" />
+</div>
+<div class="center">[<small><i>You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking</i> <a href="music/i242.midi">here</a>.</small>]</div>
+<div class="center">[<small><i>You can see the sheet music (PDF file) by clicking</i> <a href="music/i242.pdf">here</a>.</small>]</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A mist came into my eyes as I listened, and yet I thanked
+him. "Dear voice in the trees, you have said the things I
+felt, and could not say; but voicing my sadness you have
+given it wings to fly away."</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 103<br />
+Springtime, or the Wedding of Maka Ina and El Sol</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Oh, that</span> was a stirring, glowing time! All the air, and
+the underwood seemed throbbed with pleasant murmuring
+voices. The streams were laughing, the deep pools smiling,
+as pussy-willows scattered catkins on them from above.
+The oak trees and the birches put on little glad-hangers,
+like pennants on a gala ship. The pine trees set up their
+green candles, one on every big tip-twig. The dandelions
+made haste to glint the early fields with gold. The song
+toads and the peepers sang in volleys; the blackbirds wheeled
+their myriad cohorts in the air, a guard of honour in review.
+The woodwale drummed. The redbud draped its naked
+limbs in early festal bloom; and Rumour the pretty liar
+smiled and spread the news.</p>
+
+<p>All life was smiling with the frank unselfish smile, that
+tells of pleasure in another's joy.</p>
+
+<p>The love of love is wider than the world. And one who
+did not know their speech could yet have read in their
+reflected joy a magnitude of joyful happening, could guess
+that over two beings of the highest rank, the highest rank
+of happiness impended.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, all the living world stood still at gaze: the story of
+the bridegroom, the gracious beauty of the bride were sung,
+for the wedding day had come. And Mother Carey, she
+was there, for were they not her peers? And the Evil One&mdash;he
+came, but slunk away, for the blessing of the one Great
+Oversoul was on them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Oh, virile, radiant one, El Sol! Oh, Maka Ina! bounteous
+mother earth, the day of joining hand in hand passed
+by. The joy is with us yet; renewed each year, when March
+is three weeks gone. Look, then, ye wanderers in the woods!
+Seek in the skies, seek in the growing green, but find it
+mostly in your souls, and <i>sing!</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 104<br />
+Running the Council</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Every</span> good Woodcrafter should know the way of the
+Council Ring.</p>
+
+<p>Select some quiet level place out of doors; in the woods if
+possible, for it is so much better if surrounded by trees.</p>
+
+<p>Make a circle of low seats; the circle should be not less
+than 12 feet or more than 20 feet across, depending somewhat
+on the number to take part.</p>
+
+<p>In the middle prepare for a small fire. At one side is a
+special seat for the Chief; this is called the Council Rock.</p>
+
+<p>On very important occasions take white sand or lime,
+and draw a circle around the fire. Then from that draw
+the four lamps and the twelve laws as in Tale 105.</p>
+
+<p>When all is ready with the Guide on the Council Rock,
+and the Scouts in their seats, the Guide stands up and says:
+"Give ear my friends, we are about to hold a council. I
+appoint such a one, Keeper of the fire and so-and-so,
+Keeper of the tally. Now let the Fire-keeper light the
+fire."</p>
+
+<p>Next the Tally-keeper calls the roll. After which the
+business part of the Council is carried on exactly the same
+as any ordinary meeting, except that instead of addressing
+the "Chairman," they say, "O Chief"; instead of "yes"
+they say "ho," instead of "no" they say "wah."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The order of doings in Council is:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Order of Council">
+<tr><td align='left'>Opening and fire-lighting</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roll Call</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reading and accepting tally of last Council</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reports of Scouts (things observed or done)</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Left-over business</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">New business</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Honours</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Honourable mention</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">(For the good of the Tribe) Complaints and suggestions.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;">(<i>Here business ends and entertainment begins.</i>)</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Challenges</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Games, contests, etc.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Close by singing Omaha Prayer (<a href="#Tale_108">Tale 108</a>)</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 105<br />
+The Sandpainting of the Fire</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/i246.png" width="300" height="287" alt="The Sandpainting of the Fire" title="The Sandpainting of the Fire" />
+<span class="caption">The Sandpainting of the Fire</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">When</span> I was staying among the Navaho Indians, I met
+John Wetherall, the trader. He had spent half his life
+among them, and knew more of their ways than any other
+white man that I met. He told me that part of the education
+of Navaho priest was knowing the fifty sandpaintings
+of his tribe. A sandpainting is a design made on the ground
+or floor with dry sands of different colours&mdash;black, white,
+gray, yellow, red, etc. It looks like a rug or a blanket on
+the ground, and is made up of many curious marks which
+stand for some man, place, thing, or idea. Thus, the first
+sandpainting is a map of the world as the Navaho knew
+it, with rivers and hills that are important in their history.
+These sandpaintings cannot be moved; a careless touch
+spoils them, and a gust of wind can wipe them out. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>
+endure only in the hearts and memories of the people who
+love them.</p>
+
+<p>In the Woodcraft Camp there is but one sandpainting
+that is much used; that is, the Sandpainting of the Fourfold
+Fire. When I make it in camp, I use only white sand
+or powdered lime; but indoors, or on paper, I use yellow
+(or orange) and white.</p>
+
+<p>This is the story of the sandpainting. The fire is the symbol
+of the Great Spirit; around that we draw a great circle,
+as in the diagram.</p>
+
+<p>At each of the four sides we light another fire; these four
+are called Fortitude, Beauty, Truth, and Love, and come
+from the Fire through Spirit, Body, Mind, and Service.</p>
+
+<p>Then from each of these we draw three golden rays. These
+stand for the twelve laws of Woodcraft, and they are named
+in this way:</p>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+Be Brave, Be Silent and Obey;<br />
+Be Clean, Be Strong, Protect Wild Life alway;<br />
+Speak True, Be Reverent, Play Fair as you Strive!<br />
+Be Kind; Be Helpful; Glad you are alive.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>And the final painting is as in the drawing. Of course
+the names are not written on the real thing though the
+Woodcraft scout should know them.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 106<br />
+The Woodcraft Kalendar</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 313px;">
+<img src="images/i248.png" width="313" height="400" alt="The Woodcraft Kalendar" title="The Woodcraft Kalendar" />
+<span class="caption">The Woodcraft Kalendar</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Woodcraft Kalendar is founded on the Indian way
+of noting the months. Our own ancestors called them
+"Moons" much as the Indians did. Our word "month"
+was once written "moneth" or "monath" which meant a
+"moon or moon's time of lasting." The usual names for the
+moons to-day are Latin, but we find we get closer to nature<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>
+if we call them by their Woodcraft names, and use the
+little symbols of the Woodcraft Kalendar.</p>
+
+
+<h3>TALE 107<br />
+Climbing the Mountain</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Afar</span> in our dry southwestern country is an Indian
+village; and in the offing is a high mountain, towering up
+out of the desert. It is considered a great feat to climb
+this mountain, so that all the boys of the village were eager
+to attempt it. One day the Chief said: "Now boys, you
+you may all go to-day and try to climb the mountain.
+Start right after breakfast, and go each of you as far as you
+can. Then when you are tired, come back: but let each
+one bring me a twig from the place where he turned."</p>
+
+<p>Away they went full of hope, each feeling that he surely
+could reach the top.</p>
+
+<p>But soon a fat, pudgy boy came slowly back, and in his
+hand he held out to the Chief a leaf of cactus.</p>
+
+<p>The Chief smiled and said: "My boy, you did not reach
+the foot of the mountain; you did not even get across the
+desert."</p>
+
+<p>Later a second boy returned. He carried a twig of sagebrush.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the Chief. "You reached the mountain's
+foot but you did not climb upward."</p>
+
+<p>The next had a cottonwood spray.</p>
+
+<p>"Good," said the Chief; "You got up as far as the springs."</p>
+
+<p>Another came later with some buckthorn. The Chief
+smiled when he saw it and spoke thus: "You were climbing;
+you were up to the first slide rock."</p>
+
+<p>Later in the afternoon, one arrived with a cedar spray,
+and the old man said: "Well done. You went half way up."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>An hour afterward, one came with a switch of pine. To
+him the Chief said: "Good; you went to the third belt;
+you made three quarters of the climb."</p>
+
+<p>The sun was low when the last returned. He was a tall,
+splendid boy of noble character. His hand was empty as
+he approached the Chief, but his countenance was radiant,
+and he said: "My father, there were no trees where I got
+to; I saw no twigs, but I saw the Shining Sea."</p>
+
+<p>Now the old man's face glowed too, as he said aloud and
+almost sang: "I knew it. When I looked on your face, I
+knew it. You have been to the top. You need no twigs
+for token. It is written in your eyes, and rings in your
+voice. My boy, you have felt the uplift, you have seen the
+glory of the mountain."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Oh Ye Woodcrafters, keep this in mind, then: the badges
+that we offer for attainment, are not "<i>prizes</i>"; prizes are
+things of value taken by violence from their rightful owners.
+These are merely tokens of what you have done, of where
+you have been. They are mere twigs from the trail to
+show how far you got in climbing the mountain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 342px;"><a name="Tale_108" id="Tale_108"></a>
+<img src="images/i251.png" width="342" height="400" alt="THE OMAHA TRIBAL PRAYER. Harmonized by Prof. J. C. Fillmore." title="THE OMAHA TRIBAL PRAYER. Harmonized by Prof. J. C. Fillmore." />
+</div>
+<div class="center">[<small><i>You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking</i> <a href="music/i251.midi">here</a>.</small>]</div>
+<div class="center">[<small><i>You can see the sheet music (PDF file) by clicking</i> <a href="music/i251.pdf">here</a>.</small>]</div>
+
+<p>This old Indian prayer is sung by the Council standing
+in a great circle about the fire with feet close together,
+hands and faces uplifted, for it is addressed to the Great
+Spirit. At the final bars the hands and faces are lowered
+to the fire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Books by Ernest Thompson Seton</h2>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>WILD ANIMALS I HAVE KNOWN, 1898</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>The stories of Lobo, Silverspot, Molly Cottontail, Bingo, Vixen,
+The Pacing Mustang, Wully and Redruff. (Scribners.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>THE TRAIL OF THE SANDHILL STAG, 1899</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>The story of a long hunt that ended without a tragedy. (Scribners.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY, 1900</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>The story of old Wahb from cubhood to the scene in Death Gulch.
+(The Century Company.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>LOBO, RAG AND VIXEN, 1900</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>This is a school edition of "Wild Animals I Have Known," with
+some of the stories and many of the pictures left out. (Scribners.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>THE WILD ANIMAL PLAY, 1900</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>A musical play in which the parts of Lobo, Wahb, Vixen, etc., are
+taken by boys and girls. Out of print. (Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>THE LIVES OF THE HUNTED, 1901</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>The stories of Krag, Randy, Johnny Bear, The Mother Teal, Chink,
+The Kangaroo Rat, and Tito, the Coyote. (Scribners.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>PICTURES OF WILD ANIMALS, 1901</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>Twelve large pictures for framing (no text), viz., Krag, Lobo, Tito
+Cub, Kangaroo Rat, Grizzly, Buffalo, Bear Family, Johnny Bear,
+Sandhill Stag, Coon Family, Courtaut the Wolf, Tito and her family.
+Out of print. (Scribners.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>KRAG AND JOHNNY BEAR, 1902</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>This is a school edition of "The Lives of the Hunted" with some
+of the stories and many of the pictures left out. (Scribners.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>TWO LITTLE SAVAGES, 1903</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>A book of adventure and woodcraft and camping out for boys, telling
+how to make bows, arrows, moccasins, costumes, teepee, war-bonnet,
+etc., and how to make a fire with rubbing sticks, read Indian
+signs, etc. (Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>MONARCH, THE BIG BEAR OF TALLAC, 1904</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>The story of a big California grizzly that is living yet. (Scribners.)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>ANIMAL HEROES, 1905</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>The stories of a Slum Cat, a Homing Pigeon, The Wolf That Won,
+A Lynx, A Jackrabbit, A Bull-terrier, The Winnipeg Wolf, and a
+White Reindeer. (Scribners.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>WOODMYTH AND FABLE, 1905</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>A collection of fables, woodland verses, and camp stories. (The Century
+Company.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>BIRCH-BARK ROLL, 1906</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>The Manual of the Woodcraft Indians, first edition, 1902. (Doubleday,
+Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE TEN COMMANDMENTS,
+1907</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>Showing the Ten Commandments to be fundamental laws of all
+creation. 78 pages. (Scribners.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>THE BIOGRAPHY OF A SILVER FOX, 1909</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'>or Domino Reynard of Goldur Town, with 100 illustrations by the
+author. 209 pages.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>A companion volume to "Biography of a Grizzly." (The Century
+Company.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>LIFE HISTORIES OF NORTHERN ANIMALS, 1909</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>In two sumptuous quarto volumes with 68 maps and 560 drawings
+by the author. Pages, 1267.</p></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>Said by Roosevelt, Allen, Chapman, and Hornaday to be the best
+work ever written on the Life Histories of American Animals.
+(Scribners.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA, 1910</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>A handbook of Woodcraft, Scouting, and Life Craft Including the
+Birch-Bark Roll. 192 pages. Out of print. (Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)
+The year-book of the Boy Scouts of America is now handled by the
+American News Co.</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>ROLF IN THE WOODS, 1911</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>The Adventures of a Boy Scout with Indian Quonab and little
+dog Skookum. Over 200 drawings by the author. (Doubleday,
+Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>THE ARCTIC PRAIRIES, 1911</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>A canoe journey of 2,000 miles in search of the Caribou. 415 pages
+with many maps, photographs, and illustrations by the author.
+(Scribners.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>THE BOOK OF WOODCRAFT AND INDIAN LORE, 1912</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'>with over 500 drawings by the author. (Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>THE FORESTER'S MANUAL, 1912</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>One hundred of the best-known forest trees of eastern North
+America, with 100 maps and more than 200 drawings. Out of print.
+(Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>WILD ANIMALS AT HOME, 1913</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'>with over 150 sketches and photographs by the author. 226 pages.
+In this Mr. Seton gives for the first time his personal adventures in
+studying wild animals. (Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)</div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>MANUAL OF THE WOODCRAFT INDIANS, 1915</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>The fourteenth Birch-Bark Roll. 100 pages. (Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>WILD ANIMAL WAYS, 1916</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>More animal stories introducing a host of new four-footed friends,
+with 200 illustrations by the author. (Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>WOODCRAFT MANUAL FOR BOYS, 1917</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>A handbook of Woodcraft and Outdoor life for members of the
+Woodcraft League. 440 pp. 700 ills. (Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>WOODCRAFT MANUAL FOR GIRLS, 1917</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>Like the foregoing but adapted for girls. 424 pp., Illus. (Doubleday,
+Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>THE PREACHER OF CEDAR MOUNTAIN, 1917</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>A novel. A tale of the open country. (Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>SIGN TALK, 1918</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>A Universal Signal Code, Without Apparatus, for use in the Army,
+the Navy, Camping, Hunting, Daily Life and among the Plains Indians.
+(Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>WOODLAND TALES, 1921</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>Delightful children's stories, of fable and fairy-tale flavour, with the
+wild things of the woodland for their heroes. In the heart of each
+some nature secret is revealed. (Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.)</p></div>
+
+
+<h3>BY MRS. ERNEST THOMPSON SETON<br />
+
+(Published by DOUBLEDAY, PAGE &amp; CO.)</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>A WOMAN TENDERFOOT, 1901</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>A book of outdoor adventures and camping for women and girls.
+How to dress for it, where to go, and how to profit the most by
+camp life.</p></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><b>NIMROD'S WIFE, 1907</b></div>
+
+<div class='blockquot'><p>A companion volume, giving Mrs. Seton's side of the many campfires
+she and her husband lighted together in the Rockies from Canada
+to Mexico.</p></div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3>
+<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p>
+
+<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Woodland Tales, by Ernest Seton-Thompson
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Woodland Tales, by Ernest Seton-Thompson
+
+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: Woodland Tales
+
+Author: Ernest Seton-Thompson
+
+Release Date: November 30, 2007 [EBook #23667]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODLAND TALES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper, Emmy and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+Music transcribed by Linda Cantoni
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+WOODLAND TALES
+
+
+
+
+        WOODLAND TALES
+
+        BY
+        ERNEST THOMPSON SETON
+
+        [Illustration]
+
+        WITH 100 DRAWINGS
+
+        BY
+
+        THE AUTHOR
+
+        AUTHOR OF "WILD ANIMALS AT HOME," "WILD
+        ANIMALS I HAVE KNOWN," "TWO LITTLE SAVAGES,"
+        "BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY," "LIFE
+        HISTORIES OF NORTHERN ANIMALS," "ROLF IN
+        THE WOODS," "THE BOOK OF WOODCRAFT."
+        CHIEF OF THE WOODCRAFT LEAGUE OF AMERICA
+
+        GARDEN CITY      NEW YORK
+        DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+         1922
+
+
+
+
+        COPYRIGHT, 1905, 1920, 1921, BY
+
+        ERNEST THOMPSON SETON
+
+        ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
+        INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
+
+        COPYRIGHT 1903, 1904, BY THE CENTURY COMPANY
+
+        PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES
+        AT
+        THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+_To the Guide_
+
+
+These Mother Carey Tales were written for children of all ages, who have
+not outgrown the delight of a fairy tale. It might almost be said that
+they were written chiefly for myself, for I not only have had the
+pleasure of telling them to the little ones, and enjoying their quick
+response, but have also had the greater pleasure of thinking them and
+setting them down.
+
+As I write, I look from a loved window, across a landscape that I love,
+and my eye rests on a tall beautiful pine planted with my own hands
+years ago. It is a mass of green fringes, with gem-like tips of buds and
+baby cones, beautiful, exquisitely beautiful, whether seen from afar as
+a green spire, or viewed close at hand as jewellery. It is beautiful,
+fragile and--unimportant, as the world sees it; yet through its
+wind-waved mass one can get little glimpses of the thing that backs it
+all, the storm-defying shaft, the enduring rigid living growing trunk of
+massive timber that gives it the nobility of strength, and adds value to
+the rest; sometimes it must be sought for, but it always surely is
+there, ennobling the lesser pretty things.
+
+I hope this tree is a fair image of my fairy tale. I know my child
+friends will love the piney fringes and the jewel cones, and they can
+find the unyielding timber in its underlying truth, if they seek for it.
+If they do not, it is enough to have them love the cones.
+
+All are not fairy tales. Other chapters set forth things to see, thing
+to do, things to go to, things to know, things to remember. These,
+sanctified in the blue outdoors, spell "Woodcraft," the one pursuit of
+man that never dies or palls, the thing that in the bygone ages gifted
+him and yet again will gift him with the seeing eye, the thinking hand,
+the body that fails not, the winged soul that stores up precious
+memories.
+
+It is hoped that these chapters will show how easy and alluring, and how
+good a thing it is.
+
+While they are meant for the children six years of age and upward, it is
+assumed that Mother (or Father) will be active as a leader; therefore it
+is addressed, first of all, to the parent, whom throughout we shall call
+the "Guide."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some of these stories date back to my school days, although the first
+actually published was "Why the Chicadee Goes Crazy Twice a Year." This
+in its original form appeared in "Our Animal Friends" in September,
+1893. Others, as "The Fingerboard Goldenrod," "Brook-Brownie," "The
+Bluebird," "Diablo and the Dogwood," "How the Violets Came," "How the
+Indian Summer Came," "The Twin Stars," "The Fairy Lamps," "How the
+Littlest Owl Came," "How the Shad Came," appeared in slightly different
+form in the _Century Magazine_, 1903 and 1904.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+My thanks are due to the Authorities of the American Museum who have
+helped me with specimens and criticism; to the published writings of Dr.
+W. J. Holland and Clarence M. Weed for guidance in insect problems; to
+Britton and Browne's "Illustrated Flora, U. S. and Canada"; and to the
+Nature Library of Doubleday, Page & Co., for light in matters botanic;
+to Mrs. Daphne Drake and Mrs. Mary S. Dominick for many valuable
+suggestions, and to my wife, Grace Gallatin Seton, for help with the
+purely literary work.
+
+Also to Oliver P. Medsger, the naturalist of Lincoln High School, Jersey
+City, N. J., for reading with critical care those parts of the
+manuscript that deal with flowers and insects, as well as for the ballad
+of the Ox-eye, the story of its coming to America, and the photograph of
+the Mecha-meck.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  Things to See in Springtime
+
+  _The Seeing Eye_
+
+  TALE NO.                                                         PAGE
+
+   1. Blue-eyes, the Snow-child, or the Story of Hepatica             3
+
+   2. The Story of the Dawnsinger, or How the Bloodroot Came          5
+
+   3. The Prairie-girl with Yellow Hair                               6
+
+   4. The Cat's-eye Toad, a child of Maka Ina                        11
+
+   5. How the Bluebird Came                                          14
+
+   6. Robin, the Bird that Loves to Make Clay Pots                   17
+
+   7. Brook Brownie, or How the Song Sparrow Got his Streaks         20
+
+   8. Diablo and the Dogwood                                         20
+
+   9. The Woolly-bear                                                23
+
+   10. How the Violets Came                                          25
+
+   11. Cocoons                                                       26
+
+   12. Butterflies and Moths                                         28
+
+   13. The Mourning-cloak Butterfly or the Camberwell Beauty         30
+
+   14. The Wandering Monarch                                         32
+
+   15. The Bells of the Solomon Seal                                 35
+
+   16. The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal                    37
+
+
+  Things to See in Summertime
+
+   17. How the Mouse-bird made Fun of the Brownie                    43
+
+   18. The Pot-herb that Sailed with the Pilgrims                    44
+
+   19. How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves           47
+
+   20. The Shamrock and Her Three Sisters                            51
+
+   21. The Indian Basket-Maker                                       53
+
+   22. Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?                            56
+
+   23. The Mecha-meck                                                61
+
+   24. Dutchman's Breeches                                           63
+
+   25. The Seven Sour Sisters                                        65
+
+   26. Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass                          65
+
+   27. The Four Butterflies You See Every Summer                     67
+
+   28. The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar                              72
+
+   29. The Great Splendid Silk-moth or _Samia Cecropia_              77
+
+   30. The Green Fairy with the Long Train                           79
+
+   31. The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon               82
+
+   32. The Fairy Bird or the Humming-bird Moth                       85
+
+   33. Ribgrass or Whiteman's-Foot                                   88
+
+   34. Jack-in-the-Pulpit                                            91
+
+   35. How the Indian Pipe Came                                      91
+
+   36. The Cucumber Under the Brownie's Umbrella                     93
+
+   37. The Hickory Horn-Devil                                        95
+
+
+  Things to See in Autumntime
+
+   38. The Purple and Gold of Autumn                                103
+
+   39. Why the Chicadee Goes Crazy Twice a Year                     104
+
+   40. The Story of the Quaking Aspen or Poplar                     107
+
+   41. The Witch-hazel                                              109
+
+   42. How the Shad Came and How the Chestnut Got Its Burrs         112
+
+   43. How the Littlest Owl Came                                    113
+
+   44. The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts                              114
+
+   45. The Mud-dauber Wasp                                          117
+
+   46. The Cicada and the Katydid                                   121
+
+   47. The Digger Wasp That Killed the Cicada                       123
+
+   48. How the Indian Summer Came                                   126
+
+
+  Things to See in Wintertime
+
+   49. The North Star, or the Home Star                             129
+
+   50. The Pappoose on the Squaw's Back                             131
+
+   51. Orion the Hunter, and his Fight with the Bull                133
+
+   52. The Pleiades, that Orion Fired at the Bull                   134
+
+   53. The Twin Stars                                               136
+
+   54. Stoutheart and His Black Cravat                              137
+
+   55. Tracks and the Stories They Tell                             138
+
+   56. A Rabbit's Story of His Life                                 140
+
+   57. The Singing Hawk                                             144
+
+   58. The Fingerboard Goldenrod                                    145
+
+   59. Woodchuck Day--February Second                               149
+
+
+  Things to Know
+
+  _The Story of The Trail_
+
+   60. How the Pine Tree Tells its Own Story                       153
+
+   61. Blazes                                                      155
+
+   62. Totems                                                      155
+
+   63. Symbols                                                     159
+
+   64. Sign Language                                               161
+
+   65. The Language of Hens                                        161
+
+   66. Why the Squirrel Wears a Bushy Tail                         162
+
+   67. Why the Dog Wags His Tail                                   163
+
+   68. Why the Dog Turns Around Three Times Before Lying Down      164
+
+   69. The Deathcup of Diablo                                      165
+
+   70. The Poison Ivy, or the Three-fingered Demon of the Woods    169
+
+   71. The Medicine in the Sky                                     170
+
+   72. The Angel of the Night                                      172
+
+
+  Things to Do
+
+  _The Thinking Hand_
+
+   73. Bird-nesting in Winter                                      177
+
+   74. The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite                              179
+
+   75. The Monkey-hunt                                             181
+
+   76. The Horsetail and the Jungle                                185
+
+   77. The Woods in Winter                                         186
+
+   78. The Fish and the Pond                                       187
+
+   79. Smoke Prints of Leaves                                      189
+
+   80. Bird-boxes                                                  189
+
+   81. A Hunter's Lamp                                             193
+
+   82. The Coon Hunt                                               194
+
+   83. The Indian Pot                                              195
+
+   84. Snowflakes                                                  197
+
+   85. Are you Alive? Farsight                                     199
+
+   86. Are you Alive? Quicksight                                   200
+
+   87. Are you Alive? Hearing                                      200
+
+   88. Are you Alive? Feeling                                      201
+
+   89. Are you Alive? Quickness                                    202
+
+   90. Are you Alive? Guessing Length                              203
+
+   91. Are you Alive? Aim or Limb-control                          204
+
+   92. A Treasure Hunt                                             205
+
+   93. Moving Pictures                                             205
+
+   94. The Natural Autograph Album                                 207
+
+   95. The Crooked Stick                                           208
+
+   96. The Animal Dance of Nana-bo-jou                             209
+
+   97. The Caribou Dance                                           212
+
+   98. The Council Robe                                            216
+
+
+  Things to Remember
+
+  _The Winged Soul that Stores up Precious Memories._
+
+   99. How the Wren Became King of the Birds                       221
+
+  100. The Snowstorm                                               222
+
+  101. The Fairy Lamps                                             223
+
+  102. The Sweetest Sad Song in the Woods                          225
+
+  103. Springtime, or the Wedding of Maka Ina and El Sol           227
+
+  104. Running the Council                                         228
+
+  105. The Sandpainting of the Fire                                229
+
+  106. The Woodcraft Kalendar                                      231
+
+  107. Climbing the Mountain                                       233
+
+  108. The Omaha Prayer                                            235
+
+
+  A List of Books by the Author                                    236
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+_Mother Carey_
+
+
+All-mother! Mater Cara! I have never seen you, but I hungered so to know
+you that I understood it when you came, unseen, and silently whispered
+to me that first time in the long ago.
+
+I cannot tell the children what you look like, Mother Carey, for mortal
+eye hath never rested on your face; and yet I can offer them a portrait,
+O strong Angel of the Wild Things, neither young nor old--Oh! loving One
+that neither trembles nor relents!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A mink he was, a young mink and foolish. One of a happy brood, who were
+seeing the world with their mother--a first glimpse of it. She was
+anxious and leading, happy and proud, warning, sniffing, inviting,
+loving, yet angersome at trivial disobedience, doling out her wisdom in
+nips and examples and shrill warnings that all heeded; except this one,
+the clever fool of the family, the self-satisfied smart one. He would
+not be warned, the thing smelt so good. He plunged ahead. Mother was a
+fool; he was wiser than Mother. Here was a merry feasting for him. Then
+_clank_! The iron jaws of a trap sprang from the hiding grass, and
+clutched on his soft young paws. Screams of pain, futile strainings,
+writhings, ragings and moanings; bloody jaws on the trap; the mother
+distraught with grief, eager to take all the punishment herself, but
+helpless and stunned, unable to leave; the little brothers, aghast at
+this first touch of passion, this glimpse of reality, skurrying, scared,
+going and coming, mesmerized, with glowing eyes and bristling
+shoulder-fur. And the mother, mad with sorrow, goaded by the screaming,
+green-eyed, vacant-minded, despairing--till a new spirit entered into
+her, the spirit of Cara the All-mother, Mother Carey the Beneficent,
+Mother Carey the wise Straightwalker. Then the mother mink, inspired,
+sprang on her suffering baby. With all the power of her limbs she sprang
+and clutched; with all the power of her love she craunched. His screams
+were ended; his days in the land were ended. He had not heeded her
+wisdom; the family fool was finished. The race was better, better for
+the suffering fool mink; better for the suffering mother mink.
+
+The spirit left her; left her limp and broken-hearted. And away on the
+wind went riding, grimly riding her empire.
+
+Four swift steeds for riding, has she, the White Wind, the West Wind,
+the Wet Wind and the Waking Wind. But mostly she rides the swift West
+Wind.
+
+She is strong, is Mother Carey, strong, wise, inexorable, calm and
+direct as an iceberg. And beneficent; but she loves the strong ones
+best. She ever favours the wise ones. She is building, ceaselessly
+building. The good brick she sets in a place of honour, and the poor one
+she grinds into gravel for the workmen to walk on.
+
+She loves you, but far less than she does your race. It may be that you
+are not wise, and if it seem best, she will drop a tear and crush you
+into the dust.
+
+Three others there be of power, like Mother Carey: Maka Ina who is
+Mother Earth; El Sol, the Sun in the Sky, and Diablo the Evil Spirit of
+Disease and Dread. But over all is the One Great Spirit, the Beginning
+and the Ruler with these and many messengers, who do His bidding. But
+mostly you shall hear of Mother Carey.
+
+It is long ago since first I heard her whisper, and though I hear better
+now than then, I have no happier memory than that earliest message.
+
+"Ho Wayseeker," she called, "I have watched your struggle to find the
+pathway, and I know that you will love the things that belong to it.
+Therefore, I will show you the trail, and this is what it will lead you
+to: a thousand pleasant friendships that will offer honey in little
+thorny cups, the twelve secrets of the underbrush, the health of
+sunlight, suppleness of body, the unafraidness of the night, the delight
+of deep water, the goodness of rain, the story of the trail, the
+knowledge of the swamp, the aloofness of knowing,--yea, more, a crown
+and a little kingdom measured to your power and all your own.
+
+"But there is a condition attached. When you have found a trail you are
+thereby ordained a guide. When you have won a kingdom you must give it
+to the world or lose it. For those who have got power must with it bear
+responsibility; evade the one, the other fades away."
+
+This is the pledge I am trying to keep; I want to be your Guide. I am
+offering you my little kingdom.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO SEE IN SPRINGTIME
+
+[Illustration: Blue-eyes the Snow Child]
+
+
+
+
+Things to See in Springtime
+
+
+TALE 1
+
+Blue-eyes, the Snow Child, or The Story of Hepatica
+
+Have you ever seen El Sol, the Chief of the Wonder-workers, brother to
+Mother Carey? Yes, you have, though probably you did not know it; at
+least you could not look him in the face. Well, I am going to tell you
+about him, and tell of a sad thing that happened to him, and to some one
+whom he loved more than words can tell.
+
+Tall and of blazing beauty was El Sol, the King of the Wonder-workers;
+his hair was like shining gold, and stood straight out a yard from his
+head, as he marched over the hilltops.
+
+Everyone loved him, except a very few, who once had dared to fight him,
+and had been worsted. Everyone else loved him, and he liked everybody,
+without really loving them. Until one day, as he walked in his garden,
+he suddenly came on a beautiful white maiden, whom he had never seen
+before. Her eyes were of the loveliest blue, her hair was so soft that
+it floated on the air, and her robe was white, covered with ferns done
+in white lace.
