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diff --git a/24011-h/24011-h.htm b/24011-h/24011-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5645c69 --- /dev/null +++ b/24011-h/24011-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3046 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Zodiac Town, by Edith M. Patch. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h2,h3 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + a { text-decoration: none; } + + .box { width: 700px; + margin: 0 auto; + text-align: center; + padding: 1em; + border-style: none; } + + .box2 { width: 500px; + margin: 0 auto; + text-align: center; + padding: 1em; + border-style: double; } + + .pagenum { visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; } + + .center {text-align: center;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; text-align: center;} + .caption2 {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left: 10em;} + .poem1 {margin-left: 10.5em;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 11em;} + .poem3 {margin-left: 12em;} + .poem4 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem5 {margin-left: 4.5em;} + .poem6 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem7 {margin-left: 1.5em;} + .poem8 {margin-left: 13.4em;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Zodiac Town, by Nancy Byrd Turner + +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: Zodiac Town + The Rhymes of Amos and Ann + +Author: Nancy Byrd Turner + +Illustrator: Winifred Bromhall + +Release Date: December 24, 2007 [EBook #24011] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZODIAC TOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Colin Bell, Joseph Cooper, Anne Storer and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 449px;"> +<img src="images/imgcover.jpg" width="449" height="600" alt="cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="box"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 159px;"> +<img src="images/img1.png" width="159" height="172" alt="Zodiac Town" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="box2"> + +<h2>Little Gateways to Science</h2> + +<h3>BY EDITH M. PATCH</h3> + +=================================== + +<p> </p> + +<p>VOLUME I. <span style="margin-left: 2em;">HEXAPOD STORIES</span></p> + +<p class="blockquot">Twelve stories about the six-footed creatures, the fascinating little +insects that children see every day. As interesting as fiction, yet +holding a wealth of biologic and nature-study information, this is an +ideal volume for younger children. Illustrated by Robert J. Sim. Library +Edition, bound in light-blue silk cloth. $1.25</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>VOLUME II. <span style="margin-left: 2em;">BIRD STORIES</span></p> + +<p class="blockquot">A book of bird Biographies which will be loved by all who love birds both +for the sweetness and strength of the stories, and for the illustrations +which give such intimate sketches of real birds as can only be drawn by an +artist who is also a naturalist. Illustrated by Robert J. Sim. Library +Edition, bound in light-blue silk cloth. $1.25</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY PRESS<br /> +BOSTON</p> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 399px;"> +<img src="images/img4.jpg" width="399" height="500" alt="Amos and Ann" title="" /> +</div> +<p><span style="margin-left: 16em;" class="caption2"><em>Amos and Ann</em></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;" class="caption2"><em>And the Journeying Man</em></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 443px;"> +<img src="images/imgtitle.png" width="443" height="600" alt="Title" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 125px; margin-left: 12em;"> +<img src="images/img6.png" width="125" height="200" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p><em>Copyright, 1921, by</em></p> +<p>NANCY BYRD TURNER</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;">The author makes grateful acknowledgment of permission to reprint in this +book verses that have appeared in <em>The Youth’s Companion</em>, <em>St. Nicholas</em>, +and other periodicals.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/img7.png" width="150" height="200" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 102px;"> +<img src="images/img9.png" width="102" height="200" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2>THE CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="7" cellspacing="0" summary=""> + +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#ZODIAC_TOWN">ZODIAC TOWN</a></td> <td align='right'>1</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#JANUARY">JANUARY</a></td> <td align='right'>7</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#FEBRUARY">FEBRUARY</a></td> <td align='right'>17</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#MARCH">MARCH</a></td> <td align='right'>27</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#APRIL">APRIL</a></td> <td align='right'>37</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#MAY">MAY</a></td> <td align='right'>47</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#JUNE">JUNE</a></td> <td align='right'>57</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#JULY">JULY</a></td> <td align='right'>69</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#AUGUST">AUGUST</a></td> <td align='right'>79</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#SEPTEMBER">SEPTEMBER</a></td> <td align='right'>91</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#OCTOBER">OCTOBER</a></td> <td align='right'>101</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#NOVEMBER">NOVEMBER</a></td> <td align='right'>111</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#DECEMBER">DECEMBER</a></td> <td align='right'>119</td> </tr> + +</table></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/img11.png" width="125" height="200" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2>THE ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<div class='center'> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="7" cellspacing="0" summary=""> + +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_9"><em>They went to the January house</em></a></td> <td align='right'>9</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_19"><em>They went to the February place</em></a></td> <td align='right'>19</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_29"><em>The March house, strangely, was built in a tree</em></a></td> <td align='right'>29</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_39"><em>The April house was near a pond</em></a></td> <td align='right'>39</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_49"><em>And May herself, with a dimple and curl</em></a></td> <td align='right'>49</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_59"><em>The June house wasn’t a house at all</em></a></td> <td align='right'>59</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_71"><em>The July house was an old, old house,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">With an old, old man inside</span></em></a></td> <td align='right'>71</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_81"><em>Oh, such a funny August house—It really was like a zoo</em></a></td> <td align='right'>81</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_93"><em>Very familiar September seemed</em></a></td> <td align='right'>93</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_103"><em>It was a queer October place</em></a></td> <td align='right'>103</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_113"><em>The next house stood just back from the street</em></a></td> <td align='right'>113</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><a href="#Page_121"><em>The house of December was all aglow</em></a></td> <td align='right'>121</td> </tr> + +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 1]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ZODIAC_TOWN" id="ZODIAC_TOWN"></a>ZODIAC TOWN</h2> + + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">Amos and Ann had a poem to learn,<br /> + A poem to learn one day;<br /> + But alas! they sighed, and alack! they cried,<br /> + ’Twere better to go and play.<br /> + Ann was sure ’twas a waste of time<br /> + To bother a child with jingling rhyme.<br /> + Amos said, “What’s the sense in rhythm—<br /> + Feet and lines?” He had finished with ’em!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">They peered at the poem with scowly faces,<br /> + And yawned and stumbled and lost their places.<br /> + Then—a breeze romped by, and a bluebird sang,<br /> + And they shut the book with a snap and a bang;<br /> + Shut the book and were off and away,<br /> + Away on flying feet;—<br /> + Never did squirrels move more light,<br /> + Or rabbits run more fleet!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">Over a wall and down a lane<br /> + And through a field they ran;<br /> + And “Where shall we go?” said Amos. “Oh,<br /> + And where shall we stop?” cried Ann.<br /> + Then all at once, round the curve of a hill,<br /> + They pulled up panting and stood stock-still;<br /> + For there, by the edge of a ripplety brook,<br /> + In a deep little, steep little place,<br /> + Sat a long-legged youth, with a staff and a book<br /> + And a quaint, very quizzical face.<br /> + His cap and his trousers were dusty green<br /> + And his jacket was rusty brown,<br /> + And he whittled away on sweet white wood,<br /> + With shavings showering down.<br /> + He whittled away ’twixt a laugh and a tune,<br /> + With fingers as light as thistles.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">“And what are you making?” asked Amos and Ann.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">He said, “I am making whistles.”<br /> + He finished one with a notch and a slit,<br /> + And threw back his head and blew on it.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">The whistle sang like a bird when he blew,<br /> + Then he twinkled and put it down.<br /> + “And where are you going,” he said, “you two?<br /> + <em>Are you going to Zodiac Town</em>?”</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">Each of them shook a doubtful head<br /> + (For truly they didn’t know).</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">“But make us a whistle like yours,” they said,<br /> + “And anywhere we will go!”<br /> + “I’ll make you a whistle apiece,” quoth he,<br /> + “And if you like, you may follow me;<br /> + Zodiac Town’s in the land of Time,<br /> + And I go by the road of Rhyme.”</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">Ann looked at Amos and Amos at Ann;<br /> + They blinked with sheer surprise;<br /> + And then they looked at the long-legged man,<br /> + Who twinkled back with his eyes.<br /> + They said (and their voices were meek and low),<br /> + “We ran away from a rhyme, you know.”</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">“You did?” cried the fellow in green and brown.<br /> + “Then it’s unmistakably plain, oho,<br /> + That you’re due in Zodiac Town!”</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">He took up his book and shouldered his staff,<br /> + And turned to Amos and Ann.<br /> + “Call me J. M.,” he said with a laugh.<br /> + “That stands for Journeying Man.<br /> + I’ll make you some whistles along the way,<br /> + While you are remembering rhymes to say;<br /> + For more than once in the land of Time<br /> + You will have to speak in rhyme.”</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">“Our names,” said the children, “are Amos and Ann;<br /> + And poetry is rather hard for us,<br /> + But we’ll do the best we can.”<br /> + Then they went away with the young-faced man,<br /> + Joyfully up and down,<br /> + Talking in rhyme by hill and lea,<br /> + Gayly in rhyme—for that, said he,<br /> + Was the tongue of Zodiac Town.<br /> + To Zodiac after a while they came—<br /> + The twistiest, mistiest town,<br /> + With odd little collopy, scallopy streets<br /> + Meandering up and down.<br /> + The home of the years and the hours was there,<br /> + Of the minutes, the months, and the days—<br /> + Houses with windows that winked and smiled,<br /> + And doors with sociable ways;<br /> + And leaves and apples and chestnuts brown<br /> + Came pattering down, came clattering down,<br /> + And stairways wound to the top of a hill<br /> + That a person could climb if he had the will—<br /> + That a person could climb, then start at the top,<br /> + And bumpeting down and thumpeting down,<br /> + Go zip! to the bottom with never a stop.</p> + + <p style="margin-left: 20%;">“<em>Whoopee!</em>” cried Amos—and off and away,<br /> + Quick with a kick, like a clown,<br /> + He ran to the top of the highest stair,<br /> + Ann at his heels—And zip! the pair<br /> + Came bumpeting down and thumpeting down.<br /> + Then, “Come, you two,” said the Journeying Man,<br /> + “We have twelve calls to pay.<br /> + We’ll visit the months this time, if we can.<br /> + Now listen to me: at every house<br /> + Many clocks will be ticking away:<br /> + Grandfather clocks and cuckoo clocks<br /> + And moon-faced clocks on shelves,<br /> + Clocks with alarms and eight-day clocks,<br /> + All talking low to themselves;<br /> + Little gilt clocks and clocks with chimes,<br /> + And all of them keeping different times.<br /> + And any minute of any hour<br /> + (You never did see their like),<br /> + Evening or morning, with never a warning,<br /> + One of the lot will strike.<br /> + And you <em>may</em> be talking your everyday talk,<br /> + But the instant the hour shall chime,<br /> + Quick as a flash you must stop, and dash<br /> + Right into a rollicking rhyme!”</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">“What kind of a rhyme?” gasped Amos and Ann.<br /> + “What kind of a rhyme, J. M.?”</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">“Any kind at all,” said the Journeying Man,<br /> + As he twinkled his eyes at them.<br /> + “But it must begin with the very two sounds,<br /> + (Or three or four, if you like,)<br /> + <em>The last few sounds that were on your tongue</em><br /> + <em>When the clock began to strike</em>!”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 7]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JANUARY" id="JANUARY"></a>JANUARY</h2> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 8]</span></p> +<h3><em>I</em></h3> + +<h3><em>JANUARY</em></h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 101px;"> +<img src="images/img8.png" width="101" height="100" alt="Aquarius" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Aquarius</em></span> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p style="margin-left: 33%;"><em>They went to the January house,</em><br /> + <em>A house made all of snow,</em><br /> + <em>With windows of ice, and chandeliers</em><br /> + <em>Of icicles all in a row.</em><br /> + <em>The trim young master was dressed in fur</em><br /> + <em>And didn’t seem cold at all—</em><br /> + <em>A red-cheeked, rollicking, frolicking chap,</em><br /> + <em>Who offered each caller an ermine wrap,</em><br /> + <em>And let them skate in his hall.</em></p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 415px;"> +<img src="images/img09.png" width="415" height="500" alt="January House" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>They went to the January house</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 11]</span></p> +<p>While they were skating round the hall, Amos’s feet flew from under him +and he sat down hard on the ice.</p> + +<p>“Did you break anything?” asked the January boy. “I hope not, indeed,” he +added earnestly, “because so many things are broken here.”</p> + +<p>“What kind of things?” Amos wanted to know.</p> + +<p>“Mainly resolutions,” answered January with a wry face. And then he +further said: “So many of <em>them</em> get broken that sometimes I think I’ll +move into another house.”</p> + +<p>“But then,” put in little Ann, “we shouldn’t have any New Year. And oh, +how we’d miss New Year—”</p> + +<p>A square-faced clock on the hall-landing struck one just as Ann said she’d +miss New Year.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Ann with a gasp. “Now I’ve got to say a rhyme beginning—‘miss +New Year.’ What shall I say?