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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..755cda9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51734 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51734) diff --git a/old/51734-0.txt b/old/51734-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 54a4bdc..0000000 --- a/old/51734-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8426 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Topaz Story Book, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Topaz Story Book - Stories and Legends of Autumn, Hallowe'en, and Thanksgiving - -Author: Various - -Illustrator: Maxfield Parrish - -Release Date: April 11, 2016 [EBook #51734] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TOPAZ STORY BOOK *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Paul Marshall and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - Transcriber's Note: - Underscores “_before and after_” a word or phrase indicate _italics_ - in the original text. - Equal signs “=” before and after a word or phrase indicate =bold= - in the original text. - The carat symbol “^” is used to designate a superscripted character. - Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals. - Old or antiquated spellings have been preserved. - Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other - variations in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered. - The unnumbered footnote in THE TWO ALMS has been moved from the - bottom of the page to just below the title. - - - - - THE TOPAZ STORY BOOK - - _Stories and Legends of_ - _Autumn, Hallowe’en, and Thanksgiving_ - - COMPILED BY - ADA M. SKINNER - AND - ELEANOR L. SKINNER - - _Editors of “The Emerald Story Book” “Merry Tales”_ - _“Nursery Tales from Many Lands”_ - - FRONTISPIECE BY - MAXFIELD PARRISH - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - DUFFIELD & COMPANY - 1928 - - Copyright, 1917, by - DUFFIELD & CO. - Fifth Edition, 1928 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -Nature stories, legends, and poems appeal to the young reader’s -interest in various ways. Some of them suggest or reveal certain -facts which stimulate a spirit of investigation and attract the -child’s attention to the beauty and mystery of the world. Others -serve an excellent purpose by quickening his sense of humour. - -Seedtime and harvest have always been seasons of absorbing interest -and have furnished the story-teller with rich themes. The selections -in “The Emerald Story Book” emphasize the hope and premise of -the spring; the stories, legends, and poems in this volume, “The -Topaz Story Book,” express the joy and blessing which attend the -harvest-time when the fields are rich in golden grain and the orchard -boughs bend low with mellow fruit. “The year’s work is done. She -walks in gorgeous apparel, looking upon her long labour and her -serene eye saith, ‘It is good.’” - -The editors’ thanks are due to the following authors and publishers -for the use of valuable material in this book: - -To Dr. Carl S. Patton of the First Congregational Church, Columbus, -Ohio, for permission to include his story, “The Pretending -Woodchuck”; to Frances Jenkins Olcott for “The Green Corn Dance,” -retold from “The Journal of American Folk-Lore,” published by -Houghton, Mifflin Company; to Ernest Thompson Seton and the Century -Company for “How the Chestnut Burrs Became”; to Dr. J. Dynelly Prince -for permission to retell the legend of “Nipon” from “Kuloskap the -Master”; to Thomas Nelson and Sons for “Weeds,” by Carl Ewald; to -William Herbert Carruth for the selection from “Each In His Own -Tongue”; to Josephine K. Dodge for two poems by Mary Mapes Dodge; to -A. Flanagan Company for “Golden-rod and Purple Aster,” from “Nature -Myths and Stories,” by Flora J. Cooke; to J. B. Lippincott Company -for “The Willow and the Bamboo,” from “Myths and Legends of the -Flowers and Trees,” by Chas. M. Skinner; to Bobbs, Merrill Company -for the selection by James Whitcomb Riley; to Lothrop, Lee, and -Shepard Company for “The Pumpkin Giant,” from “The Pot of Gold,” -by Mary Wilkins Freeman; to Raymond Macdonald Alden for “Lost: The -Summer”; to the _Youth’s Companion_ for “A Turkey for the Stuffing,” -by Katherine Grace Hulbert, and “The News,” by Persis Gardiner; to -John S. P. Alcott for “Queen Aster,” by Louisa M. Alcott; to G. P. -Putnam’s Sons for two poems from “Red Apples and Silver Bells,” by -Hamish Henry; to Francis Curtis and _St. Nicholas_ for “The Debut -of Daniel Webster,” by Isabel Gordon Curtis; to Emma F. Bush and -_Mothers’ Magazine_ for “The Little Pumpkin”; to Phila Butler Bowman -and _Mothers’ Magazine_ for “The Queer Little Baker Man”; to the -_Independent_ for “The Crown of the Year,” by Celia Thaxter; to Ginn -and Company for “Winter’s Herald,” from Andrew’s “The Story of My -Four Friends”; to Frederick A. Stokes Company for “Lady White and -Lady Yellow,” from “Myths and Legends of Japan”; to the State Museum, -Albany, New York, for permission to reprint the legend “O-na-tah, -Spirit of the Corn,” published in the _Museum Bulletin_; to Houghton, -Mifflin Company for “The Sickle Moon,” by Abbie Farwell Brown; -“Autumn Among the Birds” and “Autumn Fashions” by Edith M. Thomas, -“The Nutcrackers of Nutcracker Lodge” by Harriet Beecher Stowe, and -“The Three Golden Apples” by Nathaniel Hawthorne; and to Duffield and -Company for “The Story of the Opal” by Ann de Morgan. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - INTRODUCTION - - AUTUMN STORIES AND LEGENDS - - PAGE - Each in His Own Tongue (selection)-- - _William Herbert Carruth_ 2 - Nipon and the King of the Northland (Algonquin Legend) - Retold from Leland and Prince-- - _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 3 - Prince Autumn (Translated from the Danish by - Alexandre Teixeira de Mattos) _Carl Ewald_ 12 - The Scarf of the Lady (adapted) - (Translated from the French by Hermine de Nagy) 24 - The Sickle Moon (Tyrolean harvest legend)-- - _Abbie Farwell Brown_ 30 - Winter’s Herald _Jane Andrews_ 35 - Jack Frost (poem) 42 - The Pumpkin Giant _Mary Wilkins Freeman_ 44 - Lady White and Lady Yellow (Japanese Legend)-- - _Frederick Hadland Davis_ 62 - The Shet-up Posy _Ann Trumbull Slosson_ 66 - The Gay Little King _Mary Stewart_ 73 - The Story of the Opal _Ann de Morgan_ 83 - Selection _Celia Thaxter_ 97 - Lost: The Summer (poem)-- _Raymond Macdonald Alden_ 98 - By the Wayside (poem) _William Cullen Bryant_ 99 - The King’s Candles (German legend)--_Eleanor L. Skinner_ 100 - A Legend of the Golden-Rod--_Frances Weld Danielson_ 106 - Golden-Rod (poem) _Anna E. Skinner_ 109 - The Little Weed 110 - Golden-Rod and Purple Aster (adapted)--_Flora J. Cooke_ 112 - Wild Asters (poem) 115 - Silver-rod _Edith M. Thomas_ 116 - Pimpernel, the Shepherd’s Clock (poem) 118 - A Legend of the Gentian (Hungarian) _Ada M. Skinner_ 119 - Queen Aster _Louisa M. Alcott_ 121 - The Weeds _Carl Ewald_ 134 - Autumn Fires (poem) _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 144 - - AMONG THE TREES - - To An Autumn Leaf (poem) 146 - Why the Autumn Leaves Are Red (Indian legend)-- - Retold and adapted by _Eleanor Newcomb Partridge_ 147 - The Anxious Leaf _Henry Ward Beecher_ 154 - How the Chestnut Burrs Became-- _Ernest Thompson-Seton_ 156 - The Merry Wind (poem) _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 158 - Autumn Among the Birds _Edith M. Thomas_ 159 - The Kind Old Oak _Selected_ 163 - The Tree (poem) _Björnstjerne Björnson_ 165 - Coming and Going _Henry Ward Beecher_ 166 - A Legend of the Willow Tree (Japanese) 170 - Autumn Fashions (poem) _Edith M. Thomas_ 173 - Pomona’s Best Gift (Old English Song) 175 - - Pomona (Greek myth retold from Ovid)-- _Ada M. Skinner_ 176 - In the Orchard (poem) _George Weatherby_ 180 - Johnny Appleseed _Josephine Scribner Gates_ 181 - Red Apple (poem) _Hamish Hendry_ 185 - The Three Golden Apples _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 186 - October: Orchard of the Year _Selected_ 211 - November 212 - - WOODLAND ANIMALS - - The Pretending Woodchuck _Dr. Carl S. Patton_ 215 - Mrs. Bunny’s Dinner Party _Anna E. Skinner_ 228 - The Nutcrackers of Nutcracker Lodge (adapted)-- - _Harriet Beecher Stowe_ 234 - Bushy’s Bravery _Ada M. Skinner_ 243 - Nut Gatherers (poem) _Hamish Hendry_ 248 - - HARVEST FIELDS - - When the Frost is on the Pumpkin--_James Whitcomb Riley_ 250 - Origin of Indian Corn (Indian legend)-- - _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 251 - Song of Hiawatha _Henry W. Longfellow_ 254 - O-na-tah, the Spirit of the Corn Fields-- - _Harriet Converse_ 255 - Mondamin (poem) _Henry W. Longfellow_ 258 - The Discontented Pumpkin _Ada M. Skinner_ 259 - Bob White (poem) _George Cooper_ 263 - The Little Pumpkin _Emma Florence Bush_ 265 - Autumn (poem) _Edmund Spenser_ 270 - - CHEERFUL CHIRPERS - - The News (poem) _Persis Gardiner_ 272 - How There Came To Be a Katy-did _Patten Beard_ 273 - Old Dame Cricket (poem) 276 - Miss Katy-did and Miss Cricket (adapted)-- - _Harriet Beecher Stowe_ 277 - The Cricket (poem) _William Cowper_ 284 - - ALL HALLOWE’EN - - Shadow March (poem) _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 286 - Twinkling Feet’s Hallowe’en (adapted from a Cornwall legend) - _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 287 - Jack-o’-Lantern (poem) 298 - The Elfin Knight (old ballad retold)--_Eleanor L. Skinner_ 299 - The Courteous Prince (Scotch legend)--_Eleanor L. Skinner_ 307 - Jack-o’-Lantern Song 314 - - A HARVEST OF THANKSGIVING STORIES - - Selection _Henry Van Dyke_ 318 - The Queer Little Baker Man _Phila Butler Bowman_ 319 - A Turkey for the Stuffing _Katherine Grace Hulbert_ 327 - Pumpkin Pie (poem) _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 333 - Mrs. November’s Party _Agnes Carr_ 335 - The Debut of Dan’l Webster _Isabel Gordon Curtis_ 345 - The Green Corn Dance _Frances Jenkins Olcott_ 365 - Thanksgiving (poem) _Amelie E. Barr_ 373 - The Two Alms, or The Thanksgiving Day Gift - (Translated and adapted from the French)-- - _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 375 - Thanksgiving Psalm _Bible_ 380 - The Crown of the Year (poem) _Celia Thaxter_ 381 - - - - -AUTUMN STORIES AND LEGENDS - - - - -EACH IN HIS OWN TONGUE - - - A haze on the far horizon, - The infinite, tender sky, - The rich, ripe tint of the cornfields, - And the wild geese sailing high; - And, all over upland and lowland - The charm of the golden-rod,---- - Some of us call it Autumn, - And others call it--God. - WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH. - - - - -NIPON AND THE KING OF THE NORTHLAND - - -(ALGONQUIN LEGEND) - -The Summer Queen whom the Indians called Nipon lived in the land of -sunshine where the life-giving beams of the mighty Sun shone all the -year round on the blossoming meadows and green forests. The maiden’s -wigwam faced the sunrise. It was covered with a vine which hung thick -with bell-shaped blossoms. - -The fair queen’s trailing green robe was woven from delicate fern -leaves and embroidered with richly coloured blossoms. She wore a -coronet of flowers and her long dusky braids were entwined with -sprays of fragrant honeysuckle. Her moccasins were fashioned from -water-lily leaves. - -Nipon was very busy in her paradise of flowers. Every day she -wandered through the green forests where she spoke words of -enouragement and praise to the great trees, or she glided over the -meadows and helped the flower buds to unfold into perfect blossoms. - -Sometimes the maiden’s grandmother, whose name was K’me-wan, the -Rain, came from afar to visit the land of Sunshine. The Summer Queen -always welcomed her and listened carefully to the words of warning -which K’me-wan solemnly gave before leaving. - -“Nipon, my child, heed what I say. In thy wanderings never go to the -Northland where dwells Poon, the Winter King. He is thy deadliest foe -and is waiting to destroy thee. This grim old Winter King hates the -fair beauty of the Summer Queen. He will cause thy green garments to -wither and fade and thy bright hair to turn white like his own frost. -All thy youth and strength he will change to age and weakness.” - -The Summer Maiden promised to heed her grandmother’s warning, and -for a long time she did not look in the direction of the Northland. -But one day when she sat in front of her sun-bathed wigwam a strange -longing crept into her heart--a longing to look at the frozen -Northland where Poon the Winter King reigned. Slowly she turned her -eyes in the forbidden direction and there she saw a wonderful vision. -The far-away Northland was flooded with sunshine. She could see the -broad, shining lakes, the white mountain peaks touched with rosy -mists, and the winding rivers gleaming with light. - -“It is the most beautiful land I have ever seen,” said Nipon. - -She rose slowly and stood for some time looking at the enchanting -beauty of the scene before her. Then she said, “My heart is filled -with a strange longing. I shall go to visit the Northland, the Land -of Poon, King of Winter.” - -“My daughter, remember K’me-wan’s warning,” whispered a voice -and Nipon knew that her grandmother was speaking. “Go not to the -Northland where death awaits thee. Abide in the land of Sunshine.” - -“I can not choose,” said Nipon. “I must go to the Northland.” - -“Heed my warning! Heed my warning!” whispered the faint voice of -K’me-wan, the Rain. - -“I can not choose,” repeated the Summer Queen. “I must go to the -Northland.” - -In her delicate robe of leaves and her coronet of flowers Nipon left -the Land of Sunshine and began her long journey northward. For many -moons she traveled keeping her eyes fixed on the dazzling beauty of -the frost king’s land. - -One day she noticed that the shining mountains, lakes, and rivers in -the land of Poon moved onward before her. She stopped for a moment to -consider the marvel and again a faint voice whispered, “Turn back, my -child! Destruction awaits thee in the land of King Winter. Heed the -warning of K’me-wan.” - -But the willful Summer Queen closed her ears to the pleading voice -and proceeded on her journey. The beautiful vision no longer seemed -to move away from her. Surely before long she would win her heart’s -desire, she would reach the beautiful land of Poon. - -Suddenly fear seized the Summer Queen, for she felt that the sunshine -was gradually fading away. A chill wind from the distant mountain -rent her frail garments and with sinking heart she saw the leaves of -her robe were turning yellow, the blossoms were fading and dying. A -cruel wind blew and tore to pieces her coronet of flowers. Then she -noticed that her dusky braids were turning white as the frost. - -“K’me-wan’s warning!” she cried. “How I wish I had heeded K’me-wan’s -warning! The Frost King is cruel. He will destroy me! O K’me-wan, -help me! Save me from destruction!” - -Soon after Nipon left for the Northland her grandmother knew what had -happened, for from her Skyland she saw that no smoke rose from the -Summer Queen’s wigwam. K’me-wan hastened to the land of Sunshine. -There she saw that the blossoms on the queen’s wigwam were beginning -to wither, the ground was strewn with fallen petals, and the leaves -of the vine had lost their shining green colour. - -“A grey mist covers the face of the sun and a change is gradually -creeping over this beautiful land,” cried K’me-wan. “I’ll send my -gentlest showers to refresh the woods and meadows.” - -But the Rain-mother failed to bring back the colour to the Summer -Queen’s island. - -“The trees and flowers need warmth as well as moisture,” sighed -K’me-wan. “The leaves of the forest are beginning to turn orange, -crimson, and brown. Every day there are fewer flowers in the meadows -and along the banks of the brook. A great change is creeping over the -land of Sunshine.” - -And as she sat in Nipon’s wigwam, grieving, she heard the Summer -Queen’s cry of agony. She heard Nipon call out, “O K’me-wan! Save me -from destruction.” - -“I’ll send my bravest warriors to do battle with Poon,” declared -K’me-wan, standing and looking toward the Northland. “He shall match -his strength with mine!” - -Quickly she called together her strong warriors, South-wind, -West-wind, and Warm-breeze. - -“Go to the Northland, my warriors,” she commanded. “Use all your -power to rescue Nipon from Poon, the Winter King. Fly to the -Northland!” - -K’me-wan’s wind warriors fled like lightning to the land of Poon. -But the crafty Winter King was not taken by surprise. The mighty -North-wind, the biting East-wind, and the Frost-spirit, his strong -chieftains, he held in readiness to do battle for possession of the -Summer Queen. And when K’me-wan’s warriors drew near the Northland, -Poon gave his command. - -“Fly to meet our foes, my warriors! They come from the land of -Sunshine! Vanquish them!” - -And as he spoke his chieftains saw that Poon’s stalwart figure was -growing gaunt and thin, and great drops of sweat were dropping from -his brow. - -At Winter King’s command his giants flew to match their strength with -K’me-wan’s warriors. - -But the Snowflakes and Hailstones led by the Frost-spirit weakened -and fell before Warm-breeze and his followers, the Raindrops. The -cold wind warriors of the North shook and roared as they matched -strength with the mightier giants from the land of Sunshine. Then, as -K’me-wan’s warriors pressed nearer and nearer to the Northland, Poon -the Winter King weakened and cried out in agony, “Set Nipon free or -I shall perish. My warriors are vanquished by the chieftains of the -land of Sunshine! Free the Summer Queen and end this strife!” - -At this command from Poon, his giant warriors grew silent and fled -back to the Northland, leaving K’me-wan’s chieftains in possession -of Nipon. Gently they led the weary Summer Queen back toward her own -land. They travelled for many moons before the beams of the great sun -were warm enough to restore her beauty. - -Only once on her journey back to her own land did Nipon stop. It was -when she reached a place enveloped in grey mists and dark clouds -where the wild lightning leaped and flashed. The wind blew and the -showers fell continually in this land of K’me-wan. Through the clouds -and rain Nipon traveled until she reached the wigwam of the ancient -Rain-mother. - -“Forgive me, K’me-wan,” said the Summer Queen humbly. - -“My child, thou hast well nigh killed me,” moaned K’me-wan faintly. -“Thy disobedience has brought great suffering in my cherished island. -My giant warriors conquered or Poon with his cruel ice scepter would -have reigned king over all. Never again can I venture on such a -struggle.” - -“Never again shall I disobey thee,” declared Nipon, the Summer Queen. - -“Hasten back to the land of Sunshine,” said K’me-wan, rising. “There -thou art sadly needed, for the leaves have changed their color and -the blossoms are almost gone. Hasten back and give them new life, my -daughter.” - -Then Nipon bade farewell to the Rain-mother and departed for the land -of Sunshine. As she drew near her heart was filled with a wonderful -joy and peace. - -“Welcome, Nipon,” laughed the warm sunbeams. - -“Welcome, Nipon,” sang the gentle breezes. - -“Welcome, our life-giving Summer Queen,” nodded the forest trees. - - - - -PRINCE AUTUMN - - -CARL EWALD - -On the top of the hills in the West stood the Prince of Autumn and -surveyed the land with his serious eyes. - -His hair and beard were dashed with gray and there were wrinkles on -his forehead. But he was good to look at, still and straight and -strong. His splendid cloak gleamed red and green and brown and yellow -and flapped in the wind. In his hand he held a horn. - -He smiled sadly and stood awhile and listened to the fighting and the -singing and the cries. Then he raised his head, put the horn to his -mouth and blew a lusty flourish: - - Summer goes his all-prospering way, - Autumn’s horn is calling. - Heather dresses the brown hill-clay, - Winds whip crackling across the bay, - Leaves in the grove keep falling. - -All the trees of the forest shook from root to top, themselves not -knowing why. All the birds fell silent together. The stag in the -glade raised his antlers in surprise and listened. The poppy’s -scarlet petals flew before the wind. - -But high on the mountains and on the bare hills and low down in the -bog, the heather burst forth and blazed purple and glorious in the -sun. And the bees flew from the faded flowers of the meadow and hid -themselves in the heather-fields. - -But Autumn put his horn to his mouth again and blew: - - Autumn lords it with banners bright - Of garish leaves held o’er him, - Quelling Summer’s eternal fight, - Heralding Winter, wild and white, - While the blithe little birds flee before him. - -The Prince of Summer stopped where he stood in the valley and raised -his eyes to the hills in the West. And the Prince of Autumn took the -horn from his mouth and bowed low before him. - -“Welcome!” said Summer. - -He took a step towards him and no more, as befits one who is the -greater. But the Prince of Autumn came down over the hills and again -bowed low. - -They walked through the valley hand in hand. And so radiant was -Summer that, wherever they passed, none was aware of Autumn’s -presence. The notes of his horn died away in the air; and one and all -recovered from the shudder that had passed over them. The trees and -birds and flowers came to themselves again and whispered and sang and -fought. The river flowed, the rushes murmured, the bees continued -their summer orgy in the heather. - -But, wherever the princes stopped on their progress through the -valley, it came about that the foliage turned yellow on the side -where Autumn was. A little leaf fell from its stalk and fluttered -away and dropped at his feet. The nightingale ceased singing, though -it was eventide; the cuckoo was silent and flapped restlessly through -the woods; the stork stretched himself in his nest and looked toward -the South. But the princes took no heed. - -“Welcome,” said Summer again. “Do you remember your promise?” - -“I remember,” answered Autumn. - -Then the Prince of Summer stopped and looked out over the kingdom -where the noise was gradually subsiding. - -“Do you hear them?” he asked. “Now do you take them into your gentle -keeping.” - -“I shall bring your produce home,” said Autumn. “I shall watch -carefully over them that dream, I shall cover up lovingly them that -are to sleep in the mould. I will warn them thrice of Winter’s -coming.” - -“It is well,” said Summer. - -They walked in silence for a time, while night came forth. - -“The honeysuckle’s petals fell when you blew your horn,” said Summer. -“Some of my children will die at the moment when I leave the valley. -But the nightingale and the cuckoo and the stork I shall take with -me.” - -Again the two princes walked in silence. It was quite still, only the -owls hooted in the old oak. - -“You must send my birds after me,” said Summer. - -“I shall not forget,” replied Autumn. - -Then the Prince of Summer raised his hand in farewell and bade Autumn -take possession of the kingdom. - -“I shall go to-night,” he said. “And none will know save you. My -splendour will linger in the valley for a while. And by-the-by, when -I am far away and my reign is forgotten, the memory of me will revive -once more with the sun and the pleasant days.” - -Then he strode away in the night. But from the high tree-top came the -stork on his long wings; and the cuckoo fluttered out of the tall -woods; and the nightingale flew from the thicket with her full-grown -young. - -The air was filled with the soft murmurings of wings. - -Autumn’s dominion had indeed begun on the night when Summer went -away, with a yellow leaf here and a brown leaf there, but none had -noticed it. Now it went at a quicker pace; and as time wore on, there -came even more colours and greater splendour. - -The lime trees turned bright yellow and the beech bronze, but the -elder-tree even blacker than it had been. The bell-flower rang with -white bells, where it used to ring with blue, and the chestnut tree -blessed all the world with its five yellow fingers. The mountain ash -shed its leaves that all might admire its pretty berries; the wild -rose nodded with a hundred hips; the Virginia creeper broke over the -hedge in blazing flames. - -Then Autumn put his horn to his mouth and blew: - - The loveliest things of Autumn’s pack - In his motley coffers lay; - Red mountain-berries - Hips sweet as cherries, - Sloes blue and black - He hung upon every spray. - -And blackbird and thrush chattered blithely in the copsewood, which -gleamed with berries, and a thousand sparrows kept them company. The -wind ran from one to the other and puffed and panted to add to the -fun. High up in the sky, the sun looked gently down upon it all. - -And the Prince of Autumn nodded contentedly and let his motley cloak -flap in the wind. - -“I am the least important of the four seasons and am scarcely lord -in my own land,” he said. “I serve two jealous masters and have to -please them both. But my power extends so far that I can give you a -few glad days.” - -Then he put his horn to his mouth and blew: - - To the valley revellers hie! - They are clad in autumnal fancy dresses, - They are weary of green and faded tresses, - Summer has vanished, Winter is nigh---- - Hey fol--de--rol--day for Autumn! - -But, the night after this happened, there was tremendous disturbance -up on the mountain peaks, where the eternal snows had lain both in -Spring’s time and Summer’s. It sounded like a storm approaching. -The trees grew frightened, the crows were silent, the wind held its -breath. Prince Autumn bent forward and listened: - -“Is that the worst you can do?” shouted a hoarse voice through the -darkness. - -Autumn raised his head and looked straight into Winter’s great, cold -eyes! - -“Have you forgotten the bargain?” asked Winter. - -“No,” replied Autumn. “I have not forgotten it.” - -“Have a care,” shouted Winter. - -The whole night through, it rumbled and tumbled in the mountains. -It turned so bitterly cold that the starling thought seriously of -packing up and even the red creeper turned pale. - -The distant peaks glittered with new snow. - -And the Prince of Autumn laughed no more. He looked out earnestly -over the land and the wrinkles in his forehead grew deeper. - -“It must be so then!” he said. - -Then he blew his horn. - - Autumn’s horn blew a lusty chime; - For the second time, for the second time! - Heed well the call, complying. - Fling seed to earth! - Fill sack’s full girth! - Plump back and side! - Pad belt and hide! - Hold all wings close for flying! - -Then suddenly a terrible bustle arose in the land, for now they all -understood. - -“Quick,” said Autumn. - -The poppy and the bell-flower and the pink stood thin and dry as -sticks with their heads full of seed. The dandelion had presented -each one of his seeds with a sweet little parachute. - -“Come, dear Wind, and shake us!” said the poppy. - -“Fly away with my seeds, Wind,” said the dandelion. - -And the wind hastened to do as they asked. - -But the beech cunningly dropped his shaggy fruit on to the hare’s -fur; and the fox got one also on his red coat. - -“Quick, now,” said Autumn. “There’s no time here to waste.” - -The little brown mice filled their parlors from floor to ceiling -with nuts and beech-mast and acorns. The hedgehog had already eaten -himself so fat that he could hardly lower his quills. The hare and -fox and stag put on clean white woollen things, under their coats. -The starling and the thrush and the blackbird saw to their downy -clothing and exercised their wings for the long journey. - -The sun hid himself behind the clouds and did not appear for many -days. - -It began to rain. The wind quickened its pace: it dashed the rain -over the meadow, whipped the river into foam and whistled through the -trunks in the forest. - -“Now the song is finished!” said the Prince of Autumn. - -Then he put his horn to his mouth and blew. - - Autumn’s horn blew a lusty chime, - For the last time, for the last time! - Ways close when need is sorest: - Land-birds, fly clear! - Plunge, frogs, in mere! - Bee, lock your lair! - Take shelter, bear! - Fall, last leaf in the forest! - -And then it was over. - -The birds flew from the land in flocks. The starling and the lapwing, -the thrush and the blackbird all migrated to the south. - -Every morning before the sun rose the wind tore through the forest, -and pulled the last leaves off the trees. Every day the wind blew -stronger, snapped great branches, swept the withered leaves together -into heaps, scattered them again and, at last, laid them like a soft, -thick carpet over the whole floor of the forest. - -The hedgehog crawled so far into a hole under a heap of stones -that he remained caught between two of them and could move neither -forwards nor backwards. The sparrow took lodgings in a deserted -swallow’s nest; the frogs went to the bottom of the pond for good, -settled in the mud, with the tips of their noses up in the water and -prepared for whatever might come. - -The Prince of Autumn stood and gazed over the land to see if it was -bare and waste so that Winter’s storms might come buffeting at will -and the snow lie wherever it pleased. - -Then he stopped before the old oak and looked at the ivy that -clambered right up to the top and spread her green leaves as if -Winter had no existence at all. And while he looked at it the -ivy-flowers blossomed! They sat right at the top and rocked in the -wind! - -“Now I’m coming,” roared Winter from the mountains. “My clouds are -bursting with snow; and my storms are breaking loose. I can restrain -them no longer.” - -The Prince of Autumn bent his head and listened. He could hear the -storm come rushing down over the mountains. A snowflake fell upon his -motley cloak ... and another ... and yet another.... - -For the last time he put his horn to his mouth and blew: - - Thou greenest plant and tardiest, - Thou fairest, rarest, hardiest, - Bright through unending hours! - Round Summer, Winter, Autumn, Spring, - Thy vigorous embraces cling. - Look! Ivy mine, ’tis _I_ who sing, - ’Tis _Autumn_ wins thy flowers! - -Then he went away in the storm. - - - - -THE SCARF OF THE LADY - - -(A French Harvest Legend) - -Translated by Hermine de Nagy - -The Field of the Lady was the name which the peasants gave to a large -tract of land belonging to a rich estate. The lord of the castle had -given these fertile acres to his daughter and had told her to do as -she pleased with the grain which the field produced. Each year at -harvest time she invited the poor peasants of the neighbourhood to -come and glean in her field, and take home with them as much grain as -they needed for winter use. - -Sometimes when the gleaners were busily at work one of them would cry -out joyfully, “Ah, there comes the lady of the castle.” They could -see her coming in the distance, for she always wore a simple dress of -white wool, and over her head was thrown a scarf of white silk -striped with many colours. She loved to come into the field while the -people were at work and speak words of encouragement and cheer to -them. - -One sultry afternoon there were many peasants gleaning in the field. -The lady of the castle had been with them for several hours. Suddenly -she looked up into the threatening sky and said, “My friends, see -what large clouds are gathering. I’m afraid we shall have a storm -before long. Let us stop gleaning for to-day and seek shelter.” The -peasants hastened away and the lady started toward the castle. - -As she drew near the green hedge which bordered the field she saw -coming toward her a beautiful young woman and a fair child whose hand -she held. The little boy’s golden hair fell in waves over his white -tunic. - -“You came to glean,” said the lady of the castle in her sweet voice, -full of welcome. “Come then, we’ll work together for a little while -before the rain falls.” - -“Thank you,” said the young woman. - -The three began to pick up the ripe ears and pile them in small -heaps. They had worked but a little while, however, when a gust of -wind swept over the field and great raindrops began to fall. The -thunder rumbled in the distance and streaks of lightning rent the sky. - -“Come, my friends,” said the lady of the castle. “We must seek -shelter. See, there near the wood is a great oak, thick with foliage. -Let us hasten to it and stand there until the storm is over.” - -In a short time they reached the tree and stood together under the -shelter of its great branches. - -With his chubby hand the child took hold of the end of his mother’s -veil and tried to cover his curly head with it. - -“You shall have my scarf,” said the lady of the castle, smiling. - -She slipped it off, wrapped it tenderly around the dear child’s head -and shoulders, and kissed his fair young brow. - -Suddenly the great clouds seemed to roll away. The lady of the castle -stepped out from the shelter of the tree to look at the sky. The -storm had ceased and the birds were beginning to twitter in the -trees. She stood still, looking at the wonderful golden light which -flooded the harvest field. And in the calm silence there came -floating through the air the sweetest music she had ever heard. At -first it seemed far, far away. Then it came nearer and nearer until -the air was filled with harmonious voices chanting tenderly in the -purest angelic tones. She turned toward her companions and lo! they -had disappeared. - -In the distance there was a sound like the light fluttering of wings. -The lady of the castle looked toward the hedge where she had first -seen her mysterious companions. There she saw them again--the lovely -woman and the golden-haired child. They were rising softly, softly -upon fleecy clouds. Around them and mounting with them was a band of -angels chanting a joyful Hosanna! - -The marvelous vision rose slowly into the clear blue of the heavens. -Then on the wet ears of grain in the harvest field the lady of the -castle knelt in silent adoration, for she knew she had seen the -Virgin and the Holy Child. While she worshipped in breathless silence -the heavenly choir halted and in clear, ringing tones the angels sang -out: - -“Blessed be thou!” - -“Blessed be the good lady who is ever ready to help the poor and -unfortunate! Blessed be this Field of Alms.” - -The Virgin stretched forth her hands to bless the lady and the -harvest field. At the same time the Holy Child took from his head and -shoulders the silk scarf which the lady of the castle had wrapped -about him, and gave it to two rosy-winged cherubim. Away they -flew--one to the right, the other to the left, each holding an end -of the scarf which stretched as they flew into a marvelous rainbow -arch across the blue vault of the sky. The Virgin and the Holy Child, -followed by the angelic choir, rose slowly, slowly into the sky. - -Softly and gently as wood breezes the heavenly music died away and -the vision disappeared. - -The lady of the castle rose to her feet. A marvelous thing had -happened. The small heaps of grain gathered by the gleaners had -changed into a harvest richer than the field had ever produced -before. Over all in the sky still shone the lovely rainbow arch--the -arch of promise across the Field of Alms. - -(Adapted.) - - - - -THE SICKLE MOON - - -(Tyrolean Harvest Legend) - -ABBIE FARWELL BROWN - - When of the crescent moon aware - Hung silver in the sky, - “See, Saint Nothburga’s sickle there!” - The Tyrol children cry. - - It is a quaint and pretty tale - Six hundred summers old, - When in the green Tyrolean vale, - The peasant folk is told. - - The town of Eben nestled here - Is little known to fame, - Save as the legends make it dear, - In Saint Nothburga’s name. - - For in this quiet country place, - Where a white church spire reared, - Nothburga dwelt, a maid of grace - Who loved the Lord and feared. - - She was a serving little lass, - Bound to a farmer stern, - Who to and fro all day must pass - Her coarse black bread to earn. - - She spun and knit the fleecy wool, - She bleached the linen white, - She drew the water-buckets full, - And milked the herd at night. - - And more than this, when harvest-tide - Turned golden all the plain, - She took her sickle, curving wide, - And reaped the ripened grain. - - All people yielded to the charm - Of this meek-serving maid, - Save the stern master of the farm, - Of whom all stood afraid. - - For he was hard to humble folk, - And cruel to the poor, - A godless man, who evil spoke, - A miser of his store. - - Now it was on a Saturday - Near to the Sabbath time, - Which in those ages far away - Began at sunset-chime. - - Nothburga in the harvest gold - Was reaping busily, - Although the day was grown so old - That dimly could she see. - - Close by her cruel master stood, - And fearsome was his eye; - He glowered at the maiden good, - He glowered at the sky. - - For many rows lacked reaping, yet - The dark was falling fast, - And soon the round sun would be set - And working time be past. - - “Cling--clang!” The sunset-chime pealed out, - And Sunday had begun; - Nothburga sighed and turned about---- - The reaping was not done. - - She laid her curving sickle by, - And said her evening hymn, - Wide-gazing on the starless sky, - Where all was dark and dim. - - But hark! A hasty summons came - To drown her whispered words, - An angry voice called out her name, - And scared the nestling birds. - - “What ho, Nothburga, lazy one! - Bend to your task again, - And do not think the day is done - Till you have reaped this grain.” - - “But master,” spoke Nothburga low, - “It’s the Sabbath time; - We must keep holy hours now, - After the sunset-chime.” - - And then in rage the master cried: - “The day belongs to me! - I’m lord of all the country side, - And hold the time in fee!” - - “No Sunday-thought shall spoil the gain - That comes a hundred fold - From reaping of my golden grain, - Which shall be turned to gold.” - - “Nay, Master, give me gracious leave - The Lord’s will I must keep; - Upon the holy Sabbath day - My sickle shall not reap!” - - The master raised his heavy hand - To deal the maid a blow; - “Thou shalt!” he cried his fierce command, - And would have struck, when lo! - - Nothburga whirled her sickle bright - And tossed it in the sky! - A flash, a gleam of silver light, - As it went circling by, - - And there, beside a little star - Which had peeped out to see, - The sickle hung itself afar, - As swiftly as could be! - - The master stared up, wondering; - Forgetting all his rage, - To see so strange and quaint a thing---- - The marvel of the age. - - And she, the maid so brave and good, - Thenceforth had naught to fear, - But kept the Sabbath as she would, - And lived a life of cheer. - - So when among the stars you see - The silver sickle flame, - Think how the wonder came to be, - And bless Nothburga’s name. - - - - -WINTER’S HERALD - - -JANE ANDREWS - -In the days of chivalry, mail-clad knights, armed with shield and -spear, rode through the land to defend the right and to punish the -wrong. Whenever they were to meet each other in battle at the great -tournaments, a herald was first sent to announce the fight and give -fair warning to the opponents, that each might be in all things -prepared to meet the other, and defend or attack wisely and upon his -guard. - -So, dear children, you must know that Winter, who is coming clad in -his icy armour, with his spear, the keen sleet, sends before him a -herald, that we may not be all unprepared for his approach. - -It is an autumn night when this herald comes; all the warm September -noons have slipped away, and the red October sunsets are almost gone; -still the afternoon light, shining through the two maples, casts a -crimson and yellow glow on the white wall of my little room, and -on the paths is a delicate carpet of spotted leaves over the brown -groundwork. - -It is past midnight when the herald is called; and although his -knight is so fierce, loud, and blustering, he moves noiselessly forth -and carries his warning to all the country round. Through the little -birch wood he comes, and whispers a single word to the golden leaves -that are hanging so slightly on the slender boughs; one little shiver -goes through them, sends them fluttering all to the ground, and the -next morning their brown, shriveled edges tell a sad story. - -Through the birch wood he hurries and on to the bank of the brook -that runs through the long valley; for the muskrat, who has his home -under the shelving bank, must hear the news and make haste to arrange -his hole with winter comforts before the brook is frozen. While he -crosses the meadow the field mouse and the mole hear his warning and -lay their heads together to see what is best to be done. Indeed, -the mole, who himself can scarcely see at all, is always of opinion -that two heads are better than one in such cases. - -Beyond the brook is Farmer Thompson’s field of squashes. “I will not -hurt you to-night,” says the herald as he creeps among them; “only a -little nip here and a bite there, that the farmer may see to-morrow -morning that it is time to take you into the barn.” The turnips stand -only on the other side of the fence and cannot fail to know also that -the herald has come. - -But up in Lucy’s flower garden are the heliotropes and fuchsias, -tea roses and geraniums,--delicate, sensitive things, who cannot -bear a cold word, it must have been really quite terrible what he -said there; for before sunrise the beautiful plants hung black and -withered and no care from their mistress, no smiles or kind words, -could make them look up again. The ivy had borne it bravely, and -only showed on his lower leaves, which lay among the grass, a frosty -fringe, where the dew used to hang. - -My two maples heard the summons and threw off their gay dresses, -which withered and faded as they fell in heaps on the sidewalk. The -next morning, children going to school scuffed ankle-deep among them -and laughed with delight. And the maples bravely answered the herald: -“Now let him come, your knight of the north wind and the storm and -the sleet; we have dropped the gay leaves which he might have torn -from us. Let him come; we have nothing to lose. His snows will only -keep our roots the warmer, and his winds cannot blow away the tiny -new buds which we cherish, thickly wrapped from the cold, to make new -leaves in the spring.” And the elm and the linden and horse-chestnut -sent also a like brave answer back by the herald. - -Over the whole village green went the whisperer, leaving behind him a -white network upon the grass; and before the sun was up to tangle his -beams in its meshes and pull it all to pieces, old widow Blake has -seen it from her cottage window and said to herself: “Well, winter is -coming; I must set up some warm socks for the