+
+He fell deeply in love with her at once, but she waved a warning hand,
+when he tried to come near.
+
+"Who are you, oh radiant princess? I love you even before I hear you
+speak."
+
+"I am Snowroba, the daughter of the great King Jackfrost," she said.
+
+"I love you as I never loved any one. Will you marry me? I am the King
+of the Wonder-workers. I will make you the Queen."
+
+"No," said she, "I cannot marry you, for it is written that if one of my
+people marry one of your people, she will sink down and die in a day."
+
+Then El Sol was very sad. But he said, "May I not see you again?"
+
+"Yes," she answered, "I will meet you here in the morning, for it is
+pleasant to look on your beauty," and her voice tinkled sweetly.
+
+So she met him in the morning, and again on the third morning. He loved
+her madly now, and though she held back, he seized her in his arms and
+kissed her tenderly.
+
+Then her arms fell weakly to her sides, and her eyes half closed as she
+said: "I know now that the old writing spake truth. I love you, I love
+you, my love; but you have killed me."
+
+And she sank down, a limp white form, on the leafy ground.
+
+El Sol was wild with grief. He tried to revive her, to bring her back.
+
+She only whispered, "Good-bye, my love. I am going fast. You will see me
+no more, but come to this place a year from now. It may be Maka Ina will
+be kind, and will send you a little one that is yours and mine."
+
+Her white body melted away, as he bent over it and wept.
+
+He came back every morning, but saw Snowroba no more. One year from that
+day, as he lingered sadly over the sacred spot, he saw a new and
+wonderful flower come forth. Its bloom was of the tenderest violet blue,
+and it was full of expression. As he gazed, he saw those eyes again; the
+scalding tears dropped from his eyes, and burned its leaves into a
+blotched and brownish colour. He remembered, and understood her promise
+now. He knew that this was their blue-eyed little one.
+
+In the early springtime we can see it. Three sunny days on the edge of
+the snowdrift will bring it forth. The hunterfolk who find it, say that
+it is just one of the spring flowers, out earlier than any other, and is
+called Liverleaf, but we Woodcrafters know better. We know it is
+Hepatica, the child of El Sol and Snowroba.
+
+
+TALE 2
+
+The Story of the White Dawnsinger
+
+or
+
+How the Bloodroot Came
+
+Have you noticed that there are no snow-white birds in our woods during
+summer? Mother Carey long ago made it a rule that all snow-white
+landbirds should go north, when the snow was gone in the springtime. And
+they were quite obedient; they flew, keeping just on the south edge of
+the melting snow.
+
+But it so happened that one of the sweetest singers of all--the
+snow-white Dawnsinger with the golden bill and the ruby legs--was flying
+northward with his bride, when she sprained her wing so she could not
+fly at all.
+
+There was no other help for it; they must stay in that thicket till her
+wing grew strong again.
+
+The other white birds flew on, but the Dawnsinger waited. He sang his
+merriest songs to cheer her. He brought her food: and he warned her when
+enemies were near.
+
+A moon had come and gone. Now she was well again, and strong on the
+wing. He was anxious to go on to their northern home. A second warning
+came from Mother Carey, "White birds go north."
+
+But the sunny woodside had become very pleasant, food was abundant, and
+the little white lady said, "Why should we go north when it is so much
+nicer right here?"
+
+The Dawnsinger felt the same way, and the next time the warning came,
+"White birds go north," he would not listen at all, and they settled
+down to a joyful life in the woods.
+
+They did not know anything about the Yellow-eyed Whizz. They never would
+have known, had they gone north at their right time. But the Yellow-eyed
+Whizz was coming. It came, and It always goes straight after white
+things in the woods, for brown things It cannot see.
+
+Dawnsinger was high on a tree, praising the light in a glorious song,
+that he had just made up, when It singled him out by his whiteness, and
+pierced him through.
+
+He fell fluttering and dying; and as she flew to him, with a cry of
+distress, the Yellow-eyed wicked Whizz struck her down by his side.
+
+The Chewinks scratched leaves over the two white bodies, and--I
+think--that Mother Carey dropped a tear on the place.
+
+That was the end of the White Dawnsinger and his bride. Yet every year,
+at that same place, as the snow goes, the brown leaves move and part,
+and up from beneath there comes a beautiful white flower.
+
+[Illustration: The Story of the White Dawnsinger]
+
+Its bloom threads are yellow like the Dawnsinger's beak, and its stem is
+ruby like his legs; all the rest is snow-white like his plumes. It
+rises, looks about, faces the sun, and sings a little odour-song, a
+little aroma-lay. If you look deep down into the open soul of the
+Dawnsinger you will see the little golden thoughts he sings about. Then
+up from the same grave comes another, just the same, but a little
+smaller, and for a while they stand up side by side, and praise the
+light. But the Wither-bloom that haunts the flowers as the Yellow-eyed
+Whizz does the birds, soon finds them out; their song is ended, their
+white plumes are scattered, and they shrink back into their grave, to be
+side by side again.
+
+You can find their little bodies, but deal gently with them, for they
+are wounded; you may make them bleed again.
+
+And when you hear the Chewinks scratching in the underbrush, remember
+they are putting leaves on the grave of the White Dawnsinger.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Surely you have guessed the secret; the flower is the Bloodroot, and the
+Whizz is the Sharp-shinned Hawk.
+
+
+TALE 3
+
+The Prairie-girl with Yellow Hair
+
+[Illustration: The Prairie-girl]
+
+Tall and fair was the Prairie-girl. She was not very pretty, but her
+form was slender and graceful, and her head was covered with a mass of
+golden hair that made you see her from afar off. It has been whispered
+that she was deeply in love with El Sol, for wherever he went, she
+turned her head to look at him; and when she could not see him, she
+drooped and languished. But he never seemed to notice her. As she grew
+older her golden head turned white, and at last the swish of Mother
+Carey's horses carried away all her white hair, and left her old, bald,
+and ugly. So she pined and died, and Maka Ina buried her poor little
+body under the grass. But some say it was Father Time that blew her hair
+away, and that El Sol had the body cremated.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If you look on the lawns or the fields in springtime, you are sure to
+find the Prairie-girl. The Guide can show her to you, if you do not
+know her. But he will call her "Common Dandelion," and I do not know of
+any flower that has so many things for us children to remember.
+
+If you are learning French, you will see how it got the name
+"Dandelion"; it used to be written _dent de lion_; that is, "tooth of a
+lion"; because its leaves are edged with sharp teeth, like a lion's jaw.
+
+Its golden-yellow flower is said to open when the Swallows arrive from
+the south, that is, in April; and though it blooms chiefly in springtime
+it keeps on blooming till long after the Swallows fly away. It certainly
+thrives as long as the sun shines on it, and fades when the cold dark
+season comes. But I have seen it out in November; that is, the Dandelion
+blooms for fully nine months. I do not know of any other flower that
+does; most of them are done in one month.
+
+When the yellow flower is over, its place is taken by a beautiful globe
+of soft, white plumes; this is why the story says its golden hair turns
+white with age. The children believe that this woolly head will tell you
+the time of day. You hold it up, then pretend you are Father Time
+blowing her hair away, blow a sharp puff with your breath, then another
+and another, till the plumes are blown away. If it takes four blows,
+they say it means four o'clock; but it is not a very true clock.
+
+Some children make a wish, then blow once and say, "this year"; the
+second time, "next year"; the third time, "some time"; the fourth time,
+"never." Then begin all over, and keep on as long as any plumes are
+left, to tell when the wish is coming true.
+
+Now pull the head off the stalk. You will find it leaves a long, open
+tube that sounds like a trumpet when you blow through it from the small
+end. If you force your finger into the big end, and keep pushing, you
+split the tube into two or three pieces; put these in your mouth and
+they will curl up like ringlets. Some children hang these on their ears
+for ornaments. Take a stalk for each year of your age; pull its head
+off. Then you will find that the top end will go into the bottom and
+make a ring. Use all the stalks you have gathered, to make a chain; now
+throw this chain into a low tree. If it sticks the first time, your wish
+will come true this year. Each time it falls puts your wish a year
+farther away.
+
+This may not be true; but it is a game to play. Some big girls use it,
+to find out when they are going to be married.
+
+Now dig up the whole plant, root and all--the gardener will be much
+obliged to you for doing so--take it home, and ask the Guide to make the
+leaves into a salad; you will find it good to eat; most Europeans eat it
+regularly, either raw, or boiled as greens.
+
+Last of all, ask the Guide to roast the root, till it is brown and
+crisp, then grind it in a coffee-mill, and use it to make coffee. Some
+people think it better than real coffee; at any rate, the doctors say it
+is much healthier, for it is nourishing food, and does not do one any
+harm at all. But perhaps you will not like it. You may think all the
+time you are eating the body of the poor little Prairie-girl, who died
+of love.
+
+
+TALE 4
+
+The Cat's-eye Toad, a Child of Maka Ina
+
+When you were little, O Guide! didn't you delight in the tales of gnomes
+or _nibelungen_, those strange underground creatures that lived hidden
+from the light, and busied themselves with precious stones and metals?
+How unwillingly we gave up those glad beliefs, as we inevitably grew old
+and lost our fairyland eyes!
+
+[Illustration: The Cat's eye Toad (life size)]
+
+But you must not give up all your joyful creeds; you must keep on
+believing in the weird underground dwarfs; for I am going to tell you of
+one that the cold calculating Professor Science has at last accepted,
+and that lives in your own back-yard. That is, the Cat's-eye Toad or
+Spadefoot. It is much like a common Toad, but a little smoother, the
+digging spade on its hind foot is bigger and its eye, its beautiful
+gold-stone eye, has the pupil up and down like that of a Cat, instead of
+level as in its cousin, the warty Hoptoad.
+
+But the wonderful thing about the Cat's-eye is that it spends most of
+its life underground, coming out in the early springtime for a few days
+of the most riotous honeymoon in some small pond, where it sings a loud
+chorus till mated, lays a few hundred eggs, to be hatched into tadpoles,
+then backs itself into its underground world by means of the boring
+machine on its hind feet, to be heard no more that season, and seen no
+more, unless some one chance to dig it out, just as Hans in the story
+dug out the mole-gnome.
+
+In the fairy tale the Shepherd-boy was rewarded by the gnome for digging
+him out; for he received both gold and precious stones. But our gnome
+does not wish us to dig him out; nevertheless, if you do, you will be
+rewarded with a golden fact, and a glimpse of two wonderful jewel eyes.
+
+According to one who knows him well, the Cat's-eye buries itself far
+underground, and sleeps days, or weeks, _perhaps years_ at a time. Once
+a grave-digger found a Cat's-eye three feet two inches down in the earth
+with no way out.
+
+How and when are we then to find this strange creature? Only during his
+noisy honeymoon in April.
+
+Do you know the soft trilling whistle of the common Hoptoad in May? The
+call of the Cat's-eye is of the same style but very loud and harsh, and
+heard early in April. If on some warm night in springtime, you hear a
+song which sounds like a cross between a Toad's whistle and a Chicken's
+squawk, get a searchlight and go quietly to the place. The light will
+help you to come close, and in the water up to his chin, you will see
+him, his gold-stone eyes blazing like jewels and his throat blown out
+like a mammoth pearl, each time he utters the "squawk" which he intends
+for a song. And it is a song, and a very successful one, for a visit to
+the same pond a week or two later, will show you--not the Cat's-eye or
+his mate, they have gone a-tunnelling--but a swarm of little black
+pin-like tadpole Cat's-eyes, born and bred in the glorious sunlight but
+doomed and ready, if they live, to follow in their parents' tracks far
+underground. Sure proof that the song did win a mate, and was crowned
+with the success for which all woodland, and marshland song first was
+made.
+
+
+TALE 5
+
+How the Bluebird Came
+
+Nana-bo-jou, that some think is the Indian name for El Sol and some say
+is Mother Carey, was sleeping his winter's sleep in the big island just
+above the thunder-dam that men call Niagara. Four moons had waned, but
+still he slept. The frost draperies of his couch were gone; his white
+blanket was burnt into holes. He turned over a little; then the ice on
+the river cracked like near-by thunder. When he turned again, it began
+to slip over the big beaver-dam of Niagara, but still he did not awake.
+
+[Illustration: How the Bluebird Came]
+
+The great Er-Beaver in his pond, that men call Lake Erie, flapped his
+tail, and the waves rolled away to the shore, and set the ice heaving,
+cracking, and groaning; but Nana-bo-jou slept on.
+
+Then the Ice-demons pounded the shore of the island with their clubs.
+They pushed back the whole river-flood till the channel was dry, then
+let it rush down like the end of all things, and they shouted together:
+
+"Nana-bo-jou! Nana-bo-jou! Nana-bo-jou! Wake up!"
+
+But still he slept calmly on.
+
+Then came a soft, sweet voice, more gentle than the mating turtle of
+Miami. It was in the air, but it was nowhere, and yet it was in the
+trees, in the water, and it was in Nana-bo-jou too. He felt it, and it
+awoke him. He sat up and looked about. His white blanket was gone; only
+a few tatters of it were to be seen in the shady places. In the sunny
+spots the shreds of the fringe with its beads had taken root and were
+growing into little flowers with beady eyes, Spring Beauties as they are
+called now. The small voice kept crying: "Awake! the spring is coming!"
+
+Nana-bo-jou said: "Little voice, where are you? Come here."
+
+But the little voice, being everywhere, was nowhere, and could not come
+at the hero's call.
+
+So he said: "Little voice, you are nowhere because you have no place to
+live in; I will make you a home."
+
+So Nana-bo-jou took a curl of birch bark and made a little wigwam, and
+because the voice came from the skies he painted the wigwam with blue
+mud, and to show that it came from the Sunland he painted a red sun on
+it. On the floor he spread a scrap of his own white blanket, then for a
+fire he breathed into it a spark of life, and said: "Here, little voice,
+is your wigwam." The little voice entered and took possession, but
+Nana-bo-jou had breathed the spark of life into it. The smoke-vent wings
+began to move and to flap, and the little wigwam turned into a beautiful
+Bluebird with a red sun on its breast and a shirt of white. Away it
+flew, but every year it comes as winter wanes, the Bluebird of the
+spring. The voice still dwells in it, and we feel that it has lost
+nothing of its earliest power when we hear it cry: "Awake! the spring is
+coming!"
+
+
+TALE 6
+
+Robin, the Bird that Loves to Make Clay Pots
+
+Everyone knows the Robin; his reddish-brown breast, gray back, white
+throat, and dark wings and tail are easily remembered. If you colour the
+drawing, you will always remember it afterward. The Robin comes about
+our houses and lawns; it lets us get close enough to see it. It has a
+loud, sweet song. All birds have a song[A]; and all sing when they are
+happy. As they sing most of the time, except when they are asleep, or
+when moulting, they must have a lot of happiness in their lives.
+
+Here are some things to remember about the Robin. It is one of the
+earliest of all our birds to get up in the morning, and it begins to
+sing long before there is daylight.
+
+Birds that live in the trees, _hop_; birds that live on the ground,
+_walk_ or _run_; but the Robin lives partly in the trees and partly on
+the ground, so sometimes he hops and sometimes he runs.
+
+[Illustration: The Robin Making Clay Pots]
+
+When he alights on a fence or tree, he looks at you and flashes the
+white spots on the outer corners of his tail. Again and again he does
+this. Why? That is his way of letting you know that he is a Robin. He is
+saying in signal code--flash and wig-wag--"I'm a Robin, I'm a Robin, I'm
+a Robin." So you will not mistake him for some bird that is less loved.
+
+The Robin invented pottery before men did; his nest is always a clay pot
+set in a little pile of straws. Sometime, get a Robin's nest after the
+bird is done with it; dry it well, put it on the fire very gently; leave
+it till all the straws are burned away, and then if it does not go to
+pieces, you will find you have a pretty good earthen pot.
+
+The Robin loves to make these pots. I have known a cock Robin make
+several which he did not need, just for the fun of making them.
+
+A friend of mine said to me once, "Come, and I will show you the nest of
+a crazy Robin." We went to the woodshed and there on a beam were six
+perfectly good Robin nests all in a row; all of them empty.
+
+"There," said my friend. "All of these six were built by a cock Robin in
+about ten days or two weeks. He seemed to do nothing but sing and build
+nests. Then after finishing the last one, he disappeared. Wasn't he
+crazy?"
+
+"No," I said, "not at all. He was not crazy; he was industrious. Let me
+finish the chapter. The hen Robin was sitting on the eggs, the cock bird
+had nothing else to do, so he put in the time at the two things he did
+the best and loved the most: singing and nest-building. Then after the
+young were hatched in the home nest, he had plenty to do caring for
+them, so he ceased both building and singing, for that season."
+
+I have often heard of such things. Indeed, they are rather common, but
+not often noticed, because the Robin does not often build all the extra
+nests in one place.
+
+Do you know the lovely shade called Robin's-egg blue? The next time you
+see a Robin's nest with eggs in it you will understand why it was so
+named and feel for a moment, when first you see it, that you have found
+a casket full of most exquisite jewels.
+
+Next to nest-building, singing is the Robin's gift, and the songs that
+he sings are full of joy. He says, "_cheerup, cheer up, cheerily
+cheer-up_"; and he means it too.
+
+
+TALE 7
+
+Brook Brownie, or How the Song Sparrow Got His Streaks
+
+[Illustration: Brook Brownie]
+
+  His Mother was the Brook and his sisters were the Reeds,
+  They, every one, applauded when he sang about his deeds.
+  His vest was white, his mantle brown, as clear as they could be,
+  And his songs were fairly bubbling o'er with melody and glee.
+  But an envious Neighbour splashed with mud our Brownie's coat and vest,
+  And then a final handful threw that stuck upon his breast.
+  The Brook-bird's mother did her best to wash the stains away;
+  But there they stuck, and, as it seems, are very like to stay.
+  And so he wears the splashes and the mud blotch, as you see;
+  But his songs are bubbling over still with melody and glee.
+
+
+TALE 8
+
+Diablo and the Dogwood
+
+
+[Illustration: The Dogwood Bloom]
+
+What a glorious thing is the Maytime Dogwood in our woods! How it does
+sing out its song! More loudly and clearly it sings than any other
+spring flower! For it is not one, but a great chorus; and I know it is
+singing that "The spring, the very spring is in the land!"
+
+I suppose if one had King Solomon's fayland ears, one might hear the
+Dogwood music like a lot of church bells pealing, like the chorus of the
+cathedral where Woodthrush is the preacher-priest and the Veeries make
+responses.
+
+It was Adam's favourite tree, they say, in the Garden of Eden. And it
+grew so high, flowered so wonderfully, and gave so much pleasure that
+Diablo, who is also called the Devil, wanted to kill it. He made up his
+mind that he would blight and scatter every shining leaf of its snowy
+bloom. So one dark night he climbed a Honey Locust tree near the gate,
+and swung by his tail over the wall, intending to tear off all the
+lovely blossoms. But he got a shock when he found that every flower was
+in the _shape of a cross_, which put them beyond his power to blight. He
+was furious at not being able to destroy its beauty, so did the worst he
+could. Keeping away from the cross he bit a piece out of the edge of
+every snowy flower leaf, and then jumped back to the Honey Locust tree.
+
+The Locust was ashamed when she found that she had helped Diablo to do
+such a mean bit of mischief, so she grew a bristling necklace of strong
+spikes to wear; they were so long and sharp that no one since, not even
+Diablo himself, has ever been able to climb that Honey Locust tree.
+
+But it was too late to save the Dogwood bloom. The bites were out, and
+they never healed up again, as you can see to this very day.
+
+
+TALE 9
+
+The Woolly-bear
+
+[Illustration: The Woolly-bear (the moth is 1-1/4 life size)]
+
+Do you know the Woolly-bear Caterpillar? It is divided into three parts;
+the middle one brown, the two ends black. Everyone notices the
+Woolly-bear, because it comes out in early spring, as soon as the frost
+is over, and crawls on the fences and sidewalks as though they belonged
+to it. It does not seem to be afraid of any one or anything. It will
+march across the road in front of a motor car, or crawl up the leg of
+your boot. Sometimes when you brush it off with your hand, little
+hairs are left sticking in your fingers, because it is really like a
+small porcupine, protected by short spears sticking out of its skin in
+all directions. Here at the side of the picture, is one of these hairs
+seen under a microscope.
+
+Where did the Woolly-bear come from? It was hatched from an egg last
+summer.
+
+And now what is going to happen? It will stuff itself with rib-grass or
+other low plants, till it has grown bigger; then it will get a warning
+from the All-mother to prepare for the great change. In some low dry
+place under a log, stone or fence-rail, it will spin a cocoon with its
+own spikey hairs outside for a protector. In this rough hairy coffin it
+will roll itself up, for its "little death," as the Indians call it, and
+Mother Carey will come along with her sleeping wand, and touch it, so it
+will go into sound sleep, but for only a few days. One bright sunny
+morning old Mother Carey comes around again, touches the Woolly-bear
+bundle-baby, and out of it comes the Woolly-bear, only now it is changed
+like the Prince in the story into a beautiful Moth called the
+Tiger-Moth! Out he comes, and if you look up at one end of the coffin he
+is leaving, you may see the graveclothes he wore when first he went to
+sleep. Away he flies now to seek his beautiful mate, and soon she lays a
+lot of eggs, from each of which will come another little Woolly-bear to
+grow into a big Woolly-bear, and do it all over again.
+
+
+TALE 10
+
+How the Violets Came
+
+        The Meadow she was sorry
+        For her sister Sky, you see,
+        'Cause, though her robe of blue was bright,
+        'Twas plain as it could be.
+
+        And so she sent a skylark up
+        To trim the Sky robe right
+        With daisies from the Meadow
+        (You can see them best at night).
+
+        And every scrap of blue cut out
+        To make those daisies set
+        Came tumbling down upon the grass
+        And grew a violet.
+
+
+TALE 11
+
+Cocoons
+
+Everyone loves to go a-hunting. Our forebears were hunters for so many
+ages that the hunting spirit is strong in all of us, even though held in
+check by the horror of giving pain to a fellow being. But the pleasure
+of being outdoors, of seeking for hidden treasures, of finding something
+that looks at first like old rubbish, and then turns out to be a
+precious and beautiful thing, that is ours by right of the old
+law--finders, keepers. That is a kind of hunting that every healthy
+being loves, and there are many ways and chances for you to enjoy it.
+
+Go out any time between October and April, and look in all the low trees
+and high bushes for the little natural rag-bundles called "cocoons."
+Some are bundle-shaped and fast to a twig their whole length. Some hang
+like a Santa Claus bag on a Christmas tree; but all may be known by
+their hairiness or the strong, close cover of fine gray or brown fibre
+or silk, without seams and woven to keep out the wet.
+
+[Illustration: Cocoons]
+
+They are so strongly fastened on, that you will have to break the twig
+to get the bundle down. If it seems very light, and rattled when you
+shake it, you will likely see one or more small, sharp, round holes in
+it. This means that an insect enemy has destroyed the little creature
+sleeping within. If the Cocoon is perfect and seems solid and heavy,
+take it home, and put it in a cardboard, or wooden box, which has a wire
+screen, or gauze cover. Keep it in a light place, not too dry, till the
+springtime comes; then one day a miracle will take place. The case will
+be cut open from within, and out will come a gorgeous Moth. It is like
+the dull, dark grave opening up at the resurrection to let forth a
+new-born, different being with wings to fly in the heavens above.
+
+In the drawing I have shown five different kinds of bundle-baby, then at
+the bottom have added the jug-handled bundle-baby of the Tomato worm; it
+does not make a Cocoon but buries itself in the ground when the time
+comes for the Great Sleep. Kind Mother Earth protects it as she does the
+Hickory Horn-Devil, so it does not need to make a Cocoon at all.
+
+There is a wonderful story about each of these bundle-babies. You will
+never get weary if you follow and learn them, for each one differs from
+the last. Some of them I hope to tell you in this book, and before we
+begin I want you to know some of the things that men of science have
+learned, and why a Butterfly is not a Moth.
+
+
+TALE 12
+
+Butterflies and Moths
+
+Do you remember the dear old fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast? How
+Beauty had to marry the Beast to save her father's life? But as soon as
+she had bravely agreed to sacrifice herself--as soon as she gave the
+fateful "Yes" the Beast stood up on his hind legs, his horns, hoofs and
+hide rolled off, and he was turned back into his true shape, a splendid
+young Prince whom she could not help loving; and they lived happy ever
+after.
+
+Do you know that just such transformations and happy weddings are going
+on about us all the time? The Beast is an ugly Caterpillar, the Princess
+Beauty is the Butterfly or the Moth. And when the Beast is changed into
+the Prince Charming and meets with Princess Beauty, they are just as
+madly happy as they tell it in the fairy books. I know it, for I have
+seen the transformation, and I have seen the pair go off on their
+wedding flight.
+
+Men of science have been trying to explain these strange
+transformations, and to discover why the Prince and Princess do not need
+to eat or drink, once they have won their highest form, their life of
+wings and joy. But they have not got much farther than giving names to
+the things we have long loved and seen as children, dividing the winged
+wonders into two big families called Butterflies and Moths.
+
+Do you know the difference between a Butterfly and a Moth?
+
+Taken together they make a large group that are called Scale-wings,
+because they alone among insects, have scales or tiny feathers like dust
+on the wings. Butterflies are Scale-wings that fly by day, and have
+club-shaped feelers; they mostly fold one wing against the other when
+they alight, and in the chrysalis, or bundle-baby stage, they are naked
+and look like an African ear-drop.
+
+Moths are Scale-wings that fly by night, and have switch or
+feather-shaped feelers; they keep their wings spread open when they
+alight, and in the bundle-baby stage, they are wrapped in a cocoon.
+There are some that do not keep to these rules, but they are rare, and
+the shape of the feelers will tell whether it is a Moth or a Butterfly.
+
+All of these Scale-wings are hatched from eggs, and come first, as a
+worm, grub, or caterpillar; next as a chrysalis pupa or bundle-baby;
+last as the winged creature. That is, first a Beast and last a Beauty.
+Each of them must at one time be the ugly one, before the great change
+comes. But I must tell you a truth that the Fairy Books left out, and
+which maybe you have guessed--Princess Beauty too was at one time forced
+to live and look like a Beast, till she had fought her own fight, had
+worked out her own high destiny, and won her way to wings.
+
+
+TALE 13
+
+The Mourning-cloak Butterfly, or the Camberwell Beauty
+
+There was once a lady who dwelt in Camberwell. She was so good to see
+that people called her "The Camberwell Beauty." She dressed so
+magnificently that her robe was covered with gold, and spangled with
+precious stones of most amazing colours. Especially proud was she, of
+the row of big blue diamonds that formed the border; and she loved to go
+forth into the world to see and be seen; although she knew that the
+country was full of robbers who would be sure to steal her jewels if
+they could. Then she made a clever plan, she kept on the beautiful
+things that she loved to dress in, but over all she hung a black velvet
+mourning cloak which nobody could possibly want to steal. Then she went
+up and down the roads as much as she pleased.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Mourning-cloak Butterfly (3/4 life size)]
+
+Well, this story may be not quite true, but it is partly true, and the
+beautiful lady is known to-day as the Mourning-cloak Butterfly. There it
+is, plain to be seen, the black mourning cloak, but peeping from under
+it, you can see the golden border and some of the blue diamonds too,
+if you look very carefully.
+
+In the North Woods where I spent my young days, the first butterfly to
+be seen in the springtime was the Mourning-cloak, and the reason we saw
+it so early in the season, yes, even in the snowtime, was because this
+is one of the Butterflies that sometimes sleep all winter, and so live
+in two different seasons.
+
+Its eggs are laid on the willows, elms, or poplars, in early springtime.
+The young soon hatch, and eat so much, and grow so fast, that five weeks
+after the eggs are laid, and three after they are hatched, the
+caterpillar is full grown, and hangs itself up as a chrysalis under some
+sheltering board or rail. In two weeks more, the wonderful event takes
+place, the perfect Butterfly comes forth; and there is another
+Mourning-cloak to liven the roadside, and amaze us with its half-hidden
+beauty.
+
+
+TALE 14
+
+The Wandering Monarch
+
+Did you ever read the old Greek story of Ulysses, King of Ithaca, the
+Wandering Monarch, who for twenty years roamed over sea and land away
+from home--always trying to get back, but doomed to keep on travelling,
+homesick and weary, but still moving on; until his name became a byword
+for wandering?
+
+[Illustration: MONARCH BUTTERFLY
+
+"The Wanderer" in Three Stages: Cocoon, Caterpillar, and Butterfly]
+
+In our own woods and our own fields in America we have a Wandering
+Monarch--the "Big Red Butterfly" as we children called it--the "Monarch"
+as it is named by the butterfly catchers.
+
+It is called the "Wanderer" chiefly because it is the only one of our
+Butterflies that migrates like the birds. In the late summer it
+gathers in great swarms when the bright days are waning, and flies away
+to warmer lands. I have often seen it going, yet I do not remember that
+I ever saw it come back in the springtime; but it comes, though not in
+great flocks like those that went south.
+
+One of the common names of this splendid creature is "Milkweed
+Butterfly" because its grub or caterpillar is fond of feeding on the
+leaves of the common milkweed.
+
+The drawing shows the size and style of the grub; in colour it is yellow
+or yellowish green with black bands.
+
+As soon as it is grown big enough and fat enough, the grub hangs itself
+up as a "chrysalis" which is a Greek word that may be freely rendered
+into "golden jewel." The middle drawing shows its shape; in colour it is
+of a pale green with spots of gold, or as it has been described "a green
+house with golden nails."
+
+After about two weeks the great change takes place, and the bundle-baby
+or chrysalis opens to let out the splendid red-brown Butterfly, of
+nearly the same red as a Cock Robin's breast in springtime, with lines
+and embroidery of black and its border set with pearls. Near the middle
+of the hind wing is a dark spot like a thickening of one rib. This has
+been called a "sachet bag" or "scent-pocket," and though not very
+ornamental to look at, is of more use to it than the most beautiful
+white pearl of the border. For this is the battery of its wireless
+telegraph. We think our ships and aeroplanes very far advanced because
+they can signal miles away, and yet the Wandering Monarch had an outfit
+for sending messages long before it was ever dreamed of by man. Maybe it
+is not a very strong battery, but it certainly reaches for miles; and
+maybe its messages are not very clear, but they serve at least to let
+the Monarchs know where their wives are, and how to find them, which is
+something.
+
+There is one other reason for calling this the Wanderer. Although it is
+an American by birth, it has travelled to England and the Philippines
+and is ever going farther over the world till at last no doubt it will
+have seen all lands and possessed them.
+
+It makes old Ulysses look like a very stay-at-home, for his farthest
+travels never went beyond the blue Mediterranean, and his whole twenty
+years of voyaging covered less than the states east of the
+Mississippi--much less than our Red Wanderer covers in a single summer.
+
+
+TALE 15
+
+The Bells of the Solomon Seal
+
+Let us go out into the woods, and look for the Solomon Seal. This is May
+and we should find it in some half open place, where it is neither wet
+nor dry. Here it is! See the string of bells that hangs from its curving
+stem. Dig out its roots, wash off the earth, and you will see the mark
+of King Solomon's Seal that gives its name to the plant. Now listen to
+the story of it all.
+
+King Solomon had the "second sight" that means the deeper sight, the
+magic eyesight which made him see through a stone wall, or read men's
+thoughts. King Solomon had fayland ears; which means, he could hear all
+sounds from A to Z; while common ears, like yours and mine, hear only
+the middle sounds from K to Q.
+
+Everything that lives and moves is giving out music; every flower that
+blooms is singing its song. We cannot hear, our ears are too dull; but
+King Solomon could. And one day, as he walked through the woods, he
+heard a new flower-song that made him stop and listen. It had strange
+music with it, and part of that was a chime of golden bells.