</p> + +<p>“Miss New Year, miss New Year—” Then all at once, to her intense +surprise, she found herself reciting:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 12]</span></p> + +<p><span class="poem">“Miss New Year dressed herself in white,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">With crystal buttons shining,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A spangled scarf, all lacy-light</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">About her shoulders twining;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A bunch of pearly mistletoe,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">A twig of ruddy holly,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">She tucked among her curls, and oh,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">She was so sweet and jolly!</span></p> + +<p><span class="poem">“She tapped upon my window-pane</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And waked me, bright and early.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘Come, come,’ she cried, ‘the sun’s outside,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The winds are gay and whirly!</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">’Neath winter frost and summer sky,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">In spring or autumn weather,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Come out, dear child, and you and I</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Will be good chums together!’”</span></p> + +<p>J. M. was the next one to get caught. January had just asked the three to +stay to lunch.</p> + +<p>“Wish we could,” said the Journeying Man, “but in spite of all these +clocks there is no time. I can smell your stew cooking, January—, such +stew!”</p> + +<p>A clock struck eight just as the Journeying Man said “such stew.” Without +hesitation he went on:—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 13]</span></p> + +<p><span class="poem">“‘Such stupid days!’ said Willie Green</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With long and doleful face.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘Suppose to-night the whirling globe</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Should drop us into space:</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Hooray! I’d ride the moon astride,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And, if a cloud sailed up,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Pretend it was a feather-bed,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And dive right in, kerplup!’</span></p> + +<p><span class="poem">“‘What if the moon went in eclipse?’</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Said little Johnny Brown;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘Or if the clouds turned into rain</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And sent you drizzling down?</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Or if a thunder-bolt went off</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And knocked you rather flat?’</span></p> + +<p><span class="poem">“‘Now that’s the truth,’ said Willie Green,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘I hadn’t thought of that!’</span></p> + +<p><span class="poem">“But, ‘Earth’s so poky,’ still he mused;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘It must be finer far</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">To play <em>I Spy</em> across the sky,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And skip from star to star.’</span></p> + +<p><span class="poem">“‘Stars fall, sometimes,’ quoth Johnny Brown,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘To where, nobody knows.’</span></p> + +<p><span class="poem">“‘Oh, dearie me!’ cried Willie Green,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘I only said <em>Suppose</em>!’”</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 14]</span></p> +<p>Amos had a question to ask as the travelers turned to leave the January +house.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you keep any pets?” he said.</p> + +<p>January grinned. “It would have to be a cold kind of pet,” he replied. +“And I don’t like seals and walruses. The very animal that I want I can’t +have: the alligator has always been my favorite.”</p> + +<p>“The alligator?” echoed Amos and Ann.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said January, firmly. “Always the al—”</p> + +<p>But a little nickel clock caught him just there, so he remarked instead:—</p> + +<p> <span class="poem">“Always the alphabet to me</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Is like a happy family.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">They work in groups, they work in pairs,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But each one has his little airs:</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">R runs and romps, and so does S,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And Z is full of foolishness;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">H always smiles, and A is jolly;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">G’s somehow sort of melancholy.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Q sticks his tongue into his cheek</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And always waits for U to speak;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">D’s fat and lazy; so is C;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And O makes funny mouths at me.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Among the pleasant alphabet</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">It’s hard to pick and choose—and yet,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">When all is said, I can’t deny</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">(You’ll understand), my choice is I!”</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 17]</span></p> +<h2><a name="FEBRUARY" id="FEBRUARY"></a>FEBRUARY</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 18]</span></p> +<h3><em>II</em></h3> + +<h3><em>FEBRUARY</em></h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 104px;"> +<img src="images/img18.png" width="104" height="100" alt="pisces" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Pisces</em></span> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 33%;"><em>They went to the February place:</em><br /> + <em>’Twas fashioned, with curious art,</em><br /> + <em>Of colored sugar and paper lace,</em><br /> + <em>With a front door shaped like a heart.</em><br /> + <em>A trim little, slim little maid within</em><br /> + <em>Was rolling out cookies crisp and thin;</em><br /> + <em>She blew them a kiss through the window wide,</em><br /> + <em>And bade them step inside.</em></p> + +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 380px;"> +<img src="images/img19.png" width="380" height="500" alt="February place" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>They went to the February place</em></span> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 21]</span></p> +<p>The little valentine girl in the February house was very sociable; but she +talked so much, and there were so many clocks striking all around, that +she was always getting side-tracked into a rhyme.</p> + +<p>For example, she was just about to describe a jolly party she went to one +day last year, when a clock struck six, and she was obliged to say, +instead:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“One day last year, with hems and haws and sidelong steps and +nervous caws, the crows came mincing forth to mail gay valentines, +you know. The post box was a hollow tree. They did not know, +unluckily, that squirrels had gnawed the floor away, and owls moved +in below.</p> + +<p>“The crows went flapping off with glee. They said, ‘Our woodland +friends will see that, though we dress so solemnly, we’re sociable +at heart.’</p> + +<p>“The valentines came hurrying down, came scurrying down, came +flurrying down, and waked the owls, all fast asleep, and gave them +quite a start.</p> + +<p>“‘What’s this, my dear, amiss, my dear?’ cried Father Owl.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, bliss, my dear,’ said Mrs. Owl. ‘A shower of mail for us. How +very fine!’</p> + +<p>“The daughter owls were full of joy, and quick the little owlet boy +ruffed up his feathers roguishly and seized a valentine.</p> + +<p>“Excitement reigned among those owls; but, being such nocturnal +fowls, they could not read the valentines at all in broad +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 22]</span> +daylight. They blinked a bit and winked a bit, but found them not +distinct a bit; then did not go to bed again, but waited for the +night.</p> + +<p>“Just after dusk a thing occurred, unfortunate for every bird: a +wild, wild wind came romping in (it was a dreadful prank), and with +a swoop, in boisterous play, swept all the envelopes away.</p> + +<p>“The poor owls cried, ‘Alackaday, we shan’t know whom to thank!’</p> + +<p>“Next morning all the crows came out and pranced about and glanced +about, expecting greetings from their friends, and praise, and +everything; but when they got no single word of gratitude from any +bird, they held a meeting in the trees that made the whole woods +ring.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, it surely seemed a shame, but no one really was to +blame; and this year all the birds around (I heard it from a wren) +will put their mail most carefully safe in a holeproof hollow tree. +And every crow is going to be a happy crow again!”</p></div> + +<p>Little Ann was enchanted with the February house; she planned in her own +mind to copy it in chocolate and taffy.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to see upstairs,—the beds and bureaus and things,—” she said +shyly, “if you don’t mind my looking—”</p> + +<p>A big clock began to boom somewhere near.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 23]</span></p> +<p>“My looking—” repeated Ann. “Dear me suz, I’m caught again! What shall I +say?”</p> + +<p>Then all at once she said:—</p> + +<p> <span class="poem">“My looking-glass is like a pool,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">As still and clear, as blank and cool.</span></p> + +<p> <span class="poem">“It fronts the clean white nursery wall,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With no look on its face at all.</span></p> + +<p> <span class="poem">“But when in front of it I go,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Why, there I am, from top to toe.</span></p> + +<p> <span class="poem">“Oh, just suppose I hurried there</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Some day to brush my tousled hair,</span></p> + +<p> <span class="poem">“And stood and stared, and could not see</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">One single, single sign of me!”</span></p> + +<p>When it was nearly time to leave the February house, Ann remarked that +Amos had talked in prose straight along ever since they came.</p> + +<p>Amos smiled proudly. “So I have,” he said. He was about to go on to say +that he wondered if he would be caught at all, when—whiz! with a scramble +and a scuffle a cuckoo rushed out of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> clock just above his head and +bobbed intently up and down twelve times. Amos had got only as far as +“wonder.” “Wonder—wonder—” he stammered, as he heard the clock. +“Wonder—wonder—</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Wonder if George Washington</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Did just the way we do?</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Wonder if he slid on ice,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And now and then broke through;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Slid on ice, and fought with snow,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And whittled hickory sticks,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Called his brother ‘April Fool!’</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And played him April tricks?</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Wonder if he shed his shirt</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Down beneath the beeches,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Kicked his buckled slippers off,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And his buckled breeches,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Jumped into the swimming-pool,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And gave a splendid shout,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Glad and wiggly, clean and cool,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Splashing like a trout?</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Wonder did he sit in school,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And try to work a sum,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With bumblebees all mumbling,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">‘Summer’s come, summer’s come!’</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">If he used to count the days,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And give a sort of sigh,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Because—how queer!—there couldn’t be</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">A Fourth in his July!</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Wonder if he ever took</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">His history and read</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Tales of mighty generals,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Glorious and dead;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Turned the leaves and wished that he</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Could be a hero, too?</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Wonder if George Washington</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Felt the way we do?”</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 27]</span></p> +<h2><a name="MARCH" id="MARCH"></a>MARCH</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 28]</span></p> +<h3><em>III</em></h3> + +<h3><em>MARCH</em></h3> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 101px;"> +<img src="images/img28.png" width="101" height="100" alt="aries" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Aries</em></span> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 30%;"><em>The March house, strangely, was built in a tree,</em><br /> + <em>With a fluttering roof of leaves,</em><br /> + <em>And strong, straight boughs for the walls of the house,</em><br /> + <em>And an apple or two in the eaves.</em><br /> + <em>A pair of fun-loving twins lived there,</em><br /> + <em>Who romped on the roof all day,</em><br /> + <em>And flew great kites when the weather was fair,</em><br /> + <em>In a most remarkable way.</em></p> + +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 404px;"> +<img src="images/img29.png" width="404" height="500" alt="March house" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>The March house, strangely, was built in a tree</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 31]</span></p> +<p>Amos and Ann were very curious to know why the twins lived in a tree.</p> + +<p>“Well, it saves time,” the black-haired twin explained. “There are one or +two days in the year when we’re bound to be up here anyhow.”</p> + +<p>The children looked puzzled.</p> + +<p>“You see,” said the yellow-haired twin, “we never have the slightest idea +how March is going to come in. If he comes in like a lion—”</p> + +<p>“Then, of course, you want to be out of the way,” interrupted Ann, +delighted with herself for knowing.</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” said the twin. “And if he comes in like a lamb, then we know +how he’s going out, of course. So we simply get up here and stay. Listen +to our song.”</p> + +<p>Then they sang in duet:</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“When March comes in roaring, growling,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Winds swoop over the hilltop howling;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Bushes toss in the lashing gale,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Right and left, like a lion’s tail;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Branches shake in the road and lane,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Tawny and wild, like a lion’s mane.</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Fierce and furious, he—</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem1">But he’s going out like a lamb;</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">You watch and see!