boys to-day, and begin -little Tommy’s mittens before the week is out.” - -And Farmer Thompson stands at his great barn door, while yet the -eastern sky is red, and tells Jake and Ben that the squashes and -pumpkins and turnips must all be housed in cellar and barn before -night; for a frost like this is warning enough to any man to begin to -prepare for winter. - -Mr. Winslow, the gardener, is working all day with matting and straw, -tying up and packing warmly his tender shrubs and trees; and the -climbing rose that is trained against the west end of the piazza must -be made safe from the cold winds that will soon be creeping round -there. - -What will your mother do when she sees the white message that the -herald has left in his frosty writing all over the lawn? Will she put -away the muslin frocks and little pink or blue calicoes and ginghams, -the straw hats, and Frank’s white trousers and summer jackets, just -as the trees threw aside their summer leaves? - -Not quite like the trees; for your clothes can’t be made new every -spring out of little brown buds, but must be put away in the great -drawers and trunks of the clothes-press, to wait for you through the -winter. - -And see how your mother will bring out the woolen stockings, warm -hoods and caps, mittens, cloaks and plaided dresses; and try on and -make over, that all things may be ready. For it is with such things -as these that she arms her little boys and girls to meet the knight -who is coming with north wind and storm. - -Old Margaret, who lives in the little brown house down at the corner, -although she cannot read a word from a book, reads the herald’s -message as well as your mother can. But here are her five boys, -barefooted and ragged, ever in summer clothes, and her husband lies -back with a fever. - -She can’t send back so brave an answer as your mother does. But your -mother, and Cousin George’s mother, and Uncle James can help her to -make a good, brave answer; for here is Frank’s last winter’s jacket, -quite too small for him, just right for little Jim; and father’s old -overcoat will make warm little ones for two of the other boys. And -here are stout new shoes and woolen socks, and comfortable bedclothes -for the sick man. Margaret sends a brave answer now, although this -morning she was half ready to cry when she saw the message that -Winter had sent. - -Look about you, children, when the herald comes, and see what answers -the people are giving him; I have told you a few. You can tell me -many, if you will, before another year goes by. - - - - -JACK FROST - - - The door was shut as doors should be - Before you went to bed last night; - Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see, - And left your windows silver white. - - He must have waited till you slept, - And not a single word he spoke, - But penciled o’er the panes and crept - Away before you woke. - - And now you can not see the trees - Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane - But there are fairer things than these - His fingers traced on every pane. - - Rocks and castles towering high; - Hills and dales and streams and fields, - And knights in armour riding by, - With nodding plumes and shining shields. - - And here are little boats, and there - Big ships with sails spread to the breeze, - And yonder, palm trees waving fair - And islands set in silver seas. - - And butterflies with gauzy wings; - And herds of cows and flocks of sheep; - And fruit and flowers and all the things - You see when you are sound asleep. - - For creeping softly underneath - The door when all the lights are out, - Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe - And knows the things you think about. - - He paints them on the window pane - In fairy lines with frozen steam; - And when you wake, you see again - The lovely things you saw in dream. - GABRIEL SETOUN. - - - - -THE PUMPKIN GIANT - - -MARY WILKINS FREEMAN - -A very long time ago, before our grandmother’s time, or our -great-grandmother’s, or our grandmothers’ with a very long string of -greats prefixed, there were no pumpkins; people had never eaten a -pumpkin-pie, or even stewed pumpkin; and that was the time when the -Pumpkin Giant flourished. - -There have been a great many giants who have flourished since the -world began, and, although a select few of them have been good -giants, the majority of them have been so bad that their crimes -even more than their size have gone to make them notorious. But the -Pumpkin Giant was an uncommonly bad one, and his general appearance -and his behaviour were such as to make one shudder to an extent that -you would hardly believe possible. The convulsive shivering caused -by the mere mention of his name, and, in some cases where the people -were unusually sensitive, by the mere thought of him even, more -resembled the blue ague than anything else; indeed was known by the -name of “the Giant’s Shakes.” - -The Pumpkin Giant was very tall; he probably would have overtopped -most of the giants you have ever heard of. I don’t suppose the Giant -who lived on the Bean-stalk whom Jack visited was anything to compare -with him; nor that it would have been a possible thing for the -Pumpkin Giant, had he received an invitation to spend an afternoon -with the Bean-stalk Giant, to accept, on account of his inability to -enter the Bean-stalk Giant’s door, no matter how much he stooped. - -The Pumpkin Giant had a very large, yellow head, which was also -smooth and shiny. His eyes were big and round, and glowed like coals -of fire; and you would almost have thought that his head was lit up -inside with candles. Indeed there was a rumour to that effect amongst -the common people, but that was all nonsense, of course; no one of -the more enlightened class credited it for an instant. His mouth, -which stretched half around his head, was furnished with rows of -pointed teeth, and he was never known to hold it any other way than -wide open. - -The Pumpkin Giant lived in a castle, as a matter of course; it is not -fashionable for a giant to live in any other kind of a dwelling--why, -nothing would be more tame and uninteresting than a giant in a -two-story white house with green blinds and a picket fence, or even -a brown-stone front, if he could get into either of them, which he -could not. - -The Giant’s castle was situated on a mountain, as it ought to have -been, and there was also the usual courtyard before it, and the -customary moat, which was full of bones! All I have got to say about -these bones is, they were not mutton bones. A great many details of -this story must be left to the imagination of the reader; they are -too harrowing to relate. A much tenderer regard for the feelings of -the audience will be shown in this than in most giant stories; we -will even go so far as to state in advance, that the story has a good -end, thereby enabling readers to peruse it comfortably without -unpleasant suspense. - -The Pumpkin Giant was fonder of little boys and girls than anything -else in the world; but he was somewhat fonder of little boys, and -more particularly of fat little boys. - -The fear and horror of this Giant extended over the whole country. -Even the King on his throne was so severely afflicted with the -Giant’s Shakes that he had been obliged to have the throne propped, -for fear it should topple over in some unusually violent fit. There -was good reason why the King shook; his only daughter, the Princess -Ariadne Diana, was probably the fattest princess in the whole world -at that date. So fat was she that she had never walked a step in the -dozen years of her life, being totally unable to progress over the -earth by any method except rolling. And a really beautiful sight it -was, too, to see the Princess Ariadne Diana, in her cloth-of-gold -rolling-suit, faced with green velvet and edged with ermine, with -her glittering crown on her head, trundling along the avenues of the -royal gardens, which had been furnished with strips of rich carpeting -for her express accommodation. - -But gratifying as it would have been to the King, her sire, under -other circumstances, to have had such an unusually interesting -daughter, it now only served to fill his heart with the greatest -anxiety on her account. The Princess was never allowed to leave the -palace without a body-guard of fifty knights, the very flower of -the King’s troops, with lances in rest, but in spite of all this -precaution, the King shook. - -Meanwhile amongst the ordinary people who could not procure an -escort of fifty armed knights for the plump among their children, -the ravages of the Pumpkin Giant were frightful. It was apprehended -at one time that there would be very few fat little girls, and no -fat little boys at all, left in the kingdom. And what made matters -worse, at that time the Giant commenced taking a tonic to increase -his appetite. - -Finally the King, in desperation, issued a proclamation that he would -knight any one, be he noble or common, who should cut off the head -of the Pumpkin Giant. This was the King’s usual method of rewarding -any noble deed in his kingdom. It was a cheap method, and besides -everybody liked to be a knight. - -When the King issued his proclamation every man in the kingdom who -was not already a knight, straightway tried to contrive ways and -means to kill the Pumpkin Giant. But there was one obstacle which -seemed insurmountable: they were afraid, and all of them had the -Giant’s Shakes so badly, that they could not possibly have held a -knife steady enough to cut off the Giant’s head, even if they had -dared to go near enough for that purpose. - -There was one man who lived not far from the terrible Giant’s -castle, a poor man, his only worldly wealth consisting in a large -potato-field and a cottage in front of it. But he had a boy of -twelve, an only son, who rivaled the Princess Ariadne Diana in point -of fatness. He was unable to have a body-guard for his son; so -the amount of terror which the inhabitants of that humble cottage -suffered day and night was heart-rending. The poor mother had been -unable to leave her bed for two years, on account of the Giant’s -Shakes; her husband barely got a living from the potato-field; half -the time he and his wife had hardly enough to eat, as it naturally -took the larger part of the potatoes to satisfy the fat little boy, -their son, and their situation was truly pitiable. - -The fat boy’s name was Aeneas, his father’s name was Patroclus, and -his mother’s Daphne. It was all the fashion in those days to have -classical names. And as that was a fashion as easily adopted by the -poor as the rich, everybody had them. They were just like Jim and -Tommy and May in these days. Why, the Princess’s name, Ariadne Diana, -was nothing more nor less than Ann Eliza with us. - -One morning Patroclus and Aeneas were out in the field digging -potatoes, for new potatoes were just in the market. The Early Rose -potato had not been discovered in those days; but there was another -potato, perhaps equally good, which attained to a similar degree of -celebrity. It was called the Young Plantagenet, and reached a very -large size indeed, much larger than the Early Rose does in our time. - -Well, Patroclus and Aeneas had just dug perhaps a bushel of Young -Plantagenet potatoes. It was slow work with them, for Patroclus had -the Giant’s Shakes badly that morning, and of course Aeneas was not -very swift. He rolled about among the potato-hills after the manner -of the Princess Ariadne Diana; but he did not present as imposing an -appearance as she, in his homespun farmer’s frock. - -All at once the earth trembled violently. Patroclus and Aeneas looked -up and saw the Pumpkin Giant coming with his mouth wide open. “Get -behind me, O my darling son!” cried Patroclus. - -Aeneas obeyed, but it was of no use; for you could see his cheeks -each side his father’s waistcoat. - -Patroclus was not ordinarily a brave man, but he was brave in an -emergency; and as that is the only time when there is the slightest -need of bravery, it was just as well. - -The Pumpkin Giant strode along faster and faster, opening his mouth -wider and wider, until they could fairly hear it crack at the corners. - -Then Patroclus picked up an enormous Young Plantagenet and threw it -plump into the Pumpkin Giant’s mouth. The Giant choked and gasped, -and choked and gasped, and finally tumbled down and died. - -Patroclus and Aeneas, while the Giant was choking, had run to the -house and locked themselves in; then they looked out of the window; -when they saw the Giant tumble down and lie quite still, they knew -he must be dead. Then Daphne was immediately cured of the Giant’s -Shakes, and got out of bed for the first time in two years. Patroclus -sharpened the carving-knife on the kitchen stove, and they all went -out into the potato-field. - -They cautiously approached the prostrate Giant, for fear he might be -shamming, and might suddenly spring up at them and Aeneas. But no, he -did not move at all; he was quite dead. And, all taking turns, they -hacked off his head with the carving-knife. Then Aeneas had it to -play with, which was quite appropriate, and a good instance of the -sarcasm of destiny. - -The King was notified of the death of the Pumpkin Giant, and was -greatly rejoiced thereby. His Giant’s Shakes ceased, the props were -removed from the throne, and the Princess Ariadne Diana was allowed -to go out without her body-guard of fifty knights, much to her -delight, for she found them a great hindrance to the enjoyment of her -daily outings. - -It was a great cross, not to say an embarrassment, when she was -gleefully rolling in pursuit of a charming red and gold butterfly, to -find herself suddenly stopped short by an armed knight with his lance -in rest. - -But the King, though his gratitude for the noble deed knew no bounds, -omitted to give the promised reward and knight Patroclus. - -I hardly know how it happened--I don’t think it was anything -intentional. Patroclus felt rather hurt about it, and Daphne would -have liked to be a lady, but Aeneas did not care in the least. He had -the Giant’s head to play with and that was reward enough for him. -There was not a boy in the neighbourhood but envied him his -possession of such a unique plaything; and when they would stand -looking over the wall of the potato-field with longing eyes, and -he was flying over the ground with the head, his happiness knew no -bounds; and Aeneas played so much with the Giant’s head that finally -late in the fall it got broken and scattered all over the field. - -Next spring all over Patroclus’s potato-field grew running vines, -and in the fall Giant’s heads. There they were all over the field, -hundreds of them! Then there was consternation indeed! The natural -conclusion to be arrived at when the people saw the yellow Giant’s -heads making their appearance above the ground was, that the rest of -the Giants were coming. - -“There was one Pumpkin Giant before,” said they; “now there will be -a whole army of them. If it was dreadful then what will it be in the -future? If one Pumpkin Giant gave us the Shakes so badly, what will a -whole army of them do?” - -But when some time had elapsed and nothing more of the Giants -appeared above the surface of the potato-field, and as moreover the -heads had not yet displayed any sign of opening their mouths, the -people began to feel a little easier, and the general excitement -subsided somewhat, although the King had ordered out Ariadne Diana’s -body-guard again. - -Now Aeneas had been born with a propensity for putting everything -into his mouth and tasting it; there was scarcely anything in his -vicinity which could by any possibility be tasted, which he had not -eaten a bit of. This propensity was so alarming in his babyhood, that -Daphne purchased a book of antidotes; and if it had not been for her -admirable good judgment in doing so, this story would probably never -have been told; for no human baby could possibly have survived the -heterogeneous diet which Aeneas had indulged in. There was scarcely -one of the antidotes which had not been resorted to from time to time. - -Aeneas had become acquainted with the peculiar flavour of almost -everything in his immediate vicinity except the Giant’s heads; and he -naturally enough cast longing eyes at them. Night and day he wondered -what a Giant’s head could taste like, till finally one day when -Patroclus was away he stole out into the potato-field, cut a bit out -of one of the Giant’s heads and ate it. He was almost afraid to, -but he reflected that his mother could give him an antidote; so he -ventured. It tasted very sweet and nice; he liked it so much that he -cut off another piece and ate that, then another and another, until -he had eaten two-thirds of a Giant’s head. Then he thought it was -about time for him to go in and tell his mother and take an antidote, -though he did not feel ill at all yet. - -“Mother,” said he, rolling slowly into the cottage, “I have eaten -two-thirds of a Giant’s head, and I guess you had better give me an -antidote.” - -“O, my precious son!” cried Daphne, “how could you?” She looked in -her book of antidotes, but could not find one antidote for a Giant’s -head. - -“O Aeneas, my dear, dear son!” groaned Daphne, “there is no antidote -for Giant’s head! What shall we do?” - -Then she sat down and wept, and Aeneas wept, too, as loud as he -possibly could. And he apparently had excellent reason to; for it did -not seem possible that a boy could eat two-thirds of a Giant’s head -and survive it without an antidote. Patroclus came home, and they -told him, and he sat down and lamented with them. All day they sat -weeping and watching Aeneas, expecting every moment to see him die. -But he did not die; on the contrary he had never felt so well in his -life. - -Finally at sunset Aeneas looked up and laughed. “I am not going to -die,” said he; “I never felt so well; you had better stop crying. And -I am going out to get some more of that Giant’s head; I am hungry.” - -“Don’t, don’t!” cried his father and mother; but he went; for he -generally took his own way, very like most only sons. He came back -with a whole Giant’s head in his arms. - -“See here, father and mother,” cried he; “we’ll all have some of -this; it evidently is not poison, and it is good--a great deal better -than potatoes!” - -Patroclus and Daphne hesitated, but they were hungry, too. Since the -crop of Giant’s heads had sprung up in their field instead of -potatoes, they had been hungry most of the time; so they tasted. - -“It is good,” said Daphne; “but I think it would be better cooked.” -So she put some in a kettle of water over the fire, and let it boil -awhile; then she dished it up, and they all ate it. It was delicious. -It tasted more like stewed pumpkin than anything else; in fact it was -stewed pumpkin. - -Daphne was inventive; and something of a genius; and next day she -concocted another dish out of the Giant’s heads. She boiled them, and -sifted them, and mixed them with eggs and sugar and milk and spice; -then she lined some plates with puff paste, filled them with the -mixture, and set them in the oven to bake. - -The result was unparalleled; nothing half so exquisite had ever -been tasted. They were all in ecstasies, Aeneas in particular. They -gathered all the Giant’s heads and stored them in the cellar. Daphne -baked pies of them every day, and nothing could surpass the felicity -of the whole family. - -One morning the King had been out hunting, and happened to ride by -the cottage of Patroclus with a train of his knights. Daphne was -baking pies as usual, and the kitchen door and window were both open, -for the room was so warm; so the delicious odour of the pies perfumed -the whole air about the cottage. - -“What is it smells so utterly lovely?” exclaimed the King, sniffing -in a rapture. - -He sent his page in to see. - -“The housewife is baking Giant’s head pies,” said the page, returning. - -“What?” thundered the King. “Bring out one to me!” - -So the page brought out a pie to him, and after all his knights had -tasted to be sure it was not poison, and the King had watched them -sharply for a few moments to be sure they were not killed, he tasted -too. - -Then he beamed. It was a new sensation, and a new sensation is a -great boon to a king. - -“I never tasted anything so altogether super-fine, so utterly -magnificent in my life,” cried the King; “stewed peacocks’ tongues -from the Baltic are not to be compared with it! Call out the -housewife immediately!” - -So Daphne came out trembling, and Patroclus and Aeneas also. - -“What a charming lad!” exclaimed the King, as his glance fell upon -Aeneas. “Now tell me about these wonderful pies, and I will reward -you as becomes a monarch!” - -Then Patroclus fell on his knees and related the whole history of the -Giant’s head pies from the beginning. - -The King actually blushed. “And I forgot to knight you, oh, noble and -brave man, and to make a lady of your admirable wife!” - -Then the King leaned gracefully down from his saddle, and struck -Patroclus with his jeweled sword and knighted him on the spot. - -The whole family went to live at the royal palace. The roses in the -royal gardens were uprooted, and Giant’s heads (or pumpkins, as they -came to be called) were sown in their stead; all the royal parks also -were turned into pumpkin-fields. - -Patroclus was in constant attendance on the King, and used to stand -all day in his antechamber. Daphne had a position of great -responsibility, for she superintended the baking of the pumpkin pies, -and Aeneas finally married the Princess Ariadne Diana. - -They were wedded in great state by fifty archbishops; and all the -newspapers united in stating that they were the most charming and -well-matched young couple that had ever been united in the kingdom. - -The stone entrance of the Pumpkin Giant’s Castle was securely -fastened, and upon it was engraved an inscription composed by the -first poet in the kingdom, for which the King made him laureate, and -gave him the liberal pension of fifty pumpkin pies per year. - -The following is the inscription in full: - - “Here dwelt the Pumpkin Giant once. - He’s dead the nation doth rejoice, - For, while he was alive, he lived - By e----g dear, fat, little boys.” - -The inscription is said to remain to this day; if you were to go -there you would probably see it. - - - - -LADY WHITE AND LADY YELLOW - -(A Legend of Japan) - - -FREDERICK HADLAND DAVIS - - The sixteen petal chrysanthemum is one - of the crests of the Imperial family. - -Long ago there grew in a meadow a white and a yellow chrysanthemum -side by side. One day an old gardener chanced to come across them and -he took a great fancy to Lady Yellow. He told her that if she would -come along with him he would make her far more attractive; that he -would give her delicate food and fine clothes to wear. - -Lady Yellow was so charmed with what the old man said, that she -forgot all about the white sister and consented to be lifted up, -carried in the arms of the old gardener and to be placed in his -garden. - -When Lady Yellow and her master had departed, Lady White wept -bitterly. Her own simple beauty had been despised; but what -was far worse, she was forced to remain in the meadow alone, without -the companionship of her sister, to whom she had been devoted. - -Day by day Lady Yellow grew more fair in her master’s garden. No one -would have recognized the common flower of the field, but though her -petals were long and curled and her leaves so clean and well cared -for, she sometimes thought of Lady White alone in the field, and -wondered how she managed to make the long and lonely hours pass by. - -One day a village chief came to the old man’s garden in quest -of a perfect chrysanthemum that he might take to his lord for a -crest design. He informed the old man that he did not want a fine -chrysanthemum with long petals. What he wanted was a simple white -chrysanthemum with sixteen petals. The old man told the village chief -to see Lady Yellow, but this flower did not please him, and, thanking -the gardener, he took his departure. - -On his way home he happened to enter a field when he saw Lady White -weeping. She told him the sad story of her loneliness, and when she -had finished her tale of woe the village chief informed her that he -had seen Lady Yellow and did not consider her half so beautiful as -her own white self. At these cheery words Lady White dried her eyes -and she nearly jumped off her little feet when this kind man told her -that he wanted her for his lord’s crest! - -In another happy moment the happy Lady White was being carried in a -palanquin. When she reached the Daimyo’s palace all warmly praised -her perfection of form. Great artists came from far and near, set -about her and sketched the flower with wonderful skill. She soon saw -her pretty white face on all the Daimyo’s most precious belongings. -She saw it on his armour and lacquer boxes, on his quilts and -cushions and robes. She was painted floating down a stream and in all -manner of quaint and beautiful ways. Every one acknowledged that the -white chrysanthemum with her sixteen petals made the most wonderful -crest in all Japan. While Lady White’s happy face lived forever -designed upon the Daimyo’s possessions, Lady Yellow met with a sad -fate. She had bloomed for herself alone and had drunk in the -visitor’s praise as eagerly as she did the dew upon her finely -curled petals. One day, however, she felt a stiffness in her limbs -and a cessation of the exuberance of life. Her once proud head fell -forward, and when the old man found her he pulled her up and tossed -her upon a rubbish heap. - - - - -THE SHET-UP POSY - - -ANN TRUMBULL SLOSSON - -Used by permission of Chas. Scribner and Sons. - -Once there was a posy. ’Twa’n’t a common kind o’ posy, that blows out -wide open, so’s everybody can see its outsides and its insides too. -But ’twas one of them posies like what grows down the road, back o’ -your pa’s sugar-house, Danny, and don’t come till way towards fall. -They’re sort o’ blue, but real dark, and they look’s if they was buds -’stead o’ posies--only buds opens out, and these doesn’t. They’re all -shet up close and tight, and they never, never, never opens. Never -mind how much sun they get, never mind how much rain or how much -drouth, whether it’s cold or hot, them posies stay shet up tight, -kind o’ buddy, and not finished and humly. But if you pick ’em open, -real careful, with a pin,--I’ve done it,--you find they’re dreadful -pretty inside. - -You couldn’t see a posy that was finished off better, soft and nice, -with pretty little stripes painted on ’em, and all the little things -like threads in the middle, sech as the open posies has, standing up, -with little knots on their tops, oh, so pretty,--you never did! Makes -you think real hard, that does; leastways, makes me. What’s they -that way for? If they ain’t never goin’ to open out, what’s the use -o’ havin’ the shet-up part so slicked up and nice, with nobody never -seein’ it? Folks has different names for ’em, dumb foxgloves, blind -genshuns, and all that, but I allers call ’em the shet-up posies. - -“Well, ’twas one o’ that kind o’ posy I was goin’ to tell you about. -’Twas one o’ the shet-uppest and the buddiest of all on ’em, all -blacky-blue and straight up and down, and shet up fast and tight. -Nobody’d ever dream’t was pretty inside. And the funniest thing, it -didn’t know ’twas so itself! It thought ’twas a mistake somehow, -thought it had oughter been a posy, and was begun for one, but wasn’t -finished, and ’twas terr’ble unhappy. It knew there was pretty posies -all ’round there, golden-rod and purple daisies and all; and their -inside was the right side, and they was proud of it, and held it -open, and showed the pretty lining, all soft and nice with the little -fuzzy yeller threads standin’ up, with little balls on their tip -ends. And the shet-up posy felt real bad; not mean and hateful and -begrudgin’, you know, and wantin’ to take away the nice part from -the other posies, but sorry, and kind o’ ’shamed. - -“Oh, deary me!” she says,--I most forgot to say ’twas a girl -posy--“deary me, what a humly, skimpy, awk’ard thing I be! I ain’t -more’n half made; there ain’t no nice, pretty lining inside o’ me, -like them other posies; and on’y my wrong side shows, and that’s -jest plain and common. I can’t chirk up folks like the golden-rod and -daisies does. Nobody won’t want to pick me and carry me home. I ain’t -no good to anybody, and I never shall be.” - -So she kep’ on, thinkin’ these dreadful sorry thinkin’s, and most -wishin’ she’d never been made at all. You know ’twa’n’t jest at fust -she felt this way. Fust she thought she was a bud, like lots o’ buds -all ’round her, and she lotted on openin’ like they did. But when the -days kep’ passin’ by, and all the other buds opened out, and showed -how pretty they was, and she didn’t open, why, then she got terr’ble -discouraged; and I don’t wonder a mite. She’d see the dew a-layin’ -soft and cool on the other posies’ faces, and the sun a-shinin’ warm -on ’em as they held ’em up, and sometimes she’d see a butterfly come -down and light on ’em real soft, and kind o’ put his head down to -’em’s if he was kissin’ ’em, and she thought ’twould be powerful nice -to hold her face up to all them pleasant things. But she couldn’t. - -But one day, afore she’d got very old, ’fore she’d dried up or fell -off, or anything like that, she see somebody comin’ along her way. -’Twas a man, and he was lookin’ at all the posies real hard and -partic’lar, but he wasn’t pickin’ any of ’em. Seems’s if he was -lookin’ for somethin’ diff’rent from what he see, and the poor little -shet-up posy begun to wonder what he was arter. Bimeby she braced up, -and she asked him about it in her shet-up, whisp’rin’ voice. And says -he, the man says: “I’m a-pickin’ posies. That’s what I work at -most o’ the time. ’Tain’t for myself,” he says, “but the one I work -for. I’m on’y his help. I run errands and do chores for him, and it’s -a partic’lar kind o’ posy he’s sent me for to-day.” “What for does he -want ’em?” says the shet-up posy. “Why, to set out in his gardin,” -the man says. “He’s got the beautif’lest gardin you never see, and I -pick posies for’t.” “Deary me,” thinks she to herself, “I jest wish -he’d pick me. But I ain’t the kind, I know.” And then she says, so -soft he can’t hardly hear her, “What sort o’ posies is it you’re -arter this time?” “Well,” says the man, “it’s a dreadful sing’lar -order I’ve got to-day. I got to find a posy that’s handsomer inside -than ’tis outside, one that folks ain’t took no notice of here, -’cause ’twas kind o’ humly and queer to look at, not knowin’ that -inside ’twas as handsome as any posy on the airth. Seen any o’ that -kind?” says the man. - -Well, the shet-up posy was dreadful worked up. “Deary dear!” she -says to herself, “now if they’d on’y finished me off inside! I’m the -right kind outside, humly and queer enough, but there’s nothin’ worth -lookin’ at inside,--I’m certain sure o’ that.” But she didn’t say -this nor anything else out loud, and bimeby, when the man had waited, -and didn’t get any answer, he begun to look at the shet-up posy more -partic’lar, to see why she was so mum. And all of a suddent he says, -the man did, “Looks to me’s if you was somethin’ that kind yourself, -ain’t ye?” - -“Oh, no, no, no!” whispers the shet-up posy. “I wish I was, I wish I -was. I’m all right outside, humly and awk’ard, queer’s I can be, but -I ain’t pretty inside,--oh! I most know I ain’t.” “I ain’t so sure -o’ that myself,” says the man, “but I can tell in a jiffy.” “Will -you have to pick me to pieces?” says the shet-up posy. “No, ma’am,” -says the man; “I’ve got a way o’ tellin’, the one I work for showed -me.” The shet-up posy never knowed what he done to her. I don’t know -myself, but ’twas somethin’ soft and pleasant, that didn’t hurt a -mite, and then the man he says, “Well, well, well!” That’s all he -said, but he took her up real gentle, and begun to carry her away. -“Where be ye takin’ me?” says the shet-up posy. “Where ye belong,” -says the man; “to the gardin o’ the one I work for,” he says. “I -didn’t know I was nice enough inside,” says the shet-up posy, very -soft and still. “They most gen’ally don’t,” says the man. - - - - -THE GAY LITTLE KING - - -MARY STEWART - -So gay it looked, that young maple tree standing in the centre of the -pasture with rows and rows of dark cedars and hemlocks growing all -around it! They towered above the little maple and yet seemed to bow -before it, as with their size and strength they shielded it from the -wind which tossed their branches. It was covered, this small tree, -with leaves of flaming crimson and gold which danced and fluttered -merrily in the sunshine. - -“Is it after all only a maple tree?” thought the little lad Jamie, -who lay upon the ground in the old pasture watching. Ever since the -frost in a single night had painted the leaves with splendour, that -young tree had been a real comrade to the cripple boy. Jamie had -hurt his back the year before, and this summer, while the other boys -climbed mountains and swam streams, Jamie could only hobble upon -his crutches as far as the pasture. There he lay for hours upon the -grass watching the clouds drift across the sky and wishing he were -a cloud or a bird, so he could fly also. The days seemed very long, -and to make them pass more quickly Jamie made up stories about the -mountains in the distance, the stream which rippled at the foot -of the pasture and the dark evergreen trees which surrounded that -flaming maple. “They are dull old courtiers, and he is a gay little -king in his coronation robes,” thought the boy and then--he sat up -in astonishment and rubbed his eyes. Was he dreaming? No, it was all -real, the young maple was gone and in its place was a little king! A -crown of gleaming jewels was upon his head, he was dressed in robes -of flaming crimson and over all was flung a mantle of woven gold. And -the dark evergreens, where were they? There was no sign of them, and -around the king stood a throng of grave and solemn courtiers dressed -in green velvet, all gazing frowningly at the King. He was stamping -his foot, Jamie heard the stamp, and then he heard the King cry in a -clear, boyish voice, “I won’t be a King! I won’t sit upon a throne -all day long and make laws and punish people and be bowed down to; I -want to be a little boy and have fun, I do!” - -At that moment a gust of wind blew the King’s mantle from his -shoulders; it looked like a handful of golden leaves flying through -the air, and the King himself--or was it only a branch of scarlet -leaves?--no, it was the little King who came scampering over the -grass toward Jamie. “Come,” he said gleefully, “we are going to run -away, you and I. We’re going to have the merriest day of our whole -lives!” - -“But my crutches,” sighed Jamie. “See, I can’t run.” - -“Can’t you?” whispered the little King gently. “Close your eyes and -keep tight hold of my hand.” - -As Jamie shut his eyes he felt something very soft, like a bit of -thistle down against his cheek, and then as light as that same -thistle he felt himself rising from the ground, drifting, floating, -flying, up, up----“Now open your eyes,” said the little King’s -laughing voice. Jamie obeyed, and for a moment he was puzzled. Was he -a King, too, he wondered, for his clothes were of crimson velvet like -the lad’s beside him, or were they but leaves fluttering through the -air? - -“Never mind what you are,” cried the King, reading his look of -bewilderment. “We can all be lots more things than we dream of until -the Spirit of Autumn takes hold of us. The folks below think us only -leaves, but we know better, and now, where shall we go? This is my -last gorgeous day, for to-night Autumn flies away from the cold breath -of Winter. Let’s fly to the spot you wish to see more than anything -else in the world.” - -“Flying like this is such fun that I don’t care where we go,” -answered Jamie, then suddenly both leaves--but let us say -boys--stopped drifting and gazed in wonder at the sight before them. -They were in the sunshine, but a shower was falling in the distance -and opposite them, across the sky, stretched a perfect rainbow. - -“Did you ever hear of the pot of gold at the rainbow’s foot?” asked -Jamie excitedly. “Let’s go there now and find it!” - -“All right,” answered the little King, “let’s go there, and if -we don’t find the pot of gold we may find something still more -wonderful.” - -Through the air they flew toward the rainbow, whose colours were -paling a little in the center, but growing more and more glorious at -the end. - -“Shut your eyes again and hold my hand tight,” said the King. “I must -fill your eyes with mist or you would be blinded by the sight you are -going to see. No boy has ever seen it before except in dreams.” - -For a moment Jamie shivered, they seemed to be passing through -a thick fog, and then--“Open your eyes,” cried the King. Jamie -looked---- - -Picture to yourself a great golden hall filled with streams of -colours, each as radiant as the sunshine, and yet, seen through -spectacles of mist, so soft they could not dazzle your eyes. Each -great sheath of colour was moving, shifting and weaving itself in -and out among the others like the figure of a dancer, so quickly -that it was almost impossible to catch it. And yet that was just what -hundreds of gay little fairies with butterfly wings and scarfs of -thistle down were trying to do. Each one carried a golden pot, and -as they caught one colour after another their captives rushed away, -leaving a bit of colour in the fairy’s hand. Hastily dropping that -bit into his golden pot with a merry, tinkling laugh, the fairy was -off again after another dancing, gleaming bit of rainbow. - -“So there are the pots of gold,” cried Jamie. “But what do the -fairies do with the rainbow’s colours?” - -Just then a very merry sprite came tearing past, his pot brimming -over with glowing crimson. “My colour is the favourite just now,” he -cried. “I’ve got one billion trees to paint and all that’s left over -goes to the cardinal flowers.” “Mine is just as popular,” sang out -another fairy, his pot overflowing with gold. “There are millions of -goldenrods for me to colour as well as the trees!” “And autumn loves -mine too,” chanted a delicate little sprite whose pot was filled with -violet. “Think of all the asters without which your goldenrods would -be very tiresome.” “And mine,” rippled another, his pot filled with -blue like the sea. “Autumn always wants mine! The gentians are rare -because one blossom takes more colour than a thousand of spring’s -forget-me-nots.” - -Just then a flaming orange stream rushed past, and Jamie and the -little king made one grab at it. - -“Thieves! Robbers!” cried the colours in a whirl of fury. In a second -they were all dancing madly before the eyes of the terrified boys. -Then there was a crash as of thunder and the lads found themselves -lying upon the ground, wet, thick, gray mist all about them. The -glorious dance at the rainbow’s foot had vanished. - -“I suppose we deserved that,” sighed Jamie, “but I did want a -pocketful of colour stuff to show the boys.” - -“Never mind, let’s fly out of this mist and have more fun!” cried the -little King. Up they floated into the sunshine and they found that -the winds had been busy while they were gone. Almost every tree stood -dark and bare--the air was full of brilliant, whispering leaves. -“Winter is surely coming soon,” said the little King. “Look at the -spot below us where I grew.” Beneath them, in the centre of the -pasture, stood the maple tree, only one crimson leaf still fluttering -from its branches. - -“When that leaf is gone, I’ll have to say good-night for many -months,” said the King. “Come, before that happens we’ll go to the -Cavern of the winds and see how Autumn plays upon them.” - -This time they flew upward, and now it was so cold that Jamie drew -his scarlet robes close about him. Through the first thin clouds they -flew; then right into a great cloud, looking like an enormous castle, -they floated. It was one huge hall, so vast that Jamie couldn’t see -the other end, but he could hear, far, far away beyond great arches, -the rumbling of a mighty organ. Crashing and thunderous it sounded -until the vast hall shook and echoed with the sound. “That is Autumn -playing upon the organ of the winds,” said the little King, and -although he shouted in Jamie’s ear it sounded like a whisper above -the music. “When she touches the keys the winds fill the pipes and -go roaring off to carry away the leaves below,” he explained. “But -listen--she knows the leaves have almost all fallen and now she is -singing her good-night to them.” - -The crashing had ceased, and through the great hall echoed a slumber -song, as sweet as a thrush’s note at twilight, as tender as a -wood-dove’s call. - -Jamie closed his eyes and thought of lapping waves, and sunsets, the -new moon rising and the first stars blossoming in the sky. - -Did he sleep there in the Winds’ Cavern with the Spirit of Autumn -singing good-night to her flaming world? He never knew. When he -opened his eyes he found himself standing upon the doorstep of his -own home! He was drawing something soft and white about him to keep -out the cold and he heard a whispered “Good-night, Comrade, until -next Autumn,” and a flutter as of leaves flying through the air, then -the house door opened and as he stood with the light of the blazing -fire falling upon him he heard his mother’s voice: - -“Why, Jamie, you’re covered with snow! And, my boy, where are your -crutches?” - -Into the house he ran, right into his mother’s outstretched arms, -although his crutches were still lying out on the pasture, buried -beneath the snow! And Jamie was well! Was it a gift from the Spirit -of Autumn to a little lad? Just another of her precious gifts given -with her flaming leaves, her wind’s music, her glorious flowers. Has -she not a gift for you, too, among all these? Open your eyes and your -ears and find your heart’s desire! - - October’s touch paints all the maple leaves - With brilliant crimson, and his golden kiss - Lies on the clustered hazels; scarlet glows - The sturdy oak, and copper-hued the beech. - A russet gloss lingers in the elm; - The pensile birch is yellowing apace, - And many-tinted show the woodlands all, - With autumn’s dying slendours. - --_Selected._ - - - - -THE STORY OF THE OPAL - - -ANN DE MORGAN - - The opal is the stone associated - with the month of October. - -The sun was shining brightly one day, and a little Sunbeam slid down -his long golden ladder, and crept unperceived under the leaves of a -large tree. All the Sunbeams are in reality tiny Sun-fairies, who -run down to earth on golden ladders, which look to mortals like rays -of the Sun. When they see a cloud coming they climb their ladders -in an instant and draw them up after them into the Sun. The Sun is -ruled by a mighty fairy, who every morning tells his tiny servants, -the beams, where they are to shine, and every evening counts them on -their return, to see he has the right number. It is not known, but -the Sun and Moon are enemies, and that is why they never shine at -the same time. The fairy of the Moon is a woman, and all her beams -are tiny women, who come down on the loveliest little ladders, like -threads of silver. No one knows why the Sun and Moon quarrelled. Once -they were very good friends. But now they are bitter enemies, and the -Sunbeams and Moonbeams may not play together. - -One day a little Sunbeam crept into a tree, and sat down near a -Bullfinch’s nest, and watched the Bullfinch and its mate. - -“Why should I not have a mate also?” he said to himself. He was the -prettiest little fellow you could imagine. His hair was bright gold, -and he sat still, leaning one arm on his tiny ladder, and listening -to the chatter of the birds. - -“But I shall try to keep awake to-night to see her,” said a young -Bullfinch. - -“Nonsense!” said its mother. “You shall do no such thing.” - -“But the Nightingale says she is so very lovely,” said a Wren, -looking out from her little nest in a hedge close by. - -“The Nightingale!” said the old Bullfinch, scornfully. “Every one -knows that the Nightingale was moonstruck long ago. Who can trust a -word he says?” - -“Nevertheless, I should like to see her,” said the Wren. - -“I have seen her, and the Nightingale is right,” said a Wood-dove in -its soft, cooing tones. “I was awake last night and saw her; she is -more lovely than anything that ever came here before.” - -“Of whom were you talking?” asked the Sunbeam; and he shot across to -the Bullfinch’s nest. All the birds were silent when they saw him. -At last the Bullfinch said, “Only of a Moonbeam, your Highness. No -one your Highness would care about,” for the Bullfinch remembered the -quarrel between the Sun and Moon, and did not like to say much. - -“What is she like?” asked the Sunbeam. “I have never seen a Moonbeam.” - -“I have seen her, and she is as beautiful as an angel,” said the -Wood-dove. “But you should ask the Nightingale. He knows more about -her than any one, for he always comes out to sing to her.” - -“Where is the Nightingale?” asked the Sunbeam. - -“He is resting now,” said the Wren, “and will not say a word. But -later, as the Sun begins to set, he will come out and tell you.” - -“At the time when all decent birds are going to roost,” grumbled the -Bullfinch. - -“I will wait till the Nightingale comes,” said the Sunbeam. - -So all day long he shone about the tree. As the sun moved slowly -down, his ladder dropped with it lower and lower, for it was fastened -to the Sun at one end; and if he had allowed the Sun to disappear -before he had run back and drawn it up, the ladder would have broken -against the earth, and the poor little Sunbeam could never have gone -home again, but would have wandered about, becoming paler and paler -every minute, till at last he died. - -But some time before the sun had gone, when it was still shining in -a glorious bed of red and gold, the Nightingale arose, began to sing -loud and clear. - -“Oh, is it you at last?” said the Sunbeam. “How I have waited for -you. Tell me quickly about this Moonbeam of whom they are all -talking.” - -“What shall I tell you of her?” sang the Nightingale. “She is more -beautiful than the rose. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever -seen. Her hair is silver, and the light of her eyes is far more -lovely than yours. But why should you want to know about her? You -belong to the Sun, and hate Moonbeams.” - -“I do not hate them,” said the Sunbeam. “What are they like? Show -this one to me some night, dear Nightingale.” - -“I cannot show her to you now,” answered the Nightingale; “for she -will not come out till long after the sun has set; but wait a few -days, and when the Moon is full she will come a little before the Sun -sets, and if you hide beneath a leaf you may look at her. But you -must promise not to shine on her, or you might hurt her, or break her -ladder.” - -“I will promise,” said the Sunbeam, and every day he came back to the -same tree at sunset, to talk to the Nightingale about the Moonbeam, -till the Bullfinch was quite angry. - -“To-night I shall see her at last,” he said to himself, for the Moon -was almost full, and would rise before the Sun had set. He hid in the -oak-leaves, trembling with expectation. - -“She is coming!” said the Nightingale, and the Sunbeam peeped -out from the branches, and watched. In a minute or two a tiny -silver ladder like a thread was placed among the leaves, near the -Nightingale’s nest, and down it came the Moonbeam, and our little -Sunbeam looked out and saw her. - -She did not at all look as he had expected she would, but he agreed -with the Nightingale that she was the loveliest thing he had ever -seen. She was all silver, and pale greeny blue. Her hair and eyes -shone like stars. All the Sunbeams looked bright, and hot, but she -looked as cool as the sea; yet she glittered like a diamond. The -Sunbeam gazed at her in surprise, unable to say a word, till all at -once he saw that his little ladder was bending. The sun was sinking, -and he had only just time to scramble back, and draw his ladder after -him. - -The Moonbeam only saw his light vanishing, and did not see him. - -“To whom were you talking, dear Nightingale?” she asked, putting her -beautiful white arms round his neck, and leaning her head on his -bosom. - -“To a Sunbeam,” answered the Nightingale. “Ah, how beautiful he is! I -was telling him about you. He longs to see you.” - -“I have never seen a Sunbeam,” said the Moonbeam, wistfully. “I -should like to see one so much;” and all night long she sat close -beside the Nightingale, with her head leaning on his breast whilst he -sang to her of the Sunbeam; and his song was so loud and clear that -it awoke the Bullfinch, who flew into a rage, and declared that if it -went on any longer she would speak to the Owl about it, and have it -stopped. For the Owl was chief judge, and always ate the little birds -when they did not behave themselves. - -But the Nightingale never ceased, and the Moonbeam listened till the -tears rose in her eyes and her lips quivered. - -“To-night, then, I shall see him,” whispered the Moonbeam, as she -kissed the Nightingale, and bid him adieu. - -“And to-night he will see you,” said the Nightingale, as he settled -to rest among the leaves. - -All that next day was cloudy, and the Sun did not shine, but towards -evening the clouds passed away and the Sun came forth, and no sooner -had it appeared than the Nightingale saw our Sunbeam’s ladder placed -close to his nest, and in an instant the Sunbeam was beside him. - -“Dear, dear Nightingale,” he said, “you are right. She is more lovely -than the dawn. I have thought of her all night and all day. Tell me, -will she come again to-night? I will wait to see her.” - -“Yes, she will come, and you may speak to her, but you must not touch -her,” said the Nightingale; and then they were silent and waited. - -Underneath the oak-tree lay a large white Stone, a common white -Stone, neither beautiful nor useful, for it lay there where it had -fallen, and bitterly lamented that it had no object in life. It never -spoke to the birds, who scarcely knew it could speak; but sometimes, -if the Nightingale lighted upon it, and touched it with his soft -breast, or the Moonbeam shone upon it, it felt as if it would break -with grief that it should be so stupid and useless. It watched the -Sunbeams and Moonbeams come down on their ladders, and wondered that -none of the birds but the Nightingale thought the Moonbeam beautiful. -That evening, as the Sunbeam sat waiting, the Stone watched it -eagerly, and when the Moonbeam placed her tiny ladder among the -leaves, and slid down it, it listened to all that was said. - -At first the Moonbeam did not speak, for she did not see the Sunbeam, -but she came close to the Nightingale, and kissed it as usual. - -“Have you seen him again?” she asked. And, on hearing this, the -Sunbeam shot out from among the green leaves, and stood before her. - -For a few minutes she was silent; then she began to shiver and sob, -and drew nearer to the Nightingale, and if the Sunbeam tried to -approach her, she climbed up her ladder, and went farther still. - -“Do not be frightened, dearest Moonbeam,” cried he piteously; “I -would not, indeed, do you any harm, you are so very lovely, and I -love you so much.” - -The Moonbeam turned away, sobbing. - -“I do not want you to leave me,” she said, “for if you touch me I -shall die. It would have been much better for you not to have seen -me; and now I cannot go back and be happy in the Moon, for I shall be -always thinking of you.” - -“I do not care if I die or not, now that I have seen you; and see,” -said the Sunbeam sadly, “my end is sure, for the Sun is fast sinking, -and I shall not return to it, I shall stay with you.” - -“Go, while you have time,” cried the Moonbeam. But even as she spoke -the Sun sank beneath the horizon, and the tiny gold ladder of the -Sunbeam broke with a snap, and the two sides fell to earth and melted -away. - -“See,” said the Sunbeam, “I cannot return now, neither do I wish it. -I will remain here with you till I die.” - -“No, no,” cried the Moonbeam. “Oh, I shall have killed you! What -shall I do? And look, there are clouds drifting near the Moon; if one -of them floats across my ladder it will break it. But I cannot go -and leave you here;” and she leaned across the leaves to where the -Sunbeam sat, and looked into his eyes. But the Nightingale saw that -a tiny white cloud was sailing close by the Moon--a little cloud no -bigger than a spot of white wool, but quite big and strong enough to -break the Moonbeam’s little ladder. - -“Go, go at once. See! your ladder will break,” he sang to her; but -she did not notice him, but sat watching the Sunbeam sadly. For a -moment the moon’s light was obscured, as the tiny cloud sailed past -it; then the little silver ladder fell to earth, broken in two and -shrunk away, but the Moonbeam did not heed it. - -“It does not matter,” she said, “for I should never have gone back -and left you here, now that I have seen you.” - -So all night long they sat together in the oak tree, and the -Nightingale sang to them, and the other birds grumbled that he kept -them awake. But the two were very happy, though the Sunbeam knew he -was growing paler every moment, for he could not live twenty-four -hours away from the Sun. - -When the dawn began to appear, the Moonbeam shivered and trembled. - -“The strong Sun,” she said, “would kill me, but I fear something even -worse than the Sun. See how heavy the clouds are! Surely it is going -to rain, and rain would kill us both at once. Oh, where can we look -for shelter before it comes?” - -The Sunbeam looked up, and saw that the rain was coming. - -“Come,” he said, “let us go;” and they wandered out into the forest, -and sought for a sheltering place, but every moment they grew weaker. - -When they were gone, the Stone looked up at the Nightingale, and said: - -“Oh, why did they go? I like to hear them talk, and they are so -pretty; they can find no shelter out there, and they will die at -once. See! in my side there is a large hole where it is quite dark, -and into which no rain can come. Fly after them and tell them to -come, that I will shelter them.” So the Nightingale spread his wings, -and flew, singing: - -“Come back, come back! The Stone will shelter you. Come back at once -before the rain falls.” - -They had wandered out into an open field, but when she heard the -Nightingale, the Moonbeam turned her head and said: - -“Surely that is the Nightingale singing. See! he is calling us.” - -“Follow me,” sang the bird. “Back at once to shelter in the Stone.” -But the Moonbeam tottered and fell. - -“I am grown so weak and pale,” she said, “I can no longer move.” - -Then the Nightingale flew to earth. “Climb upon my back,” he said, -“and I will take you both back to the Stone.” So they both sat upon -his back, and he flew with them to the large Stone beneath the tree. - -“Go in,” he said, stopping in front of the hole; and both passed into -the hole, and nestled in the darkness within the Stone. - -Then the rain began. All day long it rained, and the Nightingale sat -in his nest half asleep. But when the Moon rose, after the sun had -set, the clouds cleared away, and the air was again full of tiny -silver ladders, down which the Moonbeams came, but the Nightingale -looked in vain for his own particular Moonbeam. He knew she could -not shine on him again, therefore he mourned, and sang a sorrowful -song. Then he flew down to the Stone, and sang a song at the mouth -of the hole, but there came no answer. So he looked down the hole, -into the Stone, but there was no trace of the Sunbeam or the -Moonbeam--only one shining spot of light, where they had rested. Then -the Nightingale knew that they had faded away and died. - -“They could not live away from the Sun and Moon,” he said. “Still, I -wish I had never told the Sunbeam of her beauty; then she would be -here now.” - -When the Bullfinch heard of it she was quite pleased. “Now, at -least,” she said, “we shall hear the end of the Moonbeam. I am -heartily glad, for I was sick of her.” - -“How much they must have loved each other!” said the Dove. “I am glad -at least that they died together,” and she cooed sadly. - -But through the Stone wherein the beams had sheltered, shot up -bright, beautiful rays of light, silver and gold. They coloured it -all over with every colour of the rainbow, and when the Sun or Moon -warmed it with their light it became quite brilliant. So that the -Stone, from being the ugliest thing in the whole forest, became the -most beautiful. - -Men found it and called it the Opal. But the Nightingale knew that it -was the Sunbeam and Moonbeam who, in dying, had suffused the Stone -with their mingled colours and light; and the Nightingale will never -forget them, for every night he sings their story, and that is why -his song is so sad. - - In sapphire, emerald, amethyst, - Sparkles the sea by the morning kissed; - And the mist from the far-off valleys lie - Gleaming like pearl in the tender sky; - Soft shapes of cloud that melt and drift, - With tints of opal that glow and shift. - CELIA THAXTER. - - - - -LOST: THE SUMMER - - - Where has the summer gone? - She was here just a minute ago, - With roses and daisies - To whisper her praises---- - And every one loved her so! - - Has any one seen her about? - She must have gone off in the night! - And she took the best flowers - And the happiest hours, - And asked no one’s leave for her flight. - - Have you noticed her steps in the grass? - The garden looks red where she went; - By the side of the hedge - There’s a golden-rod edge, - And the rose vines are withered and bent. - - Do you think she will ever come back? - I shall watch every day at the gate - For the robins and clover, - Saying over and over: - “I know she will come, if I wait.” - RAYMOND MACDONALD ALDEN. - - - - -BY THE WAYSIDE - - - On the hill the golden-rod, - And the aster in the wood, - And the yellow sunflower by the brook, - In autumn beauty stood. - WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. - - - - -THE KING’S CANDLES - - -Once upon a time there lived a good king who was driven from his -throne by an enemy. A few faithful knights and servants fled with his -majesty to a forest where they found shelter in deep, rocky caves. - -The flight from the king’s palace had been so hasty that the knights -and servants could bring only a few things for their king’s comfort. -It was in the early autumn and his majesty feared it would be -necessary to live in secret during the coming winter. You may be sure -the king was well pleased to find his knights had brought a few warm -blankets and robes. After he had praised his followers for their -thoughtfulness in providing for the winter, a young page stepped -forward and said, “Your Majesty, I did not bring clothing, but I -brought as many candles as I could carry.” - -“Candles,” laughed the king, “now pray tell me, lad, why you brought -candles. You served me well in the palace by seeing that my throne -was properly lighted, but in our forest exile we shall have little -use for candles, I fear.” - -“Sire,” replied the page, “I thought that your majesty would wish to -hold council in the evenings, and that I could light your throne seat -with candles as was the custom in the palace.” - -“I fear my throne seat, as you call it, will be nothing more than a -rocky ledge for some time,” said the king. “See, there is one in the -inner cave which will serve. So long as the candles last, my faithful -lad, your king will not be obliged to hold council in darkness.” - -“So long as the candles last,” repeated the king’s page to himself. -“I hope our king’s soldiers, who are seeking help, will be able to -drive the usurper away before winter comes.” - -The king and his followers soon adapted themselves to life in exile. -During the daytime they hunted game which lurked in the thickets; in -the evening they gathered together in the deep cave and held council. -Then it was that the king sat on his rude throne lit by two candles. - -The king’s page with sinking heart saw the candles grow fewer and -fewer until there were but two left. Then at last came an evening -when the lights were missing from the king’s throne. In a dark corner -of the cave the little page sat grieving because he could not see his -king’s face. - -It happened one morning that the lad wandered to the edge of the -woodland where the highway separated the richly coloured forest -trees from a stretch of meadowland where the white mist was slowly -lifting. On the roadside was an old woman carrying a large sack on -her bent shoulders. When she reached the place where the king’s page -was standing she set her sack on the ground and looked wistfully at -the meadow, then at the deep ditch which separated the field from the -highway. - -“Shall I help you across the ditch?” asked the king’s page. - -“Thank you, my lad,” said the old woman. “Perhaps I’d better not go -across. It would be hard for me to reach the highway again. But I -should like a few of those tall mullein spikes. I’ve none in my bag -so fine as those growing in the meadow.” - -“I’ll gather some for you” said the king’s page. - -He leaped across the ditch, and soon filled his hands with the tall -mullein spikes. - -The old woman was delighted. She tucked them into her bag and said, -“They make such fine winter candles. Thank you, my lad.” - -“Winter candles!” exclaimed the king’s page. - -“Aye,” nodded the old woman. “Dip them in tallow, a thin coat will -do--and you have candles fit for a king. Thank you kindly.” - -“We are in sore need of candles where I live, but----” the page -stopped. - -“Use mullein spikes. They make candles fit for a king, I say,” and -the old woman picked up her sack. - -“But we have no tallow,” said the lad. - -“I can spare you a lump of tallow, my boy. Come along with me to my -cottage,” said the old woman. - -So the king’s page carried the sack of mullein spikes to the old -woman’s cottage and she gave him a large lump of tallow. On his way -back he leaped across the ditch again and filled his arms with tall -mullein spikes. He hurried back to the cave, melted the tallow, and -dipped the weeds into the liquid fat. - -When the king and his party returned that evening to the cave, two -tall candles were standing on the rude throne. - -“See,” cried the king’s page, “we have a fresh supply of candles.” - -“Tell us where you got them,” said the surprised king. - -“They are made from spikes of the mullein weed,” explained the king’s -page. Then he told his majesty about the afternoon’s adventure. - -“The mullein weed shall have a new name,” declared the king. “It -shall be called the King’s Candles.” - -A few days later the king called his followers around his throne seat -and said, “A message has come to me declaring that the usurper has -been driven out of my country. Tomorrow we’ll hold a feast in the -palace, and the table shall be lighted by ‘King’s Candles.’” - -Every year since that far-off time when the reigning king holds an -autumn festival, the banquet table is lighted with mullein spikes -dipped in tallow, and they are called the “King’s Candles.” - - “The mullein’s yellow candles burn - Over the heads of dry, sweet fern.” - - - - -A LEGEND OF THE GOLDEN-ROD - - -FRANCES WELD DANIELSON - -(From “Story-Telling Time.” Used by permission of Pilgrims Press.) - -Once there were a great many weeds in a field. They were very -ugly-looking weeds, and they didn’t seem to be the least bit of use -in the world. The cows would not eat them, the children would not -pick them, and even the bugs did not seem to like them very well. - -“I don’t see what we’re here for,” said one of the weeds. “We are not -any good.” - -“No good at all,” growled a dozen little weeds, “only to catch dust.” - -“Well, if that’s what we’re here for,” cried a very tall weed, “then -I say let’s catch dust! I suppose somebody’s got to do it. We can’t -all bear blueberries or blossom into hollyhocks.” - -“But it isn’t pleasant work at all,” whined a tiny bit of a weed. - -“No whining allowed in this field,” laughed a funny little fat weed, -with a hump in his stalk. “We’re all going to catch dust, so let’s -see which one can catch the most. What do you say to a race?” - -The little fat weed spoke in such a jolly voice that the weeds all -cheered up at once, and before long they were as busy as bees, and -as happy as Johnnie-jump-ups. They worked so well stretching their -stalks and spreading out their fingers that before the summer was -half over they were able to take every bit of dust that flew up from -the road. In the field beyond, where the clover grew and the cows -fed, there was not any to be seen. - -One morning, toward the end of summer, the weeds were surprised to -see a number of people standing by the fence looking at them. Pretty -soon some children came and gazed at them. Then the weeds noticed -that people driving by called each other’s attention to them. They -were much surprised at this, but they were still more surprised when -one day some children climbed the fence and commenced to pick them. - -“See,” cried a little girl, “how all the dust has been changed to -gold!” - -The weeds looked at each other, and, sure enough, they were all -covered with gold-dust. - -“A fairy has done it,” they whispered one to the other. - -But the fairies were there on the spot, and declared they had had -nothing to do with it. - -“You did it yourselves,” cried the queen of the fairies. “You were -happy in your work, and a cheerful spirit always changes dust into -gold. Didn’t you know it?” - -“You’re not weeds any more, you’re flowers,” sang the fairies. - -“Golden-rod, golden-rod!” shouted the children. - - - - -GOLDEN-ROD - - - Pretty, slender golden-rod, - Like a flame of light, - On the quiet, lonely way, - Glows your torch so bright. - - With your glorious golden staff, - Gay in autumn hours, - Now you lead to wintry rest, - All the lovely flowers. - - Cheering with a joyous face, - All that pass you by, - How you light the meadows round, - With your head so high. - ANNA E. SKINNER. - - - - -THE LITTLE WEED - - -“You’re nothing but a weed,” said the children in the fall. The -little weed hung its head in sorrow. No one seemed to think that a -weed was of any use. - -By and by the snow came and the cold winds blew. There were many -hungry little birds hunting for food. - - “Twit! Twit Twee! - See! See! See!” - -sang a merry little bird one cold morning. - -“Here is a lovely weed full of nice brown seeds!” And he made a good -meal from those seeds that morning. Then three other little birds -came to share the feast. - -The little weed was so happy that she held her head up straight and -tall again. - -“That is what I was meant for,” she said. “I am good for something. -Four hungry little birds had as many seeds as they wished for their -breakfast. Next year I’ll grow as many seeds as I can to feed many -more hungry little birds. Good-bye, little birds,” she called out to -the little feathery friends. “Come again next year. I’ll have another -dinner for you.” - -“Good-bye, little weed,” sang the birds. “We have had a fine meal and -we thank you very much. You’ll see us again next year. It is so hard -to get enough to eat during the cold weather, and we are grateful to -you for holding your seeds for us.” - -“It’s nice to find that one is of some use after all, isn’t it?” -called out the little weed to her neighbour in the next field. - - --_Selected._ - - - - -GOLDEN-ROD AND PURPLE ASTER - - -FLORA J. COOKE - -Once upon a time a strange, wise woman lived in a little hut which -stood on the top of a hill. She looked so grim and severe that people -were afraid to go near her. It was said that she could change people -into anything she wished. - -One day two little girls who lived at the foot of the hill were -playing together. One was named Golden Hair and the other Blue Eyes. -After a while they sat down on the grassy hillside to rest. - -“I should like to do something to make everybody happy,” said Blue -Eyes. - -“So should I,” said Golden Hair. “Let us ask the woman who lives on -the hilltop about it. She is very wise and can surely tell us just -what to do.” - -“Oh, yes,” said Blue Eyes, and away they started at once. - -It was a long, long walk to the top of the hill. Many times the -little girls stopped to rest under the oak trees which shaded their -pathway. - -They could find no flowers, but they made a basket of oak leaves and -filled it with berries for the wise woman. - -The birds were singing in the treetops, and the squirrels were -frisking about in the branches. Golden Hair and Blue Eyes stopped to -laugh and talk with them. - -The little girls walked on and on up the rocky pathway. After a while -the sun went down, the birds stopped their singing, and the squirrels -went to bed. The evening wind was resting. How still and cool it was -on the hillside! - -Presently the moon and stars came out. Then the frogs and toads -awoke, beetles and fireflies flew about and the night music began. - -Golden Hair and Blue Eyes were growing very tired, but on and on they -climbed until at last they reached the hut on the hilltop where the -strange, wise woman lived. - -“See, she is standing at the gate,” said Golden Hair. “How stern she -looks.” - -The little girls clung close together, and when they reached the gate -Golden Hair said bravely, “We know you are very wise and we came to -see if you would tell us how to make everyone happy.” - -“Please let us stay together,” said timid Blue Eyes. - -As she opened the gate for the children, the wise woman was seen to -smile in the moonlight. Golden Hair and Blue Eyes were never seen -again at the foot of the hill. The next morning beautiful, waving -golden-rod and purple asters grew all over the hillside. - -Some people say that these two bright flowers, which grow side by -side, could tell the secret if they would, of what became of the two -little girls on that moonlight night. - -(Adapted.) - - - - -WILD ASTERS - - -CHILD - - White and purple asters, watching by the brook, - Tell me where you got your starry eyes. - - ASTERS - - Dearie, in their play the baby angels took - Blossoms from the garden of the skies. - - Tossed them downward to us over heaven’s wall, - And we caught and kept them,--that is all. - - - - -SILVER-ROD - - -EDITH M. THOMAS - -Who knows not Silver-rod, the lovely and reverend Golden-rod -beautified and sainted, looking moonlit and misty even in the -sunshine! In this soft canescent afterbloom beginning at the apex of -the flower cluster and gradually spreading downward, the eye finds -an agreeable relief from the recent dazzle of yellow splendour. I -almost forget that the herb is not literally in bloom, that is, no -longer ministered to by sunshine and dew. Is there not, perhaps, some -kind of bee that loves to work among these plumy blossoms gathering a -concentrated form of nectar, pulverulent _flower_ of honey? I gently -stir this tufted staff, and away floats a little cloud of pappus, in -which I recognize the golden-and silver-rods of another year, if the -feathery seeds shall find hospitable lodgment in the earth. Two other -plants in the wild herbarium deserve to be ranked with my -subject for grace and dignity with which they wear their seedy -fortunes: iron-weed, with its pretty daisy-shaped involucres; -and life-everlasting, which, having provided its own cerements -and spices, now rests embalmed in all the pastures; it is still -pleasantly odorous, and, as often as I meet it, puts me in mind of -an old-fashioned verse which speaks of the “actions of the just” and -their lasting bloom and sweetness. On a chill November day I fancy -that the air is a little softer in places where Silver-rod holds -sway and that there spirits of peace and patience have their special -haunts. - - * * * * * - -A white butterfly met a thistle-ball in the airy highway. Expressions -of mutual surprise were exchanged. - -“Hello! I thought you were one of us,” said the butterfly. - -“And I,” returned the thistle-ball, “took you for a white -pea-blossom.” - - - - -PIMPERNEL, THE SHEPHERD’S CLOCK - - - I’ll go and look at the Pimpernel - And see if she thinks the clouds look well. - For if the sun shine - And ’tis like to be fine, - I’ll go to the fair. - - So Pimpernel, what bode the clouds in the sky; - If fair weather, no maiden so merry as I. - - Now the Pimpernel flower had folded up - Her little gold star in her coral cup. - And unto the maid - A warning she said: - “Though the sun seems down - There’s a gathering frown - O’er the checkered blue of the clouded sky - So, tarry at home! for a storm is nigh!” - - - - -A LEGEND OF THE GENTIAN - - -(Hungarian) - -Many years ago the poor people of Hungary suffered from a terrible -sickness which had afflicted them for a long time. Thousands of them -had been stricken and many had died, for nothing could be found to -cure them or relieve their sufferings in any way. - -At last the people appealed to their good King Ladislaw for help. -Messenger after messenger was sent to beg him to bring about some -relief. But the good king could do nothing, and he was obliged to -send the messengers away without help and without hope. - -One day the king sat thinking about the needs of his people. “What -can I do for my people?” he asked himself over and over again. “I -have sent them away without help and without hope. God alone knows -what will help them. He will give me a sign. My arrow shall bring me -the message.” And the good king prayed that divine guidance would -direct an arrow shot into the air. - -His Majesty shot the arrow and watched where it fell. And, behold, it -pierced the root of a gentian! - -The king then sent his servants to gather many roots of this plant -and make from them a medicine for his suffering people. And the -cure was so wonderful that from that day his people have called the -gentian “The Herb of King Ladislaw.” - - “Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, - And coloured with the heaven’s own blue, - That openest when, the quiet light, - Succeeds the keen and frosty night.” - - - - -QUEEN ASTER - - -LOUISA M. ALCOTT - -For many seasons the Golden-rods had reigned over the meadow, and no -one thought of choosing a king from any other family, for they were -strong and handsome, and loved to rule. - -But one autumn something happened which caused a great excitement -among the flowers. It was proposed to have a queen, and such a thing -had never been heard of before. It began among the Asters; for some -of them grew outside the wall beside the road, and saw and heard -what went on in the great world. These sturdy plants told the news -to their relations inside; and so the Asters were unusually wise and -energetic flowers, from the little white stars in the grass to the -tall sprays tossing their purple plumes above the mossy wall. - -“Things are moving in the great world, and it is time we made a -change in our little one,” said one of the roadside Asters, after a -long talk with a wandering wind. “Matters are not going well in the -meadow; for the Golden-rods rule, and they care only for money and -power, as their name shows. Now, we are descended from the stars, -and are both wise and good, and our tribe is even larger than the -Golden-rod tribe; so it is but fair that we should take our turn at -governing. It will soon be time to choose, and I propose our stately -cousin, Violet Aster, for queen this year. Whoever agrees with me, -say Aye.” - -Quite a shout went up from all the Asters; and the late Clovers and -Buttercups joined in it, for they were honest, sensible flowers, -and liked fair play. To their great delight the Pitcher-plant, or -Forefathers’ Cup, said “Aye” most decidedly, and that impressed all -the other plants; for this fine family came over in the _Mayflower_, -and was much honoured everywhere. - -But the proud Cardinals by the brook blushed with shame at the -idea of a queen; the Fringed Gentians shut their blue eyes that -they might not see the bold Asters; and Clematis fainted away in the -grass, she was so shocked. The Golden-rods laughed scornfully, and -were much amused at the suggestion to put them off the throne where -they had ruled so long. - -“Let those discontented Asters try it,” they said. “No one will vote -for that foolish Violet, and things will go on as they always have -done; so, dear friends, don’t be troubled, but help us elect our -handsome cousin who was born in the palace this year.” - -In the middle of the meadow stood a beautiful maple, and at its foot -lay a large rock overgrown by a wild grapevine. All kinds of flowers -sprang up here; and this autumn a tall spray of Golden-rod and a -lovely violet Aster grew almost side by side, with only a screen of -ferns between them. This was called the palace; and seeing their -cousin there made the Asters feel that their turn had come, and many -of the other flowers agreed with them that a change of rulers ought -to be made for the good of the kingdom. - -So when the day came to choose, there was great excitement as the -wind went about collecting the votes. The Golden-rods, Cardinals, -Gentians, Clematis, and Bitter-sweet voted for the Prince, as they -called the handsome fellow by the rock. All the Asters, Buttercups, -Clovers, and Pitcher-plants voted for Violet; and to the surprise -of the meadow the Maple dropped a leaf, and the Rock gave a bit of -lichen for her also. They seldom took part in the affairs of the -flower people,--the tree living so high above them, busy with its own -music, and the rock being so old that it seemed lost in meditation -most of the time; but they liked the idea of a queen (for one was a -poet, the other a philosopher), and both believed in gentle Violet. - -Their votes won the day, and with loud rejoicing by her friends she -was proclaimed queen of the meadow and welcomed to her throne. - -“We will never go to Court or notice her in any way,” cried the -haughty Cardinals, red with anger. - -“Nor we! Dreadful, unfeminine creature! Let us turn our backs and be -grateful that the brook flows between us,” added the Gentians, -shaking their fringes as if the mere idea soiled them. - -Clematis hid her face among the vine leaves, feeling that the palace -was no longer a fit home for a delicate, high-born flower like -herself. All the Golden-rods raged at this dreadful disappointment, -and said many untrue and disrespectful things of Violet. The Prince -tossed his yellow head behind the screen, and laughed as if he did -not mind, saying carelessly: - -“Let her try; she never can do it, and will soon be glad to give up -and let me take my proper place.” - -So the meadow was divided: one half turned its back on the new queen; -the other half loved, admired, and believed in her; and all waited to -see how the experiment would succeed. The wise Asters helped her with -advice; the Pitcher-plant refreshed her with the history of the brave -Puritans who loved liberty and justice, and suffered to win them; the -honest Clovers sweetened life with their sincere friendship, and the -cheerful Buttercups brightened her days with kindly words and deeds. -But her best help came from the rock and the tree,--for when she -needed strength she leaned her delicate head against the rough -breast of the rock, and courage seemed to come to her from the wise -old stone that had borne the storms of a hundred years; when her -heart was heavy with care or wounded by unkindness, she looked up -to the beautiful tree, always full of soft music, always pointing -heavenward, and was comforted by these glimpses of a world above her. - -The first thing she did was to banish the evil snakes from her -kingdom; for they lured the innocent birds to death, and filled many -a happy nest with grief. - -The next task was to stop the red and black ants from constantly -fighting; for they were always at war, to the great dismay of more -peaceful insects. She bade each tribe keep in its own country, and -if any dispute came up, to bring it to her, and she would decide it -fairly. This was a hard task; for the ants loved to fight, and would -go on struggling after their bodies were separated from their heads, -so fierce were they. But she made them friends at last, and every one -was glad. - -Another reform was to purify the news that came to the meadow. The -wind was telegraph-messenger; but the birds were reporters, and some -of them very bad ones. The larks brought tidings from the clouds, -and were always welcome; the thrushes from the wood, and all loved -to hear their pretty romances; the robins had domestic news, and -the lively wrens bits of gossip and witty jokes to relate. But the -magpies made such mischief with their ill-natured tattle and evil -tales, and the crows criticised and condemned every one who did not -believe and do just as they did; so the magpies were forbidden to go -gossiping about the meadow, and the gloomy black crows were ordered -off the fence where they liked to sit cawing dismally for hours at a -time. - -Every one felt safe and comfortable when this was done, except the -Cardinals, who liked to hear their splendid dresses and fine feasts -talked about, and the Golden-rods, who were so used to living in -public that they missed the excitement, as well as the scandal of the -magpies and the political and religious arguments and quarrels of the -crows. - -A hospital for sick and homeless creatures was opened under the big -burdock leaves; and there several belated butterflies were tucked up -in their silken hammocks to sleep till spring, a sad lady-bug, who -had lost all her children, found comfort in her loneliness, and many -crippled ants sat talking over their battles, like old soldiers, in -the sunshine. - -It took a long time to do all this, and it was a hard task, for -the rich and powerful flowers gave no help. But the Asters worked -bravely, so did the Clovers and Buttercups and the Pitcher-plant kept -open house with the old-fashioned hospitality one so seldom sees -nowadays. Everything seemed to prosper, and the meadow grew more -beautiful day by day. Safe from their enemies, the snakes, birds came -to build in all the trees and bushes, singing their gratitude so -sweetly that there was always music in the air. Sunshine and shower -seemed to love to freshen the thirsty flowers and keep the grass -green, till every plant grew strong and fair, and passers-by stopped -to look, saying with a smile:-- - -“What a pretty little spot this is!” - -The wind carried tidings of these things to other colonies, and -brought back messages of praise and good-will from other rulers, glad -to know the experiment worked so well. - -This made a deep impression on the Golden-rods and their friends, for -they could not deny that Violet had succeeded better than any one -dared to hope; and the proud flowers began to see that they would -have to give in, own they were wrong, and become loyal subjects of -this wise and gentle queen. - -“We shall have to go to Court if ambassadors keep coming with such -gifts and honours to Her Majesty; for they wonder not to see us -there, and will tell that we are sulking at home instead of shining -as _we_ only can,” said the Cardinals, longing to display their red -velvet robes at the feasts which Violet was obliged to give in the -palace when kings came to visit her. - -“Our time will soon be over, and I’m afraid we must humble ourselves -or lose all the gaiety of the season. It is hard to see the good old -ways changed; but if they must be, we can only gracefully submit,” -answered the Gentians, smoothing their delicate blue fringes, eager -to be again the belles of the ball. - -Clematis astonished every one by suddenly beginning to climb the -maple-tree and shake her silvery tassels like a canopy over the -Queen’s head. - -“I cannot live so near her and not begin to grow. Since I must cling -to something, I choose the noblest I can find, and look up, not down, -forevermore,” she said; for like many weak and timid creatures, she -was easily guided, and it was well for her that Violet’s example had -been a brave one. - -Prince Golden-rod had found it impossible to turn his back entirely -upon Her Majesty, for he was a gentleman with a really noble heart -under his yellow cloak; so he was among the first to see, admire, and -love the modest, faithful flower who grew so near him. He could not -help hearing her words of comfort or reproof to those who came to her -for advice. He saw the daily acts of charity which no one else -discovered; he knew how many trials came to her, and how bravely she -bore them. - -“She had done more than ever we did to make the kingdom beautiful and -safe and happy, and I’ll be the first to own it, to thank her and -offer my allegiance,” he said to himself, and waited for a chance. - -One night when the September moon was shining over the meadow, and -the air was balmy with the last breath of summer, the Prince ventured -to serenade the Queen on his wind-harp. He knew she was awake; for he -had peeped through the ferns and seen her looking at the stars with -her violet eyes full of dew, as if something troubled her. So he sang -his sweetest song, and Her Majesty leaned nearer to hear it; for she -much longed to be friends with the gallant Prince, because both were -born in the palace and grew up together very happily till coronation -time