+
+[Illustration: The Bells of the Solomon Seal]
+
+The great King sat down on a bank. His fayland eyes could see right into
+the ground. He saw the fat fleshy root like a little goblin, reaching
+its long white fingers down into the soil, picking out the magic
+crystals to pack away in its pockets; and he could see the tall stem
+like a wood-elf carrying them up, and spreading them upon its flat
+hands, so they could soak up the juices of the sun and air. He could see
+them turning into a wonderful stuff like amber dew, with a tang like
+new-cut timber. But it was not yet done, so he could not tell just what
+it might be good for. Now it was springtime, and it would be harvest red
+moon before the little worker would have the magic healing stored in its
+treasure bags underground. So to prevent any one harming or hindering
+the plant till its work was done, the King took out his seal ring and
+stamped seal marks all along the root, where they are unto this day. And
+then to make it sure he made the golden bell chimes become visible so
+every one could see them. There they hang like a row of ringing bells.
+
+But the King never came back to learn the rest of it, for he had to
+build the temple; and he had many wives who took up a great deal of his
+time. So the world has never found out just what is the magic power of
+the plant. But it is there, be sure of that, just as surely as the peal
+of golden bells is there, and the marks of the great King's Seal.
+
+
+TALE 16
+
+The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal
+
+[Illustration: The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal]
+
+Over a month later, the King suddenly remembered that he had not been
+out to see the plant whose root he had sealed. He was very busy at the
+time, as he had the temple to build, and many wives to look after; so he
+called Djin, a good goblin, who does hard work and said, "Go and see
+that no one has harmed that plant," then told him how to find it.
+
+Away went the good goblin, like a flash. He was a very obedient servant,
+but not very bright; and when he came to the woods, he looked all around
+for the plant with the chime of bells, for King Solomon had forgotten to
+say that the bells do not ring after June, and it was now July. So the
+goblin looked about for a long time. He did not dare to go back and say
+he could not find it--that would have been a terrible crime, so he
+looked and looked. At last he heard a little tinkle of bells away off in
+the woods. He flew to the place, and there was a plant like the one he
+sought but its bells were of silver, and all in a bunch instead of a
+long string. The good goblin dug down to the big fat root in the ground
+and found that the seal marks had grown over--at least he thought they
+had--for they were nowhere to be seen. So he looked around for something
+to help. His eye fell on an acorn cup. He took this, and using it for a
+seal, he stamped the root all over.
+
+Then he took a piece of the root and a sprig and flew back to show the
+King. Solomon smiled and said: "You did the best you could, but you have
+marked the wrong root. Listen! This is not the golden chime, but the
+chime of silver bells."
+
+That is the story of it and that is why it has ever since been called
+the False Solomon Seal.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[A] Some, like the Turkey-buzzards, have not yet been heard to sing, but
+I believe they do.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO SEE IN SUMMERTIME
+
+[Illustration: The Brownie and the Mouse-bird]
+
+
+
+
+Things to See in Summertime
+
+
+TALE 17
+
+How the Mouse-bird Made Fun of the Brownie
+
+Once there was a conceited Brownie, who thought he could do more things
+and do them better than any other of his people. He had not tried yet,
+for he was very young, but he said he was going to do them some day!
+
+One morning a sly old Brownie, really making fun of him, said: "Why
+don't you catch that Phoebe-bird? It is quite easy if you put a little
+salt on his tail." Away went Smarty Brownie to try. But the Phoebe would
+not sit still, and the Brownie came back saying: "He bobbed his tail so,
+the salt would not stay on."
+
+"Well," said the sly old Brownie, "there is a little Mouse-bird whose
+tail never bobs. You can easily catch him, for you see, he does not even
+fly, but crawls like a mouse up the tree," and he pointed to a little
+brown Creeper. By this time the young Brownie knew that the others were
+laughing at him, so he said rather hotly, "I'll just show you right
+now."
+
+He took an acorn cup full of salt, and went after the Mouse-bird. It was
+at the bottom of the big tree, creeping up, round and round, as if on a
+spiral staircase, and the Brownie began to climb in the same way. But
+every little while the climber had to stop and rest. This had strange
+results, for there is a law in Brownie land, that wherever one of the
+little people stops to sit down, or rest, a toadstool must spring up for
+him to sit on. So the track of the Brownie up the trunk became one long
+staircase of toadstool steps, some close, some far apart, but each
+showing where the Brownie had rested. They came closer together toward
+the top where the Brownie had got tired, but he was coming very near to
+the Creeper now. He got his pinch of salt all ready, as his friends down
+below kept calling and jeering: "Now you've got him, now is your
+chance." But just as he was going to leap forward and drop the salt on
+its tail, the Creeper gave a tiny little laugh like "_Tee-tee-tee_,"
+spread its wings, for it could fly very well, and sailed away to the
+bottom of the next tree to do the spiral staircase all over again, while
+Smarty Brownie was so mad that he jumped to the ground and hid away from
+his friends for two days. When he came back he did not talk quite so
+much as he used to. But to this day you can see the staircase of
+toadstools on the tree trunks where the Brownie went up.
+
+
+TALE 18
+
+The Pot-herb that Sailed with the Pilgrims
+
+"Come," said the Guide, "to-day I am going to show you a Pot-herb that
+came from England with the Pilgrim Fathers and spread over the whole of
+America. There is a story about it that will keep it ever in your
+memory."
+
+[Illustration: The Pilgrim's Pot-herb]
+
+The Pilgrims had landed in Massachusetts, and slowly made farms for
+themselves as they cleared off the forest. They had a very hard time at
+first, but the Indians helped them; sometimes with gifts of venison, and
+sometimes by showing them which things in the woods were good to eat.
+
+There was a Squaw named Monapini, "the Root-digger," who was very
+clever at finding forest foods. She became friendly with a white woman
+named Ruth Pilgrim, and so Ruth's family got the benefit of it, and
+always had on the table many good things that came from the woods.
+
+One day, long after the farms were cleared and doing well, the white
+woman said, "See, Mother Monapini, thou hast shown me many things, now I
+have somewhat to show thee. There hath grown up in our wheat field a
+small herb that must have come from England with the wheat, for hitherto
+I have not seen it elsewhere. We call it lamb's-quarter, for the lamb
+doth eat it by choice. Or maybe because we do eat it with a quarter of
+lamb. Nevertheless it maketh a good pot-herb when boiled."
+
+The old Indian woman's eyes were fixed on the new plant that was good to
+eat: and she said, "Is it very good, oh white sister?"
+
+"Yes, and our medicine men do say that it driveth out the poison that
+maketh itch and spots on the skin." After a moment Monapini said, "It
+looketh to me like the foot of a wild goose."
+
+"Well found," chuckled Ruth, "for sometimes our people do call it by
+that very name."
+
+"That tells me different," said the Indian.
+
+"What mean you," said Ruth.
+
+"Is not a goose foot very strong, so it never catcheth cold in the icy
+water?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And this hath the shape of a goose foot?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then my Shaman tells that it is by such likeness that the Great Spirit
+showeth the goose foot plant to be charged with the driving out of
+colds."
+
+"It may be so," said the white woman, "but this I know. It is very good
+and helpeth the whole body."
+
+The Indian picked a handful of the pot-herbs, then stared hard at the
+last; a very tall and strong one.
+
+"What hast thou now, Monapini?" The red woman pointed to the stem of the
+lamb's-quarter, whereon were long red streaks, and said: "This I see,
+that, even as the white-man's herb came over the sea and was harmless
+and clean while it was weak, but grew strong and possessed this field,
+then was streaked to midheight with blood, so also shall they be who
+brought it--streaked at last to the very waist with blood--not the white
+men's but the dark purple blood of the Indian. This the voices tell me
+is in the coming years, that this is what we shall get again for helping
+you--destruction in return for kindness. Mine inner eyes have seen it."
+She threw down the new pot-herb and glided away, to be seen no more in
+the settlements of the white men.
+
+And Ruth, as she gazed after her, knew that it was true. Had she not
+heard her people talking and planning? For even as the weed seed came
+with the wheat, so evil spirits came with the God-fearing Pilgrims, and
+already these were planning to put the heathens to the sword, when the
+Colony was strong enough.
+
+So the Indian woman read the truth in the little pot-herb that sailed
+and landed with the Pilgrims; that stands in our fields to this day,
+streaked with the blood of the passing race--standing, a thing of
+remembrance.
+
+
+TALE 19
+
+How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves
+
+[Illustration: How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves]
+
+Once upon a time a Bee, a Bug, and a Cow went marching up to Mother
+Carey's palace in the hemlock grove, to tell her of their troubles. They
+complained that food was poor and scarce, and they were tired of the
+kinds that grew along the roadsides.
+
+Mother Carey heard them patiently, then she said: "Yes, you have some
+reason to complain, so I will send you a new food called Clover. Its
+flower shall be full of honey for the Bee, its leaves full of cowfood
+and its cellar shall be stocked with tiny pudding bags of meal for the
+Bug, that is for good little Bug-folks who live underground."
+
+Now the tribes of the Bee, the Bug, and the Cow had a fine time
+feasting, for the new food was everywhere.
+
+But Cows are rather stupid you know. They found the new food so good
+that they kept on munching everything that had three round leaves,
+thinking it was Clover, and very soon a lot of them were poisoned with
+strange plants that no wise Cow would think of eating.
+
+So Mother Carey called a Busy Brownie, and put him on guard to keep the
+Cows from eating the poison plants by mistake.
+
+At first it was good fun, and the Brownie enjoyed it because it made him
+feel important. But he got very tired of his job and wanted to go to the
+ball game.
+
+He sat down on a toadstool, and looked very glum. He could hear the
+other Brownies shouting at the game, and that made him feel worse. Then
+he heard a great uproar, and voices yelling "A home run!" "A home run!"
+That drove him wild. He had been whittling the edge of the toadstool
+with his knife, and now he slashed off a big piece of the cap, he was so
+mad.
+
+Then up he got and said to the Cows: "See here, you fool Cows, I can't
+stay here for ever trying to keep you from eating poison, but I'll do
+this much. I'll stamp all the good-to-eat leaves with a mark that will
+be your guide."
+
+[Illustration: The Shamrock]
+
+So he made a rubber stamp out of part of the toadstool he was sitting
+on, and stamped every Clover leaf in that pasture, so the Cows could be
+sure, then skipped away to the ball game.
+
+When Mother Carey heard of his running away from his job, she was very
+angry. She said: "Well, you Bad Brownie, you should be ashamed, but that
+white mark was a good idea so I'll forgive you, if you go round, and put
+it on every Clover leaf in the world."
+
+He had to do it, though it looked like an endless task, and he never
+would have finished it, had not the other Brownies all over the world
+come to help him; so it was done at last. And that is the reason that
+every Clover leaf to-day has on it the white mark like an arrowhead, the
+Brownie sign for "good-to eat."
+
+The Cows get along better now, but still they are very stupid; they go
+munching ahead without thinking, and will even eat the blossoms which
+belong to the Bees. And the Bees have to buzz very loudly and even sting
+the Cows on their noses to keep them from stealing the bee-food. The
+good little Bugs underground have the best time, for there the Cows can
+not harm them, and the Bees never come near. They eat when they are
+hungry and sleep when they are cold, which is their idea of a good time;
+so except for some little quarrels between the Cows and the Bees they
+have all gotten along very well ever since.
+
+
+TALE 20
+
+The Shamrock and Her Three Sisters
+
+[Illustration: Yellow-haired Hob. Shamrock's blonde sister]
+
+The Shamrock is really the White Clover. It is much the same shape as
+the Red Clover, and has the same food bags in its cellar. It is just as
+good for Cows and even better for Bees; so the Brownie stamped all its
+leaves with the white arrow mark, as you can plainly see. This plant,
+as you know, is the emblem of Ireland.
+
+The story-tellers say that St. Patrick was preaching to Leary, the
+heathen King of Tara in Ireland hoping to turn him into a Christian. The
+king listened attentively, but he was puzzled by St. Patrick's account
+of the Trinity. "Stop," said the king. "How can there be three Gods in
+one and only one God where there are three. That is impossible." St.
+Patrick stooped down and picking up a Shamrock leaf, said: "See, there
+it is, growing in your own soil; there are three parts but only one
+leaf." The king was so much struck by this proof that he became a
+Christian and ever since the Shamrock has been the emblem of Ireland.
+
+Now to fill out the history of the Clovers, I should tell you of the
+other three. The next is called Alsike, or the Pink Clover.
+
+When you look at this Alsike or Alsatian Clover, you might think its
+mother was a red clover and its father a white one, for it is about half
+way between them in size, and its bloom is pink on the outside and white
+in the middle. Evidently, the Brownie didn't think much of it, for he
+did not put his arrow mark on its leaves. Still the Cows think it is
+good, the Bees think it is fine, and it always carried lots of food bags
+in its cellar. So also does the next sister--Melilot, the Yellow Clover
+or Honey-lotus--and the last and sweetest of them all, is the Sweet
+Clover that spreads sweet smells in the old-fashioned garden.
+
+
+TALE 21
+
+The Indian Basket-maker
+
+[Illustration: The Indian Basket]
+
+"Come, little Nagami, my Bird-Singer, you are ten years old, it is time
+you learned to make baskets. I made my first when I was but eight,"
+said Mother Akoko proudly, for she was the best basket-maker on the
+river.
+
+So they took a sharp stick, and went into the woods. Akoko looked for
+spruce trees that had been blown down by the storm, but found none, so
+she stopped under some standing spruce, at a place with no underbrush
+and said: "See, Nagami, here we dig for wattap."
+
+The spruce roots or "wattap" were near the surface and easily found, but
+not easily got out, because they were long, tangled and criss-crossed.
+Yet, by pulling up, and cutting under, they soon got a bundle of roots
+like cords, and of different lengths, from two feet to a yard, or more.
+
+"Good," said Akoko; "this is enough and we need not soak them, for it is
+summer, and the sap is running. If it were fall we should have to boil
+them. Now you must scrape them clear of the brown bark." So Nagami took
+her knife and worked for an hour, then came with the bundle saying:
+"See, Mother, they are smooth, and so white that they have not a brown
+spot left." "Good," said Akoko, "now you need some bark of the willow
+for sewing cord. Let us look along the river bank."
+
+There they found the round-leafed, or fish-net willow, and stripped off
+enough of its strong bark to make a bundle as big as one hand could
+hold.
+
+This also had to be scraped clear of the brown skin, leaving only the
+strong whitish inner bark, which, when split into strips, was good for
+sewing.
+
+"See, my Nagami, when I was a little girl I had only a bone needle made
+from the leg of a deer, but you have easy work; here is a big steel
+packing needle, which I bought for you from a trader. This is how you
+make your basket."
+
+So Akoko began a flat coil with the spruce roots, and sewed it together
+with the willow bark for thread, until it was a span wide. And whenever
+a new root was to be added, she cut both old piece and new, to a long
+point, so they would overlap without a bump.
+
+Then the next coil of the spruce roots was laid on, not flat and level,
+but raised a little. Also the next, until the walls were as high as four
+fingers. Then Akoko said, "Good, that is enough. It is a fine corn
+basket. But we must give it a red rim for good luck."
+
+So they sought in a sunny place along the shore, and found the fruit of
+the squawberry or blitum. "See," said Akoko, "the miscawa. Gather a
+handful, my Nagami. They make the red basket-dye."
+
+They crushed the rich red berries, saving the red juice in a clam shell,
+and soaked a few strands of the white willow bark in the stain. When
+they were dry, Nagami was taught to add a rim to her basket, by sewing
+it over and over as in the picture.
+
+Then Akoko said, "Good, my little Bird-Singer, you have done well, you
+have made some old black roots into a beautiful basket."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+N.B. The Guide will remember that rattan and raffia can be used for this
+when it is impossible to get spruce roots and willow bark. Good dyes may
+be made from many different berries.
+
+
+TALE 22
+
+Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?
+
+It has long been the custom of the Brownies to have a great feast on the
+first of the merry month of May, to celebrate the return of the spring.
+
+[Illustration: The Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?]
+
+One springtime long ago, they got ready as usual. The King of the
+Brownies had invited all the leaders; the place for the dinner was
+chosen in a grove of mandrakes whose flat umbrellas made a perfect
+roof, rain or shine. The Bell Bird, whose other name is Wood Thrush, was
+ringing his bell, and calling all the Chief Brownies by name.
+
+"Ta-rool-ya! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"
+
+"Oka-lee! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"
+
+"Cherk! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"
+
+"Come to the feasting! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"
+
+A hundred glow worms were told to hurry up with their lights and be
+ready for that night, and busy Brownies gathered good things from woods
+and waters, for the feast.
+
+May Day came bright and beautiful. The busy ones had all the "eats" in
+the Mandrake Hall, the glowworms were sleeping soundly to fill their
+storage batteries ready for the night. It made the salamanders' mouths
+water to see so many good things; but they were not asked, so stayed
+away. There were dewdrops in acorn cups, and honey on the wax. There
+were clam shells piled up with red checkerberries, and caddis worms on
+the half shell, with spicebush nubbins. A huge white Mecha-meck was the
+chief dish, with bog nuts on the side. There were lovely long crinkle
+salads. And last, there were gumdrops from the sweet birch, while at
+each place was a pussy willow to dust the food over with golden pollen
+that gave it a pleasant peppery tang. All the guests were there, and the
+feast was nearly over, when a terrible thing took place!
+
+Of all the dreaded happenings in the world of beauty there is nothing
+else so feared as the forest fire. There is not much danger of it in
+springtime, but it is possible at any season, after a long dry spell.
+Words cannot tell of the horror it spreads, as it comes raging through
+the woods destroying all beautiful living things.
+
+And right in the middle of the feast, the dreadful news was carried by a
+flying Night-bird.
+
+"Fire, Fire, Fire, Fire!" he screamed, and almost at once the smoke came
+drifting through the banquet hall, so they knew it was true.
+
+There was mad haste to escape, and only two ways were open. One was to
+get across some big stream, and the other was to hide in a cave
+underground. The birds took the first way, and the Brownies the second.
+Every Woodchuck den was just packed with Brownies within a few minutes.
+But the busy Brownie who was chief steward and had charge of the feast,
+had no idea of leaving all the good things to burn up, if he could help
+it. First he sent six of his helpers to make a deep pit for the big
+Mecha-meck, and while they did that he began hiding all the dishes in
+the ground. Last he dug some deep holes and quickly buried all the
+crinkle salads; then he ran for his life into a cave.
+
+The raging fire came along. It is too horrible to tell about, for it was
+sent by the Evil One. The lovely woods were left black without a living
+thing. But the very next day, Mother Carey and Mother Earth and El Sol,
+set about saving the wreck, and in a marvellously short time actually
+had made it green again. The mayflowers came up a second time that year,
+the violets came back, and in each place where the Brownies had hid a
+salad there came up a curious plant that never had been seen before. It
+had three saw-edged leaves and a long wand, much like the one carried by
+the Chief Steward. I never was able to find out his name for sure, but I
+think it was Trileaf or Three-leaves. Anyway, if you dig under his sign
+and sceptre wand, you will surely find the salad, and very good indeed
+it is to eat; it was not hurt in the least by the fire.
+
+[Illustration: The Mecha-meck]
+
+But from that day, the Brownies have been very shy of feasting during
+dry weather in the woods. They generally have their banquets now in some
+meadow, and afterward you can tell the place of the feast by the circle
+of little toadstools called fairy rings. For you know that wherever a
+Brownie sits, a toadstool must spring up for him to sit on.
+
+
+TALE 23
+
+The Mecha-meck
+
+That fearful time when the forest fire set all the Brownies busy burying
+their food and dishes at the feast-hall, you remember it took six of
+them to carry and hide the Mecha-meck. For it is a large fat white root
+as big as a baby, and sometimes it has arms or legs, so that when
+Monapini told Ruth Pilgrim about it she called it "Man-of-the-earth."
+
+You remember that the busy Brownie hid all the Crinkle salads, and so
+saved them; and most of us have found the Crinkleroot and eaten it
+since. But how many of us have found the Mecha-meck? I know only one man
+who has. We call him the Wise Woodman. He found and dug out the one from
+which I made the picture. It was two and a half feet long and weighed
+fifteen pounds--fifteen pounds of good food. Think of it! Above it and
+growing out of its hiding place was a long trailing vine that looked
+like a white morning-glory. There is always one of these over the
+Mecha-meck. And by that you may find it, if you look along the sunny
+banks outside of the woods. But still it is very hard to find. I never
+yet got one, though I have found many of the crinkle-root salads. Of
+course, that is easy to explain, for the busy Brownies buried hundreds
+of the salads, but only one of the big fat Mecha-meck.
+
+
+TALE 24
+
+Dutchman's Breeches
+
+[Illustration: Dutchman's Dive
+
+Dutchman's Breeches]
+
+Of course they are not, for no Dutchman I ever saw could wear such tiny
+things. I will tell you what they really are and how that came to be.
+
+You remember how the Brownies assembled for the feast on May Day when
+the Glow worms were the lamps and the Wood Thrush rang the bell. Well,
+it so happened that day that a great crowd of the merrymakers gathered
+long before the feast was ready, and while they were wondering what to
+do someone shouted: "See, how fine and warm the water is where the brook
+spreads out into the ditch. Let us have our first swim of the season
+right now!"
+
+So they all went with a whoop! stripped off their clothes, and into
+their swimming breeches with a perfect riot of glee.
+
+Then how they did splash! Some blind folks thought it must be a million
+early pollywogs splashing. But the swim ended with another racket when
+the dinner bell rang.
+
+Each splashing Brownie hopped out and hung up his breeches to dry as he
+got into his clothes.
+
+Then you remember the fire came along and scared them away. Of course
+the breeches were wet, so they didn't get singed; and there you can see
+them hanging to this day on the first of May. That is what they really
+are--Brownies' Breeches. And because the Brownies often swim in a ditch,
+they are called ditch-man's breeches; but believe me, they are not
+Dutchman's breeches and never could be.
+
+[Illustration: The Seven Sour Sisters]
+
+
+TALE 25
+
+The Seven Sour Sisters
+
+If you look along any half-open bank in the edge of the woods, or even
+in the woods itself, you are sure to see one of the Seven Sorrel
+Sisters, with leaves a little like Clover, only notched in the end and
+without the white marks, that the Brownie put on the Clover. There are
+seven of them, according to most doctors; five have yellow eyes, one
+purple, and one white streaked with blood. Their Latin name means
+"vinegar" and their Greek name means "acid." "Sorrel" itself means
+"Little sour one," so you see they have the reputation of a sour bunch.
+If you eat one of the leaves, you will agree that the name was
+well-chosen, and understand why the druggists get the tart "salt of
+lemons" from this family. The French use these Sour Sisters for their
+sour soup. But in spite of their unsweetness, they are among the pretty
+things of the woods; their forms are delicate and graceful; their eyes
+are like jewels, and when the night comes down, they bow their heads,
+gracefully fold their hands, and sleep like a lot of tired children.
+
+
+TALE 26
+
+Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass
+
+[Illustration: Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass]
+
+You should know the history of the lowly little flower called
+Blue-curls; and you must remember that flowers have their troubles just
+as you have. For one thing, flowers must get their pollen or yellow
+flower-dust, carried to some other of their kind, or they cannot keep on
+growing good seed. And since the flower cannot walk about finding places
+for its pollen, it generally makes a bargain with a bee. It says, "If
+you will carry my pollen to my cousins yonder, I will give you a sweet
+sip of nectar." That is where the bees get the stuff for all their
+honey, and that is how the pollen is carried.
+
+Well, the modest little Blue-curls long had had a working agreement with
+the Meadow Bees, and got on nicely. But one summer Blue-curls became
+discontented. She saw all the other plants with wonderful gifts that had
+power to cure pain and sickness; while she was doing nothing but live
+her own easy life, and she felt she was a nobody.
+
+So one day as Mother Carey's slowest steed was swishing over the grass,
+Blue-curls cried out: "Mother Carey, Mother Carey, won't you hear me and
+grant me a gift?"
+
+"What is it, little one?" said the All-mother.
+
+"Oh, Mother Carey, the pansy cures heartache, the monkshood cures
+canker-lip, the tansy cures colds, and all the others have some joy and
+honour of service, but I am good for nothing, Mother Carey so the wise
+men despise me. Won't you give me a job? Won't you give me some little
+power?"
+
+"Little one, such an asking never finds me deaf. I love those who would
+help. I will give you a little bit of _all healing_ so that you shall be
+good medicine, if not the best, for all ills, and men shall call you
+'Self-heal' and 'All-heal' for you shall have all healing in yourself."
+
+And it has been so ever since. So that some who go by looks call the
+modest little meadow flower, "Blue-curls in the Grass," but the old
+herb-men who know her goodness call her "All-heal" or "Self-heal."
+
+
+TALE 27
+
+The Four Butterflies You See Every Summer
+
+[Illustration: Summer Butterflies (a little over life size)]
+
+There are four Butterflies that you are sure to see every summer, on our
+fields; and remember that each of them goes through the same changes.
+First it is an egg, then a greedy grub, next a hanging bundle-baby,
+and last a beautiful winged fairy, living a life of freedom and joy.
+
+In the picture I have shown the butterflies life size, but you must add
+the colour as you get each one to copy.
+
+The first is the _White_ or _Cabbage Butterfly_ that flits over our
+gardens all summer long.
+
+It is not a true American, but came from Europe in 1860 and landed at
+Quebec, from whence it has spread all over the country. In the drawing I
+have shown the female; the male is nearly the same but has only one
+round dark spot on the front wings. Its grub is a little naked green
+caterpillar, that eats very nearly a million dollars' worth of cabbages
+a year; so it is a pity it was ever allowed to land in this country.
+There are moths that we should like to get rid of, but this is the only
+butterfly that is a pest.
+
+2nd. The _Yellow_ or _Clouded Sulphur Butterfly_. You are sure to find
+it, as soon as you begin to look for butterflies. This is the one that
+is often seen in flocks about mud puddles.
+
+When I was a very small boy, I once caught a dozen of them, and made a
+little beehive to hold them, thinking that they would settle down and
+make themselves at home, just like bees or pigeons. But the grown-ups
+made me let them fly away, for the Sulphur is a kindly creature, and
+does little or no harm.
+
+One of the most beautiful things I ever came across, was, when about ten
+years old, I saw on a fence stake ahead of me a big bird that was red,
+white and blue, with a flaming yellow fan-crest. Then as I came closer,
+I knew that it was a red-headed woodpecker, with a Sulphur Butterfly in
+his beak; this made the crest; what I thought was blue turned out to be
+his glossy black back reflecting the blue sky.
+
+3rd. The next is the _Red Admiral_ or _Nettle Butterfly_. The "red" part
+of the name is right, but why "Admiral"? I never could see unless it was
+misprint for "Admirable."
+
+[Illustration: Red Admiral]
+
+[Illustration: Tiger Swallowtail (life size)]
+
+This beautiful insect lays its eggs and raises its young on nettles, and
+where nettles are, there is the Red Admiral also. And that means over
+nearly all the world! Its caterpillar is not very well protected with
+bristles, not at all when compared with the Woolly-bear, but it lives in
+the nettles, and, whether they like it or not, the hospitable nettles
+with their stings protect the caterpillar. The crawler may be grateful,
+but he shows it in a poor way, for he turns on the faithful nettle, and
+eats it up. In fact the only food he cares about is nettle-salad, and he
+indulges in it several times a day, yes all day long, eating, growing
+and bursting his skin a number of times, till he is big enough to hang
+himself up for the winter, probably in a nettle. Then next spring he
+comes forth, in the full dress uniform of a Red Admiral, gold lace, red
+sash, silver braid and all.
+
+4th. The last of the four is the _Tiger Swallowtail_. You are sure to
+see it some day--the big yellow butterfly that is striped like a tiger,
+with peacock's feathers in its train, and two long prongs, like a
+swallow-tail, to finish off with. It is found in nearly all parts of the
+Eastern States and Canada. I saw great flocks of them on the Slave River
+of the North.
+
+It is remarkable in that there are both blondes and brunettes among its
+ladies. The one shown in the drawing is a blonde. The brunettes are so
+much darker as to be nearly black; and so different that at one time
+everyone thought they were of a different kind altogether.
+
+
+TALE 28
+
+The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar
+
+[Illustration: The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar (the moth is a little
+over life size)]
+
+The lovely Io Moth is one that you will see early, and never forget, for
+it is common, and ranges over all the country from Canada to the Gulf.
+When you see it, you will be inclined to spell its name Eye-oh--for it
+has on each wing a splendid eye like that on a peacock's tail-feather,
+while the rest of its dress is brown velvet and gold.
+
+There is a strange chapter in the life of Io, which you should know
+because it shows that Mother Carey never gives any wonderful gift to her
+creatures without also giving with it some equal burden of sorrow.
+
+This is how it all came about.
+
+Long ago when the little ones of the Io Moth were small, they were, like
+most caterpillars, very ugly little things. They felt very badly about
+it, and so they set out one day for the great Home Place of Mother Carey
+in the Whispering Grove of the Ages.
+
+There they prayed, "Dear Mother Carey, we are not of an ugly race, why
+should we be so ugly as caterpillars? Will you not make us beautiful,
+for beauty is one of the best things of all?"
+
+Mother Carey smiled and waved a finger toward a little Brownie, who came
+with a tray on which were two cups; one full of bright sparkling pink
+stuff, and the other with something that looked like dark green oil. But
+the glasses were joined at the top, there was but one place to drink,
+and that reached both.
+
+Then Mother Carey said, "These are the goblets of life, one is balm and
+will give you joy, the other is gall and will give you suffering. You
+may drink little or much, but you must drink equally of both. Now what
+would ye?"
+
+The little ugly creatures whispered together, then one said: "Mother
+Carey, if we drink, will it give us beauty?"
+
+"Yes, my children, the red goblet of life will give you beauty, but with
+it the other will give you grief."
+
+They whispered together, then all the little crawlers went silently
+forward, and each took a long drink of the double goblet.
+
+Then they crawled away, and at once became the most beautiful of all
+caterpillars, brilliant jewel-green with stripes of pink, velvet, and
+gold. Never before were there seen such exquisite little crawlers.
+
+But now a sad thing happened. They were so beautiful that many creatures
+became their enemies, and began to kill them and eat them one after
+another. They crawled as fast as they could, and hid away, but many of
+them were killed by birds and beasts of prey, as well as by big fierce
+insects.
+
+They did not know what to do, so next day the few that were left crawled
+back to the Grove of Ages, and once more stood before Mother Carey.
+
+"Well, my Beauty-crawlers," she said, "what would you?"
+
+"Oh, Mother Carey, it is fearful, everyone seeks to destroy us. Most of
+us are killed, and many of us wounded. Will you not protect us?"
+
+"You drank of the two goblets, my children. I warned you that your
+beauty would bring terrible trouble with it."
+
+They bowed their little heads in silent sorrow, for they knew that that
+was true.
+
+"Now," said the All-Mother, "do you wish to go back and be ugly again?"
+
+They whispered together and said: "No, Mother Carey, it is better to be
+beautiful and die."
+
+[Illustration: The Splendid Silk-Moth (about 1/2 life size)]
+
+Then Mother Carey looked on them very kindly, and said: "Little ones, I
+love your brave spirit. You shall not die. Neither shall you lose your
+beauty. I will give you a defence that will keep off all your enemies
+but one, that is the Long-stinger Wasp, for you must in some way pay for
+your loveliness." She waved her wand, and all over each of the
+Beauty-crawlers, there came out bunches of sharp stickers like porcupine
+quills, only they were worse than porcupine quills for each of the
+stickers was poisoned at the tip, so that no creature could touch the
+Beauty-crawlers without being stung.