</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“When March comes in gentle, easy,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Waggy and warm and mild and breezy,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Little buds bob all down the trail,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Short and white as a lambkin’s tail;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Hedges and ledges with blooms are full,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Fluffy and fair as a lambkin’s wool.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Mighty switchy and sweet, and all that—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But he’s going out like a lion.</span><br /> + <span class="poem3"><em>Hold on to your hat</em>!”</span></p> + +<p>“There’s not a single solitary clock at this place, anyway,” Amos +remarked.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be too sure,” J. M. told him. “It may be, you see, that the tree +keeps a clock in its trunk. First thing you know, the clock may speak up +and tell on itself, the way Tom Tuttle used to do.”</p> + +<p>“We never heard of Tom Tuttle,” said little Ann.</p> + +<p>“Never heard of Tom Tuttle?” echoed the Journeying Man. “Then you shall +hear of him, as soon as—”</p> + +<p>From a hole in the tree came the sound of a clock +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 33]</span> striking loudly. J. M. +was bound to go on, then, just as he had begun, and so he said:—</p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“As soon as ever spring drew near, and brooks and winds were loose,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Tom Tuttle would be late to school with never an excuse.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“So little and so very late! And when the teacher said</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">That he must take his punishment, he merely hung his head.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“She’d ask him all the hardest things in all the hardest books;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">And queerly he would answer her, with absent-minded looks.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“‘How many yards make twenty rods?’ And Tommy said, ‘Oh, dear,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Twelve rods I’ve cut for fishing poles in our own yard this year.’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“‘How many perches make a mile? Now think before you speak.’</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">‘Perches?’ he said, ‘There’s millions in the upper sawmill creek.’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“‘What grows in southern Hindustan?’ Said Tom, ‘I do not know;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">But I can take you to a tree where blackheart cherries grow.’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“‘Name Christopher Columbus’s boats.’ ‘I can’t remember, quite;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">But mine, that lies below the falls, is named the Water Sprite.’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“‘Now what is “whistle”—noun or verb?’ ‘I do not know indeed;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">But just the other day I made a whistle from a reed.’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“Then all the little listening boys would wiggle in their places,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">And all the little watching girls would have to hide their faces;</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“And, ‘Thomas, Thomas!’ teacher’d say, and shake her head in doubt,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">And make him write a hundred words before the day was out.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“’T was always so when grass turned green and blue was in the sky—</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Tom Tuttle coming late to school and never telling why.”</span></p> + +<p>They had a good laugh at Tom Tuttle; but presently the thoughts of Amos +turned to March hares.</p> + +<p>“Do they ever come near enough for you to touch them?” he asked the twins.</p> + +<p>“No, March hares are very timid,” the twins said. “They are terribly +afraid of meeting the March lion at a sudden corner,” the yellow-haired +twin added. “That is on their minds a great deal.”</p> + +<p>“The very best way to get close to a March hare,” said the black-haired +boy, “is to take a reserved seat at the annual March-hare ball.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 35]</span></p> +<p>Then the two brothers told this tale; and Amos and Ann saw no reason for +not believing it:—</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Maybe nobody’s told you</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">(For very few people know)</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">What happens down in the meadow brown</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">At the fall of the first March snow.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“A flute-note sounds on the midnight,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Blown by a fairy boy,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And the rabbits rush from the underbrush,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">All nearly mad with joy.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Round and round in the wild wind,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Faster and faster they prance;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The moon comes out and looks about,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And laughs to see them dance.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Cold frost covers their whiskers,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But never their hind legs tire,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And whenever a hare feels a flake on his ear,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">He leaps a full inch higher!</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Harum-scarum and happy,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">They frolic the whole night through;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Maybe you’ll hear them dance, this year</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">(Though very few mortals do).”</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 37]</span></p> +<h2><a name="APRIL" id="APRIL"></a>APRIL</h2> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 38]</span></p> +<p> </p> +<h3><em>IV</em></h3> + +<h3><em>APRIL</em></h3> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 102px;"> +<img src="images/img38.png" width="102" height="100" alt="taurus" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Taurus</em></span> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p style="margin-left: 33%;"><em>The April house was near a pond;</em><br /> + <em>It was made of reeds and of rushes,</em><br /> + <em>All helter-skelter and out of kelter,</em><br /> + <em>And ringed by gooseberry bushes.</em><br /> + <em>The April Fool on the chimney sat,</em><br /> + <em>In pointed shoes and a pointed hat,</em><br /> + <em>And welcomed the three with a tee-hee-hee—</em><br /> + <em>Fair and funny and fat.</em></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 384px;"> +<img src="images/img39.png" width="384" height="500" alt="April house" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>The April house was near a pond</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 41]</span></p> +<p>The owner of the house bowed pleasantly as the visitors approached.</p> + +<p>“I’m delighted that you happened to come on the first of April,” he said.</p> + +<p>“But this isn’t the first of April,” the children began, astonished.</p> + +<p>J. M. pinched their elbows. “Don’t contradict him,” he whispered. “He +really doesn’t know any better, you see.”</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 210px; margin-top: 5em;"> +<img src="images/img41.png" width="210" height="250" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> + + <p><span class="poem">“Have you heard the latest news? [asked the Fool]</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Cows, this year, wear button shoes;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Dogs will dress in pantaloons;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">So will monkeys, minks, and coons;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Cats go gay in capes and shawls;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Robins carry parasols;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Bossy calves and nanny-goats</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Skip in scalloped petticoats;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Molly hares and bunny rabbits</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Look their best in jumping-habits;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Babies are to dress in bearskins</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">(If they can be made to wear skins);</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Grown-up folks in straw or leather,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Just whichever suits the weather.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">These styles are the latest thing,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Brought from Paris for the Spring,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Neat and natty, trim and cool”—</span></p> + + + +<p>“April Fool!” cried Amos. He felt sure that was coming.</p> + +<p>But the Fool merely put his hand to his ear. “Did you call me?” he asked +politely.</p> + +<p>The children shook with laughter at that, and the April Fool turned to the +Journeying Man. “Your turn,” he said.</p> + +<p>This is the April poem that the Journeying Man recited for the rest:—</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Young Peter Puck and his brothers wrote</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">To the wise wood-people a little note.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">It said, ‘If you’ll meet us by Ripply Pond,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Wonders we’ll show with our magic wand.’</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘What shall we do?’ said the forest-folk.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘Maybe it’s merely a practical joke.’</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But they went, good souls, and they only found</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A bare, bare bush and the green, green ground.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘But watch,’ said the fairies, ‘and you shall see</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Animals grow on a tiny tree.’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The rabbits and squirrels felt aggrieved;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">They thought that surely they’d been deceived.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But Peter Puck, at the head of the band,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Called, ‘Come, come, Kitty!’ and waved his hand.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Then the buds on the pussy-willow bush</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">All became kittens as soft as plush—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Smooth, round kittens, quite calm and fat;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">On every twig hung a little cat.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And the fairies danced, and the glad wood-folk</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Cried, ‘Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful joke!’”</span></p> + +<p>“Now look here,” said the April Fool, when J. M. was done. “I have several +important questions to ask this crowd.”</p> + +<p>He then proceeded to ask the questions, not one of which anyone even tried +to answer.</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Now, speech is very curious:</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">You never know what minute</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A word will show a brand-new side,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With brand-new meaning in it.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">This world could hardly turn around,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">If some things acted like they sound.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Suppose the April flower-beds,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Down in the garden spaces,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Were made with green frog-blanket spreads</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And caterpillar-cases;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Or oak trees locked their trunks to hide</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The countless rings they keep inside!</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Suppose from every pitcher-plant</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The milk-weed came a-pouring;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">That tiger-lilies could be heard</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With dandelions roaring,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Till all the cat-tails, far and near,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Began to bristle up in fear!</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“What if the old cow blew her horn</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Some peaceful evening hour,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And suddenly a blast replied</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">From every trumpet-flower,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">While people’s ears beat noisy drums</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">To ‘Hail, the Conquering Hero Comes!’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“If barn-yard fowls had honey-combs,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">What should we think, I wonder?</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">If lightning-bugs should swiftly strike,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Then peal with awful thunder?</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And would it turn our pink cheeks pale</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">To see a comet switch its tail?”</span></p> + +<p>The queer little fellow did not seem to be at all disturbed by the failure +of the company to answer his questions. He turned courteously to little +Ann.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 45]</span></p> +<p>“It’s your turn to ask a riddle, you know,” he reminded her.</p> + +<p>To little Ann’s astonishment a riddle popped right into her head—a rhymed +riddle, at that!</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Busy Mistress One-Eye</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With her long white train</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Dips her nose and down she goes—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Up she comes again.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Not a hand and not a foot;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Has no need for those;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Makes her trip without a slip,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Following her nose.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Two she has to guide her:</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">One, a sturdy chap,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Other, tall beside her,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">In a silver cap.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“As she moves—how funny!</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Yet it’s very plain—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Brighter grows her one eye</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And shorter grows her train.</span></p> + +<p>“Now, what’s the answer?” she cried.</p> + +<p>“That’s easy,” the Fool said promptly. “The answer is, of course, a +mushroom.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 46]</span></p> +<p>Amos laughed loudly at that; but kind little Ann was distressed to think +what a pitifully poor guess her host had made.</p> + +<p>“Oh, not a mushroom, Mr. Fool,” she said. “Don’t you see it has something +to do with sewing?”