came. - -As he ended she sighed, wondering how long it would be before he told -her what she knew was in his heart. - -Golden-rod heard the soft sigh, and forgetting his pride, he pushed -away the screen, and whispered, while his face shone and his voice -showed how much he felt. - -“What troubles you, sweet neighbour? Forget and forgive my -unkindness, and let me help you if I can,--I dare not say as Prince -Consort, though I love you dearly; but as a friend and faithful -subject, for I confess that you are fitter to rule than I.” - -As he spoke the leaves that hid Violet’s golden heart opened wide -and let him see how glad she was, as she bent her stately head and -answered softly. - -“There is room upon the throne for two: share it with me as King, and -let us rule together.” - -What the Prince answered only the moon knows; but when morning came -all the meadow was surprised and rejoiced to see the gold and purple -flowers standing side by side, while the maple showered its rosy -leaves over them, and the old rock waved his crown of vine-leaves as -he said: - -“This is as it should be; love and strength going hand in hand, and -justice making the earth glad.” - - The lands are lit - With all the autumn blaze of golden-rod, - And everywhere the purple asters nod - And bend and wave and flit. - HELEN HUNT JACKSON. - - - - -THE WEEDS - - -CARL EWALD - -It was a beautiful, fruitful season. Rain and sunshine came by turns -just as it was best for the corn. As soon as ever the farmer began to -think that things were rather dry, you might depend upon it that next -day it would rain. And when he thought that he had had rain enough, -the clouds broke at once, just as if they were under his command. - -So the farmer was in good humour, and he did not grumble as he -usually does. He looked pleased and cheerful as he walked over the -field with his two boys. - -“It will be a splendid harvest this year,” he said. “I shall have my -barns full, and shall make a pretty penny. And then Jack and Will -shall have some new trousers, and I’ll let them come with me to -market.” - -“If you don’t cut me soon, farmer, I shall sprawl on the ground,” -said the rye, and she bowed her heavy ear quite down towards the -earth. - -The farmer could not hear her talking, but he could see what was in -her mind, and so he went home to fetch his scythe. - -“It is a good thing to be in the service of man,” said the rye. “I -can be quite sure that all my grain will be cared for. Most of it -will go to the mill: not that that proceeding is so very enjoyable, -but it will be made into beautiful new bread, and one must put up -with something for the sake of honour. The rest the farmer will save, -and sow next year in his field.” - -At the side of the field, along the hedge, and the bank above the -ditch, stood the weeds. There were dense clumps of them--thistle and -burdock, poppy and harebell, and dandelion; and all their heads were -full of seed. It had been a fruitful year for them also, for the sun -shines and the rain falls just as much on the poor weed as on the -rich corn. - -“No one comes and mows _us_ down and carries us to a barn,” said the -dandelion, and he shook his head, but very cautiously, so that the -seeds should not fall before their time. “But what will become of all -our children?” - -“It gives me a headache to think of it,” said the poppy. “Here I -stand with hundreds and hundreds of seeds in my head, and I haven’t -the faintest idea where I shall drop them.” - -“Let us ask the rye to advise us,” answered the burdock. - -And so they asked the rye what they should do. - -“When one is well off, one had better not meddle with other people’s -business,” answered the rye. “I will give you only one piece of -advice: take care you don’t throw your stupid seed on to the field, -for then you will have to settle accounts with _me_.” - -This advice did not help the wild flowers at all, and the whole day -they stood pondering what they should do. When the sun set they shut -up their petals and went to sleep; but the whole night through they -were dreaming about their seed, and next morning they had found a -plan. - -The poppy was the first to wake. She cautiously opened some little -trap-doors at the top of her head, so that the sun could shine right -in on the seeds. Then she called to the morning breeze, who was -running and playing along the hedge. - -“Little breeze,” she said, in friendly tones, “will you do me a -service?” - -“Yes, indeed,” said the breeze. “I shall be glad to have something to -do.” - -“It is the merest trifle,” said the poppy. “All I want of you is to -give a good shake to my stalk, so that my seeds may fly out of the -trap-doors.” - -“All right,” said the breeze. - -And the seeds flew out in all directions. The stalk snapped, it is -true; but the poppy did not mind about that. - -“Good-bye,” said the breeze, and would have run on farther. - -“Wait a moment,” said the poppy. “Promise me first that you will not -tell the others, else they might get hold of the same idea, and then -there would be less room for my seeds.” - -“I am mute as the grave,” answered the breeze, running off. - -“Ho! ho!” said the harebell. “Haven’t you time to do me a little, -tiny service?” - -“Well,” said the breeze, “what is it?” - -“I merely wanted to ask you to give me a little shake,” said the -harebell. “I have opened some trap-doors in my head, and I should -like to have my seed sent a good way off into the world. But you -mustn’t tell the others, or else they might think of doing the same -thing.” - -“Oh! of course not,” said the breeze, laughing. “I shall be as dumb -as a stone wall.” And then she gave the flower a good shake and went -on her way. - -“Little breeze, little breeze,” called the dandelion, “whither away -so fast?” - -“Is there something the matter with you too?” asked the breeze. - -“Nothing at all,” answered the dandelion. “Only I should like a few -words with you.” - -“Be quick then,” said the breeze, “for I am thinking seriously of -lying down and having a rest.” - -“You cannot help seeing,” said the dandelion, “what trouble we are in -this year to get all our seeds put out in the world; for, of course, -one wishes to do what one can for one’s children. What is to happen -to the harebell and the poppy and the poor burdock I really don’t -know. But the thistle and I have put our heads together, and we have -hit on a plan. Only we must have you to help us.” - -“That makes _four_ of them,” thought the breeze, and she could not -help laughing out loud. - -“What are you laughing at?” asked the dandelion. “I saw you -whispering just now to the harebell and poppy; but if you breathe a -word to them, I won’t tell you anything.” - -“Why, of course not,” said the breeze. “I am mute as a fish. What is -it you want?” - -“We have set up a pretty little umbrella on the top of our seeds. It -is the sweetest little plaything imaginable. If you will only blow a -little on me, the seeds will fly into the air and fall down wherever -you please. Will you do so?” - -“Certainly,” said the breeze. - -And hush! it went over the thistle and the dandelion and carried all -the seeds with it into the cornfield. - -The burdock still stood and pondered. Its head was rather thick, and -that was why it waited so long. But in the evening a hare leapt over -the hedge. - -“Hide me! Save me!” he cried. “The farmer’s dog Trusty is after me.” - -“You can creep behind the hedge,” said the burdock, “then I will hide -you.” - -“You don’t look able to do that,” said the hare, “but in time of need -one must help oneself as one can.” And so he got in safely behind the -hedge. - -“Now you may repay me by taking some of my seeds with you over into -the cornfield,” said the burdock; and it broke off some of its many -heads and fixed them on the hare. - -A little later Trusty came trotting up to the hedge. - -“Here’s the dog,” whispered the burdock, and with one spring the hare -leapt over the hedge and into the rye. - -“Haven’t you seen the hare, burdock?” asked Trusty. “I see I have -grown too old to go hunting. I am quite blind in one eye, and I have -completely lost my scent.” - -“Yes, I have seen him,” answered the burdock; “and if you will do me -a service, I will show you where he is.” - -Trusty agreed, and the burdock fastened some heads on his back, and -said to him: - -“If you will only rub yourself against the stile there in the -cornfield, my seeds will fall off. But you must not look for the hare -there, for a little while ago I saw him run into the wood.” Trusty -dropped the burrs on the field and trotted to the wood. - -“Well, I’ve sent my seeds out in the world all right,” said the -burdock, laughing as if much pleased with itself; “but it is -impossible to say what will become of the thistle and the dandelion -and the harebell and the poppy.” - -Spring had come round once more, and the rye stood high already. - -“We are pretty well off on the whole,” said the rye plants. “Here we -stand in a great company, and not one of us but belongs to our own -noble family. And we don’t get in each other’s way in the very least. -It is a grand thing to be in the service of man.” - -But one fine day a crowd of little poppies, and thistles and -dandelions, and burdocks and harebells poked up their heads above -ground, all amongst the flourishing rye. - -“What does _this_ mean?” asked the rye. “Where in the world are _you_ -sprung from?” - -And the poppy looked at the harebell and asked: “Where did _you_ come -from?” - -And the thistle looked at the burdock and asked: “Where in the world -have _you_ come from?” - -They were all equally astonished, and it was an hour before they had -explained. But the rye was the angriest, and when she had heard all -about Trusty and the hare and the breeze she grew quite wild. - -“Don’t be in such a passion, you green rye,” said the breeze, who had -been lying behind the hedge and hearing everything. “I ask no one’s -permission, but do as I like; and now I’m going to make you bow to -me.” - -Then she passed over the young rye, and the thin blades swayed -backwards and forwards. - -“You see,” she said, “the farmer attends to his rye, because that is -_his_ business. But the rain and the sun and I--we attend to all of -you without respect of persons. To our eyes the poor weed is just as -pretty as the rich corn.” - -(Abridged.) - - - - -AUTUMN FIRES - - - In the other gardens - And all up the vale - From the autumn bonfires - See the smoke trail! - - Pleasant summer over - And all the summer flowers; - The red fire blazes, - The gray smoke towers. - - Sing a song of seasons! - Something bright in all! - Flowers in the summer! - Fires in the fall! - ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. - - - - -AMONG THE TREES - - - - -TO AN AUTUMN LEAF - - - Wee shallop of shimmering gold! - Slip down from your ways in the branches - Some fairy will loosen your hold---- - Wee shallop of shimmering gold. - Spill dew on your bows and unfold - Silk sails for the fairest of launches! - Wee shallop of shimmering gold; - Slip down from your ways in the branches. - - - - -WHY THE AUTUMN LEAVES ARE RED - - -EMELYN NEWCOMB PARTRIDGE - -Long, long ago no one but animals lived upon the earth and sometimes -they would hold great Councils. The Bear would be there,--the Bear, -with his sharp claws, and his shiny coat, and his big, big growl; -and the Deer, who was so proud of his antlers, for they came out of -his head like trees; and all the animals, and all the birds would be -present at the great Council. Little Turtle would go there, too. She -was so small that she did not like to speak to anyone. But, she often -wished: - -“Oh, if _only_ I could do some good deed! What _could_ such a little -creature as I do? Anyway,” she thought, “I’ll be on the watch,--and -it may be that some time there will be a chance for me to do -_something_ for my people.” - -Little Turtle never forgot about that good deed she had planned to -perform. One day the opportunity came to her. She was at the Council, -and the animals were saying: - -“It is so dark here, we have only the Snowlight to see by. It is -gloomy, too. Couldn’t we make a light and place it up in Skyland?” -they asked. - -Little Turtle said: “Please let me go up to Skyland? I am -sure that I can make a light shine up there.” - -They said that she might go, and they called Dark Cloud to carry -Little Turtle there. Dark Cloud came. - -Little Turtle saw that Thunder and Lightning were in Dark Cloud; and -when she reached Skyland, she made the Sun from Lightning, and placed -him in the Sky. - -The Sun could not move, because he had no life, and all the world -underneath was too hot to live upon. - -“What shall we do?” the animals asked one another. Someone said: - -“We must give the Sun life and spirit, and then he will move about in -the sky.” - -So they gave him life and spirit, and he moved about in the sky. Mud -Turtle dug a hole through the earth for the Sun to travel through. -Little Turtle made a wife for him out of some of the Lightning from -Dark Cloud. She was the Moon. Their little children were the stars -that played all over Skyland. - -All this time, Little Turtle was taking care of Skyland. The animals -below called her, She Who Takes Care of Skyland. And she was very -happy, because she was doing her _good deed_. - -Some of the animals became jealous of Little Turtle,--especially the -Deer, who was so proud of his antlers. One day, Deer said to Rainbow: - -“Rainbow, please take me up to Skyland where Little Turtle lives.” - -Rainbow did not know whether it would be quite right to take Deer up -to Little Turtle’s house, but he said: - -“In the winter, when I rest upon the big mountain by the lake, then I -will take you.” - -This made the Deer glad. He did not tell anyone about the promise of -Rainbow. All winter long, he waited and watched near the big mountain -for Rainbow to come; but Rainbow did not come to him. In the spring, -one day, Deer saw Rainbow beside the lake. - -“Rainbow,” he asked, “why did you not keep your promise to me?” -Rainbow made him another promise. - -“Come to me by the lake, when you see me in the thick fog,” he said. - -The Deer kept this promise a secret, too; because he hoped to go to -Skyland alone. Day after day, he waited beside the lake. One day, -when the thick fog was rising from the lake,--Deer saw the beautiful -Rainbow. - -Rainbow made an arch from the lake to the big mountain. Then a -shining light fell about the Deer, and he saw a straight path shining -with all the colours of the Rainbow. It led through a great forest. - -“Follow the beautiful path through the great forest,” Rainbow said. - -The Deer entered the shining pathway, and it led him straight to the -house of Little Turtle in Skyland. And the Deer went about Skyland -everywhere. - -When the great Council met, Deer was not there. “The Deer is not come -to the Council, where is the Deer?” they asked. - -Hawk flew about the air everywhere, and could not find Deer in the -air. Wolf searched the deep woods, and could not find Deer in the -forests. - -When Dark Cloud brought Little Turtle to the Council, Little Turtle -told them how Rainbow had made a path for Deer to climb to Skyland. -“There it is now,” said Little Turtle. - -The animals looked over the lake, and they saw, there, the beautiful -pathway. They had never seen it before. - -“Why did not Deer wait for us? All of us should have gone to Skyland -together,” they said. - -Now, Brown Bear determined to follow that pathway the very next time -he should see it. - -_One day_ when he was all alone, near the lake, he saw the shining -path that led through the great forest. Soon he found himself in -Skyland. The first person he met was the Deer. - -“Why did you leave us? Why did you go to the land of Little Turtle -without us? Why did you not wait for us?” he asked the Deer. - -The Deer shook his antlers angrily. “What right have _you_ to -question me? No one but the Wolf may question why I came. I will kill -you for your impertinence.” - -The Deer arched his neck; he poised his antlered head; his eyes -blazed with fury. - -The Bear was not afraid. He stood up; his claws were sharp and -strong; his hoarse growls sounded all over Skyland. - -The battle of the Deer and the Bear shook Skyland. The animals looked -up from the earth. - -“Who will go? Who will go to Skyland and forbid the Deer to fight?” - -“I will go,” said the Wolf. “I can run faster than anyone.” So Wolf -ran along the shining pathway, and in a little while he had reached -the place of the battle. Wolf made Deer stop fighting. Deer’s antlers -were covered with blood, and when he shook them, great drops fell -down, down through the air, and splashed against all the leaves of -the forest. And the leaves became a beautiful red. - -So, in the autumn, when you see the leaves turning red, you may know -that it is because in the long ago, the Deer and the Bear fought a -great battle in Skyland, in the land of Little Turtle who was doing -her good deed. - - - - -THE ANXIOUS LEAF - - -HENRY WARD BEECHER - -Once upon a time a little leaf was heard to sigh and cry, as leaves -often do when a gentle wind is about. And the twig said, “What is the -matter, little leaf?” And the leaf said, “The wind just told me that -one day it would pull me off and throw me down to lie on the ground!” -The twig told it to the branch on which it grew, and the branch told -it to the tree. And when the tree heard it, it rustled all over, and -sent back word to the leaf, “Do not be afraid; hold on tightly, and -you shall not go till you want to.” And so the leaf stopped sighing, -but went on nestling and singing. Every time the tree shook itself -and stirred up all its leaves, the branches shook themselves, and -the little twig shook itself, and the little leaf danced up and down -merrily, as if nothing could ever pull it off. And so it grew all -summer long until October. And when the bright days of autumn came, -the little leaf saw all the leaves around becoming very beautiful. -Some were yellow, and some scarlet, and some striped with both -colours. Then it asked the tree what it meant. And the tree said, -“All these leaves are getting ready to fly away, and they have put on -these beautiful colours because of joy.” Then the little leaf began -to want to go, and grew very beautiful in thinking of it, and when -it was very gay in colour, it saw that the branches of the tree had -no colour in them, and so the leaf said, “O branches, why are you -lead colour and we golden?” “We must keep on our workclothes, for -our life is not done; but your clothes are for holiday, because your -tasks are over.” Just then a little puff of wind came, and the leaf -let go without thinking of it, and the wind took it up, and turned -it over and over, and whirled it like a spark of fire in the air, -and then it fell gently down under the fence among hundreds of other -leaves, and began to dream--a dream so beautiful that perhaps it will -last forever. - - - - -HOW THE CHESTNUT BURRS BECAME - - -ERNEST THOMPSON SETON - -In the woods of Poconic there once roamed a very discontented -Porcupine. He was forever fretting. He complained that everything was -wrong, till it was perfectly scandalous and the Great Spirit, getting -tired of his grumbling, said: - -“You and the world I have made don’t seem to fit. One or the other -must be wrong. It is easier to change you. You don’t like the trees, -you are unhappy on the ground, and think everything is upside down, -so I’ll turn you inside out and put you in the water.” - -This was the origin of the Shad. - -After Manitou had turned the old Porcupine into a Shad the young ones -missed their mother and crawled up into a high tree to look for her -coming. Manitou happened to pass that way and they all chattered -their teeth at him, thinking themselves safe. They were not wicked, -only ill-trained, some of them, indeed, were at heart quite good, -but, oh, so ill-trained, and they chattered and groaned as Manitou -came nearer. Remembering then that he had taken their mother from -them, he said, “You look very well up there, you little Porkys, so -you had better stay there for always, and be part of the tree.” - -This was the origin of the chestnut burrs. They hang like a lot -of little porcupines on the tree-crotches. They are spiny, and -dangerous, utterly without manners and yet most of them have a good -little heart inside. - - - - -THE MERRY WIND - - - The merry wind came racing - Adown the hills one day, - In gleeful frolic chasing - The rustling leaves away. - In clouds of red and yellow, - He whirled the leaves along, - And then the jolly fellow - He sang a cheery song. - - The merry wind was weary - At last of fun and play; - His voice grew faint and eerie, - And softly died away. - Far off a crow was calling - And in the mellow sun - The painted leaves kept falling - And fading, one by one. - MARY MAPES DODGE. - - - - -AUTUMN AMONG THE BIRDS - - - [Enter a little Snipe, crying]: - - Peet-weet! Peet-weet! - I’ve such cold feet, - And nothing to eat! - The creek is so high - That I can’t keep dry - Except when I fly! - Peet-weet! - - [A Kildeer]: - - Kildee! Kildee! Kildee! - This is no place for me! - The southland I must seek---- - Kildee! - - [A Bobolink]: - - Link-a-link! Link-a-link! - My diet has made me weak; - The fields of rice must be so nice. - - [To the Kildeer]: - - I’ll go with you, I think---- - Link-a-link! - - [A Red-Shouldered Blackbird]: - - Bobaree! Bobaree! - A frost you’ll see---- - You’ll see to your sorrow, - If you wait until to-morrow---- - Bobaree! - - [A Chipping-Bird]: - - Chip-chip! Chip-chip! Chip-chip! - I’ll give November the slip! - - [A House-Wren]: - - Sh! Sh! Sh! - Every one loves the Wren! - Wait, and just once again - I’ll go, and, as still as a mouse, - Peep into the little house - They built for my use alone, - With a door and a porch like their own! - --Sh! - - [A Maryland Yellow-Throat Interrupting]: - - Witches here! Witches here! - And no wonder--so late in the year! - - [A Flock of Wild Geese Flying Over]: - - On! On! On! - Why should we longer stay? - On! Ere the peep of day - We should be leagues away, - Quite out of sight of land! - Our old gray Commodore - Will guide our gallant band - With the daintiest food in store! - To a pleasant southern shore, - On! On! On! - - [A Flock of Swallows Rising]: - - Zip! Zip! You may count on the Swallow! - We hear, and anear we will be; - The rest, if they like, may follow - O’er land and o’er sea. - - [A Bluebird to Her Mate]: - - Weary! Oh, weary! Oh, weary! - It’s a long, long, long way, dearie! - - [A Robin]: - - Quip! Quip! Cheer up! Cheer up! - But I think we ought first to sup; - With such a long journey ahead, - Pilgrims should be well fed---- - Quip! Quip! - - [A Highlander Shouts from the Top of a Dead Tree]: - - A-wick-wick! wick-wick! wick-wick! wick! Yare-op! - If all this senseless chatter you would stop, - And listen, an announcement I would make: - Old Father Crane will soon be here to take - All you small folks upon his back--Wick-wick! - - Chorus of Small Birds - [Chippy, Wren, Yellow-bird, Pewee, Kinglet, etc.]: - - Peet-weet! Zit! Zit! Cheeree! Ittee! Be Quick! - EDITH M. THOMAS. - - - - -THE KIND OLD OAK - - -It was almost time for winter to come. The little birds had all gone -far away, for they were afraid of the cold. There was no green grass -in the fields, and there were no pretty flowers in the gardens. Many -of the trees had dropped all their leaves. Cold winter, with its snow -and ice, was coming. - -At the foot of an old oak tree, some sweet little violets were still -in blossom. “Dear old oak,” said they, “winter is coming: we are -afraid that we shall die of the cold.” - -“Do not be afraid, little ones,” said the oak, “close your yellow -eyes in sleep, and trust to me. You have made me glad many a time -with your sweetness. Now I will take care that the winter shall do -you no harm.” - -So the violets closed their pretty eyes and went to sleep; they knew -that they could trust the kind old oak. And the great tree softly -dropped red leaf after red leaf upon them until they were all covered -over. - -The cold winter came, with its snow and ice, but it could not harm -the little violets. Safe under the friendly leaves of the old oak -they slept, and dreamed happy dreams until the warm rains of spring -came and waked them again. - - “No more the summer floweret charms, - The leaves will soon be sere, - And autumn folds his jeweled arms - Around the dying year.” - - - - -THE TREE - - - The tree’s early leaf-buds were bursting their brown; - “Shall I take them away?” said the Frost, sweeping down. - “No, dear, leave them alone - Till the blossoms have grown,” - Prayed the tree, while it trembled from rootlet to crown. - - The tree bore its blossoms, and all the birds sung: - “Shall I take them away?” said the Wind, as it swung. - “No, dear, leave them alone - Till berries here have grown,” - Said the tree, while the leaflets all quivering hung. - - The tree bore its fruit in the midsummer glow: - Said the girl, “May I gather thy berries or no?” - “Yes, dear, all thou canst see; - Take them; all are for thee,” - Said the tree, while it bent its laden boughs low. - BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON. - - - - -COMING AND GOING - - -HENRY WARD BEECHER - -There came to our fields a pair of birds that had never built a nest -nor seen a winter. How beautiful was everything! The fields were full -of flowers, and the grass was growing tall, and the bees were humming -everywhere. Then one of the birds began singing, and the other bird -said, “Who told you to sing?” And he answered, “The flowers told me, -and the bees told me, and the winds and leaves told me, and the blue -sky told me, and you told me to sing.” Then his mate answered, “When -did I tell you to sing?” And he said, “Every time you brought in -tender grass for the nest, and every time your soft wings fluttered -off again for hair and feathers to line the nest.” Then his mate -said, “What are you singing about?” And he answered, “I am singing -about everything and nothing. It is because I am so happy that I -sing.” - -By and by five little speckled eggs were in the nest, and his mate -said, “Is there anything in all the world as pretty as my eggs?” Then -they both looked down on some people that were passing by and pitied -them because they were not birds. - -In a week or two, one day, when the father-bird came home, the -mother-bird said, “Oh, what do you think has happened?” “What?” “One -of my eggs has been peeping and moving!” Pretty soon another egg -moved under her feathers, and then another and another, till five -little birds were hatched! Now the father-bird sang louder and louder -than ever. The mother-bird, too, wanted to sing, but she had no time, -and so she turned her song into work. So hungry were these little -birds that it kept both parents busy feeding them. Away each one -flew. The moment the little birds heard their wings fluttering among -the leaves, five yellow mouths flew open wide, so that nothing could -be seen but five yellow mouths! - -“Can anybody be happier?” said the father-bird to the mother-bird. -“We will live in this tree always, for there is no sorrow here. It is -a tree that always bears joy.” - -Soon the little birds were big enough to fly, and great was their -parents’ joy to see them leave the nest and sit crumpled up upon the -branches. There was then a great time! The two old birds talking and -chatting to make the young ones go alone! In a little time they had -learned to use their wings, and they flew away and away, and found -their own food, and built their own nests, and sang their own songs -of joy. - -Then the old birds sat silent and looked at each other, until the -mother-bird said, “Why don’t you sing?” And he answered, “I can’t -sing--I can only think and think.” “What are you thinking of?” “I am -thinking how everything changes: the leaves are falling off from this -tree, and soon there will be no roof over our heads; the flowers are -all going; last night there was a frost; almost all the birds are -flown away. Something calls me, and I feel as if I would like to fly -far away.” - -“Let us fly away together!” - -Then they rose silently, and, lifting themselves far up in the air, -they looked to the north: far away they saw the snow coming. They -looked to the south: there they saw flowers and green leaves! All day -they flew; and all night they flew and flew, till they found a land -where there was no winter--where flowers always blossom, and birds -always sing. - - - - -A LEGEND OF THE WILLOW TREE - - -(Japanese Legend Retold) - -Once upon a time a humble willow tree with gnarled and twisted -branches grew near a tall and stately companion called the bamboo -tree. Many people who passed by stopped to admire the shapely bamboo, -but no one seemed to notice the old willow tree. - -One morning when the sun shone brightly after a soft rain a timid -little plant with a delicate stem sprang up between the two trees, -and looked pleadingly toward the straight, strong trunk of the -bamboo. But the bamboo tossed her plumy foliage and said haughtily, -“Do not look to me for help. I shall not let you cling around my -trunk.” - -“Let me take hold of you until I grow a little stronger,” begged the -little plant. But the bamboo drew away and said, “Keep away. I can -not allow you to cling to my beautiful branches.” - -Then the kind old willow tree whispered through her leaves, “Do not -be discouraged, little one. The sun is shining, and the soft rain -will come to refresh you. Come to me if you like, and grip your -little green fingers into my bark. Do not be afraid. In the shade of -my branches you shall be protected. Come.” - -The tiny plant still looked longingly toward the handsome bamboo. -But at last she crept over the grass to the old willow, and began -to twine around the sheltering branches. Up, up, the slender vine -climbed to the very top of the tree. There it tossed out so many -lovely green shoots that the people who passed stopped to enjoy its -beauty. And when the early fall days came large buds appeared on the -vine. - -The bamboo looked at the swelling buds and said, “I wonder what those -ugly knobs on the vine mean. Perhaps she has brought some disease -which may affect all the trees of the country.” - -The willow made no answer to the bamboo, but in her kindly way she -whispered to the vine, “Do not feel hurt, I know what the swelling -buds mean.” - -There was a gentle rain at night, and in the morning the sun shone -radiantly in a clear sky. The green buds which covered the vine burst -forth into beautiful, sweet-scented blossoms. From crown to foot -the old willow tree stood bedecked with glorious colour. The owner -of the land called his friends to see the wonder. They looked in -amazement at the richly coloured blossoms. Then the master called his -labourers, and told them to clear a space about the willow tree. - -“Cut down the bamboo tree that we may see the beauty of the vine.” - -“It is a very fine bamboo tree, master,” said the head servant. - -“Yes, it is, indeed,” declared the master, “but there are many other -bamboo trees equally fine, whereas no one has ever seen a vine with -such a wealth of lovely blossoms.” - -So the labourers cut down the haughty bamboo tree, and left the -willow and the flowering vine to be admired by many, many people. - - - - -AUTUMN FASHIONS - - - The Maple owned that she was tired of always wearing green, - She knew that she had grown, of late, too shabby to be seen! - - The Oak and Beech and Chestnut then deplored their shabbiness, - And all, except the Hemlock sad, were wild to change their dress. - - “For fashion-plate we’ll take the flowers,” the rustling Maple said, - “And like the Tulip I’ll be clothed in splendid gold and red!” - - “The cheerful Sunflower suits me best,” the lightsome Beech replied; - “The Marigold my choice shall be,” the Chestnut spoke with pride. - - The sturdy Oak took time to think--“I hate such glaring hues; - The Gillyflower, so dark and rich, I for my model choose.” - - So every tree in all the grove, except the Hemlock sad, - According to its wish ere long in brilliant dress was clad. - - And here they stayed through all the soft and bright October days; - They wished to be like flowers--indeed, they look like huge bouquets! - EDITH M. THOMAS. - - - - -POMONA’S BEST GIFT - - - Here stands a good old apple tree - Stand fast at root, - Bear well, at top; - Every little twig - Bear an apple big; - Every little bough - Bear an apple now; - Hats full, caps full; - Threescore sacks full! - Hullo, boys, hullo! - --_Old English Song._ - - - - -POMONA - - -In the far-off days, when the children of sunny Italy saw the -hillside vineyards rich with purple grapes, and the branches of the -orchards bending with the weight of luscious fruit, they clapped -their hands and cried gleefully, “See Pomona’s Gifts.” They offered -grateful thanks to the wood nymph whose thoughtful care brought the -precious fruit to a bountiful harvest. - -Carrying a curved knife in her right hand, the faithful Pomona glided -swiftly up the hillside, and primed the low-bending vines of all rank -shoots. By cutting away all withered branches, she kept her orchards -green and trim, and thus helped the trees to bring forth richest -fruit. - -So happy was this nymph in her work that she gave no attention to the -numerous suitors who hoped to win her. Many a time a madcap satyr -desiring to attract Pomona’s attention danced in vain near her -orchards. Pan played entrancingly on his reed pipes, but the nymph -gave no heed to his music. - -Among the many admirers of Pomona was a youth named Vertumnus, -who presided over gardens and the changing seasons. How often he -patiently planned to meet this charming nymph while she was tending -her fruit and vines, but his advances were always met with a coy -indifference which puzzled him. At last he determined to appear in -various disguises in order to see if he could attract her attention, -and discover if she cared for him. One day he took the form of a -plowman, whip in hand, as if he had come from unyoking the tired oxen -in a neighboring field. At another time he assumed the guise of a -woodman carrying a pruning knife and ladder, then again he appeared -in the garb of a hardy reaper carrying a basket filled with golden -grain. But no matter what disguise he took--plowman, woodman, reaper, -fruit-gatherer, soldier, fisherman--he failed to win any attention -from the nymph, whose interest was centered on the precious orchards -and vineyards. - -One day when Pomona was carefully examining the ripening fruit an old -woman leaning on a staff appeared before her and said, “Thy patient -care will earn a precious harvest. Never have I seen such marvelous -fruit. Tell me, fair nymph, does some strong youth help thee attend -to the orchards and vineyards?” - -The maiden shook her head and replied, “There is no youth who is -constant enough to love the orchards and vineyards as dearly as -Pomona.” - -But the old woman drew near to her and said, “There is one youth -whose constancy can not be questioned, but thou hast scorned his -advances. Many times has he told thee how gladly he would be thy -helpmate, for nothing in nature delights him so much as the golden -harvest of luscious fruit.” - -“Thou meanest Vertumnus,” said the nymph. Then she added, “He is, -indeed, worthy of thy praise.” - -Suddenly the old woman straightened her bent figure and threw off her -disguise. There before Pomona stood the handsome form of Vertumnus, -who no longer felt any doubt about the nymph’s love. - -In the autumn sunshine under the trees, whose boughs were bending -with the ripening fruit, Pomona and Vertumnus plighted their troth, -and agreed to share in the labour of bringing to perfection the gifts -of orchards and vineyards. - - - - -IN THE ORCHARD - - - O the apples rosy-red, - O the gnarled trunks grey and brown, - Heavy branchéd overhead; - O the apples rosy-red, - O the merry laughter sped, - As the fruit is showered down! - O the apples rosy-red, - O the gnarled trunks grey and brown. - GEORGE WEATHERBY. - - - - -JOHNNY APPLESEED - - -JOSEPHINE SCRIBNER GATES - -Once there was a man who was very, very poor. He had been a farmer, -and no one raised such fine crops as he did. By and by, in some way, -he lost his farm, and was left all alone. - -He had always wanted to do some grand thing, something that would -make many people happy, but what could he do? He had no money. All he -had was a small boat. - -As he trudged along one day, he saw some old sacks lying under a -tree. As he looked at them he had a splendid thought. A thought that -seemed to have wings, and came flying from far away. Oh, it was a -beautiful thought, and seemed to be singing a little song in his -heart, as he picked up the sacks and placed them in his boat, jumped -in himself and floated away. - -As he rowed down the stream, the man watched the shore with keen -eyes. When he saw an apple orchard he rowed to land, tied his boat, -hastened to the homes near the orchards and asked for work. - -He cut wood, carried water, and did all sorts of odd chores. In -payment for this work he asked for food, and what else do you suppose? - -The people were so surprised at what he asked for they could hardly -believe him. He asked that he might have the seeds from the apples on -the ground under the trees--only the seeds. - -Of course they gladly gave him such a simple thing, and as he cut the -fruit the neighbour children swarmed about him. - -From one place to another he went, always adding to his store of -seeds. - -Some generous farmers gave him also cuttings of peach, pear, and plum -trees, and grape vines. - -Day after day, day after day, he cut up the fruit, while the children -sat at his feet, and listened to thrilling tales of what he had seen -in his travels. Of the Indians with their gay blankets and feathers, -of their camps where they lived in the forests. - -Of their dances and war paint; their many-coloured, beaded necklaces -and jingling, silver chains and bracelets. Of their beady-eyed babies -strapped to boards. - -Of the wolves which came out at night to watch him as he sat by his -fire; of the beautiful deer who ran across his patch. - -He sang funny songs for the children, and taught them all sorts of -games. - -When it came time to go on, they begged him to stay. Never before had -they been so amused, but on he went, and when his bags were full, -and he had a goodly store of food, he started on to carry out the -splendid thought. Oh, it was a grand thing he was going to do. - -The little boat went on and on, till houses were no more to be seen. -Splendid forests lined the banks here and there. Then he paused, for -this was what he was seeking--a place where no one lived. - -He landed and went about with a bag of seeds, and when he reached -an open place in a forest, he planted seeds and cuttings of the -trees and vines; then wove a brush fence about them to keep the deer -away. He then hastened back to his boat and drifted on. - -In many, many places he landed and planted seeds, and all the -orchards of the Ohio and Mississippi Valley we owe to this man. - -Years after when settlers came looking for a place to live, they -chose these spots where, to their great surprise, they found all -sorts of trees loaded with fruit. - -This man’s name was John Chapman, but he was nicknamed Johnny -Appleseed. - - - - -RED APPLE - - - The big Sky-man that makes the Moons, - Stuck one into our Apple tree; - I saw it when I went to Bed; - The Tree was black; the Moon was red, - And round as round could be. - - To-day I went to get that Moon, - For I can climb the Apple-tree; - The Moon was gone. But in its stead - I found an Apple round and red, - And nice as nice could be. - HAMISH HENDRY. - - - - -THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES - - -NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE - -Did you ever hear of the golden apples that grew in the garden of the -Hesperides? Ah, those were such apples as would bring a great price -by the bushel if any of them could be found growing in the orchards -of nowadays! But there is not, I suppose, a graft of that wonderful -fruit on a single tree in the wide world. Not so much as a seed of -these apples exists any longer. - -And, even in the old, old, half-forgotten times, before the garden of -the Hesperides was overrun with weeds, a great many people doubted -whether there could be real trees that bore apples of solid gold upon -their branches. All had heard of them, but nobody remembered to have -seen any. Children, nevertheless, used to listen openmouthed to -stories of the golden apple-tree, and resolved to discover it when -they should be big enough. Adventurous young men, who desired to do -a braver thing than any of their fellows, set out in quest of this -fruit. Many of them returned no more: none of them brought back the -apples. No wonder that they found it impossible to gather them! It is -said that there was a dragon beneath the tree with a hundred terrible -heads, fifty of which were always on the watch while the other fifty -slept. - -It was quite a common thing with young persons, when tired of too -much peace and rest, to go in search of the garden of the Hesperides. -And once the adventure was undertaken by a hero, who had enjoyed -very little peace or rest since he came into the world. At the time -of which I am going to speak he was wandering through the pleasant -land of Italy, with a mighty club in his hand, and a bow and quiver -slung across his shoulders. He was wrapt in the skin of the biggest -and fiercest lion that ever had been seen, and which he himself had -killed; and though, on the whole, he was kind and generous and -noble, there was a good deal of the lion’s fierceness in his heart. -As he went on his way he continually inquired whether that were the -right road to the famous garden. But none of the country people knew -anything about the matter, and many looked as if they would have -laughed at the question if the stranger had not carried so very big a -club. - -So he journeyed on and on, still making the same inquiry, until at -last he came to the brink of a river, where some beautiful young -women sat twining wreaths of flowers. - -“Can you tell me, pretty maidens,” asked the stranger, “whether this -is the right way to the garden of the Hesperides?” - -On hearing the stranger’s question, they dropped all their flowers on -the grass, and gazed at him with astonishment. - -“The garden of the Hesperides!” cried one. “We thought mortals had -been weary of seeking it after so many disappointments. And pray, -adventurous traveler, what do you want there?” - -“A certain king, who is my cousin,” replied he, “has ordered me to -get him