+
+The birds and beasts let them alone now, or suffer a terrible punishment
+from the poison spears. You children, too, must beware of them; touch
+them not, they will give you festering wounds. There is only one
+creature now that the Beauty-crawlers truly fear; that is the
+Long-stinger Wasp. He does indeed take toll of their race, but that is
+the price they still must pay for their beauty. Did they not drink of
+the double goblet?
+
+
+TALE 29
+
+The Great Splendid Silk-Moth or _Samia Cecropia_
+
+When I was a very small boy, I saw my father bring in from the orchard a
+ragged looking thing like parchment wrapped up with some tangled hair;
+it was really the bundle-baby of this Moth. He kept it all winter, and
+when the spring came, I saw for the first time the great miracle of the
+insect world--the rag bundle was split open, and out came this glorious
+creature with wings of red and brown velvet, embroidered with silver and
+spots that looked like precious stones. It seemed the rarest thing in
+the world, but I have found out since, that it is one of our common
+moths, and any of you can get one, if you take the trouble.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now listen, and you shall hear of what happened long ago to a green
+crawler who was born to be a splendid Silk-Moth, but who spoiled it all
+by a bad temper.
+
+It had been a very cold, wet summer, and one day, when the wind was
+whispering, he cried out: "Mother Carey, when I have done with my
+working life, and go into the Great Sleep, grant that it may never rain
+on me for I hate rain, and it has done nothing but pour all summer
+long." And he shivered the red knobs on his head with peevishness.
+
+"You silly little green crawler, don't you think I know better than you
+what is good for you? Would you like there to be no rain?"
+
+"Yes, I would," said the red-knobbed Samia rebelliously.
+
+"Would _you_?" said the All-Mother to another green crawler, who hung on
+a near-by limb.
+
+"Mother Carey, we have had a wet, cold summer, and the rain has been
+miserable, but I know you will take care of us."
+
+"Good," said the All-Mother: "then, in this way it shall be. You little
+Red-Knobs shall have what you so much wish, you shall hang up in a dry
+loft where not a drop of dew even shall touch you in your bundle-baby
+sleep. And you little Yellow-Knobs shall hang under a limb where every
+rain that comes shall drench your outer skin." And she left them.
+
+When the time came to hang up, Red-Knobs was led to a place as dry as
+could be, under a shed and swung his bundle-baby hammock from the
+rafters.
+
+Yellow-Knobs hung up his hammock under a twig in the rose garden.
+
+The winter passed, and the springtime came with the great awakening day.
+Each of the bundle-babies awoke from his hammock and broke his bonds.
+Each found his new wings, and set about shaking them out to full size
+and shape. Those of the rain-baby came quickly to their proper form, and
+away he flew to rejoice in perfect life. But though the other shook and
+shook, his wings would not fluff out. They seemed dried up; they were
+numbed and of stunted growth.
+
+Shake as he would, the wings stayed small and twisted. And as he
+struggled, a Butcher-bird came by. His fierce eye was drawn by the
+fluttering purple thing. It had no power to escape. He tore its crumpled
+wings from its feathery form, and made of it a meal. But before dying it
+had time to say, "Oh, Mother Carey, now I know that your way was the
+best."
+
+
+TALE 30
+
+The Green Fairy with the Long Train
+
+Some fairies are Brownies and some are Greenies, and of all that really
+and truly dance in the moonlight right here in America, Luna Greenie
+seems the most wonderful; and this is her history:
+
+Once upon a time there was a seed pearl that dropped from the robe of a
+green fairy. It stuck on the leaf of a butternut tree till one warm day
+Mother Carey, who knows all the wild things and loves them all, touched
+it with her magic wand, called Hatch-awake, and out of the seed pearl
+came an extraordinarily ugly little dwarf, crawling about on many legs.
+He was just as greedy as he was ugly, and he ate leaf after leaf of the
+butternut tree, and grew so fat that he burst his skin. Then a new skin
+grew, and he kept on eating and bursting until he was quite big. But he
+had also become wise and gentle; he had learned many things, and was not
+quite so greedy now.
+
+[Illustration: The Green Fairy With the Long Train (about 4/5 life
+size)]
+
+Mother Carey, the All-Mother, had been watching him, and knew that now
+he was ready for the next step up. She told him to make himself a
+hammock of rags and leaves, in the butternut tree. When he had crawled
+into it, she touched him with her wand, the very same as the one she
+used when she sent the Sleeping Beauty into her long sleep. Then that
+little dwarf went soundly to sleep, hanging in his hammock.
+
+Summer passed; autumn came; the leaves fell from the butternut tree,
+taking the bundle-baby with them, exactly as in the old rhyme:
+
+        Rock-a-bye baby on the tree-top,
+        When the wind blows, your cradle will rock,
+        When the cold weather makes all the leaves fall,
+        Down tumbles baby and cradle and all.
+
+But the hammock, with its sleeper, landed in a deep bed of leaves, and
+lay there all winter, quite safe and warm.
+
+Then when the springtime sun came over the hill, Mother Carey came
+a-riding on the Warm Wind, and waving her wand. She stopped and kissed
+the sleeping bundle-baby, just as the Prince kissed the Sleeping Beauty,
+and instantly the baby awoke. Then happened the strangest thing. Out of
+that ragged old hammock there came the most wonderful and beautiful
+Green Fairy ever seen, with wings and with two trains; and as it came
+out and looked shyly around, trembling with new life, Mother Carey
+whispered, "Go to the butternut grove and see what awaits you there."
+
+So away she went. Oh, how easy and glorious it is to fly! She could
+remember how once she used to crawl everywhere. And through the soft
+sweet night she flew, as she was told, straight to the butternut grove.
+As she came near she saw many green fairies--a great crowd of
+them--gathered in the moonlight, and dancing round and round in
+fluttering circles, swooping about and chasing each other, or hiding in
+the leaves. They did not feast, for these fairies never eat, and they
+drink only honey from flowers. But there was a spirit of great joy over
+them all. And there were some there with longer head plumes than those
+she wore. They seemed stronger and one of them came with a glad greeting
+to the new Green Dancer and though she flew away, she was bursting with
+joy that he should single her out. He pursued her till he caught her,
+and hand in hand they danced together in the moonlight. She was happier
+than she had known it was possible to be, and danced all night--that
+wonderful wedding dance. But she was very tired when morning was near,
+and high in the tree she slept so soundly that she never noticed that
+many seed pearls that were clustered on the lining of her robe had got
+loose and rolled into the crevices of the trunk. There they lay until
+Mother Carey came to touch them with her magic wand, so each became a
+crawler-dwarf, then a bundle-baby, and at last a dancing fairy.
+
+But the Green Dancer did not know that--she knew only that it was a
+glorious thing to be alive, and fly, and to dance in the moonlight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+You must never fail to watch under the butternut tree on mid-summer
+nights, for it is quite possible that you may see the wedding dance of
+the Luna Greenie and her sisters with the long-trained robes.
+
+
+TALE 31
+
+The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon
+
+[Illustration: The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon]
+
+Once upon a time, there was a beautiful little Yellow Dragon, who lived
+a happy and innocent life on the high banks of a prattling stream. The
+Dragon himself was dumb but he loved a merry noise, and nothing
+pleased him more than the prattling of the water. Sometimes this
+pleasant little Dragon went up stream, where it was noisy, and sometimes
+he went down stream, where it was very silent, and rested awhile in
+little pools. Here it was that he met with his first enemy, a warty
+Hoptoad with jealous eyes. That Toad thought that he owned the pools
+because he bathed there every springtime, and though it was a kind
+little Dragon, the Toad hated him, and began to plot against him.
+
+"Ho! little Yellow Dragon," he said, "you are very wonderful to see, and
+you must be very clever; but you haven't got everything you want, have
+you?"
+
+The Dragon smiled, shook his head, and made silent signs with his lips.
+Then the Toad understood, for he said: "Ho-ho, I understand that you
+cannot speak. But are you happy?"
+
+The Dragon smiled sweetly and nodded, then pointed to the stream.
+
+That made the Toad madder than ever, for he thought it meant that the
+Dragon was claiming the whole stream. So the Toad said: "See, Dragon,
+there is a wonderful food that you have never tasted, that is a poached
+egg."
+
+This he said with his heart full of guile, for he knew full well that
+poached eggs are deadly poison to Dragons.
+
+The Dragon looked puzzled, and the Toad said, "Have you?"
+
+The Dragon shook his head. "Well," said the Toad, "it is the most
+delicious thing in the woods; now you wait and see."
+
+He went hoppity-hop, to a sand-bank where he had seen a Turtle lay its
+eggs that morning. He dug out one. He rolled it upon a stone, and split
+it open with the sharp spur on his heel. As soon as it was stiffened by
+the sun heat, he said, "Here now, Dragon, swallow it down, while I get
+another for myself."
+
+The poor innocent little Dragon did not know any better. He tried to
+swallow the poached egg. The moment he did, it stuck in his throat, and
+poisoned him. At once his toes sank into the ground. He turned green all
+over, and his head was changed into a strange new flower. There it is to
+this day, standing silently where it can hear the brook a-prattling. Its
+body is green all over, and its head is yellow and its jaws are wide
+open with a poached egg stuck in its throat. And that is how it all came
+about. Some call it Toad Flax, and some call it Butter and Eggs, but we
+who know how it happened call it the Dragon and the Poached Egg.
+
+Poor dear little Yellow Dragon!
+
+
+TALE 32
+
+The Fairy Bird or the Humming-bird Moth
+
+When I was a schoolboy, a number of my companions brought the news that
+the strangest bird in the world had come that day to our garden and
+hovered over the flowers. It was no bigger than a bumble-bee. "No! It
+was not a humming-bird," they said, "it was smaller by far, much more
+beautiful, and it came and went so fast that no one could see it go."
+
+[Illustration: The Fairy Bird (1-1/2 life size)]
+
+Every guess that I made seemed not to fit the wonderful bird, or help to
+give it a name that would lead us to its history in the books. The
+summer went by, several schoolmates saw the Wonderbird, and added
+stories of its marvellous smallness and mysterious habits. Its body,
+they said, was of green velvet with a satin-white throat; it had a
+long beak--at least an inch long--a fan-tail of many feathers, two long
+plumes from its head, "the littlest feet you ever have seen," and large
+lustrous eyes that seemed filled with human intelligence. "It jest
+looked right at you, and seemed like a fairy looking at you."
+
+The wonder grew. I made a sketch embodying all the points that my
+companions noted about the Fairy Bird. The first drawing shows what it
+looked like, and also gives the exact size they said it was.
+
+It seemed a cruel wrong that let so many of them see the thing that was
+of chief interest to me, yet left me out. It clearly promised a real
+fairy, an elfin bird, a wonderful messenger from the land I hungered to
+believe in.
+
+But at last my turn came. One afternoon two of the boys ran toward me,
+shouting: "Here it is, the little Fairy Bird, right in the garden over
+the honeysuckle. C'mon, quick!"
+
+I rushed to the place, more excited than I can tell. Yes, there it was,
+hovering over the open flowers--tiny, wonderful, humming as it swung on
+misty wings. I made a quick sweep of my insect net and, marvellous to
+relate, scooped up the Fairy Bird. I was trembling with excitement now,
+not without a sense of wickedness that I should dare to net a
+fairy--practically an angel. But I had done it, and I gloated over my
+captive, in the meshes. Yes, the velvet body and snowy throat were
+there, the fan-tail, the plumes and the big dark eyes, but the creature
+was _not a bird_; it was an insect! Dimly now I remembered, and in a few
+hours, learned, as I had feared, that I had not captured a young angel
+or even a fairy--it was nothing but a Humming-bird Moth, a beautiful
+insect--common in some regions, scarce in some, such as mine--but
+perfectly well known to men of science and never afterward forgotten by
+any of that eager schoolboy group.
+
+
+TALE 33
+
+Ribgrass or Whiteman's-Foot
+
+If you live in the country or in a small town, you will not have to go
+many steps, in summer time, before you find the little plant known as
+Ribgrass, Plantain, or Whiteman's-foot. If you live in a big city, you
+may find it in any grassy place, but will surely see it, as soon as you
+reach the suburbs. It grows on the ground, wherever it can see the sun,
+and is easily known by the strong ribs, each with a string in it when
+you pull the leaf apart. The Indians call it Whiteman's-foot, not
+because it is broad and flat, but because it came from Europe with the
+white man; it springs up wherever he sets his foot, and it has spread
+over all America. Gardeners think it a troublesome weed; but the birds
+love its seed; canary birds delight in it; and each plant of the
+Ribgrass may grow many thousands of seeds in a summer.
+
+How many? Let us see! Take a seed-stalk of the Plantain and you will
+find it thickly set with little cups, as in the drawing. Open one of
+these cups, and you find in it five seeds. Count the cups; there are two
+hundred on this stalk, each with about five seeds, that is, one thousand
+seeds; but the plant has five or more seed-stalks, some have more (one
+before me now has seventeen), but suppose it has only ten; then there
+are 10,000 seeds each summer from one little plant. Each seed can grow
+up into a new plant; and, if each plant were as far from the next as you
+can step, the little ones in a row the following summer would reach for
+nearly six miles; that is, from the City Hall to the end of Central
+Park, New York.[B]
+
+[Illustration: The Ribgrass]
+
+[Illustration: Jack-in-the-Pulpit]
+
+On the third year if all had the full number of seed, and all the seed
+grew into plants, there would be enough to go more than twice round the
+world. No wonder it has spread all over the country.
+
+
+TALE 34
+
+Jack-in-the-Pulpit
+
+Once upon a time there was a missionary named the Rev. John T. Arum, who
+set out to preach to the Indians. He had a good heart but a bitter,
+biting tongue. He had no respect for the laws of the Indians, so they
+killed him, and buried him in the woods. But out of his grave came a new
+and wonderful plant, shaped like a pulpit, and right in the middle of
+it, as usual, was the Reverend Jack hard at it, preaching away.
+
+If you dig down under the pulpit you will find the preacher's body, or
+his heart, in the form of a round root. Taste it and you will believe
+that the preacher had a terribly biting tongue, but treat it properly,
+that is boil it, and you will find out that after all he had a good
+little heart inside. Even the Indians have discovered his good qualities
+and have become very fond of him.
+
+
+TALE 35
+
+How the Indian Pipe Came
+
+[Illustration: How the Indian Pipe Came]
+
+In the last tale you learned the fate of the Rev. John T. Arum, and the
+origin of Jack-in-the-Pulpit. But you must not suppose for a moment that
+the Indians decided in a hurry to kill the missionary. No, they had too
+much sense of fair play for that. They held a great many councils first
+to find some way of curbing his tongue, and making him mind his own
+business. In fact, they got into the habit of holding a council every
+few minutes to discuss the question, no matter where they were or what
+else they were doing. So that pretty nearly every part of the woods was
+in time used for a council ring to discuss the fate of the Rev. John T.
+Arum.
+
+Of course, you know that no Indian can hold a council without smoking
+the Peace Pipe, and when the council is over, he empties out the ashes
+of the pipe. So that when all those councils were over, when the matter
+was settled, when the missionary was buried, and when the warrior had
+gone to the ghost land, there came solemnly poking its white bowl and
+stem from under the leaves an Indian pipe, at the very spot where the
+Councillors had emptied the ashes. It is a beautifully shaped pipe, with
+a curved and feathered stem, but it has none of the bright colours of
+the old Peace Pipe. It cannot have them for this is only a ghost Pipe to
+show where the council used to be; and one pipe there is for each
+council held on that spot, so you see how many, many councils the
+Indians had, before they killed the troublesome preacher. And sometimes
+you can find a pipe that has the bowl still filled with ghost tobacco or
+even a little red ghost fire, showing that the warriors had to hurry
+away before that council was finished. Whenever you find the ghost pipe
+in the woods, you are sure to see close by either a log, a bank or a
+rock on which the Councillors sat to talk it over.
+
+
+TALE 36
+
+The Cucumber Under the Brownie's Umbrella
+
+The Indians had Brownies, only they called them Pukwudjies, and I am
+going to tell you a story of an Indian Brownie.
+
+[Illustration: The Cucumber Under the Brownie's Umbrella]
+
+Whenever the Indians got together for a council, the Brownies did the
+same thing, in the woods near by. It was a kind of Brownie Fair, and
+some of the little people used to have stands and sell refreshments.
+Berries were scarce in the springtime, but the Brownies were very fond
+of cucumber. So there were always one or two Cucumber Brownies, who set
+up their little umbrellas, and sold slices of Cucumber to the others.
+
+When it was time to go home, or when the sun got so hot that the
+cucumbers were likely to spoil, they would bury them in the ground, but
+leave the umbrella to mark the place. And there they are yet; many a
+time have I found the umbrella, and dug under it to find the cucumber.
+It is delicious eating; everything that Brownies like is. You can find
+it, and try it. It is one of the things that Monapini taught Ruth
+Pilgrim to eat. (Tale 18).
+
+Of course, the Brownies do not like you to dig up their treasure or
+good-to-eats, but there are plenty more, far more than they ever need.
+"Yet what about it," you say, "if the Brownie happens to be there?"
+
+He may be sitting right under the umbrella, but remember the little
+people are invisible to our eyes. You will not see him; at least I never
+did.
+
+
+TALE 37
+
+The Hickory Horn-devil
+
+Hush, whisper! Did you ever meet a Hickory Horn-devil? No! Well I did,
+and I tell you he is a terror. Look at this picture of him. It is true,
+only he is not quite so big as that, though he looks as if he might be.
+And I was not quite so small as that, only I felt as if I were! And
+everything about him looked horribly strong, poisonous and ugly. He was
+a real devil.
+
+[Illustration: The Hickory Horn-devil (1/2 life size)]
+
+I did not know his history then; I did not learn it for a long time
+after, but I can tell it to you now.
+
+Once upon a time there was a little, greenish, blackish worm. He loved
+pretty things, and he hated to be ugly, as he was. No one wanted him,
+and he was left all alone, a miserable little outcast. He complained
+bitterly to Mother Carey, and asked if she would not bless him with some
+grace, to help him in his troubles.
+
+Mother Carey said: "Little ugly worm; you are having a hard time,
+because in your other life, before you came into this shape, you had an
+ugly, hateful spirit. You must go through this one as you are, until the
+Great Sleep comes; after that, you will be exactly what you have made of
+yourself."
+
+Then the little ugly worm said: "Oh Mother Carey, I am as miserable as I
+can be; let me be twice as ugly, if, in the end, I may be twice as
+beautiful."
+
+Mother Carey said gravely, "Do you think you could stand it, little
+worm? We shall see."
+
+From that time the worm got bigger and uglier, no creature would even
+talk to him. The birds seemed to fear him, and the Squirrels puffed out
+little horror-snorts, when they saw him coming, even the other worms
+kept away from him.
+
+So he went on his lonely life, uglier and more hated than ever. He lived
+chiefly on a big hickory tree, so men called him the Hickory Horn-devil.
+
+One day as he was crawling on a fence, a hen with chickens came running
+after him, to eat him. But when she saw how ugly he was she cried: "Oh,
+Lawk, lawk! Come away, children, at once!"
+
+At another time he saw a Chipmunk teaching its little ones to play tag.
+They looked so bright and happy, he longed, not to join them because he
+could only crawl, but to have the happiness of looking on. But when he
+came slowly forward, and the old Chipmunk saw him waving his horns and
+looking like a green poisonous reptile, she screamed, "Run, my
+children!" and all darted into their hole while Mother Chipmunk stuffed
+up the doorway with earth.
+
+But the most thrilling thing of all that he saw was one day as the sun
+went down, a winged being of dazzling beauty alighted for a moment on
+his hickory tree. Never had the Horn-devil seen such a dream of
+loveliness. Her slender body was clad in rose velvet, and her wings were
+shining with gold. The very sight of her made him hate himself, yet he
+could not resist the impulse to crawl nearer, to gaze at her beauty.
+
+But her eyes rested a moment on his horrible shape, and she fled in
+fear, while a voice near by said: "The Spangled Queen does not love
+poisonous reptiles." Then the poor little Horn-devil wished he were
+dead. He hid away from sight for three days. Hunger however forced him
+out, and as he was crawling across a pathway, a man who came along was
+going to crush him underfoot, but Mother Carey whispered, "No, don't do
+it." So the man let him live, but roughly kicked the worm aside, and
+bruised him fearfully.
+
+Then came Mother Carey and said: "Well, little ugly worm! Is your spirit
+strong, or angry?"
+
+The worm said bravely, though feebly: "Mother, Mother Carey, I am trying
+to be strong. I want to win."
+
+The breezes were losing their gentle warmth when Mother Carey came to
+him one day, and said: "Little one, your trial has been long, but it is
+nearly over.
+
+"Prepare to sleep now, my little horny one, you have fought a brave
+fight; your reward is coming. Because your soul has been made beautiful
+by your suffering, I will give you a body blazing with such beauty as
+shall make all stand in adoration when you pass." Then Mother Earth
+said, "Our little one shall have extra care because he has had extra
+trials." So the tired little Horn-devil did not even have to make
+himself a hammock, for Mother Earth received him and he snuggled into
+her bosom. As Mother Carey waved her wand, he dropped off asleep. And he
+slept for two hundred days.
+
+Then came the great Awakening Day, the resurrection day of the woods.
+Many new birds arrived. Many new flowers appeared. Sleepers woke from
+underground, as Mother Carey's silent trumpeters went bugling ahead of
+her, and her winged horse, the Warm Wind, came sweeping across the
+meadows, with the white world greening as he came.
+
+The bundle-baby of the Horn-devil woke up. He was cramped and sleepy,
+but soon awake. Then he knew that he was a prisoner, bound up in silken
+cords of strength. But new powers were his now, he was able to break the
+cords and crawl out of his hole. He put up his feelers to find those
+horrible horns, but they were gone, and his devil form fell off him like
+a mask. He had wings, jewelled wings! on his back now. Out he came to
+fluff the newfound wings awhile, and when they were spread and supple he
+flew into the joyful night, one of the noblest of all the things that
+fly, gorgeous in gold and velvet, body and wings; filled with the joy of
+life and flight, he went careering through the soft splendour of the
+coming night. And as he flew, he glimpsed a radiant form ahead, a being
+like himself, with wings of velvet and gold. At first he thought it was
+the Princess of the Hickory Tree, but now his eyes were perfect, and he
+could see that this was a younger and more beautiful Spangled Princess
+than the one of his bygone life, and all his heart was filled with the
+blazing fire of love. Fearlessly now he flew to overtake her; for was
+she not of his own kind? She sped away, very fast at first, but maybe
+she did not go as fast as she could, for soon he was sailing by her
+side. At first she turned away a little, but she was not cross or
+frightened now. She was indeed inclined to play and tease. Then in their
+own language, he asked her to marry him, and in their own language she
+said, "yes." Away they flew and flew on their wedding flight, high in
+the trees in the purple night, glorious in velvet and gold, more happy
+than these printed words can tell.
+
+The wise men who saw them said, "There go the Royal Citheronia and his
+bride." And Mother Carey smiled as she saw their bliss, and remembered
+the Hickory Horn-devil.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[B] Let the Guide illustrate with some local measure.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO SEE IN AUTUMNTIME
+
+[Illustration: The Purple and Gold of Autumn]
+
+
+
+
+Things to See in Autumntime
+
+
+TALE 38
+
+The Purple and Gold of Autumn
+
+There was once an old gentleman named Father Time, and he had four
+beautiful daughters.
+
+The eldest was called Winter Time. She was tall and pale. She dressed
+chiefly in white wool trimmed with wonderful lacework. She was much
+admired by some, but others considered her very cold and distant. And
+most agreed that she was the least winsome of the sisters.
+
+The second one was called Spring Time, and she was dressed in beautiful
+golden-green satin. She had a gentle, sunny disposition; some thought
+her the loveliest.
+
+The third was Summer Time, and her robe was dark-green velvet. She was
+warm-hearted and most attractive, full of life and energy, and as unlike
+the eldest sister as possible.
+
+The youngest was Autumn Time. She certainly was a wonderful creature,
+with red rosy cheeks, plump form, and riotous good spirits. Her robes
+were gorgeous and a little extravagant, for she wore a new one every
+day, and of all that she had, the one that she loved the best and wore
+the latest was of purple and gold. We can go out in October and see the
+purple and gold, and gather some scraps of the robe, for it is on every
+wayside and every hillside.
+
+
+TALE 39
+
+Why the Chicadee Goes Crazy Twice a Year
+
+A long time ago, when it was always summer in our woods, the Chicadees
+lived merrily with their cousins, and frolicked the whole year round.
+But one day Mother Carey sent the small birds a warning that they must
+move to the South, when the leaves fell from the trees, for hard frost
+and snow were coming, and maybe starvation too.
+
+All the cousins of the Chicadees listened to the warning and got ready
+to go; but Tomtit, their leader, only laughed and turned a dozen wheels
+around a twig that served him for a bar.
+
+"Go to the South?" said he. "Not I; I am too happy here; and as for
+frost and snow, I never saw any, and I don't believe there are such
+things."
+
+Very soon the leaves fell from the trees and the Nut-hatches and the
+King-wrens were so busy getting ready to go that the Chicadees left off
+play for a minute, to ask questions. They were not pleased with the
+answer they got, for the messenger had said that all of them were to
+take a long, long journey that would last for days, and the little
+King-wrens had actually to go as far as the Gulf of Mexico. Besides,
+they were to fly by night, to avoid their enemies, the Hawks, and the
+weather at this season was sure to be stormy. So the Chicadees said it
+was all nonsense, and went off, singing and chasing one another through
+the woods, led by Tomtit singing a new song in which he made fun of the
+travellers.
+
+        Tom Tom Tiddy-Mouse!
+        Hid away in our house,
+        Hid his brother in the cellar,
+        Wasn't he a silly feller?
+
+But their cousins were quite serious. They picked out wise leaders and
+formed themselves into bands. They learned that they must follow their
+leader, they must twitter as they flew in the darkness, so as to let
+those behind know where\he leaders were; they must follow the great
+rivers southward; they must wait for a full moon before starting, and
+never travel by day.
+
+The noisy, rollicking Chicadees continued to make fun of their cousins
+as they saw them now gathering in the woods along the river; and at
+length, when the moon was big, bright, and full, the cousins arose to
+the call of the leaders and all flew away in the gloom. The Chicadees
+said that all the cousins were crazy, made some good jokes about the
+Gulf of Mexico, and then dashed away on their favourite game of tag and
+tumble through the woods, which, however, did seem rather quiet now, and
+bare of leaves; while the weather, too, was certainly turning
+uncomfortably cool.
+
+At length the frost and snow really did come, and the Chicadees were in
+a bad way. Indeed, they were frightened out of their wits, and dashed
+hither and thither, seeking in vain for some one to set them aright on
+the way to the warm land. They flew wildly about the woods, till they
+were truly crazy. I suppose there was not a squirrel-hole or a hollow
+log in the neighbourhood that some Chicadee did not enter to inquire if
+this was the Gulf of Mexico. But no one could tell anything about it, no
+one was going that way, and the great river was hidden under ice and
+snow.
+
+About this time a messenger from Mother Carey was passing with a message
+to the Caribou in the Far North; but all he could tell the Chicadees was
+that he could not be their guide, as he had other business. "Besides,"
+he said, "you had the same notice as your cousins whom you called
+'crazy.' And from what I know of Mother Carey, you will probably have to
+stick it out here all through the snow, not only now, but in every
+winter after this; so you may as well make the best of it."
+
+This was sad news for the Chicadee Tomtits; but they were brave little
+fellows, and seeing they could not help themselves, they went about
+making the best of it. Before a week had gone by they were in their
+usual good spirits again, scrambling about the snowy twigs, or chasing
+one another as before.
+
+They were glad to remember now that Mother Carey said that winter would
+end. They told each other about it so much that even at its beginning,
+when a fresh blizzard came on, they would gleefully remark to one
+another that it was a "sign of spring," and one or another of the flock
+would lift his voice in the sweet little chant that we all know so well:
+
+[Illustration: Spring soon]
+
+Another would take it up and answer back:
+
+[Illustration: Spring com-ing]
+
+and they would keep on repeating the song until the dreary woods rang
+again with the good news, and the wood-people learned to love the brave
+little bird that sets his face so cheerfully, to meet so hard a case.
+
+And winter did end. Spring did come at last. And the sign of its coming
+was when the ice broke on the stream and the pussy willow came purring
+out above it. The air was full of the good news. The Chicadees felt it,
+and knew it through and through. They went mad with joy, chasing each
+other round and round the trees and through the hollow logs, shouting
+"The spring is here, the spring is here, Hurree, Hurree, Hurree," and in
+another week their joyous lives were going on as before the trouble
+came.
+
+But to this day, when the chill wind blows through the deserted woods,
+the Chicadees seem to lose their wits for a few days, and dart into all
+sorts of queer places. They may then be found in great cities, or open
+prairies, cellars, chimneys, and hollow logs; and the next time you find
+one of the wanderers in any out-of-the-way corner, be sure to remember
+that the Chicadee goes crazy twice a year, in the fall and in the
+spring, and probably went into his strange hole or town in search of the
+Gulf of Mexico.
+
+
+TALE 40
+
+The Story of the Quaking Aspen or Poplar
+
+The leaf of the Quaking Asp is like the one marked "a" in the drawing.
+Its trunk is smooth, greenish, or whitish, with black knots of bark like
+"c". All the farmers know it as Popple, or White Poplar; but the hunters
+call it Quaking Asp or Aspen.
+
+[Illustration: The Story of the Quaking Aspen]
+
+The name "quaking" was given because it is for ever shaking its leaves;
+the slightest wind sets them all rustling. They move so easily because
+each leaf-stem is like a thin, flat strap set on edge; while the
+leaf-stem of such as the oak is nearly round and scarcely rustles at
+all. Why does the Quaking Asp do this? No doubt, because it lives in
+places where the hot dust falls thick on the leaves at times, and if it
+did not have some trick of shaking it off, the leaf would be choked and
+bent so that the tree could scarcely breathe; for the leaves are the
+lungs of the trees. So remember, when the Poplar rustles loudly, it is
+coughing to clear its lungs of the dust.
+
+Some trees try to hide their troubles, and quickly cover up their
+wounds; but the Aspen has a very touchy skin and, once it is wounded, it
+shows the scar as long as it lives. We can, therefore, go to any Aspen
+tree, and have it tell us the story of its life. Here is the picture of
+one. The black marks at the forks (c) are scars of growth; the belts of
+dots (d) were wounds given by a sapsucker to rob it of its sap; the flat
+places (e) show where a Red Squirrel gnawed off the outer bark.
+
+If a Raccoon climbed the tree (f), or an insect bored into the trunk, we
+are sure to see a record of it in this sensitive bark.
+
+Now, last of all, the paper on which this story is printed was likely
+made out of Aspen wood.
+
+
+TALE 41
+
+The Witch-hazel
+
+[Illustration: Witch-hazel]
+
+These are the things to make you remember the Witch-hazel; its forked
+twig was used--nay, still is used--as a magic rod to show where there is
+running water underground; that is, where it is possible to find water
+by sinking a well. Its nuts are explosive, and go off with a _snap_,
+shooting the seeds that are inside, ten or twenty feet away, when the
+cold dry days of autumn come. Third, its curious golden-thread flowers
+appear in the fall.
+
+As Cracked Jimmy used to sing:-
+
+        Witch-hazel blossoms in the fall,
+        To cure the chills and fevers all.
+                      --_Two Little Savages._
+
+On November 16, 1919, after a sharp frost, I went out in the morning to
+get some Witch-hazel flowers for this drawing, and found them blooming
+away in the cold air, vigorously as ever. Imagine a flower that can
+bloom while it is freezing. In the drawing I have shown the flower, like
+a 4-lipped cup with four yellow snakes coiling out of it.