</p> + +<p>“Then of course it’s a mushroom,” the Fool said calmly. “Don’t I sow +mushrooms every year all over my backyard? Nobody can fool me,” he +finished with a chuckle, “about mushrooms.”</p> + +<p>And after that naturally there was nothing more to be said.</p> + +<p>The children were very reluctant to leave the April house; but J. M. +glanced at one of the many topsy-turvy clocks that hung from the ceiling +(of all places!), and reminded them that it was high time to be moving +on.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 47]</span></p> +<h2><a name="MAY" id="MAY"></a>MAY</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 48]</span></p> +<p> </p> +<h3><em>V</em></h3> + +<h3><em>MAY</em></h3> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 102px;"> +<img src="images/img48.png" width="102" height="100" alt="gemini" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Gemini</em></span> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 31%;"><em>A green-thatched cottage was May’s sweet home</em><br /> + <em>With velvet moss for a floor,</em><br /> + <em>And a clambering vine in the gay sunshine,</em><br /> + <em>And a Maypole set by the door.</em><br /> + <em>And May herself, with a dimple and curl,</em><br /> + <em>Dressed in a flouncy gown,</em><br /> + <em>Was filling baskets—the prettiest girl</em><br /> + <em>In all of Zodiac Town!</em></p> + +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 410px;"> +<img src="images/img49.png" width="410" height="500" alt="And May herself" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>And May herself, with a dimple and curl</em></span> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 51]</span></p> +<p>The Journeying Man swept off his green hat when he caught sight of May.</p> + +<p>“I knew you’d be here,” he said. “May I tell my two young companions how +the joyful animals welcomed you when you came?”</p> + +<p>May smiled at Amos and Ann. “How did you know?” she asked J. M.</p> + +<p>“I saw it all,” was the answer. “I was passing through the wood one day—”</p> + +<p>The Journeying Man was interrupted here by a clock striking ten, and so he +was obliged to dash into rhyme:—</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“One day the cheery wood-folk heard</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A robin tell another bird</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A piece of news, a joyful word</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Repeated often over.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘Oho,’ said they, ‘we’ll plan a way</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">To welcome back our pretty May.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">We’ll have a celebration day</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">To show her how we love her.’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Professor Bear should speak, they planned,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With Dr. Fox upon the stand;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The bird quintette from Mapleville</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> + <span class="poem1">Would sing its loveliest;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And Mr. Owl, the baritone,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Should give selections of his own;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And all the rabbit girls and boys</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Should wear their very best.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The day was fair with balmy air,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And banners waving everywhere;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The woolliest lamb, all curled and frilled,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Was sent to meet the guest;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And even little rats and things,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And creatures that had only wings,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Were given tiny parts to play,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And waited with the rest.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Then, tripping light and skipping light</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And laughing clear, a happy sight,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And flinging flowers left and right,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Came merry, merry May.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘Oh, welcome, welcome home!’ they cried;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The banners dipped on every side.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">She curtsied low, ‘Just think,’ she said,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘I have a month to stay!’”</span></p> + + +<p>May looked as pleased as Amos and Ann when the rhyme was finished.</p> + +<p>“It’s every word true,” she said. “And here’s<span class='pagenum'> +<a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> some more news that the +little bird told—if you’d like to hear it:—</p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“Miss Butterfly sent word one day to all the garden people</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">That she would give a social tea beneath the hollyhock.</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">A robin read the message from a slender pine-tree steeple—</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">A note that begged them sweetly to be there by six o’clock.</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">They came a-wing, they came a-foot, they came from flower and thicket;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Miss Hummingbird was present in a coat and bonnet gay,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">And portly Mr. Bumblebee and cheerful Mr. Cricket,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">And tiny Mrs. Ladybug in polka-dot array.</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">There were seats for four-and-twenty, and the guest of honor there</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Was a gray Granddaddy-long-legs in a little mushroom chair.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“The table was a toadstool with a spider-woven cover;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">The fare was served in rose-leaf plates and bluebell cups a-ring—</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Sweet honey from the latest bloom, and last night’s dew left over,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">And a crumb of mortal cake for which an ant went pilfering.</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">A mockingbird within the hedge sang loudly for their revel;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">A lily swayed above them, slow, to keep the moths away;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">So they laughed and buzzed and chattered till the shadows lengthened level,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">And Miss Katydid said sadly that she must no longer stay.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> + <span class="poem5">Then all arose and shook their wings, and curtsied, every one,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">‘Good-night, good-bye, Miss Butterfly, we never had such fun.’”</span></p> + +<p>Little Ann looked wistful when she heard all the butterfly tale.</p> + +<p>“I do wish I might go to a party like that,” she said.</p> + +<p>Amos reflected. “I don’t know but what I’d be afraid of stepping on the +guests,” he remarked.</p> + +<p>“That’s true,” Ann agreed. “Just think how it would seem to have Miss +Butterfly say to you, ‘Oh, you’ve crushed Mrs. Ant,’ or ‘Excuse me, but +you seem to be sitting on Colonel Grasshopper, Sir.’”</p> + +<p>“Tell you what <em>I</em> wish,” Amos went on. “I wish—Oh, there goes a clock—I +wish—I wish—</p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“I wish, when summer’s drawing near about the end of May,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">With bees and birds and other things, that teacher’d teach this way:</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“‘Bound Pine Wood north and south and east, and all the way around;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Tell where the sassafras bushes grow, and where wild flags are found;</span></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“‘How far from Huckleberry Hill to Sandy-Bottom Creek?</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">How many cherries at a time can a boy hold in his cheek?</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“‘Suppose three fish were in a pond, three fishers close at hand,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Each fisher with a hook and line—how many would they land?</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“‘What is the shortest cut to where the buttercups are yellow?</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">How many fortnights does it take to turn May apples mellow?</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“‘Two pickers in a berry patch—when they had picked all day,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">How many quarts, inside and out, would those two take away?</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“‘If twenty boys turned loose and ran from here in front of school,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">How many seconds would they take to reach the swimming-pool?’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“And then I wish the teacher’d say, ‘Well, if you can’t remember,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Go find the answers, <em>right away</em>, and tell me in September!’”</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JUNE" id="JUNE"></a>JUNE</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<h3><em>VI</em></h3> + +<h3><em>JUNE</em></h3> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 102px;"> +<img src="images/img58.png" width="102" height="100" alt="cancer" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Cancer</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 31%;"><em>The June house wasn’t a house at all,</em><br /> + <em>But a level and leafy place,</em><br /> + <em>Where a gypsy scamp had pitched his camp—</em><br /> + <em>A gypsy merry of face.</em><br /> + <em>He welcomed J. M. and Amos and Ann,</em><br /> + <em>And gave them some savory stew,</em><br /> + <em>Piping hot from a big black pot—</em><br /> + <em>And all of them ate it, too!</em></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 369px;"> +<img src="images/img59.png" width="369" height="500" alt="The June house" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>The June house wasn’t a house at all</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> +<p>It was so cool and delightful at the June house that at first the +travelers didn’t have much to say—they simply sat and rested and looked +around. But presently Ann began to feel lively again.</p> + +<p>“No clocks here, anyway!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>The gypsy rolled his black eyes. He had a clock, he said, but it ran too +fast. “In fact it ran down,” he added.</p> + +<p>“Where is it?” asked little Ann.</p> + +<p>“How can I tell?” returned the gypsy chap. “It ran down, you know—down +into the woods. And since it runs so fast, I didn’t even try to overtake +it.”</p> + +<p>“But a clock has no feet,” cried Amos.</p> + +<p>“It has hands, though,” retorted the gypsy. “Will you deny that?”</p> + +<p>Then he pointed his funny brown finger at Ann. “You can make a rhyme +without a clock striking, you know,” he said. “Make one, this minute, +Miss.”</p> + +<p>Ann was alarmed. “What shall I make it about?” she said in a flustered +voice.</p> + +<p>“Anything,” the gypsy answered. “Hats will do.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> +<p>“Hats?” echoed Ann. “However in the world can I make a poem about hats?”</p> + +<p>But all at once she did begin to make one; it ran along as smoothly as A B +C.</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“If hats were made of flowers,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">I think my party bonnet</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Would be a satin tulip</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With a touch of green upon it.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“I’d wear for fun and frolic</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A crinkled daffodil,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With a crown quite comfortable</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And a flaring yellow frill.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“I’d choose for church a beauty:</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The sweetest flower that grows</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Would be my Sunday bonnet—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A soft, pink, ruffled rose.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“A daisy crisp and snowy</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Would be the choice for school;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A fresh hat every morning,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With scallops starched and cool.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“For picnics and for rambles</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A polished buttercup.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">If hats were made of flowers,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">How people would dress up!”</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> +<p>Just as Ann said the last word of her poem, an inquisitive thousand-leg +worm scuttled along the ground about a yard away, and she almost turned a +summersault.</p> + +<p>“He wouldn’t think of hurting you,” said the gypsy chap. “Speaking of +hats, little Ann—did you ever hear the tale of the centipede lady and her +shoes?”</p> + +<p>Then he told it.</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Little Miss Centipede</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Went out to shop,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And at Shoofly & Company’s</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Made her first stop.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Mr. Shoofly came forward,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">All beaming and gay:</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘And what can I do for you,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Madam, to-day?’</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">He bowed and he beckoned;</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">He showed her a seat;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But the poor clerks turned pale</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">When she put out her feet.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘How many?’ they faltered.</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">‘As many as these,’</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">She replied very sweetly,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">‘And hurry up, please.’</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“So they hurried and scurried,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The ten Shoofly clerks,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">All hustling together</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And working like Turks.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">They cleared all the counters;</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">They emptied the shelves;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">They made, in their haste,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Perfect slaves of themselves.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">They laced and they buttoned,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">They pushed and they squeezed,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Miss Centipede watching,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Quite placid and pleased;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">They used a short ladder</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">To fit her top feet,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And never drew breath</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Till the job was complete.