three of the golden apples.” - -“And do you know,” asked the damsel who had first spoken, “that a -terrible dragon with a hundred heads keeps watch under the golden -apple-tree?” - -“I know it well,” answered the stranger calmly. “But from my cradle -upward it has been my business, and almost my pastime, to deal with -serpents and dragons.” - -The young women looked at his massive club, and at the shaggy lion’s -skin which he wore, and, likewise, at his heroic limbs and figure, -and they whispered to each other that the stranger appeared to be one -who might reasonably expect to perform deeds far beyond the might of -others. - -“Go back!” cried they all; “go back to your own home! Your mother, -beholding you safe and sound, will shed tears of joy; and what can -she do more should you win ever so great a victory? No matter for the -golden apples! No matter for the king, your cruel cousin! We do not -wish the dragon with the hundred heads to eat you up.” - -The stranger seemed to grow impatient at these remonstrances. He -carelessly lifted his mighty club, and let it fall upon a rock that -lay half-buried in the earth near by. With the force of that idle -blow the great rock was shattered all to pieces. - -“Do you not believe,” said he, looking at the damsels with a smile, -“that such a blow would have crushed one of the dragon’s hundred -heads?” - -“But the dragon of the Hesperides, you know,” observed one of the -damsels, “has a hundred heads!” - -“Nevertheless,” replied the stranger, “I would rather fight two such -dragons than a single hydra.” - -The traveler proceeded to tell how he chased a very swift stag for a -twelvemonth together, without ever stopping to take breath, and had -at last caught it by the antlers and carried it home alive. And he -had fought with a very odd race of people, half-horses and half-men, -and had put them all to death, from a sense of duty, in order that -their ugly figures might never be seen any more. - -“Do you call that a wonderful exploit?” asked one of the young -maidens, with a smile. “Any clown in the country has done as much.” - -“Perhaps you may have heard of me before,” said he modestly. “My name -is Hercules.” - -“We have already guessed it,” replied the maidens, “for your -wonderful deeds are known all over the world. We do not think it -strange any longer that you should set out in quest of the golden -apples of the Hesperides. Come, sisters, let us crown the hero with -flowers!” - -Then they flung beautiful wreaths over his stately head and mighty -shoulders, so that the lion’s skin was almost entirely covered with -roses. They took possession of his ponderous club, and so entwined it -about with the brightest, softest, and most fragrant blossoms that -not a finger’s breadth of its oaken substance could be seen. Lastly, -they joined hands and danced around him, chanting words which became -poetry of their own accord, and grew into a choral song in honor of -the illustrious Hercules. - -“Dear maidens,” said he, when they paused to take breath, “now that -you know my name, will you not tell me how I am to reach the garden -of the Hesperides?” - -“We will give you the best directions we can,” replied the damsels. -“You must go to the seashore and find out the Old One, and compel him -to inform you where the golden apples are to be found.” - -“The Old One!” repeated Hercules, laughing at this odd name. “And -pray, who may the Old One be?” - -“Why, the Old Man of the Sea, to be sure,” answered one of the -damsels. “You must talk with this Old Man of the Sea. He is a -seafaring person, and knows all about the garden of Hesperides, -for it is situated in an island, which he is often in the habit of -visiting.” - -Hercules then asked whereabouts the Old One was most likely to be met -with. When the damsels had informed him he thanked them for all their -kindness. - -But before he was out of hearing one of the maidens called after him. - -“Keep fast hold of the Old One when you catch him!” cried she. - -“Do not be astonished at anything that may happen. Only hold him -fast, and he will tell you what you wish to know.” - -Hercules again thanked her, and pursued his way. - -“We will crown him with the loveliest of our garlands,” said they, -“when he returns hither with the three golden apples after slaying -the dragon with a hundred heads.” - -Hercules traveled constantly onward over hill and dale, and through -the solitary woods. - -Hastening forward without ever pausing or looking behind, he, by and -by, heard the sea roaring at a distance. At this sound he increased -his speed, and soon came to a beach where the great surf-waves -tumbled themselves upon the hard sand in a long line of snowy foam. -At one end of the beach, however, there was a pleasant spot where -some green shrubbery clambered up a cliff, making its rocky face look -soft and beautiful. A carpet of verdant grass, largely intermixed -with sweet-smelling clover, covered the narrow space between the -bottom of the cliff and the sea. And what should Hercules espy there -but an old man fast asleep. - -But was it really and truly an old man? Certainly, at first sight, -it looked very like one, but on closer inspection it rather seemed -to be some kind of a creature that lived in the sea. For on his legs -and arms there were scales such as fishes have; he was web-footed and -web-fingered, after the fashion of a duck; and his long beard, being -of a greenish tinge, had more the appearance of a turf of seaweed -than of an ordinary beard. Hercules, the instant he set eyes on this -strange figure, was convinced that it could be no other than the Old -One who was to direct him on his way. - -Thanking his stars for the lucky accident of finding the old fellow -asleep, Hercules stole on tiptoe toward him, and caught him by the -arm and leg. - -“Tell me,” cried he, before the Old One was well awake, “which is the -way to the garden of the Hesperides?” - -The Old Man of the Sea awoke in a fright But his astonishment could -hardly have been greater than that of Hercules the next moment. -For, all of a sudden, the Old One seemed to disappear out of his -grasp, and he found himself holding a stag by the fore and hind -leg! But still he kept fast hold. Then the stag disappeared, and -in its stead there was a seabird, fluttering and screaming, while -Hercules clutched it by the wing and claw. But the bird could not -get away. Immediately afterward there was an ugly three-headed dog, -which growled and barked at Hercules, and snapped fiercely at the -hands by which he held him! But Hercules would not let him go. In -another minute, instead of the three-headed dog, what should appear -but Geryones, the six-legged man-monster, kicking at Hercules with -five of his legs in order to get the remaining one at liberty! But -Hercules held on. By and by no Geryones was there, but a huge snake -like one of those which Hercules had strangled in his babyhood, only -a hundred times as big. But Hercules was no whit disheartened, and -squeezed the great snake so tightly that he soon began to hiss with -pain. - -You must understand that the Old Man of the Sea, though he generally -looked so like the wave-beaten figurehead of a vessel, had the power -of assuming any shape he pleased. When he found himself so roughly -seized by Hercules, he had been in hopes of putting him into such -surprise and terror by these magical transformations that the hero -would be glad to let him go. If Hercules had relaxed his grasp, the -Old One would certainly have plunged down to the very bottom of the -sea. - -But as Hercules held on so stubbornly, and only squeezed the Old One -so much the tighter at every change of shape, and really put him to -no small torture, he finally thought it best to reappear in his own -figure. - -“Pray what do you want with me?” cried the Old One as soon as he -could take breath. - -“My name is Hercules!” roared the mighty stranger, “and you will -never get out of my clutch until you tell me the nearest way to the -garden of the Hesperides.” - -When the old fellow heard who it was that had caught him, he saw with -half an eye that it would be necessary to tell him everything that he -wanted to know. Of course he had often heard of the fame of Hercules, -and of the wonderful things that he was constantly performing in -various parts of the earth, and how determined he always was to -accomplish whatever he undertook. He, therefore, made no more -attempts to escape, but told the hero how to find the garden of the -Hesperides. - -“You must go on thus and thus,” said the Old Man of the Sea, “till -you come in sight of a very tall giant who holds the sky on his -shoulders. And the giant, if he happens to be in the humour, will -tell you exactly where the garden of the Hesperides lies.” - -Thanking the Old Man of the Sea, and begging his pardon for having -squeezed him so roughly, the hero resumed his journey. He met with a -great many strange adventures, which would be well worth your hearing -if I had leisure to narrate them as minutely as they deserve. - -Hercules continued his travels. He went to the land of Egypt, where -he was taken prisoner, and would have been put to death if he had not -slain the king of the country and made his escape. Passing through -the deserts of Africa, and going as fast as he could, he arrived -at last on the shore of the great ocean. And here, unless he could -walk on the crests of the billows, it seemed as if his journey must -needs be at an end. - -Nothing was before him save the foaming, dashing, measureless ocean. -But suddenly, as he looked toward the horizon, he saw something, a -great way off, which he had not seen the moment before. It gleamed -very brightly, almost as you may have beheld the round, golden disk -of the sun when it rises or sets over the edge of the world. It -evidently drew nearer, for at every instant this wonderful object -became larger and more lustrous. At length it had come so nigh that -Hercules discovered it to be an immense cup or bowl made either of -gold or burnished brass. How it had got afloat upon the sea is more -than I can tell you. There it was at all events, rolling on the -tumultuous billows, which tossed it up and down, and heaved their -foamy tops against its sides, but without ever throwing their spray -over the brim. - -“I have seen many giants in my time,” thought Hercules, “but never -one that would need to drink his wine, out of a cup like this.” - -And, true enough, what a cup it must have been! It was as large--as -large--but, in short, I am afraid to say how immeasurably large it -was. To speak within bounds, it was ten times larger than a great -mill-wheel, and, all of metal as it was, it floated over the heaving -surges more lightly than an acorn-cup adown the brook. The waves -tumbled it onward until it grazed against the shore within a short -distance of the spot where Hercules was standing. - -As soon as this happened he knew what was to be done. - -It was just as clear as daylight that this marvelous cup had been set -adrift by some unseen power, and guided hitherward in order to carry -Hercules across the sea on his way to the garden of the Hesperides. -Accordingly, he clambered over the brim, and slid down on the inside. -The waves dashed with a pleasant and ringing sound against the -circumference of the hollow cup; it rocked lightly to and fro, and -the motion was so soothing that it speedily rocked Hercules into an -agreeable slumber. - -His nap had probably lasted a good while, when the cup chanced to -graze against a rock, and, in consequence, immediately resounded and -reverberated through its golden or brazen substance a hundred times -as loudly as ever you heard a church-bell. The noise awoke Hercules, -who instantly started up and gazed around him, wondering whereabouts -he was. He was not long in discovering that the cup had floated -across a great part of the sea, and was approaching the shore of what -seemed to be an island. And on that island what do you think he saw? - -No, you will never guess it--not if you were to try fifty thousand -times! It positively appears to me that this was the most marvelous -spectacle that had ever been seen by Hercules in the whole course of -his wonderful travels and adventures. It was a greater marvel than -the hydra with nine heads, which kept growing twice as fast as they -were cut off; greater than the six-legged man-monster; greater than -anything that was ever beheld by anybody before or since the days of -Hercules, or than anything that remains to be beheld by travelers in -all time to come. It was a giant! - -But such an intolerably big giant! A giant as tall as a mountain; so -vast a giant that the clouds rested about his midst like a girdle, -and hung like a hoary beard from his chin, and flitted before his -huge eyes so that he could neither see Hercules nor the golden cup -in which he was voyaging. And, most wonderful of all, the giant held -up his great hands and appeared to support the sky, which, so far as -Hercules could discern through the clouds, was resting upon his head! -This does really seem almost too much to believe. - -Meanwhile the bright cup continued to float onward, and finally -touched the strand. Just then a breeze wafted away the clouds from -before the giant’s visage, and Hercules beheld it, with all its -enormous features--eyes each of them as big as yonder lake, a nose a -mile long, and a mouth the same width. - -Poor fellow! He had evidently stood there a long while. An ancient -forest had been growing and decaying around his feet, and oak trees -of six or seven centuries old had sprung from the acorns, and forced -themselves between his toes. The giant now looked down from the far -height of his great eyes, and, perceiving Hercules, roared out: - -“Who are you, down at my feet, there? And whence do you come in that -little cup?” - -“I am Hercules!” thundered back the hero. “And I am seeking for the -garden of the Hesperides!” - -“Ho! ho! ho!” roared the giant, in a fit of immense laughter. “That -is a wise adventure, truly!” - -“And why not?” cried Hercules. “Do you think I am afraid of the -dragon with a hundred heads?” - -Just at this time, while they were talking together, some black -clouds gathered about the giant’s middle and burst into a tremendous -storm of thunder and lightning, causing such a pother that Hercules -found it impossible to distinguish a word. Only the giant’s -immeasurable legs were to be seen, standing up into the obscurity of -the tempest, and now and then a momentary glimpse of his whole figure -mantled in a volume of mist. He seemed to be speaking most of -the time, but his big, deep, rough voice chimed in with the -reverberations of the thunder-claps and rolled away over the hills -like them. - -At last the storm swept over as suddenly as it had come. And there -again was the clear sky, and the weary giant holding it up, and the -pleasant sunshine beaming over his vast height and illuminating it -against the background of the sullen thunder-clouds. So far above the -shower had been his head that not a hair of it was moistened by the -raindrops. - -When the giant could see Hercules still standing on the seashore, he -roared out to him anew: - -“I am Atlas, the mightiest giant in the world! And I hold the sky -upon my head!” - -“So I see,” answered Hercules. “But can you show me the way to the -garden of the Hesperides?” - -“What do you want there?” asked the giant. - -“I want three of the golden apples,” shouted Hercules, “for my -cousin, the king.” - -“There is nobody but myself,” quoth the giant, “that can go to the -garden of the Hesperides and gather the golden apples. If it were not -for this little business of holding up the sky, I would make half a -dozen steps across the sea and get them for you.” - -“You are very kind,” replied Hercules. “And cannot you rest the sky -upon a mountain?” - -“None of them are quite high enough,” said Atlas, shaking his head. -“But if you were to take your stand on the summit of that nearest one -your head would be pretty nearly on a level with mine. You seem to be -a fellow of some strength. What if you should take my burden on your -shoulders while I do your errand for you?” - -“Is the sky very heavy?” he inquired. - -“Why, not particularly so at first,” answered the giant, shrugging -his shoulders, “but it gets to be a little burdensome after a -thousand years.” - -“And how long a time,” asked the hero, “will it take you to get the -golden apples?” - -“Oh, that will be done in a few moments!” cried Atlas. “I shall take -ten or fifteen miles at a stride, and be at the garden and back -again before your shoulders begin to ache.” - -“Well, then,” answered Hercules, “I will climb the mountain behind -you, and relieve you of your burden.” - -The truth is, Hercules had a kind heart of his own, and considered -that he should be doing the giant a favour by allowing him this -opportunity for a ramble. And, besides, he thought that it would be -still more for his own glory if he could boast of upholding the sky -than merely to do so ordinary a thing as to conquer a dragon with a -hundred heads. Accordingly, the sky was shifted from the shoulders of -Atlas, and placed upon those of Hercules. - -When this was safely accomplished, the first thing that the giant -did was to stretch himself. Next, he slowly lifted one of his feet -out of the forest, that had grown up around it, then the other. Then -all at once he began to caper and leap and dance for joy at his -freedom, flinging himself nobody knows how high into the air, and -floundering down again with a shock that made the earth tremble. Then -he laughed--“ho! ho! ho!”--with a thunderous roar that was echoed -from the mountains far and near. When his joy had a little subsided, -he stepped into the sea--ten miles at the first stride, which brought -him mid-leg deep; and ten miles at the second, when the water came -just above his knees; and ten miles more at the third, by which he -was immersed nearly to his waist. This was the greatest depth of the -sea. - -Hercules watched the giant until the gigantic shape faded entirely -out of view. And now Hercules began to consider what he should do in -case Atlas should be drowned in the sea, or if he were to be stung to -death by the dragon with the hundred heads, which guarded the golden -apples of the Hesperides. If any such misfortune were to happen, how -could he ever get rid of the sky? And, by the by, its weight began -already to be a little irksome to his head and shoulders. - -“I really pity the poor giant,” thought Hercules. “If it wearies me -so much in ten minutes, how it must have wearied him in a thousand -years!” - -I know not how long it was before, to his unspeakable joy, he beheld -the huge shape of the giant, like a cloud, on the far-off edge of the -sea. At his nearer approach Atlas held up his hand in which Hercules -could perceive three magnificent golden apples as big as pumpkins, -and all hanging from one branch. - -“I am glad to see you again,” shouted Hercules when the giant was -within hearing. “So you have got the golden apples?” - -“Certainly, certainly,” answered Atlas, “and very fair apples they -are. I took the finest that grew on the tree, I assure you. Ah, it is -a beautiful spot, that garden of the Hesperides! Yes, and the dragon -with a hundred heads is a sight worth any man’s seeing. After all, -you had better have gone for the apples yourself.” - -“No matter,” replied Hercules. “You have had a pleasant ramble, and -have done the business as well as I could. I heartily thank you for -your trouble. And now, as I have a long way to go, and am rather in -haste, and as the king, my cousin, is anxious to receive the golden -apples, will you be kind enough to take the sky off my shoulders -again?” - -“Why, as to that,” said the giant, chucking the golden apples into -the air twenty miles high or thereabouts, and catching them as they -came down--“as to that, my good friend, I consider you a little -unreasonable. Cannot I carry the golden apples to the king, your -cousin, much quicker than you could? As his majesty is in such a -hurry to get them, I promise you to take my longest strides. And, -besides, I have no fancy for burdening myself with the sky just now.” - -Here Hercules grew impatient, and gave a great shrug of his -shoulders. It being now twilight, you might have seen two or three -stars tumble out of their places. Everybody on earth looked upward in -affright, thinking that the sky might be going to fall next. - -“Oh, that will never do!” cried Giant Atlas with a great roar of -laughter. “I have not let fall so many stars within the last five -centuries. By the time you have stood there as long as I did you will -begin to learn patience.” - -“What!” shouted Hercules, very wrathfully, “do you intend to make me -bear this burden forever?” - -“We will see about that one of these days,” answered the giant. “At -all events, you ought not to complain if you have to bear it the next -hundred years, or perhaps the next thousand. I bore it a good while -longer, in spite of the backache. Well, then, after a thousand years, -if I happen to feel in the mood, we may possibly shift about again. -Posterity will talk of you, I warrant it.” - -“Pish! a fig for its talk!” cried Hercules, with another hitch of his -shoulders. “Just take the sky upon your head one instant, will you? I -want to make a cushion of my lion’s skin for the weight to rest upon. -It really chafes me, and will cause unnecessary inconvenience in so -many centuries as I am to stand here.” - -“That’s no more than fair, and I’ll do it,” quoth the giant. “For -just five minutes, then, I’ll take back the sky. Only for five -minutes, recollect. I have no idea of spending another thousand years -as I spent the last. Variety is the spice of life, say I.” - -Ah, the thick-witted old rogue of a giant! He threw down the golden -apples, and received back the sky from the head and shoulders of -Hercules upon his own, where it rightly belonged. And Hercules picked -up the three golden apples that were as big or bigger than pumpkins, -and straightway set out on his journey homeward, without paying the -slightest heed to the thundering tones of the giant, who bellowed -after him to come back. Another forest sprang up around his feet and -grew ancient there, and again might be seen oak-trees of six or seven -centuries old, that had waxed thus aged betwixt his enormous toes. - -And there stands the giant to this day, or, at any rate, there stands -a mountain as tall as he, and which bears his name; and when the -thunder rumbles about its summit we may imagine it to be the voice of -Giant Atlas bellowing after Hercules. - - --_Abridged._ - - - - -_OCTOBER_--ORCHARD OF THE YEAR! - - -Bend thy boughs to the earth, redolent of glowing fruit! Ripened -seeds shake in their pods. Apples drop in the stillest hours. Leaves -begin to let go when no wind is out, and swing in long waverings to -the earth, which they touch without sound, and lie looking up, till -winds rake them, and heap them in fence corners. When the gales come -through the trees, the yellow leaves trail, like sparks at night -behind the flying engine. The woods are thinner so that we can see -the leaves plainer, as we lie dreaming on the yet warm moss of the -singing spring. The days are calm. The nights are tranquil. The -year’s work is done. She walks in gorgeous apparel, looking upon her -long labour, and her serene eye saith, “It is good.” - - - - -NOVEMBER - - - Trees bare and brown, - Dry leaves everywhere - Dancing up and down, - Whirling through the air. - - Red-cheeked apples roasted, - Popcorn almost done, - Toes and chestnuts toasted, - That’s November fun. - - - - -WOODLAND ANIMALS - - - No sound was in the woodlands - Save the squirrel’s dropping shell - And the yellow leaves among the boughs, - Low rustling as they fell. - - At last after watching and waiting, - Autumn, the beautiful came, - Stepping with sandals silver, - Decked with her mantle of flame. - - - - -THE PRETENDING WOODCHUCK - - -CARL S. PATTON - -Among the wild animals I have not known was a family of woodchucks -who lived in a hollow log on the edge of a farm in New York State. -Not that they cared much whether it was New York State or some other -state. I mentioned it only that the details of this story may be -verified by anyone who is inclined to doubt them. It was New York -State. - -Now here was a thing that distinguished this family to start with, -from all other families of the neighbourhood--they lived in a -hollow log. All their relatives and friends lived in the ground. -I don’t know how this family got started to living in the rotten -log. But I do happen to know that though there were a great many -warm discussions about the relative merits of a house in a log, and -a house in the ground, and though many ground houses in the best -locations and with all modern improvements were offered to this -family, they stuck to the house in the log. - -The house certainly did have one advantage; it had two doors. And -not only that, the log was part of an old fence, and the fence ran -between the garden and the cornfield. So in the summer when the -garden stuff was fine, all you had to do was to walk down the hallway -of the log, until you came to the left-hand door, and there you were -right in the garden. But when fall came and the garden was dried up, -but the corn was stacked in shocks or husked and put into the crib, -all you had to do was to go down the hallway, to the door that turned -to the right, and there you were in the cornfield. Quite aside from -these advantages, who would live in a house with one door in it when -he could just as well have one with two? - -The log-house family consisted of father, mother, and four children. -The youngest of these--the favourite of the family, was named Monax. -His mother had heard that the scientific name for woodchuck was -Arctomys Monax, and being of a scientific turn of mind, she was much -taken with this name. But no woodchuck in her neighbourhood had two -names. So she took the last of the two and called her son Monax. - -Monax had never been out in the world. He had been down to the two -doors, and had looked out, but that was all. But he had been well -instructed at home. He knew about men, and how they would sometimes -shoot at woodchucks; and about dogs, and about the corn-crib; -and for a long time he had known all about garden vegetables and -corn. He was certainly a promising boy, even his father and mother -acknowledged it, but he had one weak point--he could not learn which -was his right hand and which was his left. - -In the fall Monax’ father was laid up with rheumatism. He was a -terrible old fellow to groan and carry on when he was sick, and his -wife had to stand by him every minute. The house had to be fixed for -winter, and the other children were at work on this. Saturday came -and someone had to go to market. Who was there to go except Monax? So -it was decided that Monax should go. - -Mrs. Woodchuck gave him his instructions. She always gave everybody -their instructions. Mr. Woodchuck was, like many of us, quite an -important man, away from home. “You go out at the right-hand door,” -said Mrs. Woodchuck to Monax; “mind me, at the right-hand door. You -go through the cornfield ’till you come to the big rock in the -middle of it. Then you turn to the right again.” She paused a moment, -and a look of hesitancy or misgiving came into her face. “Do you -really know,” she said solemnly, “do you really know your right hand -from your left?” “Yes,” said Monax. “Hold up your right one,” said -his mother. Monax’ mind was in a whirl. He tried to imagine himself -with his back to the cornfield door, where he stood when he had his -last lesson on the subject. If he could only get that clearly in his -mind, he could remember which hand he held up then. But he was too -excited to think. So he held up one hand; he hadn’t the slightest -idea which it was. “Certainly,” said his mother, “certainly. Your -father said it was not safe to let you go, because you did not -know your right hand from your left. But he under-rates you. He -under-rates all the children.” She spoke almost petulantly. Then her -mind seemed to be relieved, and she proceeded with her instructions. -“Through the cornfield,” she said, “’till you come to the big rock; -then you go to the right ’till you come to the edge of the field. -You will see a couple of men in the cornfield. But do not be afraid -of them; they are only scarecrows. Even if one of them has a gun, -it is only a wooden one, and they can’t hurt you. Go right ahead. -At the edge of the cornfield, by the maple tree, you turn to the -right again--always to the right. Then you will see the barn. Go in -and look around there. Keep away from the horses and don’t mind the -odour. If you find a basket of corn on the barn floor, help yourself -and come home. If you don’t you will have to go a little farther. -Just to the right of the barn a few yards--always to the right--is -the corn-crib. That is where your father and I get most of the -supplies for the family. You climb up into the old wagon-box that -stands on the scaffolding, and jump from that into the crib. -Getting out is much easier and after that all you have to do is -to come home. You needn’t hurry especially. I sha’n’t be worried -about you, because there are no dogs there--the dog lives away over -on the other side of the fence beyond the garage--and I know the -scarecrows will not hurt you.” - -So Monax started out. Down the hall he went, pondering his -instructions. If Mrs. Woodchuck had not gone back to tie another -piece of red flannel around Mr. Woodchuck’s rheumatic knee, she might -have observed that Monax moved slowly, as if in deep thought. But she -observed nothing, and so said nothing. - -Monax was in deep thought. He was trying to decide which was his -right hand and which was his left. If he could only be sure of either -one of them he could guess at the other one. He had to know before he -got to the first of the two doors. Why were anybody’s two hands so -much alike? How could anyone be sure which was which? He stopped and -held up one, then the other; they looked just alike. He struck one of -them against the wall; then the other, they felt just alike. He -couldn’t stop long about it; if his mother caught him at it, she -would probably suspect what was the matter with him, and his little -journey into the world would be stopped before it began. - -He came to the first door, and a sudden inspiration came to him. He -never knew how it was, but he felt perfectly confident which was his -right hand. It seemed perfectly simple, somehow. It was this one. So -he turned out into the garden. - -He didn’t see any corn-shocks. But he was not surprised at that. His -mother had said maybe they would have been hauled away by this time. -He looked ahead. Yes, there was the big stone. It did look a good -deal like a cement horse-block. “But then,” he said to himself, “they -make stone these days so that you can hardly tell it from cement.” He -looked for the two scarecrows. If they were there he would know he -was right. And there they were. They were awfully good imitations of -men. One of them was walking about just a little. As he went by them, -he noticed that neither of them had a gun, but he heard one of them -say to the other, “Ever eat ’em?” “The young uns,” said the other, -“are pretty good; old ones too tough.” Monax was much interested, -but he was not frightened. On a page of the “Scientific American,” -which his mother brought home a few weeks before, he had read about -the talking pictures that Mr. Edison had invented. He hadn’t read of -the talking scarecrows, but he had no doubt there were such. “You -never can tell what these men will invent next,” he said as he moved -leisurely by. - -At the big stone he turned--this way--he said to himself. “It is -surprising how sure I am about my right hand now.” He came to the -edge of the field. There, just as his mother had said, was the barn. -It looked more like a garage than a barn. But styles change. Anyway, -there it was to the right, just as his mother had told him. “If you -are sure of your direction everything else takes care of itself,” he -said. “The location is right.” - -He went into the barn. He noticed the odour; something like gasoline. -He looked for the horses; none there. He glanced about for the basket -of corn. All he saw, instead, was a bunch of waste lying on top of a -big red tank. Where the horses ought to have been was an automobile. -“Probably they have changed it over from a barn to a garage since -mother was here,” he said; “if you are going to keep up with the -times these days you can’t stay in the house; you’ve got to get out -where things are doing.” It was no use to look for corn there. He had -had no instructions to bring home gasoline. His mother used ammonia -instead. So he took his time to look around the barn, and then moved -leisurely out. Just a few yards to the right again, as his mother had -said, was the corn-crib. He had never seen one before, and this one -looked small to him. It looked more like a dog-house to him. But the -location was right again--“always to the right,” his mother said. - -The old wagon box wasn’t there. But at the back end of the corn-crib -there was a board tacked up from the crib to the tree. That was -probably one end of the scaffold that had held the wagon box. Of -course they wouldn’t leave the wagon box there all the fall. Probably -they were using it to haul corn, at that very moment, to that very -crib. - -Meantime Mrs. Woodchuck was growing very worried at home--for Monax -had taken more time for his journey than his mother thought he would. -Mr. Woodchuck’s knee was very bad, and whenever he had rheumatism he -was more pessimistic than usual. “I tell you,” said he, “that boy -will never get home. He doesn’t know his right hand from his left.” -“I tell you he does,” said Mrs. Woodchuck; “I tried him on it just -before he went.” “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Mr. Woodchuck stuck to -his position, “if he had turned out that left-hand door, into the -garden and had gone to the garage instead of the barn. There is -one thing sure; if he tries to get corn out of that dog kennel, he -will find out his mistake.” Mr. Woodchuck’s lack of sympathy always -irritated his wife. - -“Keep still,” she said, “you will give me nervous prostration again -if you keep saying such things.” - -Monax had climbed up onto the board. He paused to look around a -moment. Then thinking that he must not be quite so leisurely, he -jumped quickly through the little window just under the roof. - -Then things began to happen so fast that Monax could hardly keep -track of them. For what Monax had really done was just what his -father said he probably would do. He had turned to the left every -time, where he ought to have turned to the right. He had gone through -the garden instead of the cornfield, past the cement horse-block -instead of the big stone, mistaken the garage for the barn, and now, -worst luck of all, he had jumped into the dog kennel instead of into -the corn-crib. - -The old dog had been after the sheep and cows, and was fast asleep on -the floor of his kennel. Still, he didn’t propose to lie there and -be jumped on by a woodchuck--not in his own kennel. And Monax--well, -perhaps he wasn’t surprised when, instead of landing on top of a -crib of corn he fell clear to the bottom, and felt his feet touching -something furry that moved. But it didn’t have time to move much. -Monax felt that a crisis had arrived in his career, and it was time -to act. He didn’t wait to look for the door of the kennel; he didn’t -want to try any more new routes. He just rebounded off the back of -the dog like a rubber ball from the pavement. Up he went, breaking -the woodchuck record for the high jump, back through the window, onto -the board, down to the ground quick as a flash. The dog was after -him, but Monax was six feet ahead. Away he went, past the barn; the -auto was just backing out; it came over Monax that it wasn’t a barn -after all. He dodged under the machine; the dog had to run around it; -three feet more gained. He went by the big stone at full speed,--it -looked more than ever to him like a cement horse-block. Past the two -scarecrows; he could see that they had moved quite a little since he -passed them coming out, and one of them had a gun now. Bang, it went; -he felt the shot pass through his tail, and it increased his speed -to forty miles. He didn’t have much time to reflect, but it did come -over him that those were not scarecrows, but men, and that what he -had overheard them say a half hour before about the “young uns being -good to eat” might possibly have had some reference to himself. On -he sped, through the garden; it was perfectly plain now that it had -never been a cornfield, and on like a flash through the garden door -into the log-house, and into his father’s room--fluttering, trembling, -and more dead than alive. - -“Did you turn to the right?” asked his mother. - -“I did--on the way back,” said Monax. - - - - -MRS. BUNNY’S DINNER PARTY - - -ANNA E. SKINNER - -Reprinted from “The Churchman.” - -“Are you ready, my dear?” said Mr. Bobtail, looking at his large -watch. “Mrs. Bunny will expect us to come in good time to her dinner -party.” - -“I shall be ready in a few minutes, Mr. Bobtail. I wonder how many -are invited. We always meet fine people at Mrs. Bunny’s house.” - -Mrs. Bobtail brought out her little gray silk bonnet, and Mr. -Bobtail’s best birch cane. - -“Come,” she said, “it is a good half hour’s walk to Bramble Hollow. -Shall we go around by the way of Cabbage-Patch Lane?” - -“Oh, no, my dear, let us take a short cut through the meadow.” - -Off they started arm in arm across the sunlit fields. - -“See, there are Mr. and Mrs. Frisk gathering nuts,” said Mr. Bobtail. -“Jack Frost shook the trees last night. There are plenty lying on the -ground.” - -“Good morning. How are all the little Friskies?” called Mrs. Bobtail. - -“Oh, how do you do! They are quite well, thank you,” said Mrs. Frisk. - -“The nuts are fine this fall, Mr. Frisk,” said Mr. Bobtail, shaking -hands with his friend. - -“Yes, indeed. We have gathered a great many for our winter store. But -you see we dare not stop long in this open field.” Mr. Frisk dropped -his voice and glanced about in all directions. Then he added, “This -is hunting season, you know.” - -“What! Do you mean you are afraid of hunters?” asked Mr. Bobtail in -surprise. - -“Indeed, we are,” said Mrs. Frisk, coming a little nearer. “From our -cosy home up in the hollow of this tree we saw two hunters crossing -the field this morning. When their dogs sniffed about the ground and -barked up the tree, we held our breath in fear.” - -“Yes,” added Mr. Frisk, “and in a short time we heard ‘bang! bang!’ I -tell you we didn’t venture down to gather nuts for several hours.” - -“How dreadful! And we are on our way to Mrs. Bunny’s dinner party,” -said Mrs. Bobtail, looking in all directions; “do you think we had -better go on, my dear?” - -“Of course! Of course! I’ve never had the least fear of a gun! Let -hunters bang away as much as they please, they will never frighten -me.” Mr. Bobtail straightened up as he spoke, and tossed back his -head. “Come, Mrs. Bobtail. Good day, my friends.” - -“Good day. We hope you will have a pleasant time,” said Mr. Frisk. - -“Isn’t Mr. Bobtail wonderfully brave?” said Mrs. Frisk, looking after -her friends. - -When they came near Bramble Hollow, Mr. and Mrs. Bobtail met some -of their friends. There were Mr. and Mrs. Pinkeye, Mr. and Mrs. -Longears, Mr. and Mrs. Cottontail,--all on their way to the dinner -party. - -Mr. and Mrs. Bunny were waiting for their guests. The little Bunnies -had been told how to behave. - -“Now, my dears,” their mother had said, “you may play out-of-doors -while we are at dinner. When we have finished I’ll call you. Now no -matter how hungry you are don’t dare peep in at the windows. And if -anything happens to frighten you slip into the kitchen and wait there -quietly until I come.” - -Away scampered four happy little Bunnies. - -At noon all the guests had reached Bramble Hollow. Mr. and Mrs. Bunny -welcomed them, and in a little while all were seated around the table -laughing and talking merrily. - -“What fine salad this is, Mrs. Bunny,” said Mrs. Longears. “The -cabbage hearts are very sweet this fall.” - -Mrs. Bunny nodded pleasantly and said, “Do have some lettuce, Mr. -Bobtail. I’m sure your long walk must have made you hungry.” - -“I hope you will like our carrots,” said Mr. Bunny, helping himself -to another. “Come, Mrs. Cottontail, let me help you to another -serving of turnip tops.” - -“Thank you, Mr. Bunny. What a pleasant home you have here in Bramble -Hollow. Do hunters ever wander into this quiet corner?” - -“Well, yes. They stroll through the hollow sometimes.” - -“Dear me,” said Mrs. Cottontail. - -“Our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Frisk, were telling us that they saw two -hunters crossing the fields this morning,” said Mrs. Bobtail. - -“This morning!” cried some of the guests, pricking up their ears. - -“Come, come, my friends,” said Mr. Bobtail, laughing, “I see I shall -have to quiet you. I never could see why so many rabbits are afraid -of a gun! I have often stayed quietly under a hedge while a hunter -fired shots as near to me as----” - -“Bang! bang! bang!” - -Four little Bunnies leaped through the window, and jumped right over -the table, upsetting many of the dishes. - -Mr. Bobtail darted off his chair at the same time, and rushed to a -corner of the kitchen, where he stayed, shaking with fear. - -The other guests did not move or speak for several minutes. Then -Mrs. Bunny caught sight of Mr. Bobtail in the corner. “Come out, Mr. -Bobtail,” she called, “I’m sure the hunters have gone into the next -field.” - - - - -THE NUTCRACKERS OF NUTCRACKER LODGE - - -HARRIET BEECHER STOWE - -Mr. and Mrs. Nutcracker were as respectable a pair of squirrels as -ever wore gray brushes over their backs. They lived in Nutcracker -Lodge, a hole in a sturdy old chestnut tree overhanging a shady dell. -Here they had reared many families of young Nutcrackers, who were -models of good behavior in the forest. - -But it happened in the course of time that they had a son named -Featherhead, who was as different from all the other children of the -Nutcracker family as if he had been dropped out of the moon into -their nest. He was handsome enough, and had a lively disposition, -but he was sulky and contrary and unreasonable. He found fault with -everything his respectable papa and mama did. Instead of helping with -up nuts and learning other lessons proper to a young squirrel,--he -sneered at all the good old ways and customs of the Nutcracker Lodge, -and said they were behind the times. To be sure he was always on hand -at meal times, and played a very lively tooth on the nuts which his -mother had collected, always selecting the best for himself. But he -seasoned his nibbling with much grumbling and discontent. - -Papa Nutcracker would often lose his patience, and say something -sharp to Featherhead, but Mamma Nutcracker would shed tears, and beg -her darling boy to be a little more reasonable. - -While his parents, brothers, and sisters were cheerfully racing up -and down the branches laying up stores for the winter, Featherhead -sat apart, sulking and scolding. - -“Nobody understands me,” he grumbled. “Nobody treats me as I deserve -to be treated. Surely I was born to be something of more importance -than gathering a few chestnuts and hickory-nuts for the winter. I am -an unusual squirrel.” - -“Depend upon it, my dear,” said Mrs. Nutcracker to her husband, “that -boy is a genius.” - -“Fiddlestick on his genius!” said old Mr. Nutcracker; “what does he -_do_?” - -“Oh, nothing, of course, but they say that is one of the marks of -genius. Remarkable people, you know, never come down to common life.” - -“He eats enough for any two,” said old Nutcracker, “and he never -helps gather nuts.” - -“But, my dear, Parson Too-Whit, who has talked with Featherhead, says -the boy has very fine feelings,--so much above those of the common -crowd.” - -“Feelings be hanged,” snapped old Nutcracker. “When a fellow eats -all the nuts that his mother gives him, and then grumbles at her, I -don’t believe much in his fine feelings. Why doesn’t he do something? -I’m going to tell my fine young gentleman that if he doesn’t behave -himself I’ll tumble him out of the nest neck and crop, and see if -hunger won’t do something toward bringing down his fine airs.” - -“Oh, my dear,” sobbed Mrs. Nutcracker, falling on her husband’s neck -with both paws, “do be patient with our darling boy.” - -Now although the Nutcrackers belonged to the fine old race of the -Grays, they kept on the best of terms with all branches of the -squirrel family. They were very friendly to the Chipmunks of Chipmunk -Hollow. Young Tip Chipmunk, the oldest son, was in all respects a -perfect contrast to Master Featherhead. Tip was lively and cheerful, -and very alert in getting food for the family. Indeed, Mr. and Mrs. -Chipmunk had very little care, but could sit at the door of their -hole and chat with neighbours, quite sure that Tip would bring -everything out right for them, and have plenty laid up for winter. - -“What a commonplace fellow that Tip Chipmunk is,” sneered Featherhead -one day. “I shall take care not to associate with him.” - -“My dear, you are too hard on poor Tip,” said Mrs. Nutcracker. “He is -a very good son, I’m sure.” - -“Oh, I don’t doubt he’s good enough,” said Featherhead, “but he’s so -common. He hasn’t an idea in his skull above his nuts and Chipmunk -Hollow. He is good-natured enough, but, dear me, he has no manners! -I hope, mother, you won’t invite the Chipmunks to the Thanksgiving -dinner--these family dinners are such a bore.” - -“But, my dear Featherhead, your father thinks a great deal of the -Chipmunks--they are our relatives you know,” said Mother Nutcracker. - -“So are the High-Flyers our relatives. If we could get them to come -there would be some sense to it. But of course a flying squirrel -would never come to our house if a common chipmunk is a guest. It -isn’t to be expected,” said Featherhead. - -“Confound him for a puppy,” said old Nutcracker. “I wish good, -industrious sons like Tip Chipmunk _were_ common.” - -But in the end Featherhead had his way, and the Chipmunks were not -invited to Nutcracker Lodge for Thanksgiving dinner. However, they -were not all offended. Indeed, Tip called early in the morning to pay -his compliments of the season, and leave a few dainty beechnuts. - -“He can’t even see that he is not wanted here,” sneered Featherhead. - -At last old papa declared it was time for Featherhead to choose some -business. - -“What are you going to do, my boy?” he asked. “We are driving now a -thriving trade in hickory nuts, and if you would like to join us----” - -“Thank you,” said Featherhead, “the hickory trade is too slow for me. -I was never made to grub and delve in that way. In fact I have my own -plans.” - -To be plain, Featherhead had formed a friendship with the Rats of Rat -Hollow--a race of people whose honesty was doubtful. Old Longtooth -Rat was a money-lender, and for a long time he had had his eye on -Featherhead as a person silly enough to suit the business which was -neither more nor less than downright stealing. - -Near Nutcracker Lodge was a large barn filled with corn and grain, -besides many bushels of hazelnuts, chestnuts and walnuts. Now old -Longtooth told Featherhead that he should nibble a passage into the -loft, and set up a commission business there--passing out nuts and -grain as Longtooth wanted them. He did not tell Featherhead a certain -secret--namely, that a Scotch terrier was about to be bought to keep -rats from the grain. - -“How foolish such drudging fellows as Tip Chipmunk are!” said -Featherhead to himself. “There he goes picking up a nut here and a -grain there, whereas I step into property at once.” - -“I hope you are honest in your dealings, my son,” said old Nutcracker. - -Featherhead threw his tail saucily over one shoulder and laughed. -“Certainly, sir, if honesty means getting what you can while it is -going, I mean to be honest.” - -Very soon Featherhead seemed to be very prosperous. He had a splendid -hole in the midst of a heap of chestnuts, and he seemed to be rolling -in wealth. He lavished gifts on his mother and sisters; he carried -his tail very proudly over his back. He was even gracious to Tip -Chipmunk. - -But one day as Featherhead was lolling in his hole, up came two boys -with the friskiest, wiriest Scotch terrier you ever saw. His eyes -blazed like torches. Featherhead’s heart died within him as he heard -the boys say, “Now we’ll see if we can catch the rascal that eats our -grain.” - -Featherhead tried to slink out of the hole he had gnawed to come in -by, but found it stopped. - -“Oh, you are there, are you, Mister?” cried the boy. “Well, you don’t -get out, and now for a chase.” - -And sure enough poor Featherhead ran with terror up and down through -the bundles of hay. But the barking terrier was at his heels, and -the boys shouted and cheered. He was glad at last to escape through -a crack, though he left half of his fine brush behind him--for -Master Wasp, the terrier, made a snap at it just as Featherhead was -squeezing through. Alas! all the hair was cleaned off so that it was -as bare as a rat’s tail. - -Poor Featherhead limped off, bruised and beaten, with the dog -and boys still after him, and they would have caught him if Tip -Chipmunk’s hole had not stood open to receive him. Tip took the best -of care of him, but the glory of Featherhead’s tail had gone forever. -From that time, though, he was a sadder and a wiser squirrel than he -ever had been before. - - - - -BUSHY’S BRAVERY - - -Mr. Squirrel was disappointed when he peeped his head out of his -hollow tree early one morning. Not one nut was to be seen on the -ground. - -“Jack Frost did not come last night. I see no nuts anywhere. It will -take a long time to get all we need from the tree, I fear,” he said -to Mrs. Squirrel, who was standing close beside him. - -“But Jack Frost will come to our tree,” she said. “He never fails. -See, there’s Mrs. Bushytail out early. She seems to be looking -around, too. Perhaps Jack Frost has shaken them down for her. Let’s -run down and see.” - -Away frisked Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel as fast as their legs could take -them, to see what Jack Frost had done for their neighbour. But, no, -he had not visited Mrs. Bushytail’s tree. She had looked all over -the ground, and there wasn’t a nut in sight. She couldn’t explain it -herself. - -“Let us wait until to-morrow morning,” said Mrs. Squirrel, “he will -be sure to come to-night. Then what fun Bushy and Frisky will have -gathering them. They will have to work hard to get enough for our -winter store. Boys love nuts, too,” she added with a sigh. “But we -will wait.” - -Morning came and frosty Jack had been there in earnest, for the nuts -lay all over the ground. - -“Now to work,” said Father Squirrel. “Come, Bushy and Frisky.” - -It was a busy day for Mr. Squirrel’s family. They well knew how -many, many nuts are needed for the winter’s store, and Mr. Squirrel -kept telling Bushy and Frisky that they would have to work hard, and -perhaps until the sun went down that day. - -But alas for those little squirrels. “Boys love nuts, too,” Mrs. -Squirrel had said over and over again, and when a rustle was heard in -the bushes behind the trees, and the sound of boys’ voices came loud -and clear, these little workers had to take to their heels, and whisk -up the hollow tree. There they stayed trembling with fear. In a few -minutes Bushy, a little braver than the rest, ventured to peep out of -a small hole. Frisky stood just back of him. - -“Boys--three of them--and they all have bags!” - -Poor Bushy and Frisky. If there was one thing that these little -squirrels loved to do more than another it was to gather nuts--and -now their chance was spoiled, for the boys were really there, and -would be sure to take every nut they could find. - -“They’re working hard,” said Bushy. - -“Will they leave any for us?” asked Frisky, not even daring to peep -out. - -“Sh! Listen, Frisky. I heard one of the boys say that there are some -nuts under the other tree. Two of the boys are going there now. It’s -Mrs. Bushytail’s tree. But look, Frisky, they have left two of the -bags.” - -“Where, Bushy?” - -“One of the boys is sitting on one of them. He is cracking nuts, I -think.” - -“And the other bag, Bushy?” - -“The other one is close by our tree,” and before any one could say a -word, Bushy was out of the hole, down the tree, and close to the big -bag. Mrs. Squirrel tried to call him back, but it was of no use. Up -and down the bag he ran, first to the top and then to the sides. But -he could not get in--the bag was tied tight. But Bushy’s teeth were -sharp. - -“Dear, dear,” said his mother, “here come the boys back, and they -will surely see Bushy--dear, dear.” - -Bushy caught sight of the boys coming toward the tree for their bags, -and with a whisk and a scamper he was up the tree again and into his -hole in no time. - -“Dear, dear Bushy,” said his mother. “What a fright you gave us all. -Just see those boys. There’s no telling what would have happened if -they had seen you.” - -Mr. Squirrel’s family watched the boys pick up their bags, throw them -over their shoulders and go away. - -“Why, Tom, look at your bag,” said one of the boys. “It has a hole in -it. You must have lost ever so many nuts along the way.” - -“A hole?” asked Tom in surprise, as he lifted the bag from his -shoulder. “So it has--and a pretty big one, too. I wonder how it ever -came there. It wasn’t there when I started.” - -The boys were gone, and Mr. Squirrel’s family ventured out once more. - -“It’s of no use, I fear,” began Mrs. Squirrel; “those boys were good -workers and--dear me, here are nuts sprinkled all along the road. -What does it mean?” asked Mrs. Squirrel. - -“It is strange,” said Mr. Squirrel. “I really thought those boys had -found them all, but perhaps boys’ eyes are not so sharp as we think.” - -Bushy kept on gathering the nuts and smiling to himself. How sly he -was. Not one of the family seemed to guess the truth. It was only -when he and Frisky were going to bed that night that Frisky dared to -whisper, “Bushy, did you put that hole in that bag?” - - - - -NUT GATHERERS - - - Hark! how they chatter - Down the dusk Road, - See them come patter, - Each with his Load. - - What have you sought, then, - Gay little Band? - What have you brought, then, - Each in his Hand? - - No need to ask it; - No need to tell; - In Bag and in Basket - Your nuts show well! - - Nuts from the wild-wood; - Sweet Nuts to eat; - Sweetest in Childhood - When life is sweet. - - There they go patter, - Each with his Load; - Hark! how they chatter - Down the dusk Road. - HAMISH HENDRY. - - - - -IN HARVEST FIELDS - - - - -WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUMPKIN’ - - - When the frost is on the punkin’ and the fodder’s in the shock, - And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock, - And the clackin’ of the guiney’s, and the cluckin’ of the hens, - And the rooster’s hallylcoyer as he tiptoes on the fence, - O, it’s then’s the time a feller is a-feelin’ at his best, - With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest, - As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock, - When the frost is on the punkin’ and the fodder’s in the shock. - JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. - - - - -ORIGIN OF INDIAN CORN - - -Once upon a time an Indian chief sat alone in his wigwam thinking -about the needs of his tribe. For more than a year food had been very -scarce, and they were suffering from a scanty fare of roots, herbs, -and berries. Many of the people had come to him in their misery. - -“We ask you to help us, brave chief,” they cried. “Will you not -entreat the Great Spirit to send us some of the food from the Happy -Hunting Grounds where it is so plentiful? See how weak and thin our -young braves are. Help us or we shall die.” - -“I’ll go into the depths of the forest,” said the chief. “There I’ll -live until the Great Spirit tells me how to relieve the misery of my -people.” - -He left his wigwam and walked far into the forest, where he waited -for several days before the Great Spirit spoke these words to him: - -“In the moon of rains take thy family and go to the stretch of land -which joins this forest. Wait there until I send thee a message.” - -The chief went back to the Indian village, and told what he had heard -from the Great Spirit. And in the Moon of Rains he called together -his honoured wife, his fleet-footed sons, and his graceful daughter, -and said, “Follow me to the stretch of land beyond the forest.” - -When they reached the great plain, they stood in a group waiting for -a message from the Great Spirit. For three suns they stood patiently -without once changing their positions. - -The Indians of the tribe grew anxious to know what had happened to -their chief and his family, and some of them slipped through the wood -to the plain where they knew he had been directed to go. There they -saw the group of figures standing with their hands uplifted, and -their eyes closed. The Indians were filled with awe. - -“The Great Spirit is talking to them,” they whispered, as they went -back to their wigwams. - -In a few days they returned to the plain. A marvelous sight met -their eyes. Instead of the chief and his family standing like images -of sleep, they saw wonderful green plants, tall and straight, with -broad, flat leaves, and in place of uplifted hands they beheld ears -of corn with silken fringe. - -“The Great Spirit has called our chief and his family to the ‘Happy -Hunting Grounds,’” they said, “and has sent us this food as a symbol -of their sacrifice.” - -They saved some of the kernels and planted them in the fields, and -each year when they reaped a golden harvest they remembered the brave -chief whose thoughtful care brought them the rich blessing of the -Indian corn. - - - Sing, O Song of Hiawatha, - Of the happy days that followed, - In the land of the Ojibways, - In the pleasant land and peaceful! - Sing the mysteries of Mondamin, - Sing the Blessing of the Cornfields! - HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. - - - - -O-NA-TAH: THE SPIRIT OF THE CORN-FIELDS - - -HARRIET CONVERSE - -O-na-tah is the spirit of the corn, and patroness of the fields. -The sun touches her dusky face with the blush of the morning, and -her dark eyes grow soft as the gleam of the stars that float on -dark streams. Her night-black hair flares in the breeze like the -wind-driven cloud that unveils the sun. As she walks the air, draped -in her maize, its blossoms plume to the sun, and its fringing tassels -play with the rustling leaves in whispering promises to the waiting -fields. Night follows O-na-tah’s dim way with dews, and Day guides -the beams that leap from the sun to her path. And the great Mother -Earth loves O-na-tah, who brings to her children their life-giving -grain. - -At one time O-na-tah had two companions, the Spirit of the Bean and -the Spirit of the Squash. In the olden time when the bean, corn, and -squash were planted together in the hill these three plant spirits -were never separated. Each was clothed in the plant which she -guarded. The Spirit of the Squash was crowned with the flaunting gold -trumpet blossom of its foliage. The Spirit of the Bean was arrayed in -the clinging leaves of its winding vine, its velvety pods swinging to -the breeze. - -One day when O-na-tah had wandered astray in search of the lost dew, -Hah-gweh-da-et-gab captured her, and imprisoned her in his darkness -under the earth. Then he sent one of his monsters to blight her -fields and the Spirit of Squash and the Spirit of Bean fled before -the blighting winds that pursued them. O-na-tah languished in the -darkness, lamenting her lost fields. But one day a searching sun ray -discovered her, and guided her safely back to her lands. - -Sad indeed was O-na-tah when she beheld the desolation of her -blighted fields, and the desertion of her companions, Spirit of -Squash and Spirit of Bean. Bewailing the great change, she made a vow -that she would never leave her fields again. - -If her fields thirst now, she can not leave them to summon the dews. -When the Flame Spirit of the Sun burns the maize O-na-tah dare not -search the skies for Ga-oh to implore him to unleash the winds and -fan her lands. When great rains fall and blight her fields the voice -of O-na-tah grows faint and the Sun can not hear. Yet faithful she -watches and guards, never abandoning her fields till the maize is -ripe. - -When the maize stalk bends low O-na-tah is folding the husks to the -pearly grains that the dew will nourish in their screening shade, as -they fringe to the sun. - -When the tassels plume, O-na-tah is crowning the maize with her -triumph sign, and the rustling leaves spear to the harvest breeze. - - - - -MONDAMIN - - - Summer passed and Shawondasee - Breathed his sighs o’er all the landscape, - From the South-land sent his ardours, - Wafted kisses warm and tender; - And the maize-field grew and ripened, - Till it stood in all the splendour - Of its garments green and yellow, - Of its tassels and its plumage, - And the maize-ears full of shining - Gleamed from bursting sheaths of verdure. - Then Nokomis, the old woman, - Spake, and said to Minnehaha, - “’Tis the Moon when leaves are falling, - All the wild rice has been gathered, - And the maize is ripe and ready; - Let us gather in the harvest, - Let us wrestle with Mondamin, - Strip him of his plumes and tassels, - Of his garments green and yellow.” - And the merry Laughing Water - Went rejoicing from the wigwam, - With Nokomis, old and wrinkled, - And they called the women round them, - Called the young men and the maidens, - To the harvest of the cornfields, - To the husking of the maize-ear. - HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. - - - - -THE DISCONTENTED PUMPKIN - - -Jack Frost visited Farmer Crane’s field one night, and the next -morning the gold of the pumpkins shone more brilliantly than ever -through their silver coverings. - -“It is of no use,” said one large pumpkin to another lying beside it. -“It is of no use. I was never made to be cut up for pumpkin pies. I -feel I was put here for something higher.” - -“Why, what do you mean?” said the other. “You never seemed -dissatisfied before. You quite take my breath away.” - -“Well, to tell the truth, I do not like the thought of being cut up -and served on a table like an ordinary pumpkin. See how large I am, -and what a glorious colour. Tell me, did you ever see a pumpkin more -beautiful?” - -“You are beautiful, indeed, but I never thought of being made for -anything but pies. Do tell me of what other use can one be?” - -“Well, I have always thought that I am not like the other pumpkins in -this field, and when Farmer Crane pointed me out as the finest one he -had, I heard him say, ‘That would be a fine one for a fair.’ It was -not till then that I really knew for what I was intended.” - -“I do remember,” answered the other. “Yes, I do remember hearing -about some pumpkins’ being taken to a county fair once, but I never -heard how they liked it. As for myself, I should be proud to be made -into delicious pies and served on a beautiful plate.” - -“How can you be satisfied with that thought? But there is Farmer -Crane now. He is gathering some of the _smaller_ pumpkins to make -pies with, I think.” - -“Perhaps he knows best what you are made for,” answered the other. - -Farmer Crane was soon at their side, and was looking from one to the -other. - -“What fine pies they will make. I had better take them now, I think,” -he said, and they were quickly added to the golden heap already on -the wagon. - -How happy they all were--all but one that lay on the top of the large -pile. - -“It is hard to be thrown in with these ordinary pumpkins. If I could -only slip off by myself. Perhaps there is at least a place at the -bottom of the wagon where I can be alone.” - -It was a long way from the top of the pile to the bed of the wagon, -but it was very little trouble to slip away from the rest. It would -take only a second, and then he could be away from the others. But -alas! the discontented pumpkin slipped a little too far, and I’m -sorry to say, soon lay on the frozen ground, a shattered heap. - -“Dear me,” said the pumpkins in one breath; “see, that fine fellow -has slipped off, and is broken to pieces. What a feast the cows and -pigs will have.” - -“It is too bad,” said one. - -“And he was so anxious to be taken to a fair,” added another. - - Hurrah for the tiny seed! - Hurrah for the flower and vine! - Hurrah for the golden pumpkin; - Yellow and plump and fine! - But better than all beginnings, - Sure, nobody can deny, - Is the end of the whole procession---- - This glorious pumpkin pie! - - - - -BOB WHITE - - - I see you on the zig zag rails, - You cheery little fellow! - While purple leaves are whirling down, - And scarlet, brown or yellow. - I hear you when the air is full - Of snow-down of the thistle; - All in your speckled jacket trim, - “Bob White! Bob White!” you whistle. - - Tall amber sheaves, in rustling rows, - Are nodded there to greet you, - I know that you are out for play---- - How I should like to meet you! - Though blithe of voice, so shy you are, - In this delightful weather; - What splendid playmates, you and I, - Bob White, would make together. - - There, you are gone! but far away - I hear your whistle falling, - Ah! maybe it is hide and seek, - And that’s why you are calling. - Along those hazy uplands wide - We’d be such merry rangers; - What! silent now and hidden, too? - Bob White, don’t let’s be strangers. - - Perhaps you teach your brood the game, - In yonder rainbowed thicket, - While winds are playing with the leaves, - And softly creaks the cricket. - “Bob White! Bob White!” again I hear - That blithely whistled chorus, - Why should we not companions be? - One Father watches o’er us! - GEORGE COOPER. - - - - -THE LITTLE PUMPKIN - - -EMMA FLORENCE BUSH. - -Once there was a little pumpkin that grew on a vine in a field. All -day long the sun shone on him, and the wind blew gently around him. -Sometimes the welcome rain fell softly upon him, and as the vine -sent her roots deep down into the earth and drew the good sustenance -from it, and it flowed through her veins, the little pumpkin drank -greedily of the good juice, and grew bigger and bigger, and rounder -and rounder, and firmer and firmer. - -By and by he grew so big he understood all that the growing things -around him were saying, and he listened eagerly. - -“I came from the seed of a Jack-o’-lantern,” said this vine to a -neighbour, “therefore I must grow all Jack-o’-lanterns.” - -“So did I,” said a neighbour, “but no Jack-o’-lanterns for me. It is -too hard a life. I am going to grow just plain pumpkins.” - -When the little pumpkin heard he was supposed to be a -Jack-o’-lantern, he grew very worried, for he could not see that he -was in any way different from any ordinary pumpkin, and if Mother -Vine expected him to be a Jack-o’-lantern, he did not want to -disappoint her. - -At last he grew so unhappy over it that the dancing little sunbeams -noticed it. “What is the matter, little pumpkin?” they cried. “Why do -you not hold up your head and look around as you used to do?” - -“Because,” answered the little pumpkin, sadly, “I have to be a -Jack-o’-lantern, and I don’t know how. All I know about is how to be -a little yellow pumpkin.” - -Then the merry little breezes laughed and laughed until they shook -the vine so that all the pumpkins had to tighten their hold not to -be shaken off. “Oh, little pumpkin!” they cried, “why worry about -what you will have to do later? Just try with all your might to be a -little yellow pumpkin, and believe that if you do the best you can, -everything will be all right. We know a secret, a beautiful secret, -and some day we will tell it to you.” - -“Oh, tell me now!” cried the little pumpkin, but the sunbeams and -breezes laughed together, and chuckled, - - “Oh no, oh no, oh no! - Just grow and grow and grow, - And some day you will know.” - -The little pumpkin felt comforted. “After all,” he thought, “perhaps -if I cannot be a Jack-o’-lantern I can be a good pumpkin, and I am so -far down on the vine perhaps Mother Vine won’t notice me.” He looked -around, and saw that all his brothers and sisters were only little -pumpkins, too. - -“Oh, dear,” he cried, “are we going to disappoint Mother Vine? -Aren’t any of us going to be Jack-o’-lanterns?” Then all his little -brothers and sisters laughed, and said, “What do we care about being -Jack-o’-lanterns? All we care about is to eat the good juice, and -grow and grow.” - -At last came the cold weather, and all the little pumpkins were now -big ones, and a beautiful golden yellow. The biggest and yellowest of -all was the little pumpkin who had tried so hard all summer to grow -into a Jack-o’-lantern. He could not believe Mother Vine did not see -him now, for he had grown so big that every one who saw him exclaimed -about him, and Mother Vine did not seem at all disappointed, she just -kept at work carrying the good food that kept her pumpkin children -well fed. - -At last one frosty morning, a crowd of children came to the field. -“The pumpkins are ready,” they cried. “The pumpkins are ready; and -we are going to find the biggest and yellowest and nicest to make a -Jack-o’-lantern for the Thanksgiving party. All the grandmothers and -grandfathers and aunts and uncles will see it, and we are going to -eat the pies made from it.” - -They looked here and there, all over the field, and pushed aside the -vines to see better. All at once they saw the little pumpkin. “Oh!” -they cried, “What a perfect Jack-o’-lantern! So big and firm and -round and yellow! This shall be the Jack-o’-lantern for our -Thanksgiving party, and it is so large there will be pie enough for -every one.” - -Then they picked the pumpkin and carried him to the barn. Father -cut a hole in the top around the stem, lifted it off carefully and -scooped out the inside, and the children carried it to mother in the -kitchen. Then father made eyes and a nose and mouth, and fitted a big -candle inside. “Oh, see the beautiful Jack-o’-lantern!” they cried. - -The little pumpkin waited in the barn. “At last I am a -Jack-o’-lantern,” he said. After a time it grew dark, and father -came and carried him into the house, and lighted the candle, and put -him right in the middle of the table, and all the grandmothers and -grandfathers, and aunts and uncles, cried, “Oh, what a beautiful, -big, round, yellow Jack-o’-lantern!” - -Then the little pumpkin was happy, for he knew Mother Vine would have -been proud of him, and he shone--shone--SHONE, until the candle was -all burned out. - - - - -AUTUMN - - - Then came the Autumn all in yellow clad, - As though he joyèd in his plenteous store, - Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad - That he had banished hunger, which to-fore - Had by the body oft him pinchèd sore: - Upon his head a wreath, that was enroll’d - With ears of corn of every sort, he bore; - And in his hand a sickle he did hold, - To reap the ripen’d fruits the which the earth had yold. - EDMUND SPENSER. - - - - -CHEERFUL CHIRPERS - - - - -THE NEWS - - - The katydids say it as plain as can be - And the crickets are singing it under the trees; - In the asters’ blue eyes you may read the same hint, - Just as clearly as if you had seen it in print. - And the corn sighs it, too, as it waves in the sun, - That autumn is here and summer is done. - PERSIS GARDINER. - - - - -HOW THERE CAME TO BE A KATY-DID - - -PATTEN BEARD - -From “The Bluebird’s Garden.” Used by special permission of the -author and the Pilgrim Press. - -Long, long, long ago--so long that this story has had time to grow -into a garden legend--two green grasshoppers went out, one fine day, -to play with a cricket. They played tag, and I’m on gypsyland. At -last they decided to have a game of hide-and-seek. - -The goal was a blade of grass, and they counted out to see who should -be goal man. It fell to the little cricket, Katy-did. She was to hide -her eyes behind the grassblade, and count up to one hundred by tens, -while the two grasshoppers went off to hide. - -So the cricket hid her face so that she could not see, and began: -“Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, -one hundred! Coming!” - -Though there were plenty of good places in which to hide in the -garden, one green grasshopper had been slow to suit himself. He had -not yet hidden when the little cricket turned about and caught him. - -And he began, “You didn’t count up to a hundred! I didn’t have time -to hide! You should have hollered, ‘Coming!’ It’s no fair! I’m not -going to play any more--you didn’t count up to a hundred!” - -At this, the other grasshopper came out of hiding. “She did count up -to a hundred,” he said, “Katy did!” - - “She didn’t” - “She did!” - “She didn’t!” - “Katy did, did, did!” - “Katy didn’t, didn’t, didn’t!” - “Did, did, did!” - “Didn’t, didn’t, didn’t!” - “Katy did!” - “Katy didn’t!” - “She did!” - “She didn’t!” - “Katy did!” - “Katy didn’t!” - -To this very, very day, you can hear the dispute still going on in -the garden, and the game of tag has never yet been finished. Ever -since that time the grasshoppers who started the discussion have been -called katydids, and the whole garden is full of the controversy. You -can hear hundreds of little voices keeping it up, though nothing is -ever decided. So it goes on eternally, Katy did--Katy didn’t, did, -did, did, didn’t, didn’t, she did, she didn’t--for nobody has ever -yet settled a dispute by contradiction. By this time, too, everyone -has forgotten what the quarrel was about. - - - - -OLD DAME CRICKET - - - Old Dame Cricket, down in a thicket, - Brought up her children nine,---- - Queer little chaps, in glossy black caps - And brown little suits so fine. - “My children,” she said, - “The birds are abed: - Go and make the dark earth glad! - Chirp while you can!” - And then she began,---- - Till, oh, what a concert they had! - - They hopped with delight, - They chirped all night, - Singing, “Cheer up! cheer up! cheer!” - Old Dame Cricket, - Down in the thicket, - Sat awake till dawn to hear. - - “Nice children,” she said, - “And very well bred. - My darlings have done their best. - Their naps they must take: - The birds are awake; - And they can sing all the rest.” - - - - -MISS KATY-DID AND MISS CRICKET - - -HARRIET BEECHER STOWE - -Miss Katy-Did sat on the branch of a flowering azalia in her best -suit of fine green and silver, with wings of point-lace from mother -nature’s finest web. - -Her gallant cousin, Colonel Katy-Did, had looked in to make her a -morning call. - -“Certainly I am a pretty creature,” she said to herself when the -gallant Colonel said something about being dazzled by her beauty. - -“The fact is, my dear Colonel,” said Miss Katy, “I am thinking of -giving a party, and you must help me make out the lists.” - -“My dear, you make me the happiest of Katy-Dids.” - -“Now,” said Miss Katy, drawing an azalia leaf towards her, “let us -see--whom shall we have? The Fireflies are a little unsteady, but -they are so brilliant, everybody wants them--and they belong to the -higher circles.” - -“Yes, we must have the Fireflies,” said the colonel. - -“Well, then--and the Butterflies and the Moths, now there’s the -trouble. There are so many Moths, and they’re so dull. Still if you -have the Butterflies you can’t leave out the Moths.” - -“Old Mrs. Moth has been ill lately. That may keep two or three of the -Misses Moth at home,” said the colonel. - -“I thought she was never sick,” said Miss Katy-Did. - -“Yes, I understand she and her family ate up a whole fur cape last -month, and it disagreed with them.” - -“Oh, how can they eat such things as worsted and fur?” then sneered -Miss Katy-Did. - -“By your fairy-like delicacy one can see that you couldn’t eat such -things,” smiled the colonel. - -“Mamma says she doesn’t know what keeps me alive. Half a dewdrop and -a little bit of the nicest part of a rose-leaf often lasts me for a -day. But to our list. Let’s see,--the Fireflies, Butterflies, Moths. -The Bees must come, I suppose.” - -“The Bees are a worthy family,” nodded the colonel. - -“Yes, but dreadfully humdrum. They never talk about anything but -honey and housekeeping.” - -“Then there are the Bumble Bees.” - -“Oh, I dote on them,” said Miss Katy-Did. “General Bumble is one of -the most dashing, brilliant fellows of the day.” - -“He’s shockingly fat!” said the colonel. - -“Yes, he is a little stout,” nodded Miss Katy-Did, “but he is very -elegant in his manners,--something soldierly and breezy about him.” - -“If you invite the Bumble Bees, you must have the Hornets.” - -“Ah, they are spiteful,--I detest them.” - -“Nevertheless, one must not offend the Hornets, and how about the -Mosquitoes?” asked the Colonel. - -“They are very common. Can’t one cut them?” - -“I think not, my dear Miss Katy. Young Mosquito is connected with -some of our leading papers, and he carries a sharp pen. It will never -do to offend him.” - -“And I suppose one must ask all his dreadful relations, too,” sighed -Miss Katy. - -At this moment they saw Miss Keziah Cricket coming. She carried her -workbag on her arm, and she asked for a subscription to help a poor -family of Ants who had just had their house hoed up by some one who -was clearing the garden walks. - -“How stupid of the Ants,” said Katy, “not to know better than to put -their house in a garden-walk.” - -“Ah, they are in great trouble,” said Miss Cricket. “Their stores are -all destroyed, and their father killed--cut quite in two by a hoe.” - -“How very shocking! I don’t like to hear such disagreeable things. -But I have nothing to give. Mamma said yesterday she didn’t know how -our bills were to be paid,--and there’s my green satin with point -lace yet to come home,” said Miss Katy, shrugging her shoulders. - -Little Miss Cricket hopped briskly off. “Poor, extravagant little -thing,” she said to herself. - -“Shall you invite the Crickets?” said Colonel Katy-Did. - -“Why, Colonel, what a question! I invite the Crickets? No, indeed.” - -“And shall you ask the Locusts or the Grasshoppers?” - -“Certainly. The Locusts, of course--a very old and fine family, and -the Grasshoppers are pretty well, and ought to be asked. But one must -draw the line somewhere--and the Crickets! Why, I can’t think of -them.” - -“I thought they were very nice, respectable people,” said the colonel. - -“Oh, perfectly nice and respectable,--but----” - -“Do explain, my dear Katy.” - -“Why, their _colour_, to be sure. Don’t you see?” - -“Oh!” said the colonel. “That’s it, is it? And tell me, please, who -decides what colour shall be the reigning colour?” - -“What a question! The only true colour--the only proper one--is _our_ -colour to be sure. A lovely pea green is the shade on which to found -an aristocratic distinction. Of course, we are liberal; we associate -with the Moths, who are gray; with the Butterflies, who are blue and -gold coloured; with the Grasshoppers, yellow and brown; and society -would become dreadfully mixed if it were not fortunately ordered -that the Crickets are as black as jet. The fact is that a class to -be looked down upon is necessary to all elegant society, and if the -Crickets were not black we could not keep them down. Everybody knows -they are often a great deal cleverer than we are. They have a vast -talent for music and dancing; they are very quick at learning, and -would be getting to the very top of the ladder if we allowed them to -climb. Now, so long as we are green and they are black, we have a -superiority that can never be taken from us. Don’t you see now?” - -“Oh, yes, I see exactly,” said the colonel. “Now that Keziah Cricket, -who just came in here, is quite a musician, and her old father plays -the violin beautifully; by the way, we might engage him for our -orchestra.” - -And so Miss Katy’s ball came off. It lasted from sundown till -daybreak, so that it seemed as if every leaf in the forest were -alive. The Katy-Dids, and the Mosquitoes, and the Locusts, and a full -orchestra of Crickets made the air perfectly vibrate. - -Old Parson Too-Whit was shocked at the gaieties, which were kept up -by the pleasure-loving Katy-Dids night after night. - -But about the first of September the celebrated Jack Frost epidemic -broke out. Poor Miss Katy, with her flimsy green satin, and point -lace, was one of the first victims, and fell from the bough in -company with a sad shower of last year’s leaves. - -The worthy Cricket family, however, avoided Jack Frost by moving -in time to the chimney corner of a nice little cottage that had -been built in the wood. There good old Mr. and Mrs. Cricket, with -sprightly Miss Keziah and her brothers and sisters, found a warm and -welcome home. When the storm howled without, and lashed the poor, -naked trees, the crickets on the warm hearth would chirp out cheery -welcome to the happy family in the cottage. - -(Adapted.) - - - - -THE CRICKET - - - Little cricket, full of mirth, - Chirping on my kitchen hearth; - Wheresoever be thine abode, - Always harbinger of good. - Pay me for thy warm retreat - With a song more soft and sweet; - In return thou shalt receive - Such a strain as I can give. - WILLIAM COWPER. - - - - -ALL HALLOWE’EN - - - - -SHADOW MARCH - - -Used by special permission of Charles Scribner and Sons. - - All around the house is the jet black night, - It stares through the window-pane, - It creeps in the corners hiding from the light - And it moves with the moving flame. - Now my little heart goes a-beating like a drum, - With the breath of the bogie in my hair, - While all around the candle the crooked shadows come - And go marching along up the stair. - The shadow of the baluster, the shadow of the light, - The shadow of the child that goes to bed, - All the wicked shadows come a tramp, tramp, tramp, - With the black night overhead. - ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. - - - - -TWINKLING FEET’S HALLOWE’EN - - -One Hallowe’en a band of merry pixies were dancing round and round -a bright green ring in the meadow. In the center stood the Little -Fiddler, playing his gayest music, and keeping time with his head -and one tiny foot. The faster he played, the merrier the little -creatures danced. What sport it was to twirl and twist in time with -the fairy music, which the jolly little elf brought out from his tiny -instrument. No wonder the pixies laughed until their sides ached. And -so, indeed, did their little musician. Sometimes he was obliged to -stop playing for a few seconds in order to catch his breath. - -Now there was one pixie named Twinkling Feet who was the best dancer -in the ring, and he could cut such queer little capers that his -companions fairly shrieked with laughter when they looked at him. -Suddenly he thought what sport it would be to play a trick on all the -little dancers. Very slyly he tripped his partner, and the two fell -down in the grass, dragging with them one pixie after another until -all in the circle were sprawling on the ground. There they lay for -several seconds, a wriggling mass of green coats and red caps. It was -some time before they could pick themselves up. Many of them laughed -heartily at the mishap, but a few were so badly bruised that they -were obliged to slip away and bathe their shins in the evening dew. - -“Who tripped first in the ring?” - -“Who made us fall on our stumjackets?” - -“Who spoiled our Hallowe’en dance?” asked one little pixie after -another. - -“Twinkling Feet and I fell first,” said the best dancer’s partner. “I -don’t know what made us tangle our feet, do you?” he asked, laughing -and turning to his companion. - -But Twinkling Feet’s little brown face was so drawn and sober that -his partner asked quickly, “Why, what _is_ the matter with you?” - -“I don’t know,” said the little elf. - -“Why, _do look_ at him,” cried another pixie. - -“Does anything hurt you?” asked several little creatures together. - -“I feel very queer,” said Twinkling Feet. - -“Have you what mortals call ‘pain?’” asked his partner. - -“I don’t know what that is, but I feel very, very queer. Please ask -the Little Fiddler if he knows what is the matter with me.” - -The group of pixies that had gathered around Twinkling Feet -moved away in order to let the elfin musician come close to the -queer-looking pixie. The little Fiddler gazed steadily at him, shook -his white head, and said slowly, “A frightful thing has happened. -Twinkling Feet has lost his laugh!” - -“Lost his laugh!” shrieked all the other little elfs. - -“He has lost his laugh!” repeated the Fiddler Pixie. - -“Lost my laugh,” moaned Twinkling Feet. “Oh, please tell me what to -do.” - -“There is nothing to do but go and search for it. You can not dance -in a pixie ring without your laugh, and mark what I say, you must -find it before midnight.” - -“But what if I _can’t_ find it?” cried the frightened elf. - -“Then you’ll be a pixie _without a laugh_--that is all,” declared the -Little Fiddler. - -At these awful words every pixie’s face grew sober. They looked at -each other very solemnly and said, “A pixie without a laugh! How -terrible!” - -Then