+
+But these are not the deadly snakes one hears about. They are rather
+symbols of old AEsculapius, the famous healer of the long ago, whose
+emblem was the cup of life with curling snakes of wisdom about it. In
+the Witch-hazel has been found a soothing balm for many an ache and
+pain. The Witch-hazel you buy in the drugstores, is made out of the bark
+of this tree. If you chew one of the little branches you will know it by
+the taste.
+
+Near the top is a flower that is finished, its snakes have fled; and at
+the top of all is a bud for next year. That is, they are--_is_,
+_has-been_ and _going-to-be_. The nuts are shown in the corner.
+
+Note, last of all, that it is a sociable little tree; it always goes
+with a crowd. There are generally three or four Witch-hazels from one
+root, and there is always a family of cousins not far away.
+
+
+TALE 42
+
+How the Shad Came and How the Chestnut Got Its Burrs
+
+In the woods of Poconic there once roamed a very discontented Porcupine.
+She was forever fretting. She complained that everything was wrong, till
+it was perfectly scandalous, and Wahkonda, the Great Spirit, getting
+tired of her grumbling, said:
+
+"You and the world I have made don't seem to fit; one or the other must
+be wrong. It is easier to change you. You don't like the trees, you are
+unhappy on the ground, and think everything is upside down, therefore
+I'll turn you inside out, and put you in the water." And so the
+Porcupine was turned into a new creature, a fish, called the Shad. That
+is why he is so full of little sharp bones.
+
+Then after the old Porcupine had been turned into a Shad, the young ones
+missed their mother, and crawled up into a high Chestnut tree to look
+for her coming. Wahkonda happened to pass that way, and they all
+chattered their teeth at him, thinking themselves safe. They were not
+wicked, but at heart quite good, only badly brought up; oh, so
+ill-trained, and some of them chattered and groaned as Wahkonda came
+nearer. Then Wahkonda was sorry for them, remembering that he had taken
+their mother from them, and said: "You look very well up there, you
+little Porkys, so you had better stay there for always, and be part of
+the Chestnut tree." And he touched each one with his magic wand and
+turned it into a burr that grew tight to the tree. That is how it came
+about. There they hang like a lot of little Porcupines on the twigs of
+the tree. They are spiney and dangerous, utterly without manners, and
+yet most of them have a good little heart inside.
+
+
+TALE 43
+
+How the Littlest Owl Came
+
+After the Great Spirit had made the world and the creatures in it, he
+made the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo. This was like an Owl, but bigger than
+anything else alive, and his voice was like a river plunging over a
+rocky ledge. He was so big that he thought he had done it all himself,
+and he became puffed up. He forgot the Great Spirit, who decided to
+teach him a lesson in this wise:
+
+He called the Blue-jay, the mischief-maker of the woods, and told him
+what to do. Away went the Blue-jay to the mountain at the top of which
+was the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo making thunder in his throat. The Blue-jay
+flew up to his ear, and said: "Pooh, Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo, you don't call
+that a big noise! You should hear Niagara; then you would never twitter
+again."
+
+The Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo was so mad at hearing his big wonderful song
+called a twitter, that he said: "Niagara, Niagara! I'm sick of hearing
+about Niagara. I will go and silence Niagara with my voice." So he flew
+to Niagara while the Blue-jay snickered and followed to see the fun.
+
+Now when Niagara Falls was made the Great Spirit said to it, "Flow on
+for ever." That last word of the Great Spirit it took up as it rushed
+on, and never ceases to thunder out "For ever! For ever! For ever!"
+
+When they came to Niagara the mighty cataract, the Blue-jay said, "Now,
+Gitchee, you can beat that I am sure." So Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo began
+bawling to drown the noise of it, but could not make himself heard.
+
+"Wa-wa-wa," said the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo, with great effort and only for
+a few heart beats.
+
+"_For ever, For ever, For ever_," thundered the river, steadily, easily,
+ceaselessly.
+
+"Wa-wa-wa--!" shrieked Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo; but his voice was so utterly
+lost that he could not hear it himself, and he began to feel small, and
+smaller; and as he began to feel small, a strange thing happened--he
+began to get small and smaller, until he was no bigger than a Sparrow;
+and his voice, instead of being like a great cataract, became like the
+dropping of water, just a little
+
+        Tink-tank-tink,
+        Tink-tank-tink.
+
+And this is why the Indians give to this smallest of the Owls the name
+of "The Water-dropping Bird," who was once the greatest of all
+creatures, but is now shrunk to be the littlest of the Owls, because he
+became proud and forgot the Great Spirit.
+
+
+TALE 44
+
+The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts
+
+Once upon a time there was a rich boy, who knew all about the city, and
+nothing about the woods. He went for an outing into the wilderness, and
+got lost. He wandered all day until he was very tired and hungry. The
+sun was low when he came to a little pathway. He followed it, and it led
+to a small log cabin. When he knocked, an old woman opened the door. He
+said, "Please, Ma'am, I am lost and very hungry, will you give me
+something to eat?"
+
+[Illustration: The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts]
+
+The old woman looked sharply at his clothes, and knew that he was
+rich, so she said: "Poor people are wise, they can take care of
+themselves in the woods. They don't get lost. But you rich people are
+fools, and I wish you would go away."
+
+"I will, if you'll give me something to eat," he answered.
+
+Then the old woman said: "Listen, foolish rich boy, in the woods beside
+you right now is a friend who feeds the poor people, maybe she will feed
+you. She is tall and slim, her eyes are brownish purple and her hair is
+green, and by this you may know her--she has five fingers on one hand
+and seven on the other. Her house is in the brier thicket; she climbs to
+the roof and stands there all day waving her hands, and shouting out in
+wood-talk, 'There are cocoanuts in my cellar.'
+
+"Now go and find her, maybe she will feed you. She always feeds us poor
+folks," and the witch slammed the door.
+
+The boy was puzzled. As he stood in doubt, there was a loud noise, and
+his friends arrived. They brought him the food and comfort that he
+needed.
+
+Then he said: "I wish to know what that old wood-witch meant by the lady
+with the purple eyes and green hair." So he went again to the log cabin
+and knocked.
+
+When the old woman came, and saw a lot of people about, she was
+frightened for she knew she had been unkind. But the boy said: "Now
+Granny, you needn't be afraid, I want you to show me the friend that has
+seven fingers and a cellar full of cocoanuts."
+
+"I'll show you, if you promise to do me no harm," she answered.
+
+"Of course, I'll promise," replied the boy.
+
+Then Granny Wood-witch went hobbling to the nearest thicket and cackled
+out loud, as she pointed out a trailing vine that had sometimes five
+leaflets on a stalk and sometimes seven. "See, see, that's the lady.
+See seven fingers on that hand and five on this. Now follow her feet
+down and dig in the ground."
+
+They dug and found strings of lovely brown nuts as big as walnuts.
+
+"See, see," chuckled the wood-witch. "See the cocoanuts in the cellar."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Go forth and look for it, ye Woodcrafters. You will find it throughout
+Eastern America on the edge of every wood. Its flower is like a
+purple-brown sweet-pea, and is in bloom all summer long. Follow down its
+vine, dig out a few of the potatoes or nuts, and try them, raw, boiled,
+or if ye wish to eat them as Indian Cake, clean them, cut them in
+slices, dry till hard, pound them up into meal, and make a cake the same
+as you would of oatmeal.
+
+The wild things love them, the Indians love them, and this was the bread
+of the wood-witch. The books call it Bog Potato and Ground Nuts. It is
+the third secret of the woods.
+
+
+TALE 45
+
+The Mud-dauber Wasp
+
+If you look under the roof of any wooden barn in Eastern America you are
+likely to see the nest of the common Mud-wasp.
+
+[Illustration: The Mud-dauber Wasp (life size)]
+
+If you look on warm sunny days along the edge of some mud puddle you are
+sure to see a curious steel-blue wasp, with a very thin waist, working
+away at a lump of mud. She seems to be breathing hard with her body, as
+she works with her yellow legs, but she finally goes off laden with a
+gob of mud. This is the Mud-wasp at work, building a strong mud-nest for
+her family. The nest is the one we have seen hung under the roof of
+the shed, always put where no rain can reach it.
+
+In the drawing are two of these nests.
+
+Once the cradle is ready, the mother Wasp goes spider-hunting. Whenever
+she can find a spider, she pounces on it, and with her sting, she stabs
+it in the body, so as to paralyze it, but not kill it. Then she carries
+it to the mud cell and packs it in, at the far end. Many spiders are
+caught and preserved this way, for they do not usually die though they
+cannot move.
+
+When the cell is full, the Wasp lays an egg on the last spider, and
+seals up the opening with a mud lid.
+
+Very soon the egg hatches out a little white grub which begins on the
+spider next to him, eating the legs first, and the body last, so as to
+keep it alive as long as possible, though of course the spider has no
+feeling. Then he eats the next spider, and the next, growing as he eats,
+until he nearly fills the cell, and the spiders are all eaten up.
+
+Now the grub goes to sleep, and next spring comes out as a full-grown
+Mud-wasp to do exactly as the mother did, though it never saw that
+Mother or had a lesson from any one in the many strange things it must
+do to live.
+
+I went into my boat-house to-day, November 20, 1919, to get a mud nest
+for this drawing. There were 86 on the roof; some of them with 20 or 30
+cells, and besides there was a lot of paper nests by other Wasps. The
+nest I took had two cells, one open and empty, and the other with a mud
+lid on tight. This held a long, shiny brown transparent case, in which
+was a white grub much too small for the big coat he was wearing. The
+grub was sound asleep, and would have come out next spring, as a big
+steel-blue Mud-wasp had I let him alone. But there are plenty of
+Mud-wasps so I fed him to the Chicadees, which likely is what Mother
+Carey would have done.
+
+[Illustration: The Cicada and the Katydid (life size)]
+
+
+TALE 46
+
+The Cicada and the Katydid
+
+Once upon a time, long, long ago, the birds whose job it was to make the
+woods merry with their songs, decided to go on strike. They said, "We
+have sung all day, all springtime, and half way through the summer, but
+now we are moulting, the weather is frightfully hot; we need a rest, and
+we are going to stop singing, to take a holiday."
+
+Then Dame Nature, who is sometimes called the All-mother, or Mother
+Carey, said: "Dear me, this will never do! No songbirds, woods silent
+all through the dog-days. Now who will be strike-breakers and volunteer
+to supply the music till the birds get once more in a good humour?"
+
+Then up at that question got a long-winged insect like a big fly, and a
+long-legged insect like a green grasshopper, and both said at once, "I
+will." Amid low murmurs of "Scab! Scab!" from many of the Wood-birds.
+
+"You. I forgot that you two had any voices at all!" said Mother Carey.
+
+Then the long-winged creature, whose name is Cicada, began, "True, my
+voice isn't much, but I have invented a most successful musical
+Castanet. Listen!"
+
+Then he began an extraordinary racket like an alarm clock, a threshing
+machine, and a buzz-saw all going together. He filled the grove with his
+noise, and set all the woodfolk laughing with his funny performance.
+Though, of course, he didn't mean to be funny; he thought it was fine.
+
+Then as the Cicada ceased, Mother Carey said to the Green Hopper, whose
+name was Katy, "Now, Katy, what can you do?"
+
+"I do not brag of my voice, dear Mother," said she, "but I am a
+thrilling performer on the violin."
+
+Then she humped herself up over a green fiddle that she had under her
+cloak, and nearly deafened them with its hoarse screechings.
+
+There was no doubt that these two could make as much noise as a wood
+full of birds; both were eager to take sole charge, and a bitter dispute
+arose as to whose idea it was first.
+
+But Mother Carey settled it by dividing the time. "You," she said to
+Cicada, "can take charge of the music by day, and you," she said to the
+Green one, "must take it up at sundown in place of the nightingale, and
+keep it up, till the night breaks, and both of you continue till the
+frost comes, or until the birds are back on the job."
+
+That is how it all came about.
+
+But there is considerable feeling yet among the Katies, that they should
+get all the night work, and never be seen performing. They think that
+their ancestor was the original inventor of this cheap substitute for
+bird song. And it is made all the worse by a division among themselves.
+Some say "she did" and some say "she didn't." If you notice in early
+August, they are nearly all shouting, "Katy-did." Then by the end of the
+month, "Katy-didn't" is stronger. In September it is still mixed. In
+October their work is over, the chorus ended, but you hear an occasional
+"Katy-did" and finally as late as Indian Summer, which is Hallowe'en, I
+have heard the last of the fiddlers rasp out "she did"; and do it in
+daytime, too, as though to flout the followers of Cicada. And, if the
+last word be truth, as they say, we may consider it settled, that Katy
+really and truly _did_. And yet I believe next year the same dispute
+will arise, and we shall have the noisy argument all over again.
+
+If you look at the portraits of Cicada, the Hotweather-bug or Locust,
+and of the Katydid, you will not see their musical instruments very
+plainly, but believe me they have them; and you can hear them any late
+summer hot-weather time, in any part of the Eastern States and some
+parts of southern Canada.
+
+And now let me finish with a secret. Katy is not a lady at all, but a
+he-one disguised in green silk stockings, and a green satin dress.
+
+
+TALE 47
+
+The Digger Wasp that Killed the Cicada
+
+Strange things are done in the realm of Mother Carey; strange things and
+cruel. At least so they seem to us, for we do not know the plan that is
+behind them. We know only that sometimes love must be cruel. I am going
+to tell you of a strange happening, that you may see any hot day in
+August. And this is how it came about.
+
+At that meeting in the woods when the Cicada and the Katydid undertook
+to be musicians, while the birds were on strike, there was one strong
+insect who gave off an angry "_Bizz, Bizz_" that sounded like "_Scab,
+Scab_." That was the big yellow-and-black Digger Wasp, the biggest of
+the wasps, with a sting that is as bad as that of a baby rattlesnake.
+And that very day she declared war on the Cicada and his kind. The
+Katydids she could not touch, because the Wasp cannot see at night.
+
+But the Cicada was easy to find. As soon as the day got hot, and that
+awful buzzing began in the trees, the Big Digger got her sting ready,
+and went booming along in the direction of the sound.
+
+[Illustration: The Digger Wasp (life size)]
+
+Now Mother Carey had given the Cicada bright eyes and strong wings, and
+it was his own business to take care of himself; but he was so pleased
+with his music that he never saw the fierce Digger Wasp, till she
+charged on him. And before he could spread his wings, she had stabbed
+him through.
+
+His song died away in a few shrieks, and then the Cicada lay still. But
+not dead, for the Digger had stuck her poison dagger into the nerve
+centre, so that he was paralyzed and helpless, but still living.
+
+Now the Digger set about a plan. She wanted to get that Cicada body into
+her den, to feed her young ones with it. But the Cicada was bigger and
+heavier than she was, so that she could not carry it. However, she was
+bent on doing it, she got all ready, took tight hold with her claws,
+then swooped from the tree, flying as strongly as she could, till the
+weight of the Cicada brought her to the ground within fifty feet, while
+the den was fully a hundred feet away. But the Wasp dragged the Cicada
+up the trunk of another tree, then took another long sloping flight as
+before. One more climb and skid down, brought her to her den--a hole in
+a bank that she had dug out; that is why she is called the Digger Wasp.
+The passage was a foot long and had a crook in the middle. At the end
+was a round room an inch and a half high. Here the Digger left her
+victim's body and right on its breast, to one side, laid an egg.
+
+This hatched in two or three days, and began to feed on the Cicada. In a
+week it had eaten the Cicada and grown to be a big fat grub. Then it
+spun a cocoon, and made itself into a bundle-baby, resting all autumn
+and all winter in that dark den.
+
+But when the spring came with its glorious wakening up, great changes
+came over the bundle-baby of the Digger. It threw off the cocoon and its
+outer skin, and came forth from the gloom into the sunshine, a big
+strong Digger Wasp with a sting of its own, and a deadly feud with all
+screaming Cicadas. Although it never saw its mother, or got any lessons
+from her, it goes after the buzzing hotweather-bugs, when August comes,
+and treats them exactly as she did.
+
+
+TALE 48
+
+How the Indian Summer Came
+
+Wahkonda, the Great Spirit, the Ruler of the World, had found pleasure
+the whole summer long in making mountains, lakes, and forests. Then when
+the autumn came, and the leaves fell from the trees, He lighted His pipe
+and sat down to look over the things He had made.
+
+As He did so, the north wind arose for Cold Time was coming, and blew
+the smoke and ashes of the pipe into His face. Then He said: "Cease your
+blowing, all ye winds, until I have finished smoking." So, of course,
+there was dead calm.
+
+Wahkonda smoked for ten days, and during all that time there were no
+clouds in the sky, for there was no wind to bring them; there was
+unbroken, calm sunny weather. But neither was there any wind to carry
+off the smoke, so it hung, as the teepee smoke hangs at sunrise, and it
+drifted over the valleys and forests in a blue haze.
+
+Then at last when the Great Spirit finished His smoke and His
+meditation, He emptied out His pipe. That was the signal, the north wind
+broke loose, and came howling down from the hills, driving the leaves
+before it, and warning all wild things to be ready, for soon there would
+be winter in the woods.
+
+And it hath been so ever since. When the leaves have fallen and before
+yet the Ice-king is here, there come, for a little while, the calm
+dreamy days, when the Great Spirit is smoking His pipe, and the smoke is
+on the land. The Red-men call them the Smoking Days, but we call it
+Indian Summer.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO SEE IN WINTERTIME
+
+[Illustration: The North Star or Home Star]
+
+
+
+
+Things to See in Wintertime
+
+
+TALE 49
+
+The North Star, or the Home Star
+
+If you are going to be a Woodcrafter, you must begin by knowing the
+North Star, because that is the star which will show you the way home,
+if you get lost in the woods at night. That is why the Indians call it
+the "Home Star."
+
+But first, I must tell you how it came to be, and the story begins a
+long, long time ago.
+
+In those far-off days, we are told, there were two wonderful hunters,
+one named Orion, and the other named Booetes (Bo-o-tees). Orion hunted
+everything and I shall have to leave him for another story. Booetes was
+an ox-driver and only hunted bears to save his cattle. One day he went
+after a Mother Bear, that had one little cub.
+
+[Illustration: The Pappoose on the Squaw's Back]
+
+He chased them up to the top of a mountain so high, that they leaped off
+into the sky, and just as they were going, Booetes shot his arrows after
+them. His very first arrow hit the Little Bear in the tail--they had
+long tails in those days--and pinned him to the sky. There he has hung
+ever since, swinging round and round, on the arrow in his tail, while
+his mother runs bawling around him, with Booetes and his dogs chasing
+her. He shot arrows into her tail, which was long and curved, into her
+body, and into her shoulder. Seven big arrows he shot, and there they
+are yet, in the form of a dipper pointing always to the cub who is
+called the "Little Bear." The shining head of the big arrow in the end
+of the Little Bear's tail is called the North Star or Pole Star. You can
+always tell which is the North Star, by the two Pointers; these are the
+two bright stars that make the outer side of the Dipper on the Big
+Bear's shoulder. A line drawn through them, points out the North Star.
+
+The Dipper, that is the Big Bear, goes round and round the Pole
+Star, once in about twenty-four hours; so that sometimes the Pointers are
+over, sometimes under, to left or to right; but always pointing out the
+Pole Star or North Star.
+
+This star shows nearly the true north; and, knowing that, a traveller
+can find his way in any strange country, so long as he can see this
+friendly Home Star.
+
+
+TALE 50
+
+The Pappoose on the Squaw's Back
+
+Now that you know how the Bears and the Big Dipper came, you should know
+the Indian story of the Old Squaw.
+
+First find the bright star that is at the bend of the Dipper handle.
+This is called the "Old Squaw"; on her back is a tiny star that they
+call "The Pappoose."
+
+As soon as an Indian boy is old enough to understand, his mother takes
+him out into the night when it is calm and clear, and without any moon
+or any bright lights near, and says, "My child, yonder is the Old Squaw,
+the second of the seven stars; she is going over the top of the hill; on
+her back she carries her pappoose. Tell me, my child, can you see the
+pappoose?"
+
+[Illustration: Orion Fighting the Bull]
+
+Then the little redskin gazes, and from his mother's hand he takes two
+pebbles, a big one and a little one, and he sets them together on her
+palm, to show how the two stars seem to him. When the mother is sure
+that he did see them clearly, she rejoices. She goes to the fire and
+drops a pinch of tobacco into it, for incense to carry her message, then
+looking toward the sky she says: "Great Spirit, I thank Thee that my
+child has the eyes of a hunter."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+These things are not new, O Woodcrafter. The wise men of our race call
+the Big Star "Mizar" one of the chariot horses, and the little star
+"Alcor" or the Rider. In all ages it has been considered proof of
+first-class eyes, to see this little star. Can you see it? Have you the
+eyes of a hunter?
+
+
+TALE 51
+
+Orion the Hunter, and His Fight With the Bull
+
+In the 49th Tale I told you there were two giants among the mighty
+hunters in the sky, Booetes, whose adventure with the Bears you have
+already heard, and Orion. (O-ry'-on).
+
+Orion was the most famous of all. In his day men had no guns; they had
+nothing but clubs, spears, and arrows to fight with, and the beasts were
+very big and fierce as well as plentiful, yet Orion went whenever he was
+needed, armed chiefly with his club, fought the wild beasts, all alone,
+killing them or driving them out, and saving the people, for the joy of
+doing it. Once he killed a lion with his club, and ever afterward wore
+the lion's skin on his arm. Bears were as nothing to him; he killed them
+as easily as most hunters would rabbits, but he found his match, when he
+went after a ferocious wild Bull as big as a young elephant.
+
+As soon as the Bull saw him, it came rushing at him. It happened to be
+on the other side of a stream, and as it plunged in, Orion drew his bow
+and fired seven quick shots at the Bull's heart. But the monster was
+coming head on, and the seven arrows all stuck in its shoulder, making
+it madder than ever. So Orion waved his lion skin in his left hand, and
+with his club in the right, ran to meet the Bull, as it was scrambling
+up the bank from the water.
+
+The first whack of the club tumbled the Bull back into the water, but it
+turned aside, went to another place, and charged again. And again Orion
+landed a fearful blow with the club on the monster's curly forehead.
+
+By this time, all the animals had gathered around to see the big fight,
+and the gods in heaven got so interested that they shouted out, "Hold
+on, that is good enough for us to see. Come up here."
+
+So they moved the mighty Hunter and the Bull, and the River and all the
+animals, up to heaven, and the fight has gone on there ever since.
+
+In the picture I have shown a lot of animals besides Orion and the Bull,
+but the only things I want you to look now in the sky, are Orion's belt
+with the three stars on it, and the Pleiades on the Bull's shoulder, the
+seven spots where the seven arrows struck.
+
+And remember these stars cannot be seen in summer, they pass over us in
+winter time. You can find Orion by drawing a straight line across the
+rim of the Dipper, beginning at the inner or handle side, passing
+through the outer or Pointers side, and continued for twice the length
+of the Dipper, handle and all, this will bring you to Betelgeuze, the
+big star in the Giant's right shoulder, below that are the three stars
+of his belt, sometimes called the "Three Kings."
+
+
+TALE 52
+
+The Pleiades, that Orion Fired at the Bull
+
+[Illustration: The Pleiades]
+
+When late autumn comes the Pleiades (Ply'-a-dees) appear in the evening
+sky to the eastward. These are the seven shots in the Bull's shoulder,
+the seven arrows from Orion's bow. The Guide can locate them by
+continuing the line of Orion's belt, eight times the length of the belt
+to the right, as one faces the Hunter, so Orion must have been very
+close indeed. At first they look like a faint light with a few bright
+pin-points scattered through. Tennyson described them as:
+
+        Glittering like a swarm of fireflies
+        Tangled in a silver braid.
+
+The best time to see them is some clear night about Christmas, when
+there is no moon, and the Pleiades are nearly overhead, above the mist
+and smoke of the horizon, and there are no electric lights near by.
+
+Study them attentively. Make a tube of your two hands and look through.
+Look on the ground, then look back again; look not straight at them, but
+a little to one side; and at last, mark down on paper how many you can
+clearly see, putting a big spot for the big one, and little spots for
+the little ones. Poor eyes see nothing but a haze; fairly good eyes see
+four of the pin-points; good eyes see five; the best of eyes see seven.
+I can see seven on a clear winter night when there are no clouds and no
+moon. This is as high as you need expect to get, although it is said
+that some men in clear air on a mountain top have seen ten, while the
+telescope shows that there are 2,000.
+
+In taking these eyesight tests you may use your spectacles if you
+usually wear them.
+
+
+TALE 53
+
+The Twin Stars
+
+        Two-Bright-Eyes went wandering out
+        To chase the Whippoorwill;
+        Two-Bright-Eyes got lost and left
+        Our teepee--oh, so still!
+
+        Two-Bright-Eyes was carried up
+        To sparkle in the skies
+        And look like stars--but we know well
+        That that's our lost Bright-Eyes.
+
+        She is looking for the camp,
+        She would come back if she could;
+        She still peeps thro' the tree-tops
+        For the teepee in the wood.
+
+
+TALE 54
+
+Stoutheart and His Black Cravat
+
+Do you know the bird that wears a black cravat, which he changes once a
+year? It is the English Sparrow, the commonest of all our birds. His
+hair is gray, but he must have been red-headed once, for just back of
+his ears there is still a band of red; and his collar, maybe, was white
+once, but it is very dingy now. His shirt and vest are gray; his coat is
+brown with black streaks--a sort of sporting tweed. The new cravat comes
+when the new feathers grow in late summer; and, at first, it is barred
+with gray as if in half mourning for his sins. As the gray tips wear
+off, it becomes solid black; that is, in March or April. In summer, it
+gets rusty and worn out; so every year he puts on a new one in late
+August.
+
+The hen sparrow is quite different and wears no cravat. She has a
+black-and-brown cape of the sporting pattern, but her dress is
+everywhere of brownish Quaker gray.
+
+The song of the English Sparrow is loud and short; but he tries to make
+up, by singing it over and over again, for many minutes.
+
+He eats many bad bugs, and would be well liked, if he did not steal the
+nests and the food of Bluebirds, Woodpeckers, Swallows, and others that
+are prettier and more useful birds, as well as far better singers than
+he is.
+
+But there is much to admire in the Sparrow. I do not know of any bird
+that is braver, or more ready to find a way out of trouble; and if he
+cannot find a way, he cheerfully makes the best of it.
+
+Some years ago I was at Duluth during a bitterly cold spell of weather.
+The thermometer registered 20 deg. or 30 deg. below zero, and the blizzard wind
+was blowing. Oh my, it was cold. But out in the street were dozens of
+English Sparrows chirruping and feeding; thriving just as they do in
+warmer lands and in fine weather.
+
+When black night came down, colder yet, I wondered what the little
+stout-hearts would do. Crawl into some hole or bird-house, maybe? or
+dive into a snowdrift? as many native birds do.
+
+I found out; and the answer was most unexpected.
+
+In front of the hotel was a long row of electric lights. At nine
+o'clock, when I chanced to open the window for a breath of air, my eye
+fell on these; on every bulb was an English Sparrow sound asleep with
+the overarching reflector to turn the storm, and the electric bulb below
+him to warm his toes. My hat is off. Our Department of Agriculture may
+declare war on the Sparrow; but what is the use? Don't you think that a
+creature who is not afraid of blizzard or darkness, and knows how to use
+electric lights, is going to win its life-battle, and that he surely is
+here to stay?
+
+
+TALE 55
+
+Tracks, and the Stories They Tell
+
+[Illustration: Tracks, and the Stories They Tell]
+
+Sometimes, in town, just after rain, when the gutters are wet, and the
+pavement dry, look for the tracks of some Dog that walked with wet
+feet on the pavement. You will find that they are like "a" in the
+drawing. A Dog has five toes on his front feet, but only four touch the
+pavement as he walks. The claws also touch, and make each a little mark.
+
+Now look for the track of a Cat; it is somewhat like that of the Dog,
+but it is smaller, softer, and the claws do not show (b). They are too
+good to be wasted on a pavement; she keeps them pulled in, so they are
+sharp when she has use for them.
+
+Make a drawing of each of these, and make it life size.
+
+When there is dust on the road, or snow, look for Sparrow tracks; they
+are like "c."
+
+Note how close together the front three toes are. The inner two are
+really fast together, so they cannot be separated far and the hind toe
+is very large. Last of all, note that the tracks go two and two, because
+the Sparrow goes "hop hop, hop." These things mean that the Sparrow is
+really a tree bird; and you will see that, though often on the ground he
+gets up into a tree when he wishes to feel safe.
+
+Look for some Chicken tracks in the dust; they are like "d" in the
+drawing because the Chicken does not go "hop, hop, hop" like the
+Sparrow, but "walk, walk, walk." The Chicken is a ground bird. Most of
+the song birds hop like the Sparrow, and most of the game birds walk
+like a Chicken. But the Robin (e) goes sometimes hopping and sometimes
+running, because part of his life is in the trees, and part on the
+ground.
+
+
+TALE 56
+
+A Rabbit's Story of His Life, Written by Himself
+
+Yes, the Rabbit wrote it himself and about himself in the oldest writing
+on earth, that is the tracks of his feet.
+
+[Illustration: A WOODCRAFT TRAGEDY
+
+As shown by the Tracks and Signs in the Snow]
+
+In February of 1885, one morning after a light snowfall, I went tramping
+through the woods north of Toronto, when I came on something that always
+makes me stop and look--the fresh tracks of an animal. This was the
+track of a Cottontail Rabbit and I followed its windings with thrills of
+interest. There it began under a little brush pile (a); the bed of brown
+leaves showing that he settled there, before the snow-fall began. Now
+here (b) he leaped out after the snow ceased, for the tracks are sharp,
+and sat looking around. See the two long marks of his hind feet and in
+front the two smaller prints of his front feet; behind is the mark made
+by his tail, showing that he was sitting on it.
+
+Then he had taken alarm at something and dashed off at speed (c), for
+now his hind feet are tracking ahead of the front feet, as in most
+bounding forefoots, and the faster he goes, the farther ahead those hind
+feet get.
+
+See now how he dodged about here and there, this way and that, among the
+trees, as though trying to escape some dreaded enemy (c, d, e, f).
+
+But what enemy? There are no other tracks, and still the wild jumping
+went on.
+
+I began to think that the Rabbit was crazy, flying from an imaginary
+foe; possibly that I was on the track of a March Hare. But at "g" I
+found on the trail for the first time a few drops of blood. That told me
+that the Rabbit was in real danger but gave no clue to its source.
+
+At "h" I found more blood and at "j" I got a new thrill, for there,
+plain enough on each side of the Rabbit track, were finger-like marks,
+and the truth dawned on me that these were the prints of great wings.
+The Rabbit was fleeing from an eagle, a hawk, or an owl. Some twenty
+yards farther "k" I found in the snow the remains of the luckless Rabbit
+partly devoured. Then I knew that the eagle had not done it, for he
+would have taken the Rabbit's body away, not eaten him up there. So it
+must have been a hawk or an owl. I looked for something to tell me
+which, and I got it. Right by the Rabbit's remains was the large
+twin-toed track (l) that told me that an owl had been there, and that
+therefore he was the criminal. Had it been a hawk the mark would have
+been as shown in the left lower corner, three toes forward and one back,
+whereas the owl usually sets his foot with two toes forward and two
+backward, as in the sketch. This, then, I felt sure was the work of an
+owl. But which owl? There were two, maybe three kinds in that valley. I
+wished to know exactly and, looking for further evidence, I found on a
+sapling near by a big soft, downy, owlish feather (m) with three brown
+bars across it; which told me plainly that a Barred Owl or Hoot Owl had
+been there recently, and that he was almost certainly the killer of the
+Cottontail.
+
+This may sound like a story of Sherlock Holmes among the animals--a
+flimsy tale of circumstantial evidence. But while I was making my notes,
+what should come flying through the woods but the Owl himself, back to
+make another meal, no doubt. He alighted on a branch just above my head,
+barely ten feet up, and there gave me the best of proof, next to eye
+witness of the deed, that all I had gathered from the tracks and signs
+in the snow was quite true.