</span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 206px; margin-right: 100px;"> +<img src="images/img64.png" width="206" height="247" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> + + <p><span class="poem">“And here’s what they sold her—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Now count if you choose:</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A pair of cloth gaiters,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">A pair of tan shoes,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A pair of black pumps,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And a pair of tan ties,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Two pairs of galoshes</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And boots, ladies’ size;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Five pairs of silk slippers</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">For thin evening wear—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Rose, green, red, and buff,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And a rich purple pair;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And soft bedroom slippers</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Of crimson and gray;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And a pair of bootees,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">By red tassels made gay;</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“And five sets of sandals,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Two basket-ball shoes,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And two pairs for lounging—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Pale pinks and pale blues;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And six pairs for walking,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And six pairs for snow,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And six pairs to hunt in—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Though what, I don’t know;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And two pairs of goatskin,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And two pairs of duck,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And four pairs of kid—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And on all of them stuck</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The daintiest rubbers.</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Indeed, she looked sweet,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Miss Centipede did,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">As she tripped down the street!”</span></p> + +<p>By this time they had finished their stew. The Journeying Man rose and +picked up his staff. “That was good soup,” he said.</p> + +<p>The gypsy looked gratified. “Maybe,” he <span class='pagenum'> +<a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> answered, “it had some of +Contrary Mary’s truck in it, and maybe it didn’t. I’m not saying as to +that.”</p> + +<p>Amos and Ann were filled with curiosity. They wanted to know what +“Contrary Mary’s truck” might be.</p> + +<p>“You tell them,” the gypsy said to the Journeying Man. And J. M. did.</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“You ask why Mary was called contrary?</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Well, this is why, my dear:</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">She planted the most outlandish things</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">In her garden every year;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">She was always sowing the queerest seed,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And when advised to stop,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Her answer was merely, ‘No, indeed—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Just wait till you see the crop!’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“And here are some of the crops, my child</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">(Although not nearly all):</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Bananarcissus and cucumberries,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And violettuce small;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Potatomatoes, melonions rare,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And rhubarberries round,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With porcupineapples prickly-rough</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">On a little bush close to the ground.</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“She gathered the stuff in mid-July</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And sent it away to sell—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And now you’ll see how she earned her name,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And how she earned it well.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Were the crops hauled off in a farmer’s cart?</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">No, not by any means,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But in little June-buggies and automobeetles</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And dragonflying-machines!”</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JULY" id="JULY"></a>JULY</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<h3><em>VII</em></h3> + +<h3><em>JULY</em></h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 101px;"> +<img src="images/img70.png" width="101" height="100" alt="leo" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Leo</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 31%;"><em>The July house was an old, old house,</em><br /> + <em>With an old, old man inside,</em><br /> + <em>Who told them stories of other days,</em><br /> + <em>Stories of pluck and pride.</em><br /> + <em>His beard was long and his hair was white,</em><br /> + <em>But his keen eyes were not dim,</em><br /> + <em>As he told them things that old, old men</em><br /> + <em>Had long ago told him.</em></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;"> +<img src="images/img71.png" width="362" height="500" alt="The July house" title="" /> +</div> +<p><span style="margin-left: 13em;" class="caption2"><em>The July house was an old, old house,</em></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;" class="caption2"><em>With an old, old man inside</em></span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> +<p>At first Amos and Ann stood a little in awe of the old man in the July +house; but he looked so jolly and friendly, and J. M. seemed to know him +so well, that they were soon set at ease.</p> + +<p>Little Ann made bold to ask him a question. “Do you remember the American +Revolution?” she said.</p> + +<p>“My sakes alive, Ann!” cried Amos, a good deal embarrassed.</p> + +<p>But the old man did not seem at all offended. “Well,” he answered slowly, +“I can tell you this much about it:</p> + + <p><span class="poem3">“The little boys of ’76—</span><br /> + <span class="poem">They did their chores and swam and fished,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">And hunted hares and whittled sticks,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">While all the time they wished and wished</span><br /> + <span class="poem">To hear a sudden summons come,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">Each waiting day, each listening night:</span><br /> + <span class="poem">‘We need the boys for flag and drum,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">So send them to the fight!’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem3">“The little girls of ’76—</span><br /> + <span class="poem">They rocked their dollies to and fro,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">And taught the kittens pretty tricks,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">And heard their mothers talking low;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> + <span class="poem">Then climbed into the hayloft high,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">They peered through every glimmering crack,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">And longed to raise a joyful cry:</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">‘The men are marching back!’”</span></p> + +<p>Amos was inclined to think that maybe Ann’s question hadn’t been such a +foolish one, after all.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” he ventured, “you knew my great-great-great-grandfather. Can +you tell me anything about him, sir?”</p> + +<p>“I can tell you this,” the old man said:—</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Your great-great-great-grandfather</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Was a little chap like you,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">When suddenly one summer</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Bugles of battle blew,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And bells rang in the towers,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And flags at windows flew.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“He heard the tramp of horses</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And the fall of marching feet;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">He saw a dust on the hill road,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Regiments in the street,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">While men were thick in the highway</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And drums in the market beat.</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“He watched how the townsfolk hurried</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Eagerly to and fro;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">He heard the voice of his mother,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Quiet and brave and low;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And he saw his father shoulder</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">A queer old gun and go.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Your great-great-great-grandfather,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Sturdy and strong like you,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Glad of the blowing bugles,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Proud of the flags that flew,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Was glad and proud as you, lad—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Son of a soldier, too!”</span></p> + +<p>“Why, I <em>am</em> the son of a soldier!” Amos cried, delighted. “Though I don’t +know how you found it out, to be sure.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Amos,” the Journeying Man put in, “it’s only fair that you should +give us your poem about a band.”</p> + +<p>Amos turned red. “My poem about a band!” he echoed. “I don’t know any poem +about a band.”</p> + +<p>“One—two—three,” chimed an old grandfather clock on the stairs; and all +at once the little boy, much to his astonishment, began to recite. This is +what he recited:—</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“A band is such a brave, bright thing,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">With tassels tossed, and burnished brass,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And music quick and fluttering—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">I love to see one pass.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Sometimes it sounds for turning wheels,—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">A circus coming into town,—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And then the tune gets in my heels</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And shakes them up and down.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Sometimes it sounds for marching men,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">With cry of bugles in the street,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And fair flags blowing free—and then</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">I cannot hold my feet.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“I follow, follow on and on;</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">I let it lead me where it will;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And when the last clear notes are gone,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Somehow I hear them still.”</span></p> + +<p>The old man was plainly pleased with the verses; he told Amos that little +boys had always felt that way about bands, and probably always would.</p> + +<p>“Wait a moment,” he said, as the Journeying Man made the move to go. “Did +the June fellow tell them the story of Contrary Mary?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> +<p>“Yes, he did,” the children answered in duet. “And oh, wasn’t she curious, +sure enough?”</p> + +<p>“Well, she had a right to be queer,” the old man said meditatively. “She +inherited queerness. Fact of the matter is, her family name was Queeribus. +Let me tell you about <em>her</em> great-great-great-grandfather!</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Old Quin Queeribus—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">He loved his garden so,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">He wouldn’t have a rake around,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">A shovel or a hoe.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“For each potato’s eyes he bought</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Fine spectacles of gold,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And mufflers for the corn, to keep</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Its ears from getting cold.</span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 160px; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 80px;"> +<img src="images/img77.png" width="160" height="188" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> + + <p><span class="poem">“On every head of lettuce green—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">What do you think of that?—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And every head of cabbage, too,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">He tied a garden hat.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Old Quin Queeribus—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">He loved his garden so,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">He couldn’t eat his growing things,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">He only let them grow!”</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="AUGUST" id="AUGUST"></a>AUGUST</h2> +<p> </p> + +<h3><em>VIII</em></h3> + +<h3><em>AUGUST</em></h3> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 101px;"> +<img src="images/img80.png" width="101" height="100" alt="virgo" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Virgo</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 31%;"><em>Oh, such a funny August house—</em><br /> + <em>It really was like a zoo,</em><br /> + <em>For animals roamed in all the rooms</em><br /> + <em>(Even a kangaroo);</em><br /> + <em>Such sociable, smiling, friendly beasts!</em><br /> + <em>As soon as the travelers came,</em><br /> + <em>They hurried out with extended paws,</em><br /> + <em>Announcing, each, his name.</em></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 389px;"> +<img src="images/img81.png" width="389" height="500" alt="a funny August house" title="" /> +</div> +<p><span style="margin-left: 13em;" class="caption2"><em>Oh, such a funny August house—</em></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;" class="caption2"><em>It really was like a zoo</em></span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> +<p>“Why, how in the world did they learn to talk?” the young visitors cried. +“Did they go to school, J. M.?”</p> + +<p>By that time the various animals, having performed their duties as hosts, +had scampered off to play again, and so they were out of hearing.</p> + +<p>“Did they go to school?” the children repeated.</p> + +<p>The Journeying Man shook his head and made answer:—</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The birds and beasts don’t go to school;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">I guess ’t would make them mad to;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">They wouldn’t pass an hour in class.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But just suppose they had to!