one after another they cried out. “Search for it, Twinkling -Feet. Perhaps you’ll find it before midnight. Start now. Think how -sad it will be if you are never able to dance in the ring again.” - -“Where shall I go, Fiddler Pixie?” asked Twinkling Feet. - -“Well, you might ask Jack-o’-Lantern,” said the musician. “He’s been -flitting about in the meadow all the evening. See, there he goes over -by the brook.” - -Away ran the little pixie as fast as his legs could carry him. It was -no easy matter to come close enough to Jack-o’-Lantern to make him -hear. Twinkling Feet was almost ready to give up the chase when the -little man stopped, poked his head out of his lantern, and called, -“Do you wish to speak to me?” - -“Don’t you know me?” cried the pixie. “I’m Twinkling Feet.” - -“Why, what has happened to you?” asked Jack. “You’re the queerest -looking chap I ever saw.” - -“I’ve lost my laugh. Please tell me, Jack-o’-Lantern, have you seen -it?” - -“Lost your laugh!” repeated the lantern man, looking very serious. -“No wonder I didn’t know you. I’m very sorry to say I’ve seen nothing -of your laugh.” - -“Do you know anyone who could help me, Jack?” asked Twinkling Feet. -“Oh do help me find it.” - -“Well, let me see. You might ask Jolly Little Witch. Her eyes are -very sharp. She’s in the ragweed meadow, looking for a good riding -stalk. As soon as she finds one I’m going to light her to the village -where she will make plenty of merriment at the children’s party. It’s -Hallowe’en, you know. Come, jump into my lantern, and I’ll take you -to her.” - -Twinkling Feet hopped into the little lantern, and away they went -to the ragweed field. When they drew near the Jolly Little Witch -called out, “I’ve found a good ragweed stalk, Jack, but I’ve lost my -goggles. Come, perhaps you can help me find them. I can’t go to the -village without my goggles. Why, who is that in the lantern with you?” - -“A pixie who wants to ask you something,” said Jack-o’-Lantern, -opening the door to let Twinkling Feet out. Then the lantern man -hurried away to search for the witch’s goggles. - -“Please, Jolly Little Witch, I’ve lost my laugh,” said Twinkling Feet. - -“Lost your laugh! and on Hallowe’en! Well, no wonder I didn’t know -you. You’re the queerest looking pixie I ever saw. Tell me how you -happened to lose your laugh?” - -But Twinkling Feet did not answer her question. He said meekly, “Have -you seen it?” - -“No, my little fellow. I’m sorry to say I’ve not seen your laugh,” -said the Jolly Little Witch. - -“A pixie can’t dance without his laugh,” sighed Twinkling Feet. - -“No, of course he can’t. Dear, dear! How sorry I am for you,” said -the little witch, shaking her head. - -“And if a pixie loses anything on Hallowe’en, he must find it before -midnight or give it up forever.” - -“I could have helped you on any other night, but you see I always -spend Hallowe’en in the village with the children. I shall be late -to-night if I don’t find those goggles.” And again she began to search -for them. - -The pixie looked at her for a moment. Then he asked, “Do the children -laugh a good deal on Hallowe’en?” - -“Why, my little man, it’s the time in all the year when they laugh -most. To-night there is to be a witch’s party. I shall secretly join -the children, and play all sorts of tricks for their amusement. What -a nuisance it is that I’ve lost those goggles.” - -“I’ll help you search for them, Jolly Little Witch,” said the pixie. -“I suppose I must give up my laugh, for I don’t know anyone else to -ask about it. Please tell me what your goggles look like.” - -“They are two round glass windows, which I wear over my eyes when I -ride through the air,” said the little Witch. - -Away started the pixie to search for them. He looked carefully around -every ragweed stalk in the meadow, but he could see nothing which -looked like “two round glass windows.” - -“Perhaps one cannot find _anything_ which has been lost on -Hallowe’en,” he said to himself. - -Slowly he walked back to the place where he had left the Jolly Little -Witch. When he reached her he stared sharply at something on top of -her head. - -“Please tell me more about your goggles,” said Twinkling Feet. “Are -they like the two glass windows across the front of your hat?” - -“Across the front of my hat!” exclaimed the witch, putting her -hands up to find out what the little elf meant. Then she burst out -laughing, and said, “Well, well! What strange things do happen on -Hallowe’en! Come, Jack-o’-Lantern! Come! The pixie has found my -goggles. They were on top of my head all the time!” - -And turning to Twinkling Feet she said, “You shall go with us to the -village, and see the merriment if you like. I’m sure Jack will carry -you in his lantern.” - -“Of course I will,” said the lantern man. “And while you are playing -tricks at the children’s party, I’ll carry him anywhere he wishes to -go. It is a long while before midnight.” - -“I want to see the children, and hear them laugh,” said Twinkling -Feet. - -The Jolly Little Witch pulled her goggles down on her nose, and -mounted her ragweed stalk. The pixie hopped into the lantern, and -away through the air the three sailed. - -When they drew near the village, the little Witch lowered herself to -the ground. - -“Meet me here before the party is over, Jack-o’-Lantern,” she said. -“I shall leave before the children take off their masks. In the -meantime, let Twinkling Feet see the fun the children will have on -the way to the party.” - -Away she ran up the village street to a corner where she joined a -group of jolly little boys and girls on their way to the party. They -wore black dresses, high, pointed hats with narrow brims, and funny -little masks. Not a word did anyone speak, but the sound of their -merry laughter reached Twinkling Feet’s ears. - -He slipped out of the lantern, and ran toward the group of children -as fast as he could go. Before he reached them, however, the tiniest -bit of a creature, turning somersaults faster than anyone could -count, came bounding to him. It climbed up the pixie’s little body, -and disappeared into his mouth. Twinkling Feet burst into the -merriest laugh, and ran back to Jack-o’-Lantern, crying out, “I’ve -found it! I’ve found my laugh! My dear little laugh! Oh, how happy -I am! Jack-o’-Lantern, please take me back to the pixie ring. I’ve -found my dear little laugh!” - -He hopped into the little man’s lantern, and away over the fields -they flew. As they drew near the green ring where the pixies were -still dancing, the delighted elf called out, “I’ve found my laugh! -I’ve found my dear little laugh!” - -“Welcome back, Twinkling Feet,” answered the dancers. - -He hopped out of the lantern, and joined the other merry pixies. When -they stopped dancing for a little while, the Fiddler Pixie slipped up -to the Twinkling Feet, and whispered slyly, “Always watch your laugh -carefully while you are dancing.” - - --_Cornish Legend, Adapted._ - - - - -JACK-O’-LANTERN - - - Here comes a Jack-o’-lantern - To frighten you to-night; - Made from a hollow pumpkin - With a candle for its light. - Go off! You Jack-o’-lantern! - You can not frighten me, - You’re nothing but a pumpkin - As any one can see! - - - - -THE ELFIN KNIGHT - - -The autumn wind blew sharp and shrill around the turrets of a grey -stone castle. But indoors the fire crackled merrily in my lady’s -bower where an old nurse was telling a tale of Elfland to Janet, the -fairest of Scotch maidens. - -When the story was finished, Janet’s merry laugh echoed through the -halls. The old nurse nodded her head earnestly and said, “’Tis well -known, my lassie, that the people of Elfland revel in the hills and -hollows of Scotland. Come close, and I’ll tell you a secret.” - -Janet leaned forward, and the old woman whispered, “An Elfin Knight, -named Tam Lin, haunts the moorland on the border of your father’s -estate. No maiden dares venture near the enchanted place, for if she -should fall under the spell of this Elfin Knight she would be obliged -to give him a precious jewel for a ransom.” - -“One glimpse of the Elfin Knight would be worth the rarest gem I -have,” laughed Janet. “How I wish I could see him!” - -“Hush-sh!” said her nurse tremblingly. “Nay, nay, my lady! Mortals -should have nothing to do with the people of Elfland. By all -means shun the moorland at this time of the year, for to-morrow is -Hallowe’en--the night when the fairies ride abroad.” - -But the next morning Janet bound her golden braids about her head, -kilted up her green kirtle, and tripped lightly to the enchanted -moorland. When she came near she saw lovely flowers blooming as gaily -as if it were mid-summer time. She stooped to gather some of the -roses when suddenly she heard the faintest silvery music. She glanced -around, and there, riding toward her, was the handsomest knight she -had ever seen. His milk-white steed, which sped along lighter than -the wind, was shod in silver shoes, and from the bridle hung tiny -silver bells. - -When the knight came near, he sprang lightly from his horse and said, -“Fair Janet, tell me why you pluck roses in Elfland?” - -The maiden’s heart beat very fast, and the flowers dropped from her -hands, but she answered proudly, “I came to see Tam Lin, the Elfin -Knight.” - -“He stands before you,” said the knight. “Have you come to free him -from Elfland?” - -At these words Janet’s courage failed, for she feared he might cast -a spell over her. But when the knight saw how she trembled, he said, -“Have no fear, Lady Janet, and you shall hear my story. I am the son -of noble parents. One day, when I was a lad of nine years, I went -hunting with my father. Now it chanced that we became separated from -each other, and ill-luck attended me. My good horse stumbled, and -threw me to the ground where I lay stunned by the fall. There the -Fairy Queen found me, and carried me off to yonder green hill. And -while it is pleasant enough in fairyland, yet I long to live among -mortals again.” - -“Then why do you not ride away to your home?” asked Janet. - -“Ah, that I can not do unless some fair maiden is brave enough to -help me. In three ways she must prove her courage. First she must -will to meet me here in the enchanted moorland. That you have done,” -declared the knight. Then he stopped, and looked pleadingly at Janet. -All her fear vanished, and she asked, “In what other ways must the -maiden show her courage?” - -“She must banish all fear of him. That, too, you have done,” said the -knight. - -“Tell me the third way, Tam Lin, for I believe I am the maid to free -you.” - -“Only my true love can prove her courage in the third way, fair -Janet.” - -And the maiden answered, “I am thy true love, Tam Lin.” - -“Then heed what I say, brave lady. To-night is Hallowe’en. At the -midnight hour, the Fairy Queen and all her knights will ride abroad. -If you dare win your true love, you must wait at Milescross until the -Fairy Queen and her Elfin Knights pass. I shall be in her train.” - -“But how shall I know you among so many knights, Tam Lin?” then asked -Lady Janet. - -“I shall ride in the third group of followers. Let the first and -second companies of the Fairy Queen pass, and look for me in the -third. There will be only three knights in this last company; one -will ride on a black horse, one on a brown, and the third on a -milk-white steed,” said the knight, pointing to his horse. “My right -hand will be gloved, Janet,” he continued, “but my left hand will -hang bare at my side. By these signs you will know me.” - -“I shall know you without fail,” nodded Janet. - -“Wait, calmly, until I am near you, then spring forward and seize me. -When the fairies see you holding me they will change my form into -many shapes. Do not fear, but hold me fast in your arms. At last I -shall take my human form. If you have courage enough to do this, you -will free your true love from the power of the fairies.” - -“I have courage enough to do all that you say,” declared Janet. Then -they sealed this promise with a kiss, and parted. - -Gloomy was the night, and eerie was the way to Milescross. But Janet -threw her green mantle about her shoulders, and sped to the enchanted -moorland. All the way she said to herself over and over, “On this -Hallowe’en at midnight I shall free my true love, Tam Lin, from -Elfland.” - -At Milescross she hid herself and waited. How the wind from the sea -moaned across the moorland! Presently she heard a merry tinkling -sound of far-off music, and in the distance she saw a twinkling light -dancing forward. Janet could hear her heart beat, but there she -stood, undaunted. The Fairy Queen and her train were riding forth. In -the lead of her first merry company of knights and maids of honour -rode the beautiful queen, whose jeweled girdle and crown flashed in -the darkness. The second group passed quickly, and now came three -knights in a third group. One rode on a black horse, one on a brown, -and there came the milk-white steed last of all. Janet could see that -one hand of the rider was gloved, and one hung bare at his side. Then -up leaped the maiden. Quickly she seized the bridle of the milk-white -steed, pulled the rider from his horse, and threw her green mantle -around him. There was a clamour among the Elfin Knights, and the -Fairy Queen cried out, “Tam Lin! Tam Lin! Some mortal has hold of Tam -Lin, the bonniest knight in my company!” - -Then the strangest things happened. Instead of Tam Lin, Janet held in -her arms a bearded lion, which struggled mightily to get away. But -she remembered the knight’s warning. “Hold me fast, and fear me not.” - -The next moment she held a fire-breathing dragon, which almost -slipped from her, but she tightened her grasp, and thought of Tam -Lin’s words. The dragon changed to a burning bush, and the flames -leaped up on all sides, but Janet stood still and felt no harm. Then -in her arms she held a branching tree, filled with blossoms. And at -last Tam Lin, her own true love, stood there. - -When the Fairy Queen saw that none of her enchantments could -frighten Janet, she cried out angrily, “The maiden has won a stately -bridegroom who was my bonniest knight. Alas! Tam Lin is lost to -Elfland.” - -On into the darkness rode the fairy train. Tam Lin and Lady Janet -hastened back to the grey stone castle. There, in a short time, a -wedding feast was prepared, and Tam Lin, who was really a Scottish -Earl, and Lady Janet, the bravest maid in Scotland, were married. - - --_Old Ballad Retold._ - - - - -THE COURTEOUS PRINCE - - -Once upon a time a bonnie Prince fell in love with a lassie who was -nobly born, but was not his equal in rank. The king was sorely vexed, -because his son looked with favour on this maiden, and his majesty -determined to part the lovers. He sent the high chancellor of the -court to an old witch for advice. After thinking the matter over for -nine days, the old woman muttered the following answer: - - “The lassie will I charm away - ’Till courtesy doth win the day.” - -“I’m not quite sure what the old hag means,” said the king. “But if -she’ll get this maiden out of the Prince’s sight, I can arrange for -his marriage with some one of his own rank.” - -In a few days the lassie disappeared, and the Prince could find no -trace of her. He was very sad, indeed, and declared if he could not -marry his own true love he would remain single all his life. - -It happened one fine day near the end of October that the young -Prince and a party of nobles went hunting. The hounds were soon on -the track of a fine deer, which was so wily and fleet of foot that -the nobles, one by one, lost track of the quarry, and dropped out of -the chase. The young Prince, who was a famous rider, continued the -hunt alone. Miles and miles over the low hills he galloped until at -last in the depths of a wooded glen the exhausted deer was brought to -bay by the hounds, and dispatched by the Prince. - -Not until after the prize was won did the royal hunter realize how -dusky it was in the glen, and how threatening the evening sky looked. -He felt sure he was too far from the palace to retrace his journey; -besides, he had lost all trace of direction. He threw the quarry over -his steed’s back, whistled to his hounds, and rode slowly down the -wooded valley, wondering where he could lodge for the night. - -“Little sign of hospitality in this lonely place,” he mused. “Perhaps -I’d better make the best of it, and find shelter in one of the rocky -hollows.” - -On he rode in the gathering darkness. A turn in the valley brought -him to a stretch of moorland, and a little distance away he saw the -dark outline of an old, deserted hunting hall. - -“A cheerless looking inn,” thought the Prince. “No doubt one will -have to play host as well as guest here. However, I have my trusty -hounds and noble steed for company, and the quarry will furnish a -good meal for all of us.” - -He leaped from his horse and walked up to the old ruin. With very -little effort he broke open the door. The creaking of its rusty -hinges made strange echoings throughout the hall. The Prince led his -horse into one of the small rooms, then with his hounds he went into -the large dining hall, where he lit a fire on the great hearth, and -proceeded to cook some venison for supper. - -While he was waiting for the meat on the spit to roast, he listened -to the rising wind, which moaned about the gloomy old ruin, and -rattled the doors and windows unceasingly. The good steed, in the -adjoining room, pawed the floor restlessly, and every few moments the -hounds stretched their heads straight up into the air, and whined in -a most uncanny way. - -As he mused before the fire, the Prince thought, “This is All -Hallowe’en, the night when ghosts and witches hold their revels. -Nevertheless, I’d rather be in this deserted hall than on the -storm-swept moorland.” - -He took the roasted meat from the fire, and prepared to eat his -supper. Suddenly a fierce blast of wind burst open a large door at -the far end of the hall, and into the room stalked a tall, ghostly -woman. Her lank figure was clothed in grey garments, which trailed -for yards on the floor. Her long, grey hair hung loose down her back. -By the light of the flickering fire the Prince could see her hollow -eyes and wan features. He was a brave man, but this ghostly creature -filled him with dread and horror. The hounds dropped their bones of -venison, and crept close to their master, who was unable to utter a -word. - -Slowly down the hall the grey ghost glided to the Prince, and -pointing a long, bony finger at him, she asked in a hollow voice, -“Art thou a courteous knight?” - -In a trembling voice the Prince answered, “I will serve thee. What -dost thou wish?” - -“Go ye to the moorland, and pluck enough heather to make a bed in the -turret-room for me,” said the phantom-like figure. - -It was a strange request to make, but the Prince was relieved to have -any excuse to get out of her sight. He sprang quickly to his feet, -and hurried out to face the stormy night in search of heather. He -plucked as much as he could carry in his plaid, and returned to the -hall where the ghostly visitor was waiting for him. She led the way -down the room, and up a half-ruined staircase to the turret-room. -Here the Prince spread a heather bed for her, and covered it with his -plaid. When it was finished she pointed to the door, and dismissed -him. - -“May you sleep well,” said the Prince courteously. Then, cold and -weary, he descended to the hall, and lay down to sleep in front of -the dying embers of the fire. - -When he awakened the bright sun was shining in the windows. - -The Prince lost no time in making ready to depart, for he remembered -quite well the ghostly visitor of the past night. - -“No doubt she departed before the crowing of the cock,” he said. “I -wonder if she left my bonnie plaid in the turret room. The autumn air -is keen and biting. I’ll go and see.” - -He ran quickly up the ruined staircase. To his surprise when he -reached the top, the door of the chamber opened, and there before him -stood his lost sweetheart. - -“How camest thou here?” gasped the Prince. “And where is the grey -ghost.” - -“Last night I was the grey ghost,” she said. - -“And thou wilt change thy form again to-night?” he asked in horror. - -“Never again,” said the maiden. “In order to part us a wicked witch -threw a spell over me--a spell which changed me into the awful -shape thou sawest last night. But thou hast broken her wicked charm.” - -“Tell me how,” said the Prince, whose face was beaming with happiness. - -“The witch’s charm could not be broken until some knight should serve -me, even though my form was horrible. By thy courtesy thou hast -broken the spell,” said the maiden. - -So the Prince and his true love rode away, and were happily married, -and when the king heard of his son’s adventure in the hunting hall he -said, “Now I know what that old witch meant by her prophecy.” - - Scotch legend. - - - - -JACK-O’-LANTERN SONG - - - Upon one wild and windy night---- - Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo---- - We Jacks our lanterns all did light; - The wind--it surely knew--FOR---- - - Whistle and whistle--and whist! Now list! - Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo---- - Whirling and twirling, with turn and twist, - The wind--it softly blew. - - It was the creepiest, scariest night---- - Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, - We held our breath, then lost it quite; - The wind--it surely knew--FOR---- - - Whistle and whistle--and whist! Now list! - Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo---- - Whirling and twirling, with turn and twist, - The wind--it loudly blew. - - It rose in all its main and might - Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo---- - _It blew out every single light_; - The Wind--it surely knew--FOR---- - - Whistle and whistle--and whist! Now list! - Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo---- - Whirling and twirling, with turn and twist, - That wind--it _laughed_--_Ho-oh_! - - - - -A HARVEST OF THANKSGIVING STORIES - - - - - These are things I prize - And hold of dearest worth: - Light of the sapphire skies, - Peace of the silent hills, - Shelter of forests, comfort of the grass, - Music of birds, murmur of little rills, - Shadow of clouds that swiftly pass, - And, after showers, - The smell of flowers - And of the good brown earth,---- - And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth. - So let me keep - These treasures of the humble heart - In true possession, owning them by love. - HENRY VAN DYKE. - - (_Selection from God of the Open Air._) - - Used by permission and special arrangement - with Chas. Scribner and Sons. - - - - -THE QUEER LITTLE BAKER MAN - - -PHILA BUTLER BOWMAN - -All the children were glad when the Little Baker came to town and -hung the sign above his queer little brown shop, - - “Thanksgiving Loaves to Sell.” - -Each child ran to tell the news to another child until soon the -streets echoed with the sound of many running feet, and the clear -November air was full of the sound of happy laughter, as a crowd of -little children thronged as near as they dared to the Little Baker’s -shop, while the boldest crept so close that they could feel the heat -from the big brick oven, and see the gleaming rows of baker’s pans. - -The Little Baker never said a word. He washed his hands at the -windmill water spout and dried them, waving them in the crisp air. -Then he unfolded a long, spotless table, and setting it up before his -shop door, he began to mold the loaves, while the wondering children -grew nearer and nearer to watch him. - -He molded big, long loaves, and tiny, round loaves; wee loaves filled -with currants, square loaves with queer markings on them, fat loaves -and flat loaves, and loaves in shapes such as the children had never -seen before, and always as he molded he sang a soft tune to these -words: - - “Buy my loaves of brown and white, - Molded for the child’s delight. - Who forgets another’s need, - Eats unthankful and in greed; - But the child who breaks his bread - With another, Love has fed.” - -By and by the children began to whisper to each other. - -“I shall buy that very biggest loaf,” said the Biggest Boy. “Mother -lets me buy what I wish. I shall eat it alone, which is fair if I pay -for it.” - -“Oh,” said the Tiniest Little Girl, “that would be greedy. You could -never eat so big a loaf alone.” - -“If I pay for it, it is mine,” said the Biggest Boy, boastfully, “and -one need not share what is his own unless he wishes.” - -“Oh,” said the Tiniest Little Girl, but she said it more softly this -time, and she drew away from the Biggest Boy, and looked at him with -eyes that had grown big and round. - -“I have a penny,” she said to the Little Lame Boy, “and you and I can -have one of those wee loaves together. They have currants in them, so -we shall not mind if the loaf is small.” - -“No, indeed,” said the Little Lame Boy, whose face had grown wistful -when the Biggest Boy had talked of the great loaf. “No, indeed, but -you shall take the bigger piece.” - -Then the little Baker Man raked out the bright coals from the great -oven into an iron basket, and he put in the loaves, every one, while -the children crowded closer with eager faces. - -When the last loaf was in, he shut the oven door with a clang so loud -and merry that the children broke into a shout of laughter. - -Then the Queer Little Baker Man came and stood in his tent door, and -he was smiling, and he sang again a merry little tune to these words: - - “Clang, clang, my oven floor, - My loaves will bake as oft before, - And you may play where shines the sun - Until each loaf is brown and done.” - -Then away ran the children, laughing, and looking at the door of the -shop where the Queer Little Baker stood, and where the raked-out -coals, bursting at times, cast long, red lights against the brown -wall, and as they ran they sang together the Queer Little Baker’s -merry song: - - “Clang, clang, my oven floor, - The loaves will bake as oft before.” - -Then some played at hide-and-seek among the sheaves of ungarnered -corn, and some ran gleefully through the heaped-up leaves of -russet and gold for joy to hear them rustling. But some, eager, -returned home for pennies to buy a loaf when the Queer Little Baker -should call. - - “The loaves are ready, white and brown, - For every little child in town, - Come buy Thanksgiving loaves and eat, - But only Love can make them sweet.” - -Soon all the air was filled with the sound of the swift running feet, -as the children flew like a cloud of leaves blown by the wind in -answer to the Queer Little Baker’s call. When they came to his shop -they paused, laughing and whispering, as the Little Baker laid out -the loaves on the spotless table. - -“This is mine,” said the Biggest Boy, and laying down a silver coin -he snatched the great loaf, and ran away to break it by himself. - -Then came the Impatient Boy, crying: “Give me my loaf. This is mine, -and give it to me at once. Do you not see my coin is silver? Do not -keep me waiting.” - -The Little Baker never said a word. He did not smile, he did not -frown, he did not hurry. He gave the Impatient Boy his loaf and -watched him, as he, too, hurried away to eat his loaf alone. - -Then came others, crowding, pushing with their money, the strongest -and rudest gaining first place, and snatching each a loaf they ran -off to eat without a word of thanks, while some very little children -looked on wistfully, not able even to gain a place. All this time the -Queer Little Baker kept steadily on laying out the beautiful loaves -on the spotless table. - -A Gentle Lad came, when the crowd grew less, and giving all the -pennies he had he bought loaves for all the little ones; so that by -and by no one was without a loaf. The Tiniest Little Girl went away -hand in hand with the Little Lame Boy to share his wee loaf, and both -were smiling, and whoever broke one of those smallest loaves found it -larger than it had seemed at first. - -But now the biggest Boy was beginning to frown. - -“This loaf is sour,” he said angrily. - -“But is it not your own loaf,” said the Baker, “and did you not -choose it yourself, and choose to eat it alone? Do not complain of -the loaf since it is your own choosing.” - -Then those who had snatched the loaves ungratefully and hurried away, -without waiting for a word of thanks, came back. - -“We came for good bread,” they cried, “but those loaves are sodden -and heavy.” - -“See the lad there with all those children. His bread is light. Give -us, too, light bread and sweet.” - -But the Baker smiled a strange smile. “You chose in haste,” he said, -“as those choose who have no thought in sharing. I can not change -your loaves. I can not choose for you. Had you, buying, forgotten -that mine are Thanksgiving loaves? I shall come again; then you can -buy more wisely.” - -Then these children went away thoughtfully. - -But the very little children and the Gentle Lad sat eating their -bread with joyous laughter, and each tiny loaf was broken into many -pieces as they shared with each other, and to them the bread was as -fine as cake and as sweet as honey. - -Then the Queer Little Baker brought cold water and put out the -fire. He folded his spotless table, and took down the boards of his -little brown shop, packed all into his wagon, and drove away singing -a quaint tune. Soft winds rustled the corn, and swept the boughs -together with a musical chuckling. And where the brown leaves were -piled thickest, making a little mound, sat the Tiniest Little Girl -and the Little Lame Boy, eating their sweet currant loaf happily -together. - - - - -A TURKEY FOR THE STUFFING - - -KATHERINE GRACE HULBERT - -It always made Ben feel solemn to watch the river in a storm. To-day -it was grey, and rough and noisy, and the few boats, which went down -toward Lake Huron, pitched about so that their decks slanted first -one way, then another, and their sides were coated with ice. - -“Gran’ma, what day’s to-day?” he asked at last, turning from the -stormy river to glance about their warm, comfortable little room. - -“Wednesday, Benny,” answered the small old woman who crouched over -the stove. - -“Then to-morrow will be Thanksgiving day, and the Rosses are going -to have a turkey,” said Ben, excitedly. “What are we going to have, -Gran’ma?” - -Mrs. Moxon looked over her glasses at her grandson’s small, thin -figure in its patched and faded clothes, and at his bright, eager -face. - -“Sonny, dear, what do you think Gran’ma has for Thanksgiving?” she -asked gently. - -The expectant look faded from Ben’s face, and he winked hard to keep -the tears from running over. He did not need to be told how bare of -dainties their cupboard was, for everything there he had brought -with his own hands. Bacon and smoked fish enough for all winter were -stored away; flour, potatoes, and a few other vegetables were there. - -“Tell me about a real Thanksgiving dinner,” the small boy begged -after the first disappointment had been bravely put away. Mrs. -Moxon took off her spectacles, and leaned back cautiously in her -broken-rockered chair. - -“I remember one Thanksgiving when your pa was alive, we had a dinner -fit for a king. There was a ten-pound turkey, with bread stuffing. I -put the sage and onions into the stuffing with my own hands.” - -“We could have some stuffing,” interrupted Ben, eagerly. - -“So we could, sonny, so we could. It takes you to think of things,” -and Mrs. Moxon affectionately patted the little brown hand on her -knee. “It never would ’a’ come to me that we might have turkey -stuffing even if we didn’t have any turkey.” - -Ben beamed with delight at this praise. “And was there anything else -besides the turkey and the stuffing, Gran’ma?” - -“Land, yes, child. There was turnips, and mashed potatoes and -mince pie, and your pa got two pounds of grapes, though grapes was -expensive at that time o’ year. Yes, nobody could ask for a better -dinner than that was.” - -“We could have one just like it, all but the turkey and the mince pie -and the grapes,” said Ben hopefully. - -“So we can, and will, too, child,” answered the old woman. “Trust -you for making the best of things,” and the two smiled at each other -happily. - -Next morning Ben watched his grandmother add an egg, some sage and -chopped onion to a bowlful of dry bread, pour boiling water over it, -and put the mixture in the oven. - -“Your father said I made the best turkey stuffing he ever ate,” she -said with satisfaction. “We’ll see how it comes out, Benny.” - -“I can’t hardly wait till dinner-time,” Ben said, with an excited -skip. “I b’lieve I’ll go down to the beach, and pick up driftwood for -a while. You call me when the things are most cooked, Gran’ma.” - -The storm of the day before had left many a bit of board or end of a -log on the beach that would be just the thing for Mrs. Moxon’s stove. -Ben worked so hard that he did not notice a big barge that was coming -slowly down the river, towing two other boats behind it, until he -heard a voice ask: - -“Hullo, kid! What makes you work so hard on Thanksgiving day?” - -Then he straightened up, to see the boat’s captain standing near its -pilot house, and shouting through a great trumpet. - -“I’m waiting for dinner to cook,” Ben answered in his piping voice. - -“Can’t hear you!” roared the captain. “Run home and get your horn, -and talk to me.” - -Ben ran up the little hill to Mrs. Ross’s, and borrowed her trumpet, -or megaphone. One’s voice sounds much louder when these are used, and -they are to be found at every house on the shores of the St. Mary’s, -boats, and those on the land, often want to say, “How do you do?” to -each other. It was all Ben could do to hold the great tin trumpet on -straight, for it was nearly as long as he was. - -“I’m waiting for dinner to cook,” the boy shouted again, and this -time the captain heard him. - -“Going to have turkey, I suppose?” the captain asked. - -“No, but we’re going to have turkey stuffing,” answered Ben with -pride. - -“Turkey stuffing, but no turkey! If that isn’t the best I ever -heard!” The captain had dropped his trumpet, and doubled up with -sudden laughter. Luckily Ben did not hear. “What else are you going -to have?” he called when he had repeated the joke about him. “Mince -pie without any mince meat?” - -“No, sir!” Ben’s voice was shrill, but clear. “My father had mince -pie for Thanksgiving dinner once, though.” - -“Did, did he?” The captain dropped his trumpet again. “That boy’s all -right,” he said to the first mate. “He’s too plucky to be laughed at. -I’m going to send him some turkey for his stuffing, Morgan. Tell the -cook to get ready half a turkey and a mince pie, and say, Morgan, -have him send up one of those small baskets of grapes. We’ll tie them -to a piece of plank, and they’ll float ashore all right. Tell the -cook to hurry, or we’ll be too far downstream for the boy to get the -things.” Then he raised his trumpet again. - -“Say, kid, can you row that boat that’s tied to your dock?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Well, you hurry out into the river, and I’ll put off a float with -some things for your Thanksgiving dinner. You’re going to have some -turkey for that stuffing.” - -You may be sure Ben lost no time in pushing the rowboat off into the -stream, where the end of a plank and its delicious load were soon -bobbing up and down on the water. How he did smack his lips when he -lifted them into the boat, and how pleased he was for grandma! - -“First the stuffing, and then the turkey! My, ain’t I lucky?” He did -not know that the captain had said he was plucky, and that luck is -very apt to follow pluck. - - - - -PUMPKIN PIE - - - Through sun and shower the pumpkin grew, - When the days were long and the skies were blue. - - And it felt quite vain when its giant size - Was such that it carried away the prize - - At the County Fair, when the people came, - And it wore a ticket and bore a name. - - Alas for the pumpkin’s pride! One day - A boy and his mother took it away. - - It was pared and sliced and pounded and stewed, - And the way it was treated was hard and rude. - - It was sprinkled with sugar and seasoned with spice, - The boy and his mother pronounced it nice. - - It was served in a paste, it was baked and browned, - And at last on a pantry shelf was found. - - And on Thursday John, Mary, and Mabel - Will see it on aunty’s laden table. - - For the pumpkin grew ’neath a summer sky - Just to turn at Thanksgiving into pie! - MARY MAPES DODGE. - - - - -MRS. NOVEMBER’S DINNER PARTY[1] - - -BY AGNES CARR - -The Widow November was very busy indeed this year. What with -elections and harvest homes, her hands were full to overflowing; for -she takes great interest in politics, besides being a social body, -without whom no apple bee or corn husking is complete. - -Still, worn out as she was, when her thirty sons and daughters -clustered round, and begged that they might have their usual family -dinner on Thanksgiving day, she could not find it in her hospitable -heart to refuse, and immediately invitations were sent to her eleven -brothers and sisters, old Father Time, and Mother Year, to come with -all their families and celebrate the great American holiday. - -Then what a busy time ensued! What a slaughter of unhappy barnyard -families--turkeys, ducks, and chickens! What a chopping of apples -and boiling of doughnuts! What a picking of raisins and rolling of -pie crust, until every nook and corner of the immense storeroom was -stocked with “savoury mince and toothsome pumpkin pies,” while so -great was the confusion that even the stolid redhued servant, Indian -Summer, lost his head, and smoked so continually he always appeared -surrounded by a blue mist, as he piled logs upon the great bonfires -in the yard, until they lighted up the whole country for miles around. - -But at length all was ready; the happy days had come, and all the -little Novembers, in their best “bib and tucker,” were seated in a -row, awaiting the arrival of their uncles, aunts, and cousins, while -their mother, in russet-brown silk trimmed with misty lace, looked -them over, straightening Guy Fawkes’ collar, tying Thanksgiving’s -neck ribbon, and settling a dispute between two little presidential -candidates as to which should sit at the head of the table. - -Soon a merry clashing of bells, blowing of horns, and mingling of -voices were heard outside, sleighs and carriages dashed up to the -door, and in came, “just in season,” Grandpa Time, with Grandma Year -leaning on his arm, followed by all their children and grandchildren, -and were warmly welcomed by the hostess and her family. - -“Oh, how glad I am we could all come to-day!” said Mr. January, in -his crisp, clear tones, throwing off his great fur coat, and rushing -to the blazing fire. “There is nothing like the happy returns of -these days.” - -“Nothing, indeed,” simpered Mrs. February, the poetess. “If I had had -time I should have composed some verses for the occasion; but my son -Valentine has brought a sugar heart, with a sweet sentiment on it, to -his cousin Thanksgiving. I, too, have taken the liberty of bringing a -sort of adopted child of mine, young Leap Year, who makes us a visit -every four years.” - -“He is very welcome, I am sure,” said Mrs. November, patting Leap -Year kindly on the head. “And, Sister March, how have you been since -we last met?” - -“Oh! we have had the North, South, East, and West Winds all at our -house, and they have kept things breezy, I assure you. But I really -feared we should not get here to-day; for when we came to dress I -found nearly everything we had was lent; so that must account for our -shabby appearance.” - -“He! he! he!” tittered little April Fool. “What a sell!” And he shook -until the bells on his cap rang; at which his father ceased for a -moment showering kisses on his nieces and nephews, and boxed his ears -for his rudeness. - -“Oh, Aunt May! do tell us a story,” clamoured the younger children, -and dragging her into a corner she was soon deep in such a moving -tale that they were all melted to tears, especially the little -Aprils, who cry very easily. - -Meanwhile, Mrs. June, assisted by her youngest daughter, a “sweet -girl graduate,” just from school, was engaged in decking the -apartment with roses and lilies and other fragrant flowers that she -had brought from her extensive gardens and conservatories, until the -room was a perfect bower of sweetness and beauty; while Mr. July -draped the walls with flags and banners, lighted the candles, and -showed off the tricks of his pet eagle, Yankee Doodle, to the great -delight of the little ones. - -Madam August, who suffers a great deal with the heat, found a seat -on a comfortable sofa, as far from the fire as possible, and waved a -huge feather fan back and forth, while her thirty-one boys and girls, -led by the two oldest, Holiday and Vacation, ran riot through the -long rooms, picking at their Aunt June’s flowers, and playing all -sorts of pranks, regardless of tumbled hair and torn clothes, while -they shouted, “Hurrah for fun!” and behaved like a pack of wild colts -let loose in a green pasture, until their Uncle September called -them, together with his own children, into the library, and persuaded -them to read some of the books with which the shelves were filled, or -play quietly with the game of Authors and the Dissected Maps. - -“For,” said Mr. September to Mrs. October, “I think Sister August -lets her children romp too much. I always like improving games for -mine, although I have great trouble in making Equinox toe the line as -he should.” - -“That is because you are a schoolmaster,” laughed Mrs. October, -shaking her head, adorned with a wreath of gaily tinted leaves; “but -where is my baby?” - -At that moment a cry was heard without, and Indian Summer came -running in to say that little All Hallows had fallen into a tub of -water while trying to catch an apple that was floating on top, and -Mrs. October, rushing off to the kitchen, returned with her youngest -in a very wet and dripping condition, and screaming at the top of -his lusty little lungs. He could only be consoled by a handful of -chestnuts, which his nurse, Miss Frost, cracked open for him. - -The little Novembers, meanwhile, were having a charming time with -their favourite cousins, the Decembers, who were always so gay and -jolly, and had such a delightful papa. He came with his pockets -stuffed full of toys and sugarplums, which he drew out from time -to time, and gave to his best-loved child, Merry Christmas, to -distribute amongst the children, who gathered eagerly around their -little cousin, saying: - - “Christmas comes but once a year, - But when she comes she brings good cheer.” - -At which Merry laughed gaily, and tossed her golden curls, in