+
+I had no camera in those days, but had my sketch book, and as he sat, I
+made a drawing which hangs to-day among my pictures that are beyond
+price.
+
+Here, then, is a chapter of wild life which no man saw, which man could
+not have seen, for the presence of a man would have prevented it. And
+yet we know it was true, for it was written by the Rabbit himself.
+
+If you have the seeing eye, you will be able to read many strange and
+thrilling happenings written for you thus in the snow, the mud, and even
+the sand and the dust.
+
+
+TALE 57
+
+The Singing Hawk
+
+Listen, Guide and young folk, I want to add another bird to your list
+to-day; another secret of the woods to your learning.
+
+I want you to know the Singing Hawk. Our nature writers nearly always
+make their hawks scream, but I want you to know a wonderful Hawk, right
+in your own woods, that really and truly sings, and loves to do it.
+
+It is a long time ago since I first met him. I was going past a little
+ravine north of Toronto, on a bright warm mid-winter day, when a loud
+call came ringing down the valley and the bird that made it, a large
+hawk, appeared, sailing and singing, _kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-o,
+kee-ye-o, ky-ye-o, ky-oodle, ky-oodle, kee-o, kee-o_ and on; over and
+over again, in a wild-wood tone that thrilled me. He sailed with set
+wings to a near-by tree, and ceased not his stirring call; there was no
+answer from the woods, but there was a vibrant response in my heart. It
+moved me through and through. How could it do so much, when it was so
+simple? I did not know how to tell it in words, but I felt it in my
+boyish soul. It expressed all the wild-wood life and spirit, the joy of
+living, the happy brightness of the day, the thrill of the coming
+spring, the glory of flight; all, all it seemed to voice in its simple
+ringing, "_kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-yi-o_"; never before had I seen a
+bird so evidently rejoicing in his flight; then singing, it sailed away
+from sight; but the song has lingered ever since in the blessed part of
+my memory. I often heard it afterward, and many times caught the
+Blue-jay in a feeble imitation of its trumpet note. I never forgot the
+exact timbre of that woodland call; so when at length, long after, I
+traced it to what is known in books as the "Red-shouldered Hawk," it was
+a little triumph and a little disappointment. The books made it all so
+commonplace. They say it has a loud call like "kee-o"; but they do not
+say that it has a bugle note that can stir your very soul if you love
+the wild things, and voices more than any other thing on wings the glory
+of flight, the blessedness of being alive.
+
+To-day, as I write, is December 2, 1917; and this morning as I walked in
+my homeland, a sailing, splendid hawk came pouring out the old refrain,
+"_kee-yi-o, kee-yi-o, kee-oh_." Oh, it was glorious! I felt little
+prickles in the roots of my hair as he went over; and I rejoiced above
+all things to realize that he sang just as well as, yes maybe a little
+better than that first one did, that I heard in the winter woods some
+forty years ago.
+
+
+TALE 58
+
+The Fingerboard Goldenrod
+
+"Oh, Mother Carey! All-mother! Lover of us little plants as well as the
+big trees! Listen to us little slender Goldenrods.
+
+"We want to be famous, Mother Carey, but our stems are so little and our
+gold is so small, that we cannot count in the great golden show of
+autumn, for that is the glory of our tall cousins. They do not need us,
+and they do not want us. Won't you give us a little job all our own, our
+very own, for we long to be doing something?"
+
+[Illustration: The Compass Goldenrod Pointing Toward the North]
+
+Then Mother Carey smiled so softly and sweetly and said: "Little slender
+Goldenrods, I am going to give you something to do that will win you
+great honour among all who understand. In the thick woods the moss on
+the trunk shows the north side; when the tree is alone and in the open,
+the north side is known by its few branches; but on the open prairie,
+there is no plant that stands up like a finger post to point the north
+for travellers, while the sun is hid."
+
+"This, then do, little slender Goldenrods; face the noon sun, and as you
+stand, throw back your heads proudly, for you are in service now. Throw
+back your heads till your golden plumes are pointing backward to the
+north--so shall you have an honourable calling and travellers will be
+glad that I have made you a fingerboard on the plains."
+
+So the slender Goldenrod and his brothers rejoiced and they stood up
+straight, facing the noon sun, and bent backward, throwing out their
+chests till their golden caps and plumes were pointed to the north.
+
+And many a traveller, on cloudy days and dark nights, has been cheered
+by the sight of the Compass Goldenrod, pointing to the north and helping
+him to get home.
+
+This does not mean that every one of them points to the north all the
+time. They do their best but there are always some a little wrong. Yet
+you can tell the direction at night or on dark days if you look at a bed
+of them that grew out in full sunlight.
+
+"Yon is the north," they keep on singing, all summer long, and even when
+winter comes to kill the plant, and end its bloom, the brave little
+stalk stands up there, in snow to its waist, bravely pointing out the
+north, to those who have learned its secret. And not only in winter
+storms, but I have even found them still on guard after the battle, when
+the snow melted in springtime. Once when I was a boy, I found a whole
+bank of them by a fence, when the snow went off in April, and I wrote
+in their honour this verse:
+
+        Some of them bowed are, and broken
+          And battered and lying low
+        But the few that are left stand like spearmen staunch
+          Each pointing his pike at the foe.
+
+
+TALE 59
+
+Woodchuck Day, February Second Sixth Secret of the Woods
+
+[Illustration: WOODCHUCK DAY: COLD WEATHER
+
+"To be, or not to be"]
+
+It was Monapini that told Ruth Pilgrim, and Ruth Pilgrim told the little
+Pilgrims, and the little Pilgrims told the little Dutchmen, and the
+little Dutchmen told it to all the little Rumours, and the grandchild of
+one of these little Rumours told it to me, so you see I have it straight
+and on good authority, this Sixth Secret of the Woods.
+
+The story runs that every year the wise Woodchuck retires to sleep in
+his cozy home off the subway that he made, when the leaves begin to
+fall, and he has heard the warning. Mother Carey has sung the death-song
+of the red leaves; sung in a soft voice that yet reaches the farthest
+hills:
+
+        "Gone are the summer birds.
+         Hide, hide, ye slow-foots.
+         Hide, for the blizzard comes."
+
+And Mother Earth, who is Maka Ina, cries to her own: "Come, hide in my
+bosom, my little ones." And the wise Woodchuck waits not till the
+blizzard comes, but hides while he may make good housing, and sleeps for
+three long moons.
+
+But ever on the second sun of the Hunger-moon (and this is the Sixth
+Secret) he rouses up and ventures forth. And if so be that the sun is
+in the sky, and the snow on the bosom of his Mother Earth, so that his
+shadow shall appear on it, he goeth back to sleep again for one and a
+half moons more--for six long weeks. But if the sky be dark with clouds
+and the earth all bared of snow so that no shadow shows, he says, "The
+blizzard time is over, there is food when the ground is bare," and ends
+his sleep.
+
+This is the tale and this much I know is true: In the North, if he
+venture forth on Woodchuck Day, he sees both sun and snow, so sleeps
+again; in the South there is no snow that day, and he sleeps no more;
+and in the land between, he sleeps in a cold winter, and in an open
+winter rouses to live his life.
+
+These things I have seen, and they fit with the story of Monapini, so
+you see the little Rumour told me true.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO KNOW
+
+[Illustration: How the Pine Tree Tells Its Own Story]
+
+
+
+
+Things to Know
+
+
+TALE 60
+
+How the Pine Tree Tells Its Own Story
+
+Suppose you are in the woods, and your woods in Canada, or the Northern
+States; you would see at once two kinds of trees: Pines and Hardwoods.
+
+Pines, or Evergreens, have leaves like needles, and are green all the
+year round; they bear cones and have soft wood.
+
+The Hardwoods, or Broadleaves, sometimes called Shedders, have broad
+leaves that are shed in the fall; they bear nuts or berries and have
+hard wood.
+
+Remember this, every tree that grows has flowers and seeds; and the tree
+can always be told by its seeds, that is, its fruit. If you find a tree
+with cones on it, you know it belongs to the Pine family. If you find
+one with broad leaves and nuts or berries, it belongs to the
+Hardwoods.[C]
+
+Of these the Pines always seem to me more interesting.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In September, 1002, I had a good chance to study Pine trees in the
+mountains of Idaho. There was a small one that had to be cut down, so I
+made careful drawings of it. It was fourteen years old, and across the
+stump it showed one ring of wood for each year of growth, and a circle
+of branches on the trunk for each year. Notice that between the
+branches, the trunk did _not_ taper; it was an even cylinder, but got
+suddenly smaller at each knot by the same amount of wood as was needed
+by those branches for their wood.
+
+If we begin in the centre of the stump, and at the bottom of the trunk,
+we find that the little tree tells us its own story of its life and
+troubles. Its first year, judging by the bottom section of the trunk
+(No. 1) and by the inmost ring, was just ordinary. Next year according
+to section 2 and ring 2, it had a fine season and grew nearly twice as
+much as the first year. The third year the baby Pine had a very hard
+time, and nearly died. Maybe it was a dry summer, so the little tree
+grew only 2-1/2 inches higher while the ring of wood it added was no
+thicker than a sheet of paper. Next year, the fourth, it did better. And
+the next was about its best year, for it grew 7-1/2 inches higher, and
+put on a fine fat ring of wood, as you see.
+
+In its eleventh year, it had some new troubles; either the season was
+dry, or the trees about too shady, or maybe disease attacked it. For it
+grew but a poor shoot on the top, and the ring of wood on the stump is
+about the thinnest of all.
+
+Of course, a saw-cut along the second joint showed but thirteen rings,
+and the third but twelve while one through the top joint, the one which
+grew this year, showed but a single ring.
+
+Thus the Pine tree has in itself a record of its whole life; and this is
+easy to read when the tree is small; but in later life the lower limbs
+disappear, and the only complete record is in the rings of growth that
+show on the stump. These never fail to tell the truth.
+
+Of course, you are not to go around cutting down trees merely to count
+their rings and read their history, but you should look at the rings
+whenever a new stump gives you a good chance. Then Hardwoods as well as
+Pines will spread before you the chapters of their life; one ring for
+each year that they have lived.
+
+
+TALE 61
+
+Blazes
+
+All hunters and Indians have signs to let their people know the way.
+Some of these signs are on trees, and are called "Blazes." One of those
+much used is a little piece of bark chipped off to show the white wood;
+it means: "This is the way, or the place." Another sign is like an
+arrow, and means: "Over there," or "Go in that direction." No matter
+what language they speak, the blazes tell everyone alike. So a blaze is
+a simple mark that tells us something without using words or letters,
+and it depends on where it is placed for part of its meaning.
+
+On the following page are some blazes used in our towns to-day. You will
+find many more if you look, some in books; some on the adjoining page.
+
+
+TALE 62
+
+Totems[D]
+
+[Illustration: BLAZES.]
+
+A Totem is a simple form used as the emblem or symbol of a man, a group
+of men, an animal, or an idea; it does not use or refer to words or
+letters, so it is the same in all languages. Unlike the blaze it does
+not depend on its position for part of its meaning.
+
+[Illustration: Some well known TOTEMS]
+
+Among peoples that cannot read or write, each leading man had a Totem
+that he used, instead of writing his name. He put this mark on his
+property, and at length put it on his shield and armour to distinguish
+him in battle. Out of this grew heraldry.
+
+[Illustration: Indian Symbols]
+
+Modern trade-marks are Totems though often spoiled by words or letters
+added. The Totem continues in use because it is so easy to see a long
+way off, and can be understood by all, no matter what their language.
+Most of the great railway companies have a Totem and the use of such
+things is increasing to-day.
+
+Here in the drawing are some Totems seen daily in our towns. Doubtless
+you can add to the number.
+
+
+TALE 63
+
+Symbols
+
+If you have thought much about it, O Guide! you will surely find that,
+for decoration, it is better to use a beautiful symbol of anything,
+rather than a good photograph of it. For the symbol lets the imagination
+loose, and the other chains it to the ground; the one is the spirit, and
+the other the corpse. These things you cannot tell to the little folks,
+but you can prove them to yourself, and you will see why I wish to give
+some symbols here for use.
+
+There is another reason, one which you _can_ give to them. It is this:
+Only the highly trained artist can make a good portrait drawing, while
+the smallest child, if it sticks to symbols, is sure, in some degree, of
+a pleasant success in its very first effort.
+
+These that I give, are copied from Indian art, and whether in colour, in
+raised modelling, or in black lines, can be used successfully to
+decorate anything that you are likely to make.
+
+[Illustration: Seventeen Gestures Currently Used in the Sign Language]
+
+
+TALE 64
+
+Sign Language
+
+All men, especially wild men, and some animals have a language of signs.
+That is, they talk to each other without making any sounds; using
+instead, the movements of parts of the body. This is "eye talk," while
+words are "ear talk."
+
+Among the animals, horses bob their heads when they are hungry and paw
+with a front foot when thirsty or eager to be off. Dogs wag their tails
+when pleased, and cows shake their heads when angry.
+
+Policemen, firemen, railway men, and others use signs because there is
+too much noise to be heard. School children use signs because they are
+not allowed to talk in school. Most children know the signs for "yes"
+and "no," "come here," "go away," "hurry up," "you can't touch me,"
+"hush!", "shame on you!", "up," "down," "word of honour," "swimming,"
+etc.
+
+The traffic policeman is using signs all day long. By a movement of the
+hand he signals:--stop, go on, come here, hurry up, wait, turn around,
+go by, stay back, over there, you look out, right here, and one or two
+others.
+
+How many signs can you add to these two lists?
+
+
+TALE 65
+
+The Language of Hens
+
+Yes; Hens talk somewhat as we do; only they haven't so many words, and
+don't depend on them as we have to.
+
+There are only ten words in ordinary hen-talk.
+
+The _cluck, cluck_ of the mother means "Come along, kiddies."
+
+The low _kawk_ of warning, usually for a hawk.
+
+The _chuck, chuck_ of invitation means, "Good food."
+
+The _tuk-ut-e-ah-tuk_ means, "Bless my soul, what is that?"
+
+The _cut, cut, get your hair cut_, of a Hen that has just laid and is
+feeling greatly relieved; no doubt, saying, "Thank goodness, that's
+done!" or maybe it is a notice to her mate or friend that "Business is
+over, let's have some fun. Where are you?"
+
+The soft, long-drawn _tawk--tawk--tawk_, that is uttered as the Hen
+strolls about, corresponds to the whistling of the small boy; that is,
+it is a mere pastime, expressing freedom from fear or annoyance.
+
+The long, harsh, _crauk, crauk_ of fear when captured.
+
+The quick _clack, clack, clatter_ when springing up in fear of capture.
+
+The _put, put_ of hunger.
+
+And, of course, the _peep, peep_ of chickens and the
+_cock-a-doodle-doo_, which is the song of the Rooster.
+
+Some Hens may have more; but these given here are hen-talk for
+mother-love, warning, invitation, surprise, exultation, cheerfulness,
+fear, astonishment, and hunger. Not a bad beginning in the way of
+language.
+
+
+TALE 66
+
+Why the Squirrel Wears a Bushy Tail
+
+"Oh, Mother, look at that Gray Squirrel!" shouted Billie. "What a
+beautiful bushy tail he has!" Then, after a pause he added, "Mother,
+what is its tail for? Why is it so big and fluffy? I know a 'Possum has
+a tail to hang on a limb with, and a Fish can swim with his tail, but
+why is a Gray Squirrel's tail so bushy and soft?"
+
+Alas! Mother didn't know, and couldn't tell where to find out. It was
+long after, that little Billie got the answer to his childish, but
+really important question. The Alligator may use his tail as a club, the
+Horse, his tail as a fly-flapper, the Porcupine his tail as a spiked
+war-club, the 'Possum his as a hooked hanger, the Fox his as a muffler,
+the Fish his as a paddle; but the Gray Squirrel's tail is a parachute, a
+landeasy. I have seen a Gray Squirrel fall fifty feet to the ground, but
+his tail was in good condition; he spread it to the utmost and it landed
+him safely right side up.
+
+I remember also a story of a Squirrel that lost his tail by an accident.
+It didn't seem to matter much for a while. The stump healed up, and the
+Squirrel was pert as ever; but one day he missed his hold in jumping,
+and fell to the ground. Ordinarily, that would have been a small matter;
+but without his tail he was jarred so severely that a dog, who saw him
+fall, ran up and killed him before he could recover and climb a tree.
+
+
+TALE 67
+
+Why a Dog Wags His Tail
+
+There is an old story that the Dog said to the Cat: "Cat, you are a
+fool; you growl when you are pleased and wag your tail when you are
+angry." Which happens to be true; and makes us ask: Why does a Dog wag
+his tail to mean friendship?
+
+The fact is, it is part of a wig-wag code, which is doubly interesting
+now that all our boys are learning wig-wagging with a white flag. We
+think that our army people invented this method; but Woodcraft men know
+better.
+
+First, notice that any Dog that has any white on his body has at least a
+little white on the end of his tail. This is well known; and the reason
+is that the wild ancestor had a white brush on the end of his tail; a
+white flag, indeed; and this was the flag of his signal code.
+
+Suppose, then, that a wild Dog, prowling through the woods, sights some
+other animal. Instantly he crouches; for it is good woodcraft to avoid
+being seen and then watch from your hiding-place. As the stranger comes
+near, the crouching Dog sees that it is one of his own kind, and that it
+is needless to hide any longer; indeed, that it is impossible to remain
+hidden. So the moment the stranger stops and looks at the crouching Dog,
+the latter stands straight up on all fours, raises his tail up high, and
+wags the white tip from side to side in the sign which means, "Let's be
+friends."
+
+Every Dog knows the sign, every Dog in every town does it yet; every boy
+has seen it a thousand times. We flatter ourselves that we invented the
+wig-wag code with our little white flag. Maybe so; but the Dog had it
+long before we did.
+
+
+TALE 68
+
+Why the Dog Turns Around Three Times Before Lying Down
+
+Yes, they all do it; the big St. Bernard, the foolish littlest lap Dog,
+the ragged street Dog; give them bare boards, or a silken cushion, or
+snow, three turns around and down they go.
+
+Why? Not so hard to answer as some simple questions. Long, long ago, the
+wild great-great-grandfather of the Dog--a yellow creature with black
+hair sprinkled on his back, sharp ears, light spots over his eyes, and a
+white tail-tip--used to live in the woods, or on the prairies. He did
+not have a home to which he might return every time he wanted to rest
+or sleep; so he camped wherever he found himself, on the plains, in a
+thicket, or even in some hole in a rock; and he carried his bedclothes
+on his back. But he always found it worth while to add a little comfort
+by smoothing the grass, the leaves, the twigs, or the pebbles before
+lying down; and the simplest way to do this was by curling up, and
+turning round three times, with the body brushing the high grass or
+pebbles into a comfortable shape for a bed.
+
+Yes, and they all do it to-day just the same, big and little, which is
+only one of the many proofs that they are descended from the same
+wild-wood great-grandfather, and still remember his habits.
+
+
+TALE 69
+
+The Deathcup of Diablo
+
+[Illustration: The Deathcup Toadstool]
+
+The world went very well in those bright days of the long ago, when the
+wedding of El Sol and Maka Ina set all living things rejoicing. Green
+youth and sparkling happiness were everywhere. Only one there
+was--Diablo--who found in it poor comfort. He had no pleasure in the
+growing grass. The buttercups annoyed him with the gayness of their
+gold. It was at this time he chewed their stalks, so that many ever
+since have been flattened and mangled. And the cherry with its fragrant
+bloom he breathed on with his poison breath, so its limbs were burnt and
+blackened into horrid canker bumps. And poisonous froth he blew on the
+sprouting rose leaves, so they blackened and withered away. The jewel
+weed, friend of the humming birds, he trampled down, but it rose so many
+times and so bravely, that he left the yellow dodder like an herb-worm,
+or a root-born leech to suck its blood all summer long, and break it
+down. Then to trail over the trunks of trees and suck their life, he
+left the demon vine, the Poison Ivy with its touch of burning fire. He
+put the Snapping Turtle in the beautiful lakes to destroy its harmless
+creatures and the Yellow-eyed Whizz he sent, and the Witherbloom with
+its breath of flame.
+
+And last he made the Deathcup Toadstool, and sowed it in the woods.
+
+He saw the Squirrels eating and storing up the sweet red russula. He saw
+it furnish food to mice and deer, so he fashioned the Deathcup Amanita
+to be like it; and scattered it wherever good mushrooms grew, a trap for
+the unwary.
+
+Tall and shapely is the Deathcup; beautiful to look upon and smelling
+like a mushroom. But beware of it, a very little is enough, a morsel of
+the cup; the next night or maybe a day later the poison pangs set in.
+Too late perhaps for medicine to help, and Amanita, the Deathcup, the
+child of Diablo, has claimed another victim.
+
+How shall we know the deadly Amanita among its kindly cousins, the good
+mushrooms? Wise men say by these:--The poison cup from which its
+springs; the white kid collar on its neck; the white or yellow gills;
+and the white spores that fall from its gills if the cup, without the
+stem, be laid gills down on a black paper for an hour.
+
+By these things we may know the wan Demon of the woods, but the wisest
+Guides say to their tribe:--"Because death lurks in that shapely
+mushroom, though there are a hundred good for food, they are much alike,
+and safety bids you shun them; let them all alone."
+
+So Diablo went on his way rejoicing because he had spoiled so much good
+food for good folk.
+
+This, the danger of the Deathcup, is the Seventh Secret of the Woods.
+
+[Illustration: The Poison Ivy]
+
+
+TALE 70
+
+Poison Ivy or the Three-Fingered Demon of the Woods
+
+You have been hearing about good fairies and good old Mother Carey and
+Medicine in the Sky. Now I am going to warn you against the
+three-fingered Demon, the wicked snakevine that basks on stone walls and
+climbs up the tree trunk, and does more harm than all the other plants,
+vines, trees, and bushes put together; for it is not like the Deathcup,
+easy to see and easy to let alone.
+
+This is the Poison Ivy. Does it not look poisonous as it crawls
+snake-like up some trunk, sending suckers out into the tree to suck the
+sap; and oozing all over its limbs with poison in tiny wicked little
+drops? Sometimes it does not climb but crawls on the ground, but by this
+ye may always know it: It has only three fingers on its hand; that is,
+only three leaflets on each stalk.
+
+The one thing that looks like it, is the Boston Ivy, but that does not
+grow in the woods, and the Poison Ivy leaf always has the little bump
+and bite out on the side of the leaf as you see in the drawing.
+
+It is known and feared for its power to sting and blister the skin when
+it is handled or even touched. The sting begins with an unpleasant
+itching which gets worse, especially if rubbed, until it blisters and
+breaks open with sores which are very hard to heal.
+
+The cause of the sting is a blistering oil, which is found in tiny drops
+on all parts of the leaf and branches; it is a fixed oil; that is, it
+will not dry up, and as long as it is on the skin, it keeps on burning
+and blistering, worse and worse.
+
+
+THE CURE
+
+And this is the cure for the sting of the Demon Vine:--
+
+Anything that will dissolve and remove oil without injuring the skin:--
+
+Hot water, as hot as you can stand it, is good; a little salt in it
+helps.
+
+Hot soapy water is good.
+
+Hot water with washing soda is good.
+
+A wash of alcohol is good.
+
+But best of all is a wash of strong alcohol in which is a little sugar
+of lead as an antiseptic.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Guide should remember that three persons out of five are immune from
+Poison Ivy, while a few are so sensitive that they are poisoned by flies
+carrying it to them on their feet. It can be easily cured if treated at
+once; if neglected it often becomes very bad and may need the help of a
+doctor.
+
+This is the Eighth Secret of the Woods.
+
+
+TALE 71
+
+The Medicine in the Sky
+
+This is one of the greatest and best secrets of Woodcraft--The Medicine
+in the Sky.
+
+Let me tell you a story about it. There was once an Indian who left his
+own people, to live with the white man, in the East. But the Great
+Spirit was displeased, for he did not mean the Indian to live in houses
+or cities. After a year, the red man came back very thin and sick,
+coughing nearly all night, instead of sleeping. He believed himself
+dying.
+
+The wise old Medicine Man of his tribe said, "You need the Medicine of
+the Sky." He took it and got quite well and strong.
+
+Another Indian, who had gone to visit with a distant tribe of red men,
+came back with some sickness on his skin that made it very sore. It was
+far worse than Poison Ivy, for it began to eat into his flesh. The
+Medicine Man said, "Sky Medicine will cure you." And it did.
+
+One day a white man, a trader, came with chest protectors to sell to the
+Indians. He was sure they needed them, because he did; and, although so
+well wrapped up, he was always cold. He suffered whenever the wind blew.
+The old Medicine Man said, "We don't need your chest pads, and you would
+not if you took the Sky Medicine." So the trader tried it, and by and
+by, to his surprise and joy, no matter whether it was hot or cold
+outdoors, he was comfortable.
+
+This man had a friend who was a learned professor in a college, and he
+told him about the great thing he had learned from the old Indian. The
+professor was not old, but he was very sick and feeble in body. He could
+not sleep nights. His hair was falling out, and his mind filled with
+gloomy thoughts. The whole world seemed dark to him. He knew it was a
+kind of disease, and he went away out West to see his friend. Then he
+met the Medicine Man and said to him, "Can you help me?"
+
+The wise old Indian said, "Oh, white man, where do you spend your days?"
+
+"I spend them at my desk, in my study, or in the classroom."
+
+"Yes, and your nights?"
+
+"In my study among my books."
+
+"And where do you sleep?"
+
+"I don't sleep much, though I have a comfortable bed."
+
+"In the house?"
+
+"Yes, of course."
+
+"Listen, then, O foolish white man. The Great Spirit set Big Medicine in
+the sky to cure our ills. And you hide from it day and night. What do
+you expect but evil? This do and be saved. Take the Sky Medicine in
+measure of your strength."
+
+He did so and it saved him. His strength came back. His cheeks grew
+ruddy, his hands grew steady, his hair ceased falling out, he slept like
+a baby. He was happy.
+
+Now what is the Sky Medicine? It is the glorious sunlight, that cures so
+many human ills. We ask every Woodcrafter to hold on to its blessings.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And in this wise, O Guide, you must give it to the little ones. Make it
+an honourable exploit to be sunburnt to the elbows without blistering;
+another to be sunburnt to the shoulders; another to the waist; and
+greatest of all, when sunburnt all over. How are they to get this? Let
+them go to some quiet place for the last, and let the glory fall on
+their naked bodies, for ten minutes each day. Some more, and some less,
+according to their strength, and this is the measure--so long as it is
+pleasant, it is good.
+
+In this way they will inherit one of the good things of the woods and be
+strong and hardened, for there is no greater medicine than the Sun in
+the sky.
+
+
+TALE 72
+
+The Angel of the Night
+
+O Guide of the young Tribe! Know you the Twelfth Secret of the Woods?
+Know you what walked around your tent on that thirtieth night of your
+camp out? No! I think you knew, if you continued for thirty nights, but
+you knew not that you knew. These things, then, you should have in
+heart, and give to those you are leading.
+
+The Great Spirit does not put out good air in the daytime and poison air
+at night. It is the same pure air at night, only cooler. Therefore use
+more clothing while you sleep. But while the outdoor air is pure, the
+indoor may be foul. Therefore sleep out of doors, and you will learn the
+blessedness of the night, and the night air, with its cooling kindly
+influence laden.
+
+Those who come here to our Camp from life in town and sleeping in close
+rooms, are unaccustomed, and nervous it may be, so that they sleep
+little at first. But each night brings its balm of rest. Strength comes.
+Some know it in a week. The town-worn and nerve-weary find it at
+farthest in half a moon. And in one full moon be sure of this, when the
+night comes down you will find the blessed balm that the Great Spirit
+meant for all of us. You will sleep, a calm sweet vitalizing sleep.
+
+You will know this the twelfth secret of the woods: What walked around
+your tent that thirtieth night? You know not, you heard nothing, for you
+slept. Yet when the morning comes you feel and know that round your
+couch, with wings and hands upraised in blessed soothing influence,
+there passed the Angel of the Night, with healing under her wings, and
+peace. You saw her not, you heard her not, but the sweet healing of her
+presence will be with you for many after moons.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[C] The Guide will note that there are rare exceptions to these rules.
+
+[D] The Guide will remember that Totemism and Tabuism were ideas which
+grew up long after the use of Totems began.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO DO
+
+[Illustration: Nests of Kingbird, Oriole, Vireo, Robin, Goldfinch,
+Phoebe (1/4 life size)]
+
+
+
+
+Things to Do
+
+
+TALE 73
+
+Bird-nesting in Winter
+
+What good are old bird-nests? These are some of the ends they serve. A
+Deermouse seeking the safety of a bramble thicket and a warm house, will
+make his own nest in the forsaken home of a Cat-bird. A Gray Squirrel
+will roof over the open nest of a Crow or Hawk and so make it a castle
+in the air for himself. But one of the strangest uses is this: The
+Solitary Sandpiper is a bird that cannot build a tree nest for itself
+and yet loves to give to its eggs the safety of a high place; so it lays
+in the old nest of a Robin, or other tree bird, and there its young are
+hatched. But this is only in the Far North. There are plenty of old
+bird-nests left for other uses, and for you.
+
+Bird-nesting in summer is wicked, cruel, and against the law. But
+bird-nesting in winter is good fun and harms no one, if we take only the
+little nests that are built in forked twigs, or on rock ledges. For most
+little birds prefer to make a new nest for themselves each season.
+
+If you get: A Goldfinch, floss nest;
+
+A Phoebe, moss nest;
+
+A Robin, mud nest;
+
+A Vireo, good nest;
+
+A Kingbird, rag nest;
+
+An Oriole, bag nest;
+
+you have six different kinds of beautiful nests that are easily kept
+for the museum, and you do no harm in taking them.
+
+
+TALE 74
+
+The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite
+
+[Illustration: The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite]
+
+Do you know that "Daisy" means "day's eye," because the old country
+Daisy opens its eyes when day comes, and shuts them every night. But our
+Daisy is different and much bigger, so we have got into the way of
+calling it "Ox-eye." Some of our young people call it "Love-me;
+love-me-not," because they think it can tell if one is loved. They pull
+out the white rays of the flower one by one, saying, "He loves me; he
+loves me not; he loves me; he loves me not." Then what they are saying
+as the last is pulled, settles the question. If the Daisy says "He loves
+me," they take a second Daisy and ask the next question, "Will he marry
+me?" Then, pulling the rays as before, "This year, next year, some time,
+never." And in this way they learn all that the Daisies know about these
+important matters.
+
+We call it "our Daisy," but it is not a true native of America. Its home
+is Europe. The settlers of New England, missing the flower of their
+homeland, brought it over and planted it in their gardens. It spread
+widely in the North; but it did not reach the South until the time of
+the Civil War, when it is said to have gone in with the hay for
+Sherman's Army, to become a troublesome weed in the fields.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This scrap of history is recorded in a popular ballad.
+
+        There's a story told in Georgia
+          'Tis in everybody's mouth,
+        That 'twas old Tecumseh Sherman
+          Brought the Daisy to the South.
+        Ne'er that little blossom stranger
+          In our land was known to be,
+        Till he marched his blue-coat army
+          From Atlanta to the sea.
+
+[Illustration: The Monkeys in the Tree Tops]
+
+
+TALE 75
+
+A Monkey-hunt
+
+We all love to go a-hunting; every one of us in some way; and it is only
+the dislike of cruelty and destruction that keeps most of us from
+hunting animals continually, as our forebears did.
+
+Some of my best days were spent in hunting. The Arabs say, "Allah
+reckons not against a man's allotted span the days he spends in the
+chase."