</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">How funny it would be to see</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The desks all full of scholars,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With fins and claws and hoofs and paws,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Skin coats and brown fur collars!</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“How strange ’t would seem to happen by</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And hear the teacher saying,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘The kitty-cat geography</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Must be kept in from playing;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And once again I tell you plain</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">That I shall give a rapping</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">To the very next first-reader owl</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">That I discover napping.’</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The crabs would write in copy-books,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Such crawly, scrawly letters;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The bees would have a spelling-bee</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And buzz among their betters;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And monkeys chatter French and squeak</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">In Greek the live-long day,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">To scare the class of infant lambs,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Who only know B-A.</span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 154px; margin-left: 20px;"> +<img src="images/img84.png" width="154" height="210" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> + + <p><span class="poem6">“They’d send giraffes up to the board</span><br /> + <span class="poem7">To figure slowly, each,</span><br /> + <span class="poem7">Problems in higher branches</span><br /> + <span class="poem7">That they could never reach.</span><br /> + <span class="poem7">And here and there and everywhere,</span><br /> + <span class="poem7">No matter who played fool,</span><br /> + <span class="poem7">They’d straightway clap a paper cap</span><br /> + <span class="poem7">Upon the youngest mule.</span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 172px; margin-top: -2em; margin-right: 60px;"> +<img src="images/img84a.png" width="172" height="209" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> + + <p><span class="poem6">“A looker-on might feel, perhaps,</span><br /> + <span class="poem7">A little consternation,</span><br /> + <span class="poem7">To see the bear philosophy</span><br /> + <span class="poem7">Arise for recitation;</span><br /> + <span class="poem7">And pupils all, and teacher, too,</span><br /> + <span class="poem8">Would pale a bit, perchance,</span><br /> + <span class="poem8">When the elephants came up to do</span><br /> + <span class="poem8">Their calisthenics dance!”</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +<p>“But,” Amos persisted, “if they don’t go to school, then how on earth did +they learn how to talk?”</p> + +<p>“I taught them, to be sure,” said a hoarse voice overhead.</p> + +<p>The children looked up, startled, and were astonished to see that the +voice came, apparently, from a long-tailed green parrot, with a hooked +beak and round, solemn eyes.</p> + +<p>“They come from all parts of the world,” the parrot resumed, “for me to +teach them. Of course, you needn’t call it a school if you don’t want to.”</p> + +<p>He whistled shrilly, and the birds and beasts came scampering back and +stood round in a respectful circle. The children tried to talk to them, +but they looked bashful and would not say a word.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps they’d like to hear some rhymes,” J. M. suggested. “Go ahead, +Amos and Ann.”</p> + +<p>“My <em>stars</em>!” said Ann, and Amos added: “How in the world can I start off +quite suddenly—”</p> + +<p>Just then a cuckoo rushed out from a clock somewhere and cuckooed eleven +times, and the twelfth time Amos said:—</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Quite suddenly, a speckled trout</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Down in the swift, clear river</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Began to bustle all about,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">His fishy chin a-quiver.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“He raised so big a foam and fuss</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The fishes all assembled.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Why, at a hippopotamus</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">He’d scarcely so have trembled!</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“‘What ails you?’ asked a brother trout.</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">‘What’s wrong?’ inquired a minnow.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘Alas! We’re all invited out,’</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">He shivered, ‘to a dinner!’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“They cried, ‘Why, that’s a jolly plan!</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Who asked us out to dine?’</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">‘Oh!’ sobbed the trout, ‘a fisherman,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">He just dropped me a line!’”</span></p> + +<p>When the poem was finished, the parrot cried, “Hear! Hear!” and clapped +his wings excitedly, and a little raccoon laughed so loud that he had to +be sent away in disgrace.</p> + +<p>“Now, Ann,” said J. M., “give us a poem about your cat.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> +<p>“Not a wild cat, I hope,” put in the parrot hastily. “That kind of a cat +has such bad manners—far, far worse than the raccoon’s—that it is not +allowed round here at all. If it’s a polite kind of a cat, go on, Miss; +not otherwise.”</p> + +<p>Little Ann was very red in the face. “But I can’t go on,” she said. She +intended to say also, “There’s nothing to go on with,” but just as she +said “There’s,” a little nickel clock called five very clearly, and she +remarked, instead:—</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“There’s the snow-white cat, the pearl-gray cat,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The brindle and the brown,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The cat with stripes around himself,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The cat striped up and down,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The plaid cat and the buff cat,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The tan, the tortoise-shell,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The bluish sort, the reddish sort—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">More tints than I can tell.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But the finest of the whole fine lot</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">(There’s no disputing that)</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Is the jet-black chap with one white spot—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And that’s our kind of cat.</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The tiny cat is cunning,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The long, lean cat is fleet,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The nimble one is made for fun,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The fluff-ball one is sweet,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The Persian pussy’s splendid,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The Maltese kitty, too,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But the special kind I have in mind</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Is best of all the crew.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">He’s not too quick and frisky,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Nor is he slow and fat;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">He’s soft and warm and fits my arm,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And he’s our kind of cat!”</span></p> + +<p>Ann’s recitation was well received. The parrot said he was very familiar +with the kitty kind of cat—in fact, had instructed a good many of them.</p> + +<p>Amos remarked that, with so many beasts coming to learn, the place would +soon be filled to overflowing.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” said the parrot. “The same train that brings in a crowd takes a +crowd away.”</p> + +<p>“<em>Train?</em>” Amos repeated, his eyes round with curiosity.</p> + +<p>“To be sure—train,” the parrot answered. “You don’t mean to tell me you +never heard of the Wild Beast Limited?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +<p>Then he preened his feathers with pride and chanted the song of the Wild +Beast Limited.</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The Wild Beast Limited pulls out</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">With bustle and with fuss.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">It’s hard to seat the porcupine</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And hippopotamus.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The ants demand a special coach</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">If one ant-eater goes;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The dormouse wants a sleeping car;</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The chickens shun the crows;</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The camel will not stir a peg</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Until his fill he’s drunk;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The elephant is loud and cross</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Until he checks his trunk;</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The tortoise always comes too late;</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The hare a day ahead.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">I’d hate to be the engineer</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Of the Wild Beast Limited.”</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SEPTEMBER" id="SEPTEMBER"></a>SEPTEMBER</h2> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<h3><em>IX</em></h3> + +<h3><em>SEPTEMBER</em></h3> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 101px;"> +<img src="images/img92.png" width="101" height="100" alt="libra" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Libra</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 31%;"><em>Very familiar September seemed:</em><br /> + <em>A flag-pole stood in the yard,</em><br /> + <em>And the little path that led from the road</em><br /> + <em>Was trampled bare and hard.</em><br /> + <em>A bell hung high in the little tower,</em><br /> + <em>And when the door swung wide</em><br /> + <em>They saw a young woman with pen in hand,</em><br /> + <em>Writing away inside.</em></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 376px;"> +<img src="images/img93.png" width="376" height="500" alt="September house" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Very familiar September seemed</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> +<p>The young woman rose and came smilingly to the door. A clock somewhere +inside struck nine, with quick, sharp strokes.</p> + +<p>It sounded so familiar, somehow, that the children cried in alarm, “Oh, +it’s time for school!”</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 180px;"> +<img src="images/img95.png" width="180" height="179" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>“Not quite, for you scholars,” the teacher said. “But folks and things in +there”—she nodded toward the schoolroom—“are ready and waiting.”</p> + +<p>Amos and Ann peered past her through the door, but they could see nothing +except desks and seats.</p> + +<p>“I suppose Columbus has sailed, by this time,” remarked the Journeying +Man.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” the young woman replied. “Furthermore, the Mississippi is +flowing into the Gulf of Mexico as hard as it can, and rice is growing in +Japan.”</p> + +<p>The children understood, now, and they were both laughing. “Are the +prepositions and adverbs in their places?” they asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> +<p>“Multiplication tables set, I suppose?” said J. M.</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” the teacher answered. “And the tables of weights and +measures, too. And many things are here in addition.”</p> + +<p>“How,” asked little Ann, “do the children in Zodiac Town know when it’s +time for school to open?”</p> + +<p>“Just the way the children in any other town know,” the teacher replied.</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“When bees and birds and butterflies</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Have grown a little lazy;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">When flowers are rare, with here and there</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">A late rose or a daisy;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">When streams are slow, and water’s low</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Down in the swimming-pool,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And grass burns brown along the lane,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And goldenrod is bright again—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">There’s something tells you just as plain,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">‘Time for school!’</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“When apples in the orchard lot</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">And pears come thumping, falling;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">When sweet and clear, far off and near,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">The bobwhite’s voice is calling;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">When crickets trill out on the hill,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> + <span class="poem3">And dusk comes quick and cool;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">When all at once, in midst of play,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">You can’t remember what’s the way</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">To multiply—you stop and say,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">‘Time for school!’”</span></p> + +<p>A clock boomed ten with a familiar sound, and Ann and Amos jumped.</p> + +<p>“I almost thought we were an hour late for school,” Ann said.</p> + +<p>“September’s a rather funny month,” Amos remarked. “It ends so many things +and it begins so many things.”</p> + +<p>“I like to come home at the end of summer,” little Ann said. Then, without +waiting at all for a clock to strike she swung into a poem:—</p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“When we travel back in summer to the old house by the sea,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Where long ago my mother lived, a little girl like me,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">I have the strangest notion that she still is waiting there,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">A small child in a pinafore with ribbon on her hair.</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">I hear her in the garden when I go to pick a rose;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">She follows me along the path on dancing tipsy-toes;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">I hear her in the hayloft when the hay is slippery-sweet—</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> + <span class="poem5">A rustle and a scurry and a sound of scampering feet;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Yet though I sit as still as still, she never comes to me,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">The funny little laughing girl my mother used to be.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem4">“Sometimes I nearly catch her as she dodges here and there,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Her white dress flutters round a tree and flashes up a stair;</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Sometimes I almost put my hand upon her apron strings—</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">Then, just before my fingers close, she’s gone again like wings.