+
+I hope that I may help many of you to go a-hunting, and to get the good
+things of it, with the bad things left out.
+
+Come! Now it is the spring of the year, and just the right time for a
+Monkey-hunt. We are going prowling along the brookside where we are
+pretty sure of finding our game. "See, there is a Monkey tree and it is
+full of the big Monkeys!"
+
+"What! That pussy-willow?"
+
+Yes, you think they are only pussy-willows, but wait until you see. We
+shall take home a band of the Monkeys, tree and all, and you will learn
+that a pussy-willow is only a baby Monkey half done.
+
+Now let us get a branch of live elderberry and one or two limbs of the
+low red sumac. It is best to use sumac because it is the only handy wood
+that one can easily stick a pin through, or cut. The pieces should be
+five or six inches long and about half an inch to an inch thick. They
+should have as many odd features as possible, knots, bumps, fungus,
+moss, etc.; all of which add interest to the picture.
+
+To these we must add a lot of odd bits of dry cane, dry grasses, old
+flower-stalks, moss, and gravel, etc., to use for background and
+foreground in the little jungle we are to make for our Monkeys to play
+in. It is delightful to find the new interest that all sorts of queer
+weeds take on, when we view them as canes or palms for our little
+jungle.
+
+Now with the spoils of our hunt, let us go home and preserve the
+trophies.
+
+Cut off about three inches of the elderberry wood and have it clear of
+knots; cut a flat ended ramrod so as just to fit the bore, and force out
+the pith with one clean sharp push: or else whittle away the surrounding
+wood. The latter way gives a better quality of pith.
+
+Now take a piece of the pith about one-third the size of a big
+pussy-willow, use a very sharp knife and you will find it easy to
+whittle it into a Monkey's head about the shape of "a" and "b."
+
+Use a very sharp-pointed, soft black pencil to make the eyes, nose, the
+line for the mouth and the shape of the ears; or else wait till the pith
+is _quite dry_, then use a fine pen with ink.
+
+If you are skilful with the knife you may cut the ears so that they hang
+as in "d."
+
+Stick an ordinary pin right down through the crown of the head into a
+big pussy-willow that will serve as a body (e). If you glue the head on
+it is harder to do, but it keeps the body from being mussed up. Cut two
+arms of the pith (ff) and two feet (gg), drawing the lines for the
+fingers and toes, with the sharp black pencil, or else ink as before.
+
+Cut a long, straight pointed piece of pith for a tail, dip it in boiling
+water, then bend it to the right shape "h."
+
+Cut a branch of the sumac so that it is about four inches high, and of
+the style for a tree; nail this on a block of wood to make it stand.
+Sometimes it is easier to bore a hole in the stand and wedge the branch
+into that.
+
+Set the Monkey on the limb by driving the pin into it as at "i," or else
+glueing it on; and glue on the limbs and tail. Sometimes a little wad
+of willow-down on the Monkey's crown is a great help. It hides the pin.
+
+Now set this away for the glue to harden.
+
+Meanwhile take an ordinary cigar box about two inches deep, line it with
+white paper pasted in; or else paint it with water colour in Chinese
+white. Colour the upper part sky colour; the lower, shaded into green,
+getting very dark on the bottom. Lay a piece of glass or else a scrap of
+an old motor-car window-isinglass on the bottom, and set in a couple of
+tacks alongside to hold it; this is for a pool.
+
+Make a mixture of liquid glue, one part; water, five parts; then stir in
+enough old plaster of Paris, whitening, or even fine loam to make a soft
+paste. Build banks of this paste around the pool and higher toward the
+back sides. Stick the tree, with its stand and its Monkeys, in this, to
+one side; dust powder or rotten wood over the ground to hide its
+whiteness; or paint it with water colours.
+
+Use all the various dry grasses, etc., to form a jungle; sticking them
+in the paste, or glueing them on.
+
+And your jungle with its Monkeys is complete.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Many other things may be used for Monkeys. I have seen good ones made of
+peanuts, with the features inked on, and a very young black birch catkin
+for tail. Beautiful birds also can be made by using a pith body and
+bright feathers or silks glued on for plumes. The pith itself is easily
+coloured with water colours.
+
+You will be delighted to see what beautiful effects you can get by use
+of these simple wild materials, helped with a little imagination.
+
+And the end of the Monkey-hunt will be that you have learned a new kind
+of hunting, with nothing but pleasant memories in it, and trophies to
+show for proof.
+
+[Illustration: The Horsetail and the Jungle]
+
+
+TALE 76
+
+The Horsetail and the Jungle
+
+Long, long ago, millions of years ago, this world was much hotter than
+it is now. Yes, in mid-winter it was hotter than it is now in
+mid-summer. Over all Pennsylvania there were huge forests of things that
+looked a little like palms, but some looked like pipes with joints, and
+had wheels of branches or limb wheels at every joint. They were as tall
+as some palms, and grew in swamps.
+
+When one of those big joint-wheels fell over, it sank into the mud and
+was forgotten. So at last the swamp was filled up solid with their
+trunks.
+
+Then for some unknown reason all the big joint-trees died, and the sand,
+mud, and gravel levelled off the swamp. There they lay, and slowly
+become blacker and harder under the mud, until they turned into coal.
+
+That is what we burn to-day, the trunks of the wheel-jointed swamp
+trees. But their youngest great-grandchild is still with us, and shows,
+in its small way, what its great ancestors were like.
+
+You will find it along some railway bank, or in any damp woods. Country
+people who know it, call it Joint Grass or Horsetails; the books call it
+Equisetum. The drawing will show you what to look for.
+
+Gather a handful and take them home. Then get some of the moss known as
+ground-pine, a small piece of glass (the Guide should see that the edges
+of the glass are well rubbed with a stone, to prevent cutting the
+fingers), a cigar box, and white paste or putty, as in the Monkey-hunt.
+
+Make a pool with the glass, and banks around it of the paste. Now cover
+these banks with the ground pine; using a little glue on the under side
+of each piece, but leave an open space without moss at the back, near
+the pool. Take a pointed stick and make holes through the moss into the
+clay or putty, and in each hole put one of the Horsetails, cutting it
+off with scissors if too tall for the top, till you have a thicket of
+these stems on each side; only make more on one side than on the other.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now for the grand finish. You must make an extinct monster. Get half a
+walnut shell; cut a notch at one end where the neck will be; fill the
+shell with putty; stick in wooden pegs for legs, tail, and head. The
+central stalk of a tulip-tree fruit makes a wonderful sculptured tail;
+the unopened buds of dogwood do for legs, also cloves have been used.
+Any nobby stick serves for head if you make eyes and teeth on it.
+
+When dry this makes a good extinct monster. Set it on the far bank of
+the water, and you have a jungle, the old Pennsylvania jungle of the
+days when the coal was packed away.
+
+
+TALE 77
+
+The Woods in Winter
+
+Go out to the nearest chestnut tree, and get half a small burr; trim it
+neatly. Fill it with putty; set four wooden pegs in this for legs, a
+large peg for a head and a long thin one for a tail. On the head put two
+little black pins for eyes. Now rub glue on the wooden pegs and sprinkle
+them with powdered rotten wood, or fine sand, and you have a Burr
+Porcupine. Sometimes carpet tacks are used for legs. You will have to
+wear strong leather gloves in making this, it is so much like a real
+Porcupine.
+
+Now go into your woods and get a handful of common red cedar twigs with
+leaves on, or other picturesque branches, some creeping moss of the
+kind used by flower dealers to pack plants, various dried grasses, and a
+few flat or sharp-cornered pebbles. Take these home. Get a cigar box or
+a candy-box, some paper, clay or putty and glass, as already described
+for the Monkey-hunt. Make a pond with the glass and a bank with the clay
+and pebbles. Paint the top of the clay, and tops of the pebbles with the
+thin glue, and also part of the glass; then sprinkle all with powdered
+chalk, whitening, plaster of Paris or talcum powder for snow. Put the
+Porcupine in the middle, and you have the "Woods in Winter."
+
+
+TALE 78
+
+The Fish and the Pond
+
+[Illustration: The Fish and the Pond--and the Cone]
+
+Go out and get the cone of a Norway Spruce tree, or a White Spruce; this
+is the body of your Fish. Cut two round spots of white paper for eyes,
+glue them on, and when dry, put a black ink spot in the middle of each.
+Add a curved piece of paper on each side for gills. Then with an awl or
+with the point of the scissors make holes in the sides, in which put
+fins cut out of brown paper, fixing them in with glue. Then, with the
+knife blade, make a long cut in the back, and split the tail, and in
+each cut glue a thick piece of brown paper cut fin shape. When dry, draw
+lines on these with ink. Now you have a good Fish.
+
+For the pond, take a cigar-box, paint the lower quarter of it dark
+green, and the upper part shaded into light blue, for sky. Glue a piece
+of glass or else carwindow celluloid level across this near the bottom.
+This is for water. Hide all the back and side edges of the glass with
+clay banks as described in the Monkey-hunt, or with moss glued on. Put a
+fine black thread to the Fish's back, another to his tail, and hang
+him level above the water by fastening the threads to the top of the
+box. Label it "Pond Life" or the "Fish at Home."
+
+
+TALE 79
+
+Smoke Prints of Leaves
+
+[Illustration: Smoke Prints of Leaves]
+
+Collect one or two leaves that have strongly marked ribs; elm and
+raspberry are good ones. Take a piece of paper that is strong, but
+rather soft, and about as big as this page. Grease, or oil it all over
+with paint-oil, butter, or lard. Then hold it, grease-side down, in the
+smoke of a candle, close to the flame, moving it about quickly so that
+the paper won't burn, until it is everywhere black with soot.
+
+Lay the paper flat on a table, soot-side up, on a piece of blotting
+paper. Lay the leaf on this; then, over that, a sheet of paper. Press
+this down over all the leaf. Lift the leaf and lay it on a piece of
+soft, white paper; press it down as before, with a paper over it, on
+which you rub with one hand while the other keeps it from slipping; lift
+the leaf, and on the lower paper you will find a beautiful line-drawing
+of the leaf, done in black ink; which, once it is dry, will never rub
+out or fade away.
+
+At one corner write down the date and the name of the leaf.
+
+
+TALE 80
+
+Bird-boxes
+
+[Illustration: Bird-boxes]
+
+You can win honours in Woodcraft if you make a successful bird-box. That
+is one made by yourself, and used by some bird to raise its brood in.
+
+There are three kinds of birds that are very ready to use the nesting
+places you make. These are the Robin, Wren, and Phoebe. But each
+bird wants its own kind exactly right, or will not use it.
+
+First the Robin wants a shelf, as in the picture. It should be hung
+against a tree or a building, about ten feet up, and not much exposed to
+the wind. It should also be in a shady place or at least not where it
+gets much sun.
+
+The nails sticking up on the floor are to hold the nest so the wind will
+not blow it away. The Phoebe-shelf is much the same only smaller.
+
+The Wren-box should be about four or five inches wide and six inches
+high inside, with a hole exactly seven eighths inch wide. If any bigger,
+the Wren does not like it so well, and other birds may drive the Wren
+away. Many Wren-boxes are made of tomato tins, but these are hard to cut
+a hole in. The Wren-box should be hung where the sun never shines on it
+all summer, as that would make it too hot inside.
+
+
+TALE 81
+
+A Hunter's Lamp
+
+[Illustration: A Hunter's Lamp]
+
+In the old pioneer days, every hunter used to make himself a lamp, for
+it was much easier to make than a candle. It is a good stunt in
+Woodcraft to make one. Each woodcrafter should have one of his own
+handiwork. There are four things needed in it: The bowl, the wick, the
+wick-holder and some fat, grease, or oil.
+
+For the bowl a big clam shell does well.
+
+For wick a strip of cotton rag rolled into a cord as thick as a slate
+pencil, and about two inches long; a cotton cord will do, or perhaps the
+fibrous bark of milkweed or other native stuff is the truly woodcraft
+thing.
+
+For wick-holder get a piece of brick, stone, or a small clam shell about
+as big as a half dollar. Bore a hole through the middle to hold the
+wick. It is not easy to get the hole through without splitting the
+stone, but sometimes one can find a flat pebble already bored. Sometimes
+one can make a disc of clay with a hole in it, then burn this hard in a
+fierce fire, but the most primitive way is to rub the bump of a small
+clam shell on a flat stone till it is worn through.
+
+For oil use the fat, grease, lard, or butter of any animal, if it is
+fresh, that is without salt in it.
+
+Fill the bowl with the grease, soak the wick in grease and set it in the
+holder so that half an inch sticks up; the rest is in the grease. The
+holder rests on the bottom of the bowl.
+
+Light the end that sticks up. It will burn with a clear, steady light
+till all the oil is used up.
+
+To have made a lamp that will burn for half an hour is counted an
+"honour" in Woodcraft, and may win you a badge if you belong to a
+Woodcraft Tribe.
+
+
+TALE 82
+
+The Coon Hunt
+
+Take a little bundle of white rags, or paper, as large as a walnut; call
+this the "Coon." While all the young folks hide their eyes or go out of
+the room, the Guide puts the Coon on some place, high or low, but in
+plain view; then, going away from it, shouts "Coon!"
+
+Now the young scouts have to find that Coon, each looking about for
+himself. As soon as one sees it, he says nothing, but sits down. Each
+must find it for himself, then sit down silently, until all are down.
+Last down is the "booby"; first down is the winner; and the winner has
+the right to place the Coon the second time, if the Guide does not wish
+to do it.
+
+This is often played indoors and sometimes a thimble is used for the
+Coon.
+
+
+TALE 83
+
+The Indian Pot
+
+This is something everyone can make, no matter how young, and each,
+including the Guide, should make one.
+
+Get a lump of good stiff clay; yellow is better than blue, only because
+it is a better colour when finished.
+
+Work the clay up with water till soft, pick out all stones, lumps, and
+straws. Then roll it out like a pancake; use a knife to cut this into
+laces a foot long and about as thick as a pencil.
+
+Dip your fingers in water, take one of these laces and coil it round and
+round as in "a," soldering it together with water rubbed on and into the
+joints. Keep on adding, shaping and rubbing, till you have a saucer
+about three inches across and a quarter of an inch thick. Put this away
+in some shady place to set, or harden a little; otherwise it would fall
+down of its own weight.
+
+After about an hour, wet the rim, and build up on that round and round
+with laces as before, until you have turned the saucer into a cup, about
+four inches across, and, maybe three inches high. Set this away to
+stiffen. Then finish the shape, by adding more coils, and drawing it in
+a little. When this has stiffened, make a "slip" or cream of clay and
+water, rub this all over the pot inside and out; use your fingers and a
+knife to make it smooth and even. When this is done, use a sharp point,
+and draw on the pot any of the Indian designs show in the sketches,
+using lines and dots for the shading.
+
+[Illustration: The Indian Pot]
+
+Now set the pot in some shady place to dry. High above the stove in the
+kitchen is a good place, so long as it is not too near the stove-pipe.
+After one day bring it nearer the heat. Then about the second day, put
+it in the oven. Last of all, and this is the hardest part to do, let
+the Guide put the bone-dry pot right into the fire, deep down into the
+red coals at night, and leave it there till next day. In the morning
+when the fire is dead, the pot should be carefully lifted out, and, if
+all is well, it will be of hard ringing red terra cotta.
+
+The final firing is always the hardest thing to do, because the pots are
+so easily cracked. If they be drawn out of the fire while they are yet
+hot, the sudden touch of cold air usually breaks them into pieces.
+
+Now remember, O Guide! A pot is made of the earth, and holds the things
+that come out of the earth to make life, that feed us and keep us. So on
+it, you should draw the symbols that stand for these things. At the foot
+of preceding page you see some of them.
+
+
+TALE 84
+
+Snowflakes, the Sixfold Gems of Snowroba
+
+[Illustration: Snowflakes]
+
+You have heard of the lovely Snowroba, white calm beautiful Snowroba,
+the daughter of King Jackfrost the Winter King, whose sad history was
+told in the first Tale. You remember how her robe was trimmed with white
+lace and crystal gems, each gem with six points and six facets and six
+angles, for that is one of the strange laws of the white Kingdom, the
+sixfold rule of gems. I did not give a good portrait of the White
+Princess, but I can show you how to make the Jewels which sparkled on
+her robe.
+
+Take a square of thin white paper three or four inches wide (a). Fold it
+across (b), and again, until it is a square (c), half as wide as "a."
+Mark on it the lines as in "d," and fold it in three equal parts as in
+"e." Now with pencil draw the heavy black lines as in "f, g, h." Cut
+along these lines with scissors, open out the central piece, and you
+have your snow-gems as on facing page.
+
+You can see for yourself that these are true to the gem-law of the White
+Kingdom, if, when next the snow comes down, you look for the biggest
+flakes as they lie on some dark surface. You will find many patterns all
+of them beautiful, and all of them fashioned in accordance with the law.
+
+
+Are You Alive?
+
+Little boy or girl, are you all alive? Just as alive as an Indian? Can
+you see like a hawk, feel like a blind man, hear like an owl? Are you
+quick as a cat? You do not know! Well, let us find out in the next eight
+tales. In these tests 100 is kept in view as a perfect score in each
+department, although it is possible in some cases to go over that.
+
+
+TALE 85
+
+Farsight
+
+1. Hold up a page of this book, and see how far off you can read it. If
+at 60 inches, measured with a tapeline from your eye to the book, then
+your eye number is 60, which is remarkably good. Very few get as high as
+70.
+
+2. Now go out at night and see how many Pleiades you can count; see Tale
+52. If you see a mere haze, your star number is 0; if you see 4 little
+pin points in the haze, your number is 8; if you see 6, your number is
+12. If you see 7 your number is 14; and you will not get beyond that.
+
+3. Now look for the Pappoose on the Squaw's back, as in Tale 50. If you
+do not see it, you score nothing. If you can see it, and prove that you
+see it, your number is 14 more.
+
+Now add up these, thus: 60 plus 14 plus 14; this gives 88 as your
+_farsight_ number. Anything over 60 means you can see like a hawk.
+
+
+TALE 86
+
+Quicksight
+
+Take two boards, cards or papers, each about half a foot square; divide
+them with black lines into 25 squares each, i. e. 5 each way; get 6 nuts
+and 4 pebbles, or 6 pennies and 4 beans; or any other set of two things
+differing in size and shape.
+
+Let the one to be tested turn his back, while the Guide places 3 nuts
+and 2 pebbles on one of the boards, in any pattern he pleases, except
+that there must be only one on a square.
+
+Now, let the player see them for 5 seconds by the watch; then cover it
+up.
+
+From memory, the player must place the other 3 nuts and 2 pebbles on the
+other board, in exactly the same pattern. Counting one for every one
+that was right. Note that a piece exactly on the line does not count;
+but one chiefly in a square is reckoned to be in that square.
+
+Do this 4 times. Then multiply the total result by 5. This gives his
+_quicksight_ number, to be added to his _aliveness_ score.
+
+
+TALE 87
+
+Hearing
+
+Can you hear like an owl? An owl can find his prey by hearing after
+dark. His ears are wonderful. Let us try if yours are.
+
+1. _Watch-test._ First, you must be blindfolded, and in some perfectly
+quiet place indoors. Now have the Guide hold a man's watch (open if
+hunting-cased), near your head; if you can hear it at 40 inches,
+measured on a tapeline, and prove that you do, by telling exactly where
+it is, in several tries, your hearing number is 40, which is high. If at
+20 inches, it is low (20 pts.); if at 60 inches (60 pts.), it is
+remarkable. Anything over 50 points means you can hear like an owl. In
+this you go by your best ear.
+
+2. _Pindrop-test._ Sometimes it is difficult to get a good watch-test.
+Then the trial may be made with an ordinary, silvered brass stick-pin,
+1-1/8 inches long, with small head. Lay the pin on a block of wood that
+is exactly half an inch thick. Set this on a smooth polished board, or
+table top of hardwood, not more than an inch thick, and with open space
+under it. Set it away from the edge of the table so as to be clear of
+the frame and legs. After the warning "ready," let the Guide tip the
+block of wood, so the pin drops from the block to the table top (half an
+inch). If you hear it at 35 feet in a perfectly still room, your hearing
+is normal, and your hearing number is 35. If 20 feet is your farthest
+limit of hearing it, your number is 20, which is low. If you can hear it
+at 70 feet, your number is 70, which is remarkable.
+
+You can use either the watch-test or the pin-test. If you use both, you
+add the totals together, and divide by 2, to get your _hearing_ number.
+
+
+TALE 88
+
+Feeling
+
+1. Have you got wise fingers like a blind man?
+
+Put 10 nickels, 10 coppers and 10 dimes in a hat or in one hand if you
+like. Then, while blindfolded, separate them into three separate piles,
+all of each kind in a separate pile, within 2 minutes. If it takes you
+the full 2 minutes (120 seconds), you are slow, and your feel number is
+0. If you do it without a mistake in 1 minute and 20 seconds, your feel
+number is 40, one point for each second you are less than 2 minutes. But
+you must take off 3 points for every one wrongly placed, so 3 wrongly
+placed would reduce your 40 to 31. I have known some little boys on the
+East Side of New York to do it in 50 seconds without a mistake, so their
+feel-number by coins was 70. That is, 120 seconds minus 50 seconds
+equals 70. This is the best so far.
+
+2. Now get a quart of corn or beans. Then when blindfolded, and using
+but one hand, lay out the corn or beans in "threes"; that is, three at a
+time laid on the table for 2 minutes. The Guide may move the piles aside
+as they are made. Then stop and count all that are exactly three in a
+pile (those with more or less do not count at all). If there are 40
+piles with 3 in each, 40 is your number, by corn.
+
+3. The last test is: Can you lace your shoes in the dark, or
+blind-folded, finishing with a neat double bow knot?
+
+Arrange it so your two shoes together have a total of at least 20 holes
+or hooks to be used in the test, i. e., which do not have the lace in
+them when you begin. Allow 1 point for each hole or hook, i. e., 20
+points, finish the lacing in 2 minutes, in any case stop when the 2
+minutes is up; then take off 2 points for each one that is wrongly
+laced, or not laced. Thus: Supposing 4 are wrong, take off 4 times 2
+from 20, and your blindfold lacing number is 12; if the number wrong was
+10 or more, your lacing number is 0; if you had 3 wrong, your number is
+14.
+
+Suppose by these three tests--coins, corn, and laces--you scored 40,
+30, and 14; add these together and they give your _feel_ number; 84.
+
+
+TALE 89
+
+Quickness
+
+Put down 12 potatoes (or other round things) in a row, each one exactly
+6 feet from the last, and the last 12 feet from a box with a hole in it,
+just large enough to take in one potato. Now at the word "go," run and
+get the first potato, put it through the hole into the box; then get the
+second, bring it to the box, and so on, one at each trip. After one
+minute, stop. Now multiply the number of potatoes in the box by 10, and
+you have your _quickness_ number. If you have 8 in the box, you score 80
+points, you are as quick as a cat. Very few get over 80. No one so far
+has made 100 points.
+
+
+TALE 90
+
+Guessing Length
+
+Take two common nails, or other thin bits of metal, and lay them on a
+table or board, at what you guess to be exactly one yard (36 inches)
+apart. Then let the Guide lay the tape-line on it, and, allowing 20
+points for exactly right, take off 1 point for each half inch you are
+wrong, over or under. Do not count quarter inches, but go by the nearest
+half-inch mark. Do this 5 times, add up the totals, that will give your
+_guessing-length_ number.
+
+Thus, if your first guess turns out to be 37 inches, that is, 2
+half-inches too much, 2 from 20 gives 18 points. Your next guess was 34
+inches, that is 4 half-inches too little, 4 from 20 gives 16 points.
+Your next guess gave 12 points, your next 17, and your last 19. The
+total, 18 plus 16 plus 12 plus 17 plus 19, equals your number of
+_guessing length_ or 82.
+
+
+TALE 91
+
+Aim or Limb-control
+
+Take 25 medium-sized potatoes, and set up a bucket or bag whose mouth is
+round and exactly one foot across. Draw a line exactly 10 feet from the
+bucket or bag. Toe that line, and throw the potatoes, one by one, into
+the bag. Those that go in, then bounce out, are counted as in. Do it
+four times, then add up all the four totals of those that went in; that
+gives your _aim_ or _control_ number.
+
+For example, suppose that in the 4 tries you got 10 in the first time,
+15 in the second, 20 in the third, 19 in the fourth. Add these together,
+it gives your arm-control or _aim_ number as 64.
+
+Now add up all these high numbers:
+
+        Farsight                   88
+        Quicksight                 50
+        Hearing                    50
+        Feeling                    84
+        Quickness                  80
+        Guessing Length            82
+        Aim                        64
+
+        Your aliveness number is  498
+
+But very few can score so high. If you can score 400 you are surely
+alive; you can see like a hawk, you can take in at a glance, you can
+hear like an owl, you can feel like a blind man, you are quick as a cat,
+you are a good judge of size, and you can aim true; That is, you are as
+_alive as an Indian_.
+
+
+TALE 92
+
+A Treasure Hunt
+
+Make 24 little white sticks, each about three inches long, and as thick
+as a pencil. They are easy to make of willow shoots, after the bark is
+peeled off. While the young folk hide their eyes, the Guide walks off in
+the woods, ties a white rag on a tall stake or limb, for the point of
+beginning. Then, one step apart and in a very crooked line, sets each of
+the little white sticks in the ground, standing straight up. Under the
+last stick should be buried the treasure; usually a stick of chocolate.
+This the players are to find by following the sticks.
+
+When the young folk get used to it, the line should be longer, the
+sticks farther apart, and the last one may be ten steps from the last
+but one.
+
+When they are well trained at it, scraps of paper, white beans, corn, or
+even chalk marks on trees, instead of sticks, will serve for trail; and
+still later holes prodded in the ground with a sharp pointed cane will
+do.
+
+This game can be played in the snow; in which case, the track of the
+Guide, when he hides the treasure, takes the place of the sticks.
+
+Finally it makes a good game for indoors on a rainy day. In which case
+we use buttons, corn, or scraps of white cotton for trail sticks. Of
+course the trail now should be upstairs and down, and as long and
+crooked as possible.
+
+
+TALE 93
+
+Moving Pictures
+
+One of the best developers of imagination is the Moving Picture.
+Sometimes called Pantomime, or Dumb-show which means all signs without
+sounds.
+
+The one who is to put on the "movie" is given a subject and must then
+stand out on the stage or Council Ring, and carry all the story to the
+spectators, without using any sound and with as few accessories as
+possible.
+
+The "print between the reels" is supplied by the Guide who simply
+announces what is needed to explain.
+
+The following subjects have been used successfully (unless otherwise
+stated they are for one actor each):
+
+    Miss Muffet and the Spider--the well-known
+      Nursery Rhyme
+    Old Mother Hubbard
+    Little Jack Horner
+    Mary and her Little Lamb
+    Red Ridinghood--walk through the woods,
+      meeting the wolf, etc.
+    Robinson Crusoe--finding the track of a man
+      in the sand
+    A Barber Shop--shaving a customer (two actors)
+    The Man's First Speech at a Dinner
+    The Politician who was rotten-egged after vainly
+      trying to control a meeting
+    Joyride in a Ford Car--ending in a bad upset
+      (two actors)
+    The Operation--a scene in a hospital following
+      the accident (two or more)
+    The Professor of Hypnotism and His Subject (two actors)
+    The Man who Found a Hair in His Soup
+    The Young Lady Finds a Purse, on opening it a mouse
+      jumps out and she remembers that it is 1st of April
+    A Young Man Telephoning to His Best Girl
+    A Man Meeting and Killing a Rattlesnake
+    Lighting a Lamp
+    Drawing a Cork
+    Looking for a Lost Coin--finding it in one pocket or
+      shoe
+    A Musician Playing His Own Composition
+    The Sleeping Beauty and the Prince (two actors)
+    Goldilocks and the Three Bears
+    William Tell and the Apple (best rendered in caricature
+      with a pumpkin and two actors)
+    Eliza Crossing the Ice
+    The Kaiser Signing His Abdication
+    The Judgment of Solomon (three actors)
+    Brutus Condemning His Two Sons to Death.
+
+
+TALE 94
+
+A Natural Autograph Album
+
+If you live in the country, I can show you an old Woodcraft trick. Look
+for a hollow tree. Sometimes you can pick one out afar, by the dead top,
+and sometimes by noting a tree that had lost one of the biggest limbs
+years ago. In any case, basswoods, old oaks and chestnuts are apt to be
+hollow; while hickories and elms are seldom so, for once they yield to
+decay at all, they go down.
+
+Remember that every hollow tree is a tenement house of the woods. It may
+be the home of a score of different families. Some of these, like Birds
+and Bats, are hard to observe, except at nesting time. But the fourfoots
+are easier to get at. For them, we will arrange a visitors' book at the
+foot of the tree, so that every little creature in fur will write his
+name, and some passing thought, as he comes to the tree.
+
+How?
+
+Oh, it is simple; I have often done it. First clear and level the ground
+around the tree for three or four feet; then cover it with a coat of
+dust, ashes, or sand--whichever is easiest to get; rake and brush it
+smooth; then wait over one night.
+
+Next morning--most quadrupeds are night-walkers--come back; and you
+will find that every creature on four feet that went to the tree
+tenement-house has left us its trail; that is its track or trace.
+
+No two animals make the same trail, so that every Squirrel that climbed,
+every 'Coon or 'Possum, every Tree-mouse, and every Cottontail that went
+by, has clearly put himself on record without meaning to do so; and we
+who study Woodcraft can read the record, and tell just who passed by in
+the night.
+
+
+TALE 95
+
+The Crooked Stick
+
+Once upon a time there was a girl who was very anxious to know what sort
+of a husband she should get; so, of course, she went to the old
+wood-witch.
+
+The witch asked a few questions, then said to the girl: "You walk
+straight through that woods, turn neither to right nor left, and never
+turn back an inch, and pick me out a straight stick, the straighter the
+better; but pick only one, and bring it back."
+
+So the girl set out. Soon she saw a fine-looking stick close at hand;
+but it had a slight blemish near one end, so she said: "No; I can do
+better than that." Then she saw another that was perfect but for a
+little curve in the middle, so she passed it by.
+
+Thus she went, seeing many that were nearly perfect; but walking on,
+seeking one better, till she was quite through the woods. Then she
+realized her chances were nearly gone; so she had to take the only stick
+she could find, a very crooked one indeed, and brought it to the witch,
+saying that she "could have got a much better one had she been more
+easily satisfied at the beginning."
+
+The witch took the stick, waved it at the girl and said: "then this is
+your fortune; _through the woods and through the woods and out with a
+crooked stick_. If you were less hard to please, you would have better
+luck; but you will pass many a good man by, and come out with a crooked
+stick."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Maybe some of our Woodcraft girls can find an initiation in this. Put it
+just as the witch did it, but let it be considered a success if the
+stick is two feet long and nowhere half an inch out of true line. Let me
+add a Woodcraft proverb which should also have its mead of comfort--The
+Great Spirit can draw a straight line with a crooked stick.
+
+
+TALE 96
+
+The Animal Dance of Nana-bo-jou
+
+For this we need a Nana-bo-jou; that is, a grown-up who can drum and
+sing. He has a drum and drumstick, and a straw or paper club; also two
+goblins, these are good-sized boys or girls wearing ugly masks, or at
+least black hoods with two eyeholes, made as hideous as possible; and
+any number of children, from three or four up, for animals. If each has
+the marks, colours, etc., of some bird or beast, so much the better.
+
+First, Nana-bo-jou is seen chasing the children around the outside of
+the circle, trying to catch one to eat; but failing, thinks he'll try a
+trick and he says: "Stop, stop, my brothers. Why should we quarrel?
+Come, let's hold a council together and I will teach you a new dance."
+
+The animals whisper together and the Coyote comes forward, barks, then
+says:
+
+"Nana-bo-jou, I am the Coyote. The animals say that they will come to
+council if you will really make peace and play no tricks."
+
+"Tricks!" says Nana-bo-jou, "I only want to teach you the new songs from
+the South."
+
+Then all the animals troop in and sit in a circle. Nana-bo-jou takes his
+drum and begins to sing:
+
+        "New songs from the South, my brothers,
+         Dance to the new songs."
+
+Turning to one, he says: "Who are you and what can you dance?"
+
+The answers are, "I am the Beaver [or whatever it is] and I can dance
+the Beaver Dance."
+
+"Good! Come and show me how."
+
+So the Beaver dances to the music, slapping the back of his flat right
+hand, up and under his left hand for a tail, holding up a stick in both
+paws to gnaw it, and lumbering along in time to the music, at the same
+time imitating the Beaver's waddle.
+
+Nana-bo-jou shouts: "Fine! That is the best Beaver Dance I ever saw. You
+are wonderful; all you need to be perfect is wings. Wouldn't you like to
+have wings so you could fly over the tree-tops, like the Eagle?"
+
+"Yes," says the Beaver.
+
+"I can make strong medicine and give you wings, if all the animals will
+help me," says Nana-bo-jou. "Will you?"
+
+"Yes," they all cry.
+
+"Then all close your eyes tight and cover them with your paws. Don't
+look until I tell you. Beaver, close your eyes and dance very fast and I
+will make magic to give you wings."
+
+All close and cover their eyes. Nana-bo-jou sings very loudly and,
+rushing on the Beaver, hits him on the head with the straw club. The
+Beaver falls dead. The two goblins run in from one side and drag off the
+body.
+
+Then Nana-bo-jou shouts: "Look, look, now! See how he flies away! See,
+there goes the Beaver over the tree-tops." All look as he points and
+seem to see the Beaver going.
+
+Different animals and birds are brought out to dance their dances and
+are killed as before. Then the Crow comes out, hopping, flopping,
+cawing. Nana-bo-jou looks at him and says: "You are too thin. You are no
+good. You don't need any more wings," and so sends him to sit down.
+
+Then the Coyote comes out to do the Coyote Dance, imitating Coyote,
+etc.; but he is very suspicious and, in answer to the questions, says:
+"No; I don't want wings. The Great Spirit gave me good legs, so I am
+satisfied"; then goes back to his seat.
+
+Next the Deer, the Sheep, etc., come out and are killed; while all the
+rest are persuaded that the victims flew away. But the Coyote and the
+Loon have their doubts. They danced in their turns, but said they didn't
+want any change. They are satisfied as the Great Spirit made them. They
+are slow about hiding their eyes. At last, they peek and realize that it
+is all a trap and the Loon shouts: "Nana-bo-jou is killing us! It is all
+a trick! Fly for your lives!"
+
+As they all run away, Nana-bo-jou pursues the Loon, hitting him behind
+with the club, which is the reason that the Loon has no tail and has
+been lame behind ever since.
+
+The Loon shouts the Loon battle-cry, a high-pitched quavering
+LUL-L-L-O-O-O and faces Nana-bo-jou; the animals rally around the Loon
+and the Coyote to attack the magician. All point their fingers at him
+shouting "Wakan Seecha" (or Black Magic). He falls dead in the circle.
+They bury him with branches, leaves, or a blanket, and all the animals
+do their dances around him.
+
+Before beginning, the story of the dance should be told to the
+audience.
+
+
+TALE 97
+
+The Caribou Dance
+
+[Illustration: Horns for the Caribou Dance]
+
+The easiest of our campfire dances to learn, and the best for quick
+presentation, is the Caribou Dance. It has been put on for public
+performance after twenty minutes' rehearsing, with those who never saw
+it before, because it is all controlled and called off by the Chief. It
+does equally well for indoor gymnasium or for campfire in the woods.
+
+In the way of fixings for this, you need only four pairs of horns and
+four cheap bows. Real deer horns may be used, but they are scarce and
+heavy. It is better to go out where you can get a few crooked limbs of
+oak, cedar, hickory or apple tree; and cut eight pairs, as near like
+those in the cut as possible, each about two feet long and one inch
+thick at the butt. Peel these, for they should be white; round off all
+sharp points of the branches, then lash them in pairs, as shown. A pair,
+of course, is needed for each Caribou. These are held in the hand and
+above the head, or in the hand resting on the head.
+
+The four Caribou look best in white. Three or four hunters are needed.
+They should have bows, but no arrows. The Chief should have a drum and
+be able to sing the Muje Mukesin, or other Indian dance tune. One or two
+persons who can howl like Wolves should be sent off to one side, and
+another that can yell like a Lynx or a Panther on the other side, well
+away from the ring. Otherwise the Chief or leader can do the imitations.
+Now we are ready for
+
+
+THE DANCE OF THE WHITE CARIBOU
+
+The Chief begins by giving three thumps on his drum to call attention;
+then says in a loud, singing voice: "The Caribou have not come on our
+hunting grounds for three snows. We need meat. Thus only can we bring
+them back, by the big medicine of the Caribou Dance, by the power of the
+White Caribou."
+
+He rolls his drum, then in turn faces each of the winds, beckoning,
+remonstrating, and calling them by name; Kitchi-nodin (West); Keeway-din
+(North); Wabani-nodin (East); Shawani-nodin (South). Calling last to the
+quarter whence the Caribou are to come, finishing the call with a long
+KO-KEE-NA. Then as he thumps a slow single beat the four Caribou come in
+in single file, at a stately pace timed to the drum. Their heads are
+high, and they hold the horns on their heads, with one hand, as they
+proudly march around. The Chief shouts: "The Caribou, The Caribou!"
+After going round once in a sun circle (same way as the sun), they go
+each to a corner. The Chief says: "They honour the symbol of the Great
+Spirit." The drum stops; all four march to the fire. They bow to it
+together, heads low, and utter a long bellow.
+
+Then the Chief shouts: "They honour the four Winds, the Messengers."
+
+Then the Caribou back up four paces each, turn suddenly and make a short
+bow, with a short bellow, then turn and again face the fire.
+
+The Chief shouts: "Now they live their wild free lives on the plain." He
+begins any good dance song and beats double time. The Caribou dance
+around once in a circle.
+
+The Chief shouts: "Full of life they fight among themselves."
+
+The first and second Caribou, and third and fourth, close in combat.
+They lower their heads, lock horns held safely away from the head,
+snort, kick up the dust, and dance around each other two or three
+times.
+
+The music begins again, and they cease fighting and dance in a circle
+once more.
+
+The music stops. The Chief shouts: "They fight again." Now the first and
+fourth and second and third lock horns and fight.
+
+After a round or so the music begins again and they cease fighting and
+again circle, dancing as before.
+
+The Chief calls out: "The Wolves are on their track."
+
+Now the howling of Wolves is heard in the distance, from the fellows
+already posted.
+
+The Caribou rush toward that side and face it in a row, threatening,
+with horns low, as they snort, stamp, and kick up the dust.
+
+The Wolf-howling ceases. The Caribou are victorious. The Chief shouts:
+"They have driven off the Wolves." They turn away and circle once to the
+music, holding their heads high.
+
+Now Panther-yelling (or other menacing sound) is heard in the other
+direction. The Chief shouts: "But now the Panthers have found them out."
+
+Again the Caribou line up and show fight. When it ceases, the Chief
+cries out: "They have driven off the Panther." Now they dance proudly
+around, heads up, chests out as they step, for they have conquered every
+foe.
+
+Then the Chief calls out: "But another, a deadlier enemy comes. The
+hunters are on their trail." The hunters appear, crawling very low and
+carrying bows. They go half around the ring, each telling those behind
+by signs, "Here they are; we have found them," "Four big fellows," "Come
+on," etc. When they come opposite the Caribou, the first hunter lets off
+a short "yelp." The Caribou spring to the opposite side of the ring, and
+then line up to defy this new noise; but do not understand it, so gaze
+as they prance about in fear. The hunters draw their bows together, and
+make as though each lets fly an arrow. The first Caribou drops, the
+others turn in fear and run around about half of the ring, heads low,
+and not dancing; then they dash for the timber. The hunters run forward
+with yells. The leader holds up the horns. All dance and yell around the
+fallen Caribou and then drag it off the scene.
+
+The Chief then says: "Behold, it never fails; the Caribou dance brings
+the Caribou. It is great medicine. Now there is meat in the lodge and
+the children cry no longer."
+
+
+TALE 98
+
+The Council Robe
+
+The Woodcraft Council Robe is something which every one may have, and
+should make for himself. It may be of any shade, of gray, buff, orange,
+or scarlet. The best ones are of a bright buff. In size they are about
+five feet by six feet, and the stuff may be wool, cotton, silk, or a
+mixture. My own is of soft or blanket cotton.
+
+The robe is used as a wall banner, a personal robe, or a bed spread, and
+has for the first purpose two or more tag-loops sewn on the top. For the
+second, it has a head-hole or poncho-hole, an upright slit near one end
+(hh), and for the last, there are one or two buttons or tie-strings to
+close the poncho-hole. These are the useful features of the robe.
+
+The ornamental features are the records on it. While these vary with
+each owner, the following usually appear: The Fourfold fire, near the
+middle; the Woodcraft shield, the owner's totem, the symbols of each
+coup and each degree won by the owner.
+
+To this many add a pictographic record of great events or of camps they
+have visited.
+
+[Illustration: The Council Robe]
+
+The easiest way to make the robe is to use paints on the cotton fabric.
+
+The favourite way and more beautiful way, is to use appliques of
+coloured cloths for the design.
+
+The most beautiful is to embroider in silk or mercerized cotton. But the
+last is very slow, and calls for much labour as well as some money.
+
+On the preceding page are shown four different styles of robe; you may
+choose or adapt which you please, except that only a Sagamore may use
+the one with the 24 feathers in the centre.
+
+
+
+
+THINGS TO REMEMBER
+
+
+
+
+Things to Remember
+
+
+TALE 99
+
+How the Wren Became King of the Birds
+
+The story is very old, and it may not be true, but this is how they tell
+it in many countries.
+
+The animals had chosen the lion for their King because his looks and his
+powers seemed to fit him best of all for the place. So the birds made up
+their minds that they also would have a royal leader.
+
+After a long council it was decided that, in spite of strong opposition
+from the Ostrich and his followers, the one with the greatest powers of
+flight should be King. And away all flew to see which could go the
+highest.
+
+One by one they came down tired out, till only two were to be seen in
+the air: the Eagle and the Turkey-buzzard still going up. At last they
+got so high that the Turkey-buzzard froze his ears off for they were
+naked. Then he gave it up. The Eagle went still higher to show how
+strong he was, then sailed downward to claim the royal honours.
+
+But just as they were about to give him the crown, the Wren hopped off
+the top of the Eagle's head, where he had been hiding in the long
+feathers, and squeaked out, "No matter how high he was, I was a little
+bit higher, so I am King."
+
+"You," said the Eagle; "Why I carried you up."
+
+"Nothing to do with it," said the Wren.
+
+"Then let's try it over," said the Eagle.
+
+"No, no," said the Wren, "one try was agreed on, and it's settled now, I
+was higher than you."
+
+And they have been disputing over it ever since. The lawyers take the
+Wren's side and the soldiers take the Eagle's side.
+
+The peasants in Europe sometimes speak of the Eagle as "the King of the
+Birds," but they always call the Wren the "Little King." And that is why
+we call our gold-crowned Wrens, Kinglets, or Kingwrens and I suppose
+that is why they wear a crown of gold.
+
+
+TALE 100
+
+The Snowstorm
+
+It was at the great winter Carnival of Montreal not long ago. Looking
+out of a window on a stormy day were five children of different races:
+an Eskimo, a Dane, a Russian, an Indian, and a Yankee. The managers of
+the Carnival had brought the first four with their parents; but the
+Yankee was the son of a rich visitor.
+
+"Look," cried the little Eskimo from Alaska, as he pointed to the
+driving snow. "Look at the ivory chips falling! El Sol is surely carving
+a big Walrus tusk into a fine dagger for himself. See how he whittles,
+and sends the white dust flying."
+
+Of course he didn't say "El Sol," but used the Eskimo name for him.
+
+Then the Dane said: "No, that isn't what makes it. That is Mother Earth
+getting ready for sleep. Those are the goose feathers of her feather
+bed, shaken up by her servants before she lies down and is covered with
+her white mantle."
+
+The little Indian, with his eyes fixed on the storm, shook his head
+gravely and said: "My father taught me that these are the ashes from
+Nana-bo-jou's pipe; he has finished his smoke and is wrapping his
+blanket about him to rest. And my father always spake true."
+
+"Nay, you are all wrong," said the little Russian. "My grandmother told
+me that it is Mother Carey. She is out riding in her strongest, freshest
+steed, the White Wind. He has not been out all summer; he is full of
+strength and fury; he spumes and rages. The air is filled with the foam
+from his bridle, and froth from his shoulders, as she rides him, and
+spurs him, and rides him. I love to see it, and know that she is filling
+the air with strength and with messages. They carry me back to my own
+dear homeland. It thrills me with joy to see the whiteness."
+
+But the Yankee boy said: "Why, it's just snowing."
+
+
+TALE 101
+
+The Fairy Lamps
+
+There was once a little barelegged, brown-limbed boy who spent all his
+time in the woods. He loved the woods and all that was in them. He used
+to look, not at the flowers, but deep down into them, and not at the
+singing bird, but into its eyes, to its little heart; and so he got an
+insight better than most others, and he quite gave up collecting birds'
+eggs.
+
+But the woods were full of mysteries. He used to hear little bursts of
+song, and when he came to the place he could find no bird there. Noises
+and movements would just escape him. In the woods he saw strange tracks,
+and one day, at length, he saw a wonderful bird making these very
+tracks. He had never seen the bird before, and would have thought it a
+great rarity had he not seen its tracks everywhere. So he learned that
+the woods were full of beautiful creatures that were skillful and quick
+to avoid him.
+
+One day, as he passed by a spot for the hundredth time, he found a
+bird's nest. It must have been there for long, and yet he had not seen
+it; and so he learned how blind he was, and he exclaimed: "Oh, if only I
+could see, then I might understand these things! If only I knew! If I
+could see but for once, how many there are, and how near! If only every
+bird would wear over its nest this evening a little lamp to show me!"
+
+The sun was down now; but all at once there was a soft light on the
+path, and in the middle of it the brown boy saw a Little Brown Lady in a
+long robe, and in her hand a rod.
+
+She smiled pleasantly and said: "Little boy, I am the Fairy of this
+Woods. I have been watching you for long. I like you. You seem to be
+different from other boys. Your request shall be granted."
+
+Then she faded away. But at once the whole landscape twinkled over with
+wonderful little lamps--long lamps, short lamps, red, blue, and green,
+high and low, doubles, singles, and groups; wherever he looked were
+lamps--twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, here and everywhere, until the forest
+shone like the starry sky. He ran to the nearest, yes, a nest; and here
+and there, each different kind of lamp stood for another kind of nest. A
+beautiful purple blaze in a low tangle caught his eye. He ran to it, and
+found a nest he had never seen before. It was full of purple eggs, and
+there was the rare bird he had seen but once. It was chanting the weird
+song he had often heard, but never traced. But the eggs were the
+marvelous things. His old egg-collecting instinct broke out. He reached
+forth to clutch the wonderful prize, and--in an instant all the lights
+went out. There was nothing but the black woods about him. Then on the
+pathway shone again the soft light. It grew brighter, till in the
+middle of it he saw the Little Brown Lady--the Fairy of the Woods. But
+she was not smiling now. Her face was stern and sad, as she said: "I
+fear I set you over-high. I thought you better than the rest. Keep this
+in mind:
+
+        "Who reverence not the
+         lamp of life can never
+         see its light."
+
+Then she faded from his view, and he never saw the lamps again.
+
+
+TALE 102
+
+The Sweetest Sad Song in the Woods
+
+Once a great American poet was asked which he thought was the sweetest
+voice in the woods. He said: "The sweetest sound in Nature is the
+calling of the Screech Owl."
+
+Sometimes, though rarely, it does screech, but the sound it most often
+makes is the soft mournful song that it sings in the woods at night,
+especially in the autumn nights.
+
+It seems to be moaning a lament for the falling leaves, a sad good-bye
+to the dear dying summer.
+
+Last autumn one sat above my head in the dark October woods, and put his
+little soul into a song that seemed to be
+
+        Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
+        The leaves are falling:
+        Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
+        A sad voice calling;
+        Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
+        The Woodbirds flying;
+        Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
+        Sweet summer's dying,
+        Dying, Dying.
+
+[Illustration: The Lament of the Owl.
+
+Notation by Ann Seton]
+
+A mist came into my eyes as I listened, and yet I thanked him. "Dear
+voice in the trees, you have said the things I felt, and could not say;
+but voicing my sadness you have given it wings to fly away."
+
+
+TALE 103
+
+Springtime, or the Wedding of Maka Ina and El Sol
+
+Oh, that was a stirring, glowing time! All the air, and the underwood
+seemed throbbed with pleasant murmuring voices. The streams were
+laughing, the deep pools smiling, as pussy-willows scattered catkins on
+them from above. The oak trees and the birches put on little
+glad-hangers, like pennants on a gala ship. The pine trees set up their
+green candles, one on every big tip-twig. The dandelions made haste to
+glint the early fields with gold. The song toads and the peepers sang in
+volleys; the blackbirds wheeled their myriad cohorts in the air, a guard
+of honour in review. The woodwale drummed. The redbud draped its naked
+limbs in early festal bloom; and Rumour the pretty liar smiled and
+spread the news.
+
+All life was smiling with the frank unselfish smile, that tells of
+pleasure in another's joy.
+
+The love of love is wider than the world. And one who did not know their
+speech could yet have read in their reflected joy a magnitude of joyful
+happening, could guess that over two beings of the highest rank, the
+highest rank of happiness impended.
+
+Yes, all the living world stood still at gaze: the story of the
+bridegroom, the gracious beauty of the bride were sung, for the wedding
+day had come. And Mother Carey, she was there, for were they not her
+peers? And the Evil One--he came, but slunk away, for the blessing of
+the one Great Oversoul was on them.
+
+Oh, virile, radiant one, El Sol! Oh, Maka Ina! bounteous mother earth,
+the day of joining hand in hand passed by. The joy is with us yet;
+renewed each year, when March is three weeks gone. Look, then, ye
+wanderers in the woods! Seek in the skies, seek in the growing green,
+but find it mostly in your souls, and _sing_!
+
+
+TALE 104
+
+Running the Council
+
+Every good Woodcrafter should know the way of the Council Ring.
+
+Select some quiet level place out of doors; in the woods if possible,
+for it is so much better if surrounded by trees.
+
+Make a circle of low seats; the circle should be not less than 12 feet
+or more than 20 feet across, depending somewhat on the number to take
+part.
+
+In the middle prepare for a small fire. At one side is a special seat
+for the Chief; this is called the Council Rock.
+
+On very important occasions take white sand or lime, and draw a circle
+around the fire. Then from that draw the four lamps and the twelve laws
+as in Tale 105.
+
+When all is ready with the Guide on the Council Rock, and the Scouts in
+their seats, the Guide stands up and says: "Give ear my friends, we are
+about to hold a council. I appoint such a one, Keeper of the fire and
+so-and-so, Keeper of the tally. Now let the Fire-keeper light the fire."
+
+Next the Tally-keeper calls the roll. After which the business part of
+the Council is carried on exactly the same as any ordinary meeting,
+except that instead of addressing the "Chairman," they say, "O Chief";
+instead of "yes" they say "ho," instead of "no" they say "wah."
+
+The order of doings in Council is:--
+
+        Opening and fire-lighting
+        Roll Call
+        Reading and accepting tally of last Council
+        Reports of Scouts (things observed or done)
+        Left-over business
+        New business
+        Honours
+        Honourable mention
+        (For the good of the Tribe) Complaints and suggestions.
+          (_Here business ends and entertainment begins._)
+        Challenges
+        Games, contests, etc.
+        Close by singing Omaha Prayer (Tale 108)
+
+
+TALE 105
+
+The Sandpainting of the Fire
+
+[Illustration: The Sandpainting of the Fire]
+
+When I was staying among the Navaho Indians, I met John Wetherall, the
+trader. He had spent half his life among them, and knew more of their
+ways than any other white man that I met. He told me that part of the
+education of Navaho priest was knowing the fifty sandpaintings of his
+tribe. A sandpainting is a design made on the ground or floor with dry
+sands of different colours--black, white, gray, yellow, red, etc. It
+looks like a rug or a blanket on the ground, and is made up of many
+curious marks which stand for some man, place, thing, or idea. Thus, the
+first sandpainting is a map of the world as the Navaho knew it, with
+rivers and hills that are important in their history. These
+sandpaintings cannot be moved; a careless touch spoils them, and a gust
+of wind can wipe them out. They endure only in the hearts and memories
+of the people who love them.
+
+In the Woodcraft Camp there is but one sandpainting that is much used;
+that is, the Sandpainting of the Fourfold Fire. When I make it in camp,
+I use only white sand or powdered lime; but indoors, or on paper, I use
+yellow (or orange) and white.
+
+This is the story of the sandpainting. The fire is the symbol of the
+Great Spirit; around that we draw a great circle, as in the diagram.
+
+At each of the four sides we light another fire; these four are called
+Fortitude, Beauty, Truth, and Love, and come from the Fire through
+Spirit, Body, Mind, and Service.
+
+Then from each of these we draw three golden rays. These stand for the
+twelve laws of Woodcraft, and they are named in this way:
+
+        Be Brave, Be Silent and Obey;
+        Be Clean, Be Strong, Protect Wild Life alway;
+        Speak True, Be Reverent, Play Fair as you Strive!
+        Be Kind; Be Helpful; Glad you are alive.
+
+And the final painting is as in the drawing. Of course the names are not
+written on the real thing though the Woodcraft scout should know them.
+
+
+TALE 106
+
+The Woodcraft Kalendar
+
+[Illustration: The Woodcraft Kalendar]
+
+The Woodcraft Kalendar is founded on the Indian way of noting the
+months. Our own ancestors called them "Moons" much as the Indians did.
+Our word "month" was once written "moneth" or "monath" which meant a
+"moon or moon's time of lasting." The usual names for the moons to-day
+are Latin, but we find we get closer to nature if we call them by
+their Woodcraft names, and use the little symbols of the Woodcraft
+Kalendar.
+
+
+TALE 107
+
+Climbing the Mountain
+
+Afar in our dry southwestern country is an Indian village; and in the
+offing is a high mountain, towering up out of the desert. It is
+considered a great feat to climb this mountain, so that all the boys of
+the village were eager to attempt it. One day the Chief said: "Now boys,
+you you may all go to-day and try to climb the mountain. Start right
+after breakfast, and go each of you as far as you can. Then when you are
+tired, come back: but let each one bring me a twig from the place where
+he turned."
+
+Away they went full of hope, each feeling that he surely could reach the
+top.
+
+But soon a fat, pudgy boy came slowly back, and in his hand he held out
+to the Chief a leaf of cactus.
+
+The Chief smiled and said: "My boy, you did not reach the foot of the
+mountain; you did not even get across the desert."
+
+Later a second boy returned. He carried a twig of sagebrush.
+
+"Well," said the Chief. "You reached the mountain's foot but you did not
+climb upward."
+
+The next had a cottonwood spray.
+
+"Good," said the Chief; "You got up as far as the springs."
+
+Another came later with some buckthorn. The Chief smiled when he saw it
+and spoke thus: "You were climbing; you were up to the first slide
+rock."
+
+Later in the afternoon, one arrived with a cedar spray, and the old man
+said: "Well done. You went half way up."
+
+An hour afterward, one came with a switch of pine. To him the Chief
+said: "Good; you went to the third belt; you made three quarters of the
+climb."
+
+The sun was low when the last returned. He was a tall, splendid boy of
+noble character. His hand was empty as he approached the Chief, but his
+countenance was radiant, and he said: "My father, there were no trees
+where I got to; I saw no twigs, but I saw the Shining Sea."
+
+Now the old man's face glowed too, as he said aloud and almost sang: "I
+knew it. When I looked on your face, I knew it. You have been to the
+top. You need no twigs for token. It is written in your eyes, and rings
+in your voice. My boy, you have felt the uplift, you have seen the glory
+of the mountain."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Oh Ye Woodcrafters, keep this in mind, then: the badges that we offer
+for attainment, are not "_prizes_"; prizes are things of value taken by
+violence from their rightful owners. These are merely tokens of what you
+have done, of where you have been. They are mere twigs from the trail to
+show how far you got in climbing the mountain.
+
+[Illustration: THE OMAHA TRIBAL PRAYER.
+
+Harmonized by PROF. J. C. FILLMORE.]
+
+        Wa-kon-da dhe-dhu Wa-pa dhin a-ton-he.
+
+        Wa-kon-da dhe-dhu Wa-pa-dhin a-ton-he.
+
+(By permission from Alice C. Fletcher's "Indian Story and Song.")
+
+Translation:
+
+        Father a needy one stands before thee;
+        I that sing am he.
+
+This old Indian prayer is sung by the Council standing in a great circle
+about the fire with feet close together, hands and faces uplifted, for
+it is addressed to the Great Spirit. At the final bars the hands and
+faces are lowered to the fire.
+
+
+
+
+Books by Ernest Thompson Seton
+
+
+WILD ANIMALS I HAVE KNOWN, 1898
+
+The stories of Lobo, Silverspot, Molly Cottontail, Bingo, Vixen, The
+Pacing Mustang, Wully and Redruff. (Scribners.)
+
+
+THE TRAIL OF THE SANDHILL STAG, 1899
+
+The story of a long hunt that ended without a tragedy. (Scribners.)
+
+
+BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY, 1900
+
+The story of old Wahb from cubhood to the scene in Death Gulch. (The
+Century Company.)
+
+
+LOBO, RAG AND VIXEN, 1900
+
+This is a school edition of "Wild Animals I Have Known," with some of
+the stories and many of the pictures left out. (Scribners.)
+
+
+THE WILD ANIMAL PLAY, 1900
+
+A musical play in which the parts of Lobo, Wahb, Vixen, etc., are taken
+by boys and girls. Out of print. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+THE LIVES OF THE HUNTED, 1901
+
+The stories of Krag, Randy, Johnny Bear, The Mother Teal, Chink, The
+Kangaroo Rat, and Tito, the Coyote. (Scribners.)
+
+
+PICTURES OF WILD ANIMALS, 1901
+
+Twelve large pictures for framing (no text), viz., Krag, Lobo, Tito Cub,
+Kangaroo Rat, Grizzly, Buffalo, Bear Family, Johnny Bear, Sandhill Stag,
+Coon Family, Courtaut the Wolf, Tito and her family. Out of print.
+(Scribners.)
+
+
+KRAG AND JOHNNY BEAR, 1902
+
+This is a school edition of "The Lives of the Hunted" with some of the
+stories and many of the pictures left out. (Scribners.)
+
+
+TWO LITTLE SAVAGES, 1903
+
+A book of adventure and woodcraft and camping out for boys, telling how
+to make bows, arrows, moccasins, costumes, teepee, war-bonnet, etc., and
+how to make a fire with rubbing sticks, read Indian signs, etc.
+(Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+MONARCH, THE BIG BEAR OF TALLAC, 1904
+
+The story of a big California grizzly that is living yet. (Scribners.)
+
+
+ANIMAL HEROES, 1905
+
+The stories of a Slum Cat, a Homing Pigeon, The Wolf That Won, A Lynx, A
+Jackrabbit, A Bull-terrier, The Winnipeg Wolf, and a White Reindeer.
+(Scribners.)
+
+
+WOODMYTH AND FABLE, 1905
+
+A collection of fables, woodland verses, and camp stories. (The Century
+Company.)
+
+
+BIRCH-BARK ROLL, 1906
+
+The Manual of the Woodcraft Indians, first edition, 1902. (Doubleday,
+Page & Co.)
+
+THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE TEN COMMANDMENTS, 1907
+
+Showing the Ten Commandments to be fundamental laws of all creation. 78
+pages. (Scribners.)
+
+
+THE BIOGRAPHY OF A SILVER FOX, 1909
+
+or Domino Reynard of Goldur Town, with 100 illustrations by the author.
+209 pages.
+
+A companion volume to "Biography of a Grizzly." (The Century Company.)
+
+
+LIFE HISTORIES OF NORTHERN ANIMALS, 1909
+
+In two sumptuous quarto volumes with 68 maps and 560 drawings by the
+author. Pages, 1267.
+
+Said by Roosevelt, Allen, Chapman, and Hornaday to be the best work ever
+written on the Life Histories of American Animals. (Scribners.)
+
+
+BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA, 1910
+
+A handbook of Woodcraft, Scouting, and Life Craft Including the
+Birch-Bark Roll. 192 pages. Out of print. (Doubleday, Page & Co.) The
+year-book of the Boy Scouts of America is now handled by the American
+News Co.
+
+
+ROLF IN THE WOODS, 1911
+
+The Adventures of a Boy Scout with Indian Quonab and little dog Skookum.
+Over 200 drawings by the author. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+THE ARCTIC PRAIRIES, 1911
+
+A canoe journey of 2,000 miles in search of the Caribou. 415 pages with
+many maps, photographs, and illustrations by the author. (Scribners.)
+
+
+THE BOOK OF WOODCRAFT AND INDIAN LORE, 1912
+
+with over 500 drawings by the author. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+THE FORESTER'S MANUAL, 1912
+
+One hundred of the best-known forest trees of eastern North America,
+with 100 maps and more than 200 drawings. Out of print. (Doubleday, Page
+& Co.)
+
+
+WILD ANIMALS AT HOME, 1913
+
+with over 150 sketches and photographs by the author. 226 pages. In this
+Mr. Seton gives for the first time his personal adventures in studying
+wild animals. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+MANUAL OF THE WOODCRAFT INDIANS, 1915
+
+The fourteenth Birch-Bark Roll. 100 pages. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+WILD ANIMAL WAYS, 1916
+
+More animal stories introducing a host of new four-footed friends, with
+200 illustrations by the author. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+WOODCRAFT MANUAL FOR BOYS, 1917
+
+A handbook of Woodcraft and Outdoor life for members of the Woodcraft
+League. 440 pp. 700 ills. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+WOODCRAFT MANUAL FOR GIRLS, 1917
+
+Like the foregoing but adapted for girls. 424 pp., Illus. (Doubleday,
+Page & Co.)
+
+
+THE PREACHER OF CEDAR MOUNTAIN, 1917
+
+A novel. A tale of the open country. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+SIGN TALK, 1918
+
+A Universal Signal Code, Without Apparatus, for use in the Army, the
+Navy, Camping, Hunting, Daily Life and among the Plains Indians.
+(Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+WOODLAND TALES, 1921
+
+Delightful children's stories, of fable and fairy-tale flavour, with the
+wild things of the woodland for their heroes. In the heart of each some
+nature secret is revealed. (Doubleday, Page & Co.)
+
+
+BY MRS. ERNEST THOMPSON SETON
+
+(Published by DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO.)
+
+
+A WOMAN TENDERFOOT, 1901
+
+A book of outdoor adventures and camping for women and girls. How to
+dress for it, where to go, and how to profit the most by camp life.
+
+
+NIMROD'S WIFE, 1907
+
+A companion volume, giving Mrs. Seton's side of the many campfires she
+and her husband lighted together in the Rockies from Canada to Mexico.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
+
+Page 79, "gr  dy" changed to "greedy" (as greedy as he)
+
+Page 134, "throught he" changed to "through the" (through the outer)
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Woodland Tales, by Ernest Seton-Thompson
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODLAND TALES ***
+
+***** This file should be named 23667.txt or 23667.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+Music transcribed by Linda Cantoni
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