</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">A sudden laugh, a scrap of song, a footfall on the lawn,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">And yet, no matter how I run, forever up and gone!</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">A fairy or a firefly could hardly flit so fast.</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">When we come home in summer, I have given up at last.</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">I lay my cheek on mother’s. If there’s only one for me,</span><br /> + <span class="poem5">I’d rather have her, anyway, than the girl she used to be!”</span></p> + +<p>“That’s pretty good,” said Amos critically. “I like—”</p> + +<p>Before he could go on, a little crystal clock struck four. So Amos had to +fall a-rhyming again. He stood on his head and illustrated the last two +lines of the rhyme.</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“I like to have vacation,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">I like to camp and roam;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But mostly, in a curious way,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">I like the coming home.</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Our old house looks so solid,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">So settled and arranged;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The front gate creaks the same old creak,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The chimneys haven’t changed.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Those weeks of sea and mountain</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Had many valued points;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But oh, this loosening of my bones,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">This limbering of my joints!</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Our old dog comes to meet me</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">With something of a smile—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">I wheel right over on my head</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And wave my legs a while.”</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="OCTOBER" id="OCTOBER"></a>OCTOBER</h2> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<h3><em>X</em></h3> + +<h3><em>OCTOBER</em></h3> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 103px;"> +<img src="images/img102.png" width="103" height="100" alt="scorpio" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Scorpio</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 31%;"><em>It was a queer October place—</em><br /> + <em>No house, you’d say, at all!</em><br /> + <em>A wide brown wood with leaves for a floor,</em><br /> + <em>And timbers straight and tall.</em><br /> + <em>The little creatures that lived in there—</em><br /> + <em>Fairies and furry things—</em><br /> + <em>Scurried away when the children came,</em><br /> + <em>With bashful scamperings.</em></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 378px;"> +<img src="images/img103.png" width="378" height="500" alt="October place" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>It was a queer October place</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> +<p>As the travelers entered the woods, they heard funny little clicking +sounds everywhere.</p> + +<p>“It’s the sound a watch makes when you shut it,” Ann said.</p> + +<p>“Maybe they have watches here instead of clocks,” remarked Amos.</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” said a voice behind them. The voice came from a fat Brownie, +who was sitting on a stone with his legs dangling. “They have clocks +everywhere in Zodiac Town,” the Brownie resumed, “even out here in the +suburbs. That noise is the Chestnut Chaps unbuckling their belts and +throwing off their overcoats.”</p> + +<p>The children looked as if they did not know whether he was serious or +joking.</p> + +<p>“It’s the honest truth,” said the Brownie. “Listen.</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Every little wing of wind,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Every tilt of breeze,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">Stirs a sound of frolicking</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">In the tallest trees:</span><br /> + <span class="poem">Scuffling, shuffling, shouldering,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Nudges, nips, and taps,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">Watch and wait a moment, child—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">It’s the Chestnut Chaps!</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Elbow crowding elbow hard</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">In their breeches brown,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">If one comrade takes a leap,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Ten come bouncing down;</span><br /> + <span class="poem">When the crackle of a leaf</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Shakes one lad to laughter,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">Till he tumbles from his perch,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Twenty tumble after.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Frisky with the silver frost,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Wild with windy weather,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">Half the autumn-tide they spend</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Giggling all together.</span><br /> + <span class="poem">Rough of coat but sweet of heart,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Jolly, glad—perhaps</span><br /> + <span class="poem">Never finer fellows lived</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Than the Chestnut Chaps!”</span></p> + +<p>As he finished, there came a series of clicks overhead, and seven Chestnut +Chaps landed suddenly at the travelers’ very feet. As they fell, two gray +squirrels darted out to the end of a limb, their tails jerking with +excitement; but the Brownie waved them back.</p> + +<p>“In this wood,” he said, “squirrels are not allowed to feed on chestnuts.” +He turned to the squirrels,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> who were scowling at him from a high branch. +“And you know that very well,” he added.</p> + +<p>The squirrels merely looked sulky, and so the Brownie addressed himself to +Amos. “What,” he asked, “is your candid opinion about the wood-folk, +anyway?”</p> + +<p>“The wood-folk?” Amos said. He had not known that he had any opinion about +the wood-folk, but just then a clock struck four, and suddenly he formed +an opinion on the spot.</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The wood-folk scamper to and fro;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">They have no tasks to do.</span><br /> + <span class="poem">It’s here and there and high and low</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">For them, the whole day through;</span><br /> + <span class="poem">Up to the tops of highest trees,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">In holes and caves, and where they please.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“They have no clothes to guard with care,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">No shoes upon their feet,—</span><br /> + <span class="poem">For fur and feathers never tear,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And claws are always neat,—</span><br /> + <span class="poem">No hooks to hook, no strings to tie.</span><br /> + <span class="poem">Small wonder that they skip and fly!</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The wood-folk frolic everywhere,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With all the sky o’erhead,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">A swaying bough for rocking-chair,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A hollow trunk for bed.</span><br /> + <span class="poem">And yet, for all this woodland joy,</span><br /> + <span class="poem">Who would not rather be a boy?”</span></p> + +<p>“Well, everyone to his taste,” remarked an odd-looking elf, who appeared +suddenly from nowhere in particular. “For my part, I prefer to be just +exactly what I am. Once a witch changed me into a boy for ten minutes, and +I give you my word I never was so uncomfortable in my life.”</p> + +<p>“Are witches <em>here</em>?” cried Ann, as she fixed her big eyes on the elf.</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said the elf and the Brownie briskly, in one breath. “Don’t +you have witches up your way?”</p> + +<p>“Only at Hallowe’en,” Amos told them.</p> + +<p>The elf looked thoughtful. “Oh, at Hallowe’en,” he said. Then his eyes +began to twinkle, and he spoke as follows:—</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Suppose this year at Hallowe’en, without a bit of warning,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The roly-poly pumpkin heads we cut and carved that morning</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Should grow slim bodies, legs, and feet,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">And quick, from post and steeple,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Come skipping ’mongst us, pert and fleet,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Real, frisky pumpkin people!</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Suppose that you and I had just completed one that minute,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">As day grew late, down by the gate, and set a candle in it,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">So that its eyes were deep and wide,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Its mouth a grinning yellow,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Then turn to find him at our side,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">A living pumpkin fellow?</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Suppose we ran with twinkling heels and met a throng advancing,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Their teeth a-row, their eyes aglow, all whirling, pranking, prancing;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Suppose they twirled us merrily,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">The whole dark landscape lighting—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">This Hallowe’en, I think, would be</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">A little too exciting!”</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="NOVEMBER" id="NOVEMBER"></a>NOVEMBER</h2> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<h3><em>XI</em></h3> + +<h3><em>NOVEMBER</em></h3> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 102px;"> +<img src="images/img112.png" width="102" height="100" alt="Sagittarius" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Sagittarius</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 31%;"><em>The next house stood just back from the street,</em><br /> + <em>In a gray little narrow lane.</em><br /> + <em>A table loaded with things to eat</em><br /> + <em>They saw through the window-pane.</em><br /> + <em>A cozy old lady came out to the door</em><br /> + <em>And said, “There is turkey in here,</em><br /> + <em>Potatoes and rice, and cake with spice,</em><br /> + <em>And no one to dine, oh, dear!”</em></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 374px;"> +<img src="images/img113.png" width="374" height="500" alt="The next house" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>The next house stood just back from the street</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> +<p>Amos and Ann looked at the Journeying Man. “It must be very hard on her, +J. M.,” they said.</p> + +<p>“What’s hard on her?” returned J. M. “Having turkey and potatoes and all +that?”</p> + +<p>Amos and Ann turned red. “Having no one to eat them,” they said in a low +voice.</p> + +<p>It had been some hours since they left the gypsy camp, and they were +beginning to be very hungry indeed.</p> + +<p>The little old lady stood at the door and waited.</p> + +<p>“We might help her out if there’s time,” J. M. said suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Oho!” cried Amos. “There’s plenty of that, you know, in Zodiac Town!”</p> + +<p>Two minutes later they were seated round the table.</p> + +<p>“It’s like Thanksgiving,” Ann said in delight.</p> + +<p>“Just think—” J. M. replied—</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Just think, the little Pilgrim boys</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">That came ashore, you know,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">From off the good Mayflower ship</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">That wild day long ago,</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“They had no roasted turkey-breast</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">For dinner; not a scrap</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Of gravy, stuffing, and the rest</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Saw any hungry chap.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“No apple sauce, no pumpkin pies,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">No nuts and raisins plump,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">No oranges and gingersnaps,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">No taffy in a lump.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“I’m glad that things are different now—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">’T would give me quite a shock</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">To see our dinner-table look</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">As bare as Plymouth Rock.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“And yet, those little Mayflower lads</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Were thankful to be living—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A splendid reason, after all,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">For anyone’s thanksgiving!”</span></p> + +<p>“I think I’m thankfulest of all,” Ann said—and a little clock tinkled and +sent her into rhyming.</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“I think I’m thankfulest of all</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">For that old house of ours;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The maple by the garden wall,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">The borders full of flowers;</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The front doorsill that’s hollowed out</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">By many passing feet;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The different pictures hung about,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">With faces kind and sweet.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The firewood’s flame is red and gold</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And makes a spicy smell;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">There’s nothing half so clear and cold</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">As water from our well;</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“And through the window, sleepy nights,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Just at the stairway’s head,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A white star like a candle lights</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Me safely up to bed.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“So brightly all my blessings shine</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">That many thanks I give—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">But mostly for that home of mine</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Where I was put to live.”</span></p> + +<p>The old lady was delighted with all this rhyming, and on the spur of the +moment she made up a very good rhyme of her own. Amos and Ann thought it +was the best of all that they had heard that day—and goodness knows they +had heard a great many!</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Suppose you lived in a gingerbread house,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">With a roof of jujube paste,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And sugar shutters, and peppermint pipes,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And doors that you could taste;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">In a land where weather could do no harm,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Absurd as that may seem,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">With chocolate ground and lemonade rain</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And plenty of snow ice-cream?</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Plenty of snow ice-cream for you,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And a soda-water pump,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And a little garden where gumdrops grew,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And taffy all in a lump.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Taffy all in a lump, hurrah!</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And tarts and cookies and all.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">If ever you move to a house like that,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">I’ll make an early call!”</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DECEMBER" id="DECEMBER"></a>DECEMBER</h2> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<h3><em>XII</em></h3> + +<h3><em>DECEMBER</em></h3> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 97px;"> +<img src="images/img120.png" width="97" height="100" alt="Capricornus" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>Capricornus</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 27%;"><em>The house of December was all aglow,</em><br /> + <em>Each room was jolly and red;</em><br /> + <em>There were bulgy stockings ranged in a row,</em><br /> + <em>And holly hung overhead.</em><br /> + <em>A silver star hung fair and far,</em><br /> + <em>A silver bell rang clear;</em><br /> + <em>And some Christmas children came out and cried,</em><br /> + <em>“Come in to the Christmas Cheer!”</em></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"> +<img src="images/img121.png" width="386" height="500" alt="house of December" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><em>The house of December was all aglow</em></span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> +<p>The children had a glorious time at the December house. There was a +beautiful tree there, all lighted and ready.</p> + +<p>“But we can’t take the things off, you know,” one Christmas child told +Amos and Ann, “until somebody says a rhyme.”</p> + +<p>A clock chimed two a minute later, and caught Amos in the middle of a +sentence, at the words, “it was.” So he went on and said:—</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“It was crammed and laden and bent with fruit,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">The tree that bore in a night;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Rich with treasure from tip to root,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">A very goodly sight.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Dim in the parlor’s gloom it showed,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">When a tiny gleam at the window glowed;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">When over the hills a rooster crowed,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">It thrilled through all its height.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“A rubber doll on a distant limb</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Stretched with a sleepy word;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A little lead soldier answered him,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">And a big stuffed elephant stirred.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A quiver flickered the pop-corn strings,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Fluttered the tinsel angel’s wings,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Tinkled the silver balls and things,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Till all of the company heard.</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“A jack-in-the-box with a frisky eye</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Suddenly jumped his lid,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And a white-rag rabbit that hung close by</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Squeaked with fright when he did;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A dog from London began to bark;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The animals in the Noah’s ark</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Struggled and scuffled in the dark,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Back in the branches hid.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“The large French doll (she was very vain)</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Settled her silk and lace;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The rocking horse of the tawny mane</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Struck up a gentle pace;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And hither and thither the boughs among,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Sampling the goodies, tooth and tongue,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">A mechanical monkey slid and swung</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">With agile monkey grace.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“All was still when the children came</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">With candle-stars adorning;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Somebody heard and hissed a name,</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Whispered a sudden warning.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Now don’t get curious, people, please.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">It’s generally known that things like these</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Only happen to Christmas trees</span><br /> + <span class="poem3">Quite early Christmas morning.”</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> +<p>“I like that poem, Amos,” said Ann, “though I must say I don’t know how +you found out all that.” Then she asked the little Christmas girl to +repeat a poem.</p> + +<p>“I know one about a different kind of Christmas tree,” the little girl +said.</p> + +<p>“Not a prettier tree than this one here in the room—surely!” cried Amos +and Ann.</p> + +<p>The Christmas child reflected. “Yes,” she said, “prettier, in a way, than +this—because it was such a surprise. Listen.”</p> + +<p>Then she told them about it.</p> + + <p><span class="poem">“A little bird told a squirrel,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And a squirrel told a jay,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">That a poor child lived in a city</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Not very far away,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Who never at any Christmas</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Had a Christmas tree in her home;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And the jay bird told a rabbit next,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And the rabbit told a gnome.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">The gnome blew thrice on his fingers</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">For half a dozen elves,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And he told them the sorrowful rumor,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And he said, ‘Now stir yourselves!’</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Then Tip and Twinkle and Tony</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And Pete and Chipper and Chase</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Hurried and scurried the whole day through,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Till they’d put the tree in place.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">They trimmed it with moss and holly,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And odd little colored stones,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And seeds and chestnuts and apples,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And feathers and leaves and cones.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And icicles hung upon it,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And crystals of snow gleamed white;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And soon as the sun rose on it,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">It sparkled and flamed with light.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Then two birds perched in the tree top,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And half a dozen elves</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Climbed gayly into the branches</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And safely hid themselves.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“And the little girl came to the window,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And wide her shutters flew.</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">She cried, ‘I dreamed of a Christmas tree,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">And here is my dream come true!’”</span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 119px;"> +<img src="images/img127.png" width="119" height="206" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Then the presents were taken from the Christmas tree and given round among +the little girls and boys who were present.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 180px;"> +<img src="images/img128.png" width="180" height="242" alt="image" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Just as the last gift was handed down, the last candles went suddenly out, +and, at the same time, clocks began to strike all over the house.</p> + +<p>The Journeying Man picked up his stick. “Time to go to bed!” he cried.</p> + +<p>Amos and Ann were astonished. “To bed?” they repeated, unbelieving. “To +bed, in Zodiac Town?”</p> + +<p>“No, in your own home,” replied J. M. “Come along, Amos and Ann!”</p> + +<p>And when they still held back, he gave them a funny little scolding all in +rhyme, which pleased them so that they followed him out into the dusk with +never a word!</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> + <p><span class="poem">“It’s strange how things can differ so!</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Now, take two kinds of fruit—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Banana chap and Orange—</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And watch each doff his suit.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Banana’s swift and nimble,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">His way is safe and slick;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">He gets out of his trouser-leg</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">With a wiggle and a kick.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“But Orange makes a big to-do;</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Indeed, it is distressing</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">To happen by quite suddenly</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And see that lad undressing.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“He clings to every single rag</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">With obstinacy and vim;</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">It takes ten fingers and a will</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">To part his clothes from him.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“And when he feels the poor clothes go,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">All raggedy and mussy,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">He sheds an acid tear or two,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">And keeps on being fussy.</span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“It’s strange how things can differ so!</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">To be quite frank and truthful,</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">It isn’t only things, you know,</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">But people, chiefly youthful,</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + + <p><span class="poem">“Who show these different traits and tricks</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">When bedtime hour comes duly—</span><br /> + <span class="poem1">Banana-kind and Orange-kind;</span><br /> + <span class="poem2">Now which kind are you, truly?”</span></p> + +<p>“Banana-kind!” cried Amos and Ann, as well as they could for laughter.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be <em>too</em> quick. Don’t be Grape-kind,” said the Journeying Man.</p> + +<p>“Grape-kind?” they echoed.</p> + +<p>“And jump out of your skins,” said J. M.</p> + +<p>At that Amos and Ann laughed so hard that they had to sit down on the +ground. But all at once a clock began to strike fast and furiously. It had +struck a hundred before the children could scramble to their feet.</p> + +<p>“Oh, how late it is!” they cried. “Take us home, J. M.!”</p> + + <p style="margin-left: 10em">It surely was late when they started home,<br /> + But they took the trail with a laugh,<br /> + Little Ann clinging to Amos’s coat,<br /> + And Amos to J. M.’s staff.<br /> + And through the meadows and over the hills,<br /> + Happily up and down,</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + + <p style="margin-left: 10em">With hurry and scurry and skip and hop,<br /> + And talking in verse the live-long time,<br /> + (For they’d got in the habit and couldn’t stop,)<br /> + They traveled the scallopy road of Rhyme,<br /> + The wandering road of much renown<br /> + That leads from Zodiac Town.</p> + + <p style="margin-left: 10em">They traveled on till they came in sight<br /> + Of a couple of windows shining bright.<br /> + Then J. M. stopped and held up his stick.<br /> + “Yonder’s your house,” he said. “Be quick!<br /> + I’ll count very slowly, but you must be<br /> + As far as the gate by twenty-three;<br /> + And when I have counted twenty-four<br /> + You must be inside the door.”</p> + + <p style="margin-left: 10em">“Come with us, do!” the children cried,<br /> + But he only shook his head.<br /> + “I can’t, for I am a Journeying Man,<br /> + And I must be off,” he said.</p> + + <p style="margin-left: 10em">Then he started to count—and away at last<br /> + They went on twinkling feet;<br /> + Never did squirrels move more fast,<br /> + Or rabbits run more fleet.<br /> + And just as they touched the latch of the gate,<br /> + They heard, far down in the hush,<br /> + “Twenty-three!” as plain as could be;<br /> + And they scurried through with a rush.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + + <p style="margin-left: 10em">There on the porch, its covers bent,<br /> + The book with the poem lay.<br /> + They picked it up as they fled through the door<br /> + (Just as the voice called, “Twenty-four!”).<br /> + “Why, <em>this</em> wasn’t hard!” said they.<br /> + They stared at the poem and hung their heads—<br /> + “Why did we run away?”<br /> + They said to each other, “It seems sometimes<br /> + There really is lots of good in rhymes.”</p> + + <p style="margin-left: 10em">“Perhaps it would be a very good plan<br /> + To study them more,” said wise little Ann.</p> + + <p style="margin-left: 10em">And Amos answered: “I’m going to know<br /> + Whole pages up and down,<br /> + Then find J. M., in a hurry, and go<br /> + Straight back to Zodiac Town.”</p> + + <p style="margin-left: 10em">They fled upstairs like swift little hares,<br /> + And burrowed into their beds,<br /> + With numberless tunes and rhythms and runes<br /> + A-ringing in their heads.<br /> + And they dreamed all night of a scallopy road<br /> + And of clocks with a curious chime,<br /> + And talked in their sleep—and every word<br /> + Was a rhyme, a rhyme, a rhyme!</p> + +<hr style="width: 95%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">McGRATH-SHERRILL PRESS<br /> +BOSTON, MASS.</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Zodiac Town, by Nancy Byrd Turner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZODIAC TOWN *** + +***** This file should be named 24011-h.htm or 24011-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/0/1/24011/ + +Produced by Colin Bell, Joseph Cooper, Anne Storer and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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