which -were twined sprays of holly and clusters of brilliant scarlet berries. - -At last the great folding-doors were thrown open. Indian summer -announced that dinner was served, and a long procession of old and -young was quickly formed, and led by Mrs. November and her daughter -Thanksgiving, whose birthday it was. They filed into the spacious -dining-room, where stood the long table, groaning beneath its weight -of good things, while four servants ran continually in and out -bringing more substantials and delicacies to grace the board and -please the appetite. Winter staggered beneath great trenchers of -meat and poultry, pies, and puddings; Spring brought the earliest -and freshest vegetables; Summer, the richest creams and ices; while -Autumn served the guests with fruit, and poured the sparkling wine. - -All were gay and jolly, and many a joke was cracked as the contents -of each plate and dish melted away like snow before the sun, and the -great fires roared in the wide chimneys as though singing a glad -Thanksgiving song. - -New Year drank everybody’s health, and wished them “many returns of -the day,” while Twelfth Night ate so much cake he made himself quite -ill, and had to be put to bed. - -Valentine sent mottoes to all the little girls, and praised their -bright eyes and glossy curls. “For,” said his mother, “he is a sad -flatterer, and not nearly so truthful, I am sorry to say, as his -brother, George Washington, who never told a lie.” - -At which Grandfather Time gave George a quarter, and said he should -always remember what a good boy he was. - -After dinner the fun increased, all trying to do something for the -general amusement. Mrs. March persuaded her son, St. Patrick, to -dance an Irish Jig, which he did to the tune of the “Wearing of the -Green,” which his brothers, Windy and Gusty, blew and whistled on -their fingers. - -Easter sang a beautiful song, the little Mays, “tripped the light -fantastic toe” in a pretty fancy dance, while the Junes sat by so -smiling and sweet it was a pleasure to look at them. - -Independence, the fourth child of Mr. July, who is a bold little -fellow, and a fine speaker, gave them an oration he had learned at -school; and the Augusts suggested games of tag and blindman’s buff, -which they all enjoyed heartily. - -Mr. September tried to read an instructive story aloud, but was -interrupted by Equinox, April Fool, and little All Hallows, who -pinned streamers to his coat tails, covered him with flour, and would -not let him get through a line; at which Mrs. October hugged her -tricksy baby, and laughed until she cried, and Mr. September retired -in disgust. - -“That is almost too bad,” said Mrs. November, as she shook the popper -vigorously in which the corn was popping and snapping merrily; “but, -Thanksgiving, you must not forget to thank your cousins for all they -have done to honour your birthday.” - -At which the demure little maiden went round to each one, and -returned her thanks in such a charming way it was quite captivating. - -Grandmother Year at last began to nod over her teacup in the chimney -corner. - -“It is growing late,” said Grandpa Time. - -“But we must have a Virginia Reel before we go,” said Mr. December. - -“Oh, yes, yes!” cried all the children. - -Merry Christmas played a lively air on the piano, and old and young -took their positions on the polished floor with grandpa and grandma -at the head. - -Midsummer danced with Happy New Year, June’s Commencement with -August’s Holiday, Leap Year with May Day, and all “went merry as a -marriage bell.” - -The fun was at its height when suddenly the clock in the corner -struck twelve. Grandma Year motioned all to stop, and Grandfather -Time, bowing his head, said softly, “Hark! my children, Thanksgiving -Day is ended.” - -[1] From _Harper’s Young People_, November, 1883. - - - - -THE DEBUT OF “DAN’L WEBSTER” - - -ISABEL GORDON CURTIS - -Used by permission of _St. Nicholas_. - -“I guess you can get the ell roof shingled now, ’most any old time,” -cried Homer Tidd. He bounced in at the kitchen door. A blast of icy -wind followed him. - -“Gracious! shet the door, Homer, an’ then tell me your news.” His -mother shivered and pulled a little brown shawl tighter about her -shoulders. The boy planted himself behind the stove and laid his -mittened hands comfortably around the pipe. “Oh, I’ve made a great -deal, Mother.” Homer’s freckled face glowed with satisfaction. - -“What?” asked Mrs. Tidd. - -“Did you see the man that jest druv out o’ the yard?” - -“No, I didn’t, Homer.” - -“Well, ’twas Mr. Richards--the Mr. Richards o’ Finch & Richards, the -big market folks over in the city.” - -“Has he bought your Thanksgivin’ turkeys?” - -“He hain’t bought ’em for Thanksgivin’.” - -“Well, what are you so set up about, boy?” - -“He’s rented the hull flock. He’s to pay me three dollars a day for -them, then he’s goin’ to buy them all for Christmas.” - -“Land sakes! Three dollars a day.” Mrs. Tidd dropped one side of a -pan of apples she was carrying, and some of them went rolling about -the kitchen floor. - -Homer nodded. - -“For how long?” she asked eagerly. - -“For a week.” Homer’s freckles disappeared in the crimson glow of -enthusiasm that overspread his face. - -“Eighteen dollars for nothin’ but exhibitin’ a bunch o’ turkeys! -Seems to me some folks must have money to throw away.” Mrs. Tidd -stared perplexedly over the top of her glasses. - -“I’ll tell you all about it, Mother.” Homer took a chair and planted -his feet on the edge of the oven. “Mr. Richards is goin’ to have a -great Thanksgivin’ food show, an’ he wants a flock o’ live turkeys. -He’s been drivin’ round the country lookin’ for some. The postmaster -sent him here. He told him about Dan’l Webster’s tricks.” - -“They don’t make Dan’l any better eatin’,” objected his mother. - -“Maybe not. But don’t you see? Well!” - -Homer’s laugh was an embarrassed one. “I’m goin’ to put Dan’l an’ -Gettysburg through their tricks right in the store window.” - -“You ben’t?” and the mother looked in rapt admiration at her clever -son. - -“I be!” answered Homer, triumphantly. - -“I don’t know, boy, jest what I think o’ it,” said his mother, -slowly. “’Tain’t exactly a--a gentlemanly sort o’ thing to do; be it?” - -“I reckon I ben’t a gentleman, Mother,” replied Homer, with his jolly -laugh. - -“Tell me all about it.” - -“Well, I was feedin’ the turkeys when Mr. Richards druv in. He said -he heered I had some trick turkeys, an’ he’d like to see ’em. Lucky -enough, I hadn’t fed ’em; they was awful hungry, an’ I tell you they -never did their tricks better.” - -“What did Mr. Richards say?” - -“He thought it was the most amazin’ thing he’d ever seen in his life. -He said he wouldn’t have believed turkeys had enough gumption in them -to learn a trick o’ any kind.” - -“Did you tell him how you’d fussed with them ever since they was -little chicks?” - -“I did. He wuz real interested, an’ he offered me three dollars to -give a show three times a day. He’s got a window half as big as this -kitchen. He’ll have it wired in, an’ the turkeys’ll stay there at -his expense. Along before Christmas he’ll give me twenty-two cents a -pound for ’em.” - -“Well, I vow, Homer, it’s pretty good pay.” - -“Mr. Richards give me a commutation on the railroad. He’s to send -after the turkeys an’ bring ’em back, so I won’t have any expense.” - -Homer rose and sauntered about the kitchen, picking up the apples -that had rolled in all directions over the floor. - -A week before Thanksgiving, the corner in front of Finch & Richard’s -great market looked as it was wont to look on circus day: only the -eyes of the crowds were not turned expectantly up Main Street; they -were riveted on a window in the big store. Passers-by tramped out -into the snowy street when they reached the mob at the corner. The -front of the store was decorated with a fringe of plump turkeys. One -window had held a glowing mountain of fruit and vegetables arranged -by someone with a keen eye to colour--monstrous pumpkins, splendid -purple cabbages, rosy apples and russet pears, green and purple -grapes, snowy stalks of celery, and corn ears yellow as sunshine. -Crimson beets neighboured with snowy parsnips, scarlet carrots, and -silk-wrapped onions. Egg-plants, gleaming like deep-hued amethysts, -circled about magnificent cauliflowers, while red and yellow bananas -made gay mosaic walks through the fruit mountain. Wherever a crack or -a cranny had been left was a mound of ruby cranberries, fine raisin -bunches, or brown nuts. - -It was a remarkable display of American products; yet, after the -first “Ah” of admiration, people passed on to the farther window, -where six plump turkeys, supremely innocent of a feast-day fête, -flapped their wings or gobbled impertinently when a small boy laid -his nose flat against the window. Three times a day the crowd -grew twenty deep. It laughed and shouted and elbowed one another -good-naturedly, for the Thanksgiving spirit was abroad. Men tossed -children up on their stalwart shoulders, then small hands clapped -ecstatically, and small legs kicked with wild enthusiasm. - -The hero of the hour was a freckled, redhaired boy, who came -leaping through a wire door with an old broom over his shoulders. -Every turkey waited for him eagerly, hungrily! They knew that each -old, familiar trick--learned away back in chickhood--would earn a -good feed. When the freckled boy began to whistle, or when his voice -rang out in a shrill order, it was the signal for Dan’l Webster, for -Gettysburg, for Amanda Ann, Mehitable, Nancy, or Farragut to step to -the center of the stage and do some irresistibly funny turn with a -turkey’s bland solemnity. None of the birds had attacks of stage -fright--their acting was as self-possessed as if they were in the old -farm yard with no audience present but Mrs. Tidd to lean smiling over -the fence with a word of praise, and the coveted handful of golden -corn. - -With every performance the crowd grew more dense, the applause more -uproarious, and the Thanksgiving trade at Finch & Richard’s bigger -than it had been in years. Each night Homer took the last train home, -tired but happy, for three crisp greenbacks were added to the roll in -his small, shabby wallet. - -Two days before Thanksgiving, Homer, in his blue overalls and faded -sweater, was busy at work. The gray of the dawn was just creeping -into the east, while the boy went hurrying through his chores. There -was still a man’s work to be done before he took the ten o’clock -train to town; besides, he had promised to help his mother about the -house. His grandfather, an uncle, an aunt, and three small cousins -were coming to eat their Thanksgiving feast at the old farmhouse. -Homer whistled gaily, while he bedded the creatures with fresh straw. -The whistle trailed into an indistinct trill; the boy felt a pang of -loneliness as he glanced into the turkey-pen. There was nobody there -but old Mother Salvia. Homer tossed her a handful of corn. “Poor old -lady, I s’pose you’re lonesome, ain’t you, now? Never mind; when -spring comes you’ll be scratchin’ around with a hull raft of nice -little chickies at your heels. We’ll teach them a fine trick or two, -won’t we, old Salvia?” - -Salvia clucked over the corn appreciatively. - -“Homer, Homer, come here quick.” - -Down the frozen path through the yard came Mrs. Tidd, with the little -brown shawl wrapped tightly about her head. She fluttered a yellow -envelope in her hand. - -“Homer boy, it’s a telegraph come. I can’t read it; I’ve mislaid my -glasses.” - -Homer was by her side in a minute, tearing open the flimsy envelope. - -“It’s from Finch & Richards, Mother,” he cried excitedly. “They say, -‘Take the first train to town without fail.’” - -“What do you s’pose they want you for?” asked Mrs. Tidd, with a very -anxious face. - -“P’r’aps the store’s burned down,” gasped Homer. He brushed one rough -hand across his eyes. “Poor Dan’l Webster an’ Gettysburg! I didn’t -know anybody could set so much store by turkeys.” - -“Maybe ’t ain’t nothin’ bad, Homer,” Mrs. Tidd laid her hand upon -his shoulder. “Maybe they want you to give an extra early show or -somethin’.” She suggested it cheerfully. - -“Maybe,” echoed Homer. “But, Mother, I’ve got to hurry to catch that -7:30 train.” - -“Let me go with you, Homer.” - -“You don’t need to,” cried the boy. “It probably ain’t nothin’ -serious.” - -“I’m goin’,” cried Mrs. Tidd decisively; “you don’t s’pose I could -stay here doin’ nothin’ but waitin’ an’ wond’rin’?” - -Mrs. Tidd and Homer caught a car at the city depot. Five minutes -later they stood in front of Finch & Richards’ big market. - -“Mother,” whispered the boy, as he stepped off the car, “Mother, my -turkeys! They’re not there! Something’s happened. See the crowd.” - -They pushed their way through a mob that was peering in at the -windows, and through the windows of locked doors. The row of plump -turkeys was not hung this morning under the big sign; the magnificent -window display of fruit and vegetables had been ruthlessly demolished. - -“What do you s’pose can have happened?” whispered Mrs. Tidd, while -they waited for a clerk to come hurrying down the store and unlock -the door. - -Homer shook his head. - -Mr. Richards himself came to greet them. - -“Well, young man,” he cried, “I’ve had enough of your pesky bird -show. There’s a hundred dollars’ worth of provisions gone, to -say nothing of the trade we are turning away. Two days before -Thanksgiving, of all times in the year!” - -“Good land!” whispered Mrs. Tidd. Her eyes were wandering about the -store. It was scattered from one end to the other with wasted food. -Sticky rivers trickled here and there across the floor. A small army -of clerks was hard at work sweeping and mopping. - -“Where’s my turkeys?” asked Homer. - -“Your turkeys, confound them!” snarled Mr. Richards. “They’re safe -and sound in their crate in my back store, all but that blasted old -gobbler you call Dan’l Webster. He’s doing his stunts on a top shelf. -We found him there tearing cereal packages into shreds. For mercy’s -sake, go and see if you can’t get him down. He has almost pecked the -eyes out of every clerk who has tried to lay a finger on him. I’d -like to wring his ugly neck.” - -Mr. Richard’s face grew red as the comb of Dan’l Webster himself. - -Homer and his mother dashed across the store. High above their heads -strutted Dan’l Webster with a slow, stately tread. Occasionally he -peered down at the ruin and confusion below, commenting upon it with -a lordly, satisfied gobble. - -“Dan’l Webster,” called Homer, coaxingly, “good old Dan’l, come an’ -see me.” - -The boy slipped cautiously along to where a step-ladder stood. - -“Dan’l,” he called persuasively, “wouldn’t you like to come home, -Dan’l?” - -Dan’l perked down with pleased recognition in his eyes. Homer crept -up the ladder. He was preparing to lay a hand on one of Dan’l’s black -legs when the turkey hopped away with a triumphant gobble, and went -racing gleefully along the wide shelf. A row of bottles filled with -salad-dressing stood in Dan’l’s path. He cleared them out of the way -with one energetic kick. They tumbled to a lower shelf; their yellow -contents crept in a sluggish stream toward the mouth of a tea-box. - -“I’ll have that bird shot!” thundered Mr. Richards. “That’s all there -is about it.” - -“Wait a minute, sir,” pleaded Mrs. Tidd. “Homer’ll get him.” - -Dan’l Webster would neither be coaxed nor commanded. He wandered -up and down the shelf, gobbling vociferously into the faces of the -excited mob. - -“Henry, go and get a pistol,” cried Mr. Richards, turning to one of -his clerks. - -“Homer,”--Mrs. Tidd clutched the boy’s arm,--“why don’t you make -b’lieve you’re shootin’ Dan’l? Maybe he’ll lie down, so you can git -him.” - -Homer called for a broom. He tossed it, gun fashion, across his -shoulder, and crept along slowly, sliding a ladder before him to the -spot where the turkey stood watching with intent eyes. He put one -foot upon the lowest step, then he burst out in a spirited whistle. -It was “Marching through Georgia.” The bird stared at him fixedly. - -“Bang!” cried Homer, and he pointed the broom straight at the -recreant turkey. - -Dan’l Webster dropped stiff. A second later Homer had a firm grasp of -the scaly legs. Dan’l returned instantly to life, but the rebellious -head was tucked under his master’s jacket. Dan’l Webster thought he -was being strangled to death. - -“There!” cried Homer, triumphantly. He closed the lid of the poultry -crate, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “There! I guess -you won’t get out again.” - -He followed Mr. Richards to the front of the store to view the -devastation. - -“Who’d have thought turkeys could have ripped up strong wire like -that?” cried the enraged market man, pointing to the shattered door. - -“I guess Dan’l began the mischief,” said Homer soberly; “he’s awful -strong.” - -“I’m sorry I ever laid eyes on Dan’l!” exclaimed Mr. Richards. “I’ll -hate to see Finch. He’ll be in on the 4.20 train. He’s conservative; -he never had any use for the turkey show.” - -“When did you find out that they--what had happened?” asked Homer -timidly. - -“At five o’clock. Two of the men got here early. They telephoned -me. I never saw such destruction in my life. Your turkeys had -sampled most everything in the store, from split peas to molasses. -What they didn’t eat they knocked over or tore open. I guess they -won’t need feeding for a week. They’re chuckful of oatmeal, beans, -crackers, peanuts, pickles, toothpicks, prunes, soap, red herrings, -cabbage--about everything their crops can hold.” - -“I’m awfully sorry,” faltered Homer. - -“So am I,” said Mr. Richards resolutely. “Now, the best thing you can -do is to take your flock and clear out. I’ve had enough of performing -turkeys.” - -Homer and his mother waited at the depot for the 11 o’clock train. -Beside them stood a crate filled with turkeys that wore a well-fed, -satisfied expression. Somebody tapped Homer on the shoulder. - -“You’re the boy who does the stunts with turkeys, aren’t you?” asked -a well-dressed man with a silk hat, and a flower in his buttonhole. - -“Yes,” answered the boy, wonderingly. - -“I’ve been hunting for you. That was a great rumpus you made at Finch -& Richards’. The whole town’s talking about it.” - -“Yes,” answered Homer again, and he blushed scarlet. - -“Taking your turkeys home?” - -Homer nodded. - -“I’ve come to see if we can keep them in town a few days longer.” - -The boy shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want any more turkey -shows.” - -“Not if the price is big enough to make it worth your while?” - -“No!” said Homer sturdily. - -“Let us go into the station and talk it over.” - - * * * * * - -On Thanksgiving afternoon the Colonial Theater, the best vaudeville -house in the city, held a throng that was dined well, and was happy -enough to appreciate any sort of fun. The children--hundreds of -them--shrieked with delight over every act. The women laughed, -the men applauded with great hearty hand-claps. A little buzz of -excitement went round the house when, at the end of the fourth turn, -two boys, instead of setting up the regulation big red number, -displayed a brand new card. It read: “Extra Number--Homer Tidd and -his Performing Turkeys.” A shout of delighted anticipation went up -from the audience. Every paper in town had made a spectacular story -of the ruin at Finch & Richards’. Nothing could have been so splendid -a surprise. Everybody broke into applause, everybody except one -little woman who sat in the front row of the orchestra. Her face was -pale, her hands clasped, and unclasped each other tremulously. -“Homer, boy,” she whispered to herself. - -The curtain rolled up. The stage was set for a realistic farmyard -scene. The floor was scattered with straw, an old pump leaned over -in one corner, hay tumbled untidily from a barn-loft, a coop with -a hen and chickens stood by the fence. From her stall stared a -white-faced cow; her eyes blinked at the glare of the footlights. The -orchestra struck up a merry tune; the cow uttered an astonished moo; -then in walked a sturdy lad with fine, broad shoulders, red hair, -and freckles. His boots clumped, his blue overalls were faded, his -sweater had once been red. At his heels stepped six splendid turkeys, -straight in line, every one with its eyes on the master. Homer never -knew how he did it. Two minutes earlier he had said to the manager, -desperately: “I’ll cut an’ run right off as soon as I set eyes on -folks.” Perhaps he drew courage from the anxious gaze in his mother’s -eyes. Hers was the only face he saw in the great audience. Perhaps it -was the magnificent aplomb of the turkeys that inspired him. They -stepped serenely, as if walking out on a gorgeously lighted stage was -an every-day event in their lives. Anyhow, Homer threw up his head, -and led the turkey march round and round past the footlights, till -the shout of applause dwindled into silence. The boy threw back his -head and snapped his fingers. The turkeys retreated to form in line -at the back of the stage. - -“Gettysburg,” cried Homer, pointing to a stately, plump hen. -Gettysburg stepped to the center of the stage. “How many kernels of -corn have I thrown you, Getty?” he asked. - -The turkey turned to count them, with her head cocked reflectively on -one side. Then she scratched her foot on the floor. - -“One, two, three, four, five!” - -“Right. Now you may eat them, Getty.” - -Gettysburg wore her new-won laurels with an excellent grace. She -jumped through a row of hoops, slid gracefully about the stage on a -pair of miniature roller-skates; she stepped from stool to chair, -from chair to table, in perfect time with Homer’s whistle, -and a low strain of melody from the orchestra. She danced a stately -jig on the table, then, with a satisfied cluck, descended on the -other side to the floor. Amanda Ann, Mehitable, Nancy, and Farragut -achieved their triumphs in a slow dance made up of dignified hops -and mazy turns. They stood in a decorous line awaiting the return -of their master, for Homer had dashed suddenly from the stage. He -reappeared, holding his head up proudly. Now he wore the blue uniform -and jaunty cap of a soldier boy; a gun leaned on his shoulder. - -The orchestra put all its vigor, patriotism, and wind into “Marching -through Georgia.” - -Straight to Homer’s side when they heard his whistle, wheeled the -turkey regiment, ready to keep step, to fall in line, to march -and countermarch. Only one feathered soldier fell. It was Dan’l -Webster. At a bang from Homer’s rifle he dropped stiff and stark. -From children here and there in the audience came a cry of horror. -They turned to ask in frightened whispers if the turkey was “truly -shooted.” As if to answer the question, Dan’l leaped to his feet. -Homer pulled a Stars and Stripes from his pocket, and waved it -enthusiastically; then the orchestra dashed into “Yankee Doodle.” It -awoke some patriotic spirit in the soul of Dan’l Webster. He left his -master, and, puffing himself to his stateliest proportions, stalked -to the footlights to utter one glorious, soul-stirring gobble. The -curtain fell, but the applause went on and on and on! At last, out -again across the stage came Homer, waving “Old Glory.” Dan’l Webster, -Gettysburg, Amanda Ann, Nancy, Mehitable and Farragut followed in -a triumphal march. Homer’s eyes were bent past the footlights, -searching for the face of one little woman. This time the face was -one radiant flush, and her hands were adding their share to the -deafening applause. - -“Homer, boy,” she said fondly. This time she spoke aloud, but nobody -heard it. An encore for the “Extra Turn” was so vociferous, it almost -shook the plaster from the ceiling. - - - - -THE GREEN CORN DANCE - - -FRANCES JENKINS OLCOTT - -The first Thanksgiving Dinner in America, where was it eaten? Why, of -course, we think of its being eaten in old Plymouth Town, when the -Pilgrim Fathers spread their board with fish, wild turkey, geese, -ducks, venison, barley bread, Indian maize, and other good things, -and invited the Indian King Massasoit and his braves to the feast. It -was a time of rejoicing and thanksgiving for the fine harvest God had -given the Pilgrims. - -But that was not the first Thanksgiving Dinner eaten in America! For -many, many years before the Pilgrims came to this land, Thanksgiving -Dinners had been given. The Red Men, the first owners of America, -held their Thanksgiving Festivals every autumn. These were in -celebration of the ripening of the corn, and in honour of their -Manitos, as they called their gods. For, until the white men came, -the Indians never heard of the all-good “Great Spirit” of Heaven. -They held other feasts, too, among them a New Year one, a Maple Sugar -Feast, a Strawberry Festival, a Bean Dance, and a Corn-gathering -Feast. - -Even to-day, some Indians keep their heathen Thanksgiving at the time -of the ripening of the corn. It is called the Green Corn Dance. Many -Indians are Christians, but numbers still worship the Manitos of the -sun, moon, stars, wind, rain, thunder, and other things in Nature. -Though some of these heathen Red Men speak reverently of the Great -Spirit, they seem scarcely to understand who He is, and confuse Him -with their Manitos, as may be seen in the hymn that introduces the -Feather Dance. - -Among some tribes of the Iroquois Family, in New York State, the -Green Corn Dance is still celebrated. And this is how a visitor saw -the dance at the Cattaraugus Reservation. - -As the time for the Festival approached, certain men and women of -the tribe, called the “Keepers of the Faith,” began to prepare for -the dance. Every morning at sunrise, the women went to the cornfield -and picked a few ears, and took them to the Head Man at the Council -House. When he decided that the corn was sufficiently ripe, the Feast -was called. - -Summons were sent to the Indians at the Tonawanda and Allegany -Reservations, bidding all meet at sunrise on the tenth of September, -in the Council House of the Cattaraugus Reservation. - -On the morning of the feast, the men, “Keepers of the Faith,” arose -at sunrise, and built a fire, on which they threw an offering of -tobacco and corn, and they prayed to the Great Spirit to bless the -tribes. They then extinguished the fire, and later the women “Keepers -of the Faith” built another in the same spot. - -Then the people began to arrive, all in their best clothes. While -they were waiting for the ceremonies to begin, the young men played -ball, and the girls walked about, talking with each other. Meanwhile, -the women “Keepers of the Faith,” hastened to prepare soup and -succotash, which were soon boiling in large kettles suspended over -huge, flaming logs. - -After a little while the people began to move toward the Council -House, a long, low, wooden building, with a door at the northeast -end, and another at the southwest. The people entered in two lines, -the women through one door, and the men through the other. All took -their seats on benches arranged on three sides of the room. In the -centre of the room sat the singers, and the musicians with their -turtle-shell rattles. - -When all was quiet, the speaker began the ceremonies by a prayer -to the Great Spirit, while the men, with bowed, uncovered -heads,--Indians do not kneel,--listened reverently. - -After the prayer was finished, the speaker, lifting his voice, -addressed the Indians. - -“My friends,” he said, “we are here to worship the Great Spirit. As -by our old custom, we give the Great Spirit His dance, the Great -Feather Dance. We must have it before noon. The Great Spirit sees -to everything in the morning, afterwards he rests. He gives us -land and things to live on, so we must thank Him for His ground, and -for the things it brought forth. He gave us the thunder to wet the -land, so we must thank the thunder. We must thank Ga-ne-o-di-o[2] -that we know he is in the happy land. It is the wish of the Great -Spirit that we express our thanks in dances as well as prayer. The -cousin clans are here from Tonawanda; we are thankful to the Great -Spirit to have them here, and to greet them with the rattles and -singing. We have appointed one of them to lead the dances.” - -When the speaker finished, there was a pause, then a shout outside -the Council House told that the Feather Dancers were coming. They -entered the room, a long, gracefully swaying line of fifty men, clad -in Indian costume, gay with colour and nodding plumes, and with bells -adorning their leggings. Slowly and majestically they entered, and -stood for a moment near the entrance. Then the speaker began in a -high voice, the hymn of thanksgiving to the Great Spirit, while the -dancers, in single file, commenced walking slowly around the room, -keeping step with the beating of the musicians’ rattles. - -Each verse of the hymn thanked the Great Spirit for some -benefit,--for water, for the animals, for the trees, for the light, -for the fruits, for the stars, and among other good things, for the -“Supporters,” the three Manito-sisters, the guardians of the Corn, -Bean, and Squash. - -After each verse, the dancers quickened their steps, and danced -rapidly around the room. When the hymn was finished, the speaker -ordered the real dance to start. Then, still in single file, the -dancers began the great Feather Dance. - -Erect in body, yet gracefully swaying, they moved around and -around the Council House, keeping time with the rhythmic beat of -the rattles, that sounded now slow and now fast. Lifting each foot -alternately from the floor, every dancer brought his heel down with -such force that all the legging-bells rang in time with the music. At -times the movement grew very swift, and the many lithesome twistings -and bendings of the dancers, their shouts to one another, and the -cries of the spectators, filled all with keen excitement. During the -slower movements, some of the women arose, and joined the dance, -forming an inner circle. - -Then the dancers sang a weird chant, in company with the singers, -“Ha-ho!--Ha-ho!--Ha-ho!” they sang; then all present joined in the -quick refrain, “Way-ha-ah! Way-ha-ah! Way-ha-ah!” ending in a loud, -guttural shout, as the dancers bowed their heads, “Ha-i! Ha-i!” - -When the noon hour came, the great Feather Dance was over, and two -huge kettles were brought in to the Council House, one full of soup, -and the other of succotash. One of the men “Keepers of the Faith,” -said a prayer of thanksgiving, in which all joined, and the food was -poured into vessels brought by the women. It was then carried to the -homes, where the Indians enjoyed eating it by their own firesides. - -The feast was over for that day, but it lasted two days more, during -which the tribes gambled, danced, ate, and beat their drums. The -visitor who saw this Green Corn Festival, wrote afterward about the -closing scene, the great Snake Dance: - -“The nodding plumes, the tinkling bells, the noisy rattles, the beats -of the high-strung drums, the shuffling feet and weird cries of the -dancers, and the approving shouts of the spectators, all added to the -spell of a strangeness that seemed to invest the quaint old Council -House with the supernaturalness of a dream! - -“As the sun neared its setting, the dancers stopped in a quiet order, -and the speaker of the day bade farewell to the clans ... and, after -invoking the blessing of the Great Spirit, declared the Green Corn -Festival of 1890 ended.” - -[2] A prophet of the Indians. - - - - -THANKSGIVING - - - “Have you cut the wheat in the blowing fields, - The barley, the oats, and the rye, - The golden corn and the pearly rice? - For the winter days are nigh.” - - “We have reaped them all from shore to shore, - And the grain is safe on the threshing floor.” - - “Have you gathered the berries from the vine, - And the fruit from the orchard trees? - The dew and the scent from the roses and thyme, - In the hive of the honeybees?” - - “The peach and the plum and the apple are ours, - And the honeycomb from the scented flowers.” - - “The wealth of the snowy cotton field - And the gift of the sugar cane, - The savoury herb and the nourishing root---- - There has nothing been given in vain.” - - “We have gathered the harvest from shore to shore, - And the measure is full and brimming o’er.” - - “Then lift up the head with a song! - And lift up the hand with a gift! - To the ancient Giver of all - The spirit in gratitude lift! - For the joy and the promise of spring, - For the hay and the clover sweet, - The barley, the rye, and the oats, - The rice, and the corn, and the wheat, - The cotton, and sugar, and fruit, - The flowers and the fine honeycomb, - The country so fair and so free, - The blessings and glory of home.” - AMELIA E. BARR. - - - - -THE TWO ALMS OR THE THANKSGIVING DAY GIFT - - -Translated by special permission from Guerber’s Contes et Legendes, -I^{ère} Partie. Copyright by American Book Company. - - -Once upon a time a poor old beggar woman stood shivering by the side -of a road which led to a prosperous village. She hoped some traveler -would be touched by her misery, and would give her a few pennies with -which to buy food and fuel. - -It had been snowing since early morning, and a sharp east wind made -the evening air bitterly cold. At the sound of approaching footsteps -the old woman’s face brightened with expectancy, but the next moment -her eager expression changed to disappointment, for the traveler -passed without giving her anything. - -“Poor old woman,” he said to himself. “This is a bitter cold night to -be begging on the roadside. It is, indeed. I am truly sorry for her.” - -And as his footsteps became fainter, the beggar woman whispered, “I -must not give up. Perhaps the next traveler will help me.” - -In a little while she heard the sound of wheels. It happened to be -the carriage of the mayor, who was on his way to a Thanksgiving -banquet. When his excellency saw the miserable old woman, he ordered -the carriage to stop, lowered the window, and took a piece of money -from his pocket. - -“Here you are, he called, holding out a coin. - -The woman hurried to the window as fast as she could. Before she -reached it, however, the mayor noticed that he had taken a gold piece -instead of a silver one out of his pocket. - -“Wait a moment,” he said. “I’ve made a mistake.” - -He intended to exchange the coin for one of less value, but he caught -his sleeve on the window fastening, and dropped the gold piece in the -snow. The woman had come up to the carriage window, and he noticed -that she was blind. - -“I’ve dropped the money, my good woman,” he said, “but it lies near -you there in the snow. No doubt you’ll find it.” - -“Thank you, sir, thank you,” said the beggar, kneeling down to search -for the coin. - -On rolled the mayor to the banquet. “It was foolish to give her -gold,” he thought, “but I’m a rich man, and I seldom make such a -mistake.” - -That night after the banquet when the mayor sat before a blazing fire -in his comfortable chair, the picture of the beggar woman, kneeling -in the snow, and fumbling around for the gold piece, came before his -eyes. - -“I hope she will make good use of my generous gift,” he mused. “It -was entirely too much to give, but no doubt I shall be rewarded for -my charity.” - -The first traveler hurried on his way until he came to the village -inn, where a great wood fire crackled merrily in the cheery dining -room. He took off his warm coat, and sat down to wait for dinner to -be served. But he could not forget the picture of the old beggar -woman standing on the snowy roadside. - -Suddenly he rose, put on his coat, and said to the host, “Prepare -dinner for two. I shall be back presently.” - -He hastened back to the place where he had seen the poor old woman, -who was still on her knees in the snow searching for the mayor’s gold -piece. - -“My good woman, what are you looking for?” he asked. - -“A piece of money, sir. The gentleman who gave it to me dropped it in -the snow.” - -“Do not search any longer,” said the traveler, “but come with me to -the village inn. There you may warm yourself before the great fire, -and we shall have a good dinner. Come, you shall be my Thanksgiving -guest.” - -He helped her to her feet, and then, for the first time, he saw that -she was blind. Carefully he took her arm, and led her along the road -to the inn. - -“Sit here and warm yourself,” he said, placing her gently in a -comfortable chair. In a few moments he led her to the table, and gave -her a good dinner. - -On that Thanksgiving Day an angel took up her pen, and struck out all -account of the gold piece from the book where the mayor recorded his -good deeds. Another angel wrote in the traveler’s book of deeds an -account of the old beggar woman’s Thanksgiving dinner at the village -inn.--Adapted. - - - - -A THANKSGIVING PSALM - - - Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. - Serve the Lord with gladness: - Come unto his presence with singing. - - Know ye that the Lord he _is_ God; - It is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; - We are his people and the sheep of his pasture. - Enter into his gates with thanksgiving - And into his courts with praise, - Be thankful unto him, _and_ bless his name. - - For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting: - And his truth endureth to all generations. - --_Psalm C._ - - - - -THE CROWN OF THE YEAR - - - Ah, happy morning of autumn sweet, - Yet ripe and rich with summer’s heat. - - * * * * * - - Near me each humble flower and weed---- - The dock’s rich umber, gone to seed, - The hawk-bit’s gold, the bayberry’s spice, - One late wild rose beyond all price; - Each is a friend and all are dear, - Pathetic signs of the waning year. - - The painted rose-leaves, how they glow! - Like crimson wine the woodbines show; - The wholesome yarrow’s clusters fine, - Like frosted silver dimly shine; - And who thy quaintest charm shall tell, - Thou little scarlet pimpernel? - - In the mellow, golden autumn days, - When the world is zoned in their purple haze, - A spirit of beauty walks abroad, - That fills the heart with peace of God; - The spring and summer may bless and cheer, - But autumn brings us the crown o’ the year. - CELIA THAXTER. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Topaz Story Book, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TOPAZ STORY BOOK *** - -***** This file should be named 51734-0.txt or 51734-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/7/3/51734/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Paul Marshall 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 print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Topaz Story Book - Stories and Legends of Autumn, Hallowe'en, and Thanksgiving - -Author: Various - -Illustrator: Maxfield Parrish - -Release Date: April 11, 2016 [EBook #51734] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TOPAZ STORY BOOK *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Paul Marshall and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<h1>THE TOPAZ STORY BOOK</h1> -<hr class="full" /> -<p class="f150"><b><small>THE</small><br /> TOPAZ STORY BOOK</b></p> -<p class="center"><i>Stories and Legends of<br />Autumn, Hallowe’en, and Thanksgiving</i></p> -<p class="center space-above2"><small>COMPILED BY</small><br /><b>ADA M. SKINNER</b><br /> -<small>AND</small><br /><b>ELEANOR L. SKINNER</b></p> -<p class="center space-above1"><i>Editors of “The Emerald Story Book” “Merry Tales”</i><br /> -<i>“Nursery Tales from Many Lands”</i></p> - -<p class="center space-above2"><small>FRONTISPIECE BY</small><br /><b>MAXFIELD PARRISH</b></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="184" /> -</div> - -<p class="center space-above2"><small>NEW YORK</small><br /><b>DUFFIELD & COMPANY</b><br /><small>1928</small></p> - -<p class="center space-above3">Copyright, 1917, by<br /><span class="smcap">Duffield & Co.</span><br />Fifth Edition, 1928</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> - -<p>Nature stories, legends, and poems appeal to the young reader’s -interest in various ways. Some of them suggest or reveal certain -facts which stimulate a spirit of investigation and attract the -child’s attention to the beauty and mystery of the world. Others -serve an excellent purpose by quickening his sense of humour.</p> - -<p>Seedtime and harvest have always been seasons of absorbing interest -and have furnished the story-teller with rich themes. The selections -in “The Emerald Story Book” emphasize the hope and premise of -the spring; the stories, legends, and poems in this volume, “The -Topaz Story Book,” express the joy and blessing which attend the -harvest-time when the fields are rich in golden grain and the orchard -boughs bend low with mellow fruit. “The year’s work is done. She -walks in gorgeous apparel, looking upon her long labour and her -serene eye saith, ‘It is good.’”</p> - -<p>The editors’ thanks are due to the following authors and publishers -for the use of valuable material in this book:</p> - -<p>To Dr. Carl S. Patton of the First Congregational Church, Columbus, -Ohio, for permission to include his story, “The Pretending -Woodchuck”; to Frances Jenkins Olcott for “The Green Corn Dance,” -retold from “The Journal of American Folk-Lore,” published by -Houghton, Mifflin Company; to Ernest Thompson Seton and the Century -Company for “How the Chestnut Burrs Became”; to Dr. J. Dynelly Prince -for permission to retell the legend of “Nipon” from “Kuloskap the -Master”; to Thomas Nelson and Sons for “Weeds,” by Carl Ewald; to -William Herbert Carruth for the selection from “Each In His Own -Tongue”; to Josephine K. Dodge for two poems by Mary Mapes Dodge; to -A. Flanagan Company for “Golden-rod and Purple Aster,” from “Nature -Myths and Stories,” by Flora J. Cooke; to J. B. Lippincott Company -for “The Willow and the Bamboo,” from “Myths and Legends of the -Flowers and Trees,” by Chas. M. Skinner; to Bobbs, Merrill Company -for the selection by James Whitcomb Riley; to Lothrop, Lee, and -Shepard Company for “The Pumpkin Giant,” from “The Pot of Gold,” -by Mary Wilkins Freeman; to Raymond Macdonald Alden for “Lost: The -Summer”; to the <i>Youth’s Companion</i> for “A Turkey for the Stuffing,” -by Katherine Grace Hulbert, and “The News,” by Persis Gardiner; to -John S. P. Alcott for “Queen Aster,” by Louisa M. Alcott; to G. P. -Putnam’s Sons for two poems from “Red Apples and Silver Bells,” by -Hamish Henry; to Francis Curtis and <i>St. Nicholas</i> for “The Debut -of Daniel Webster,” by Isabel Gordon Curtis; to Emma F. Bush and -<i>Mothers’ Magazine</i> for “The Little Pumpkin”; to Phila Butler Bowman -and <i>Mothers’ Magazine</i> for “The Queer Little Baker Man”; to the -<i>Independent</i> for “The Crown of the Year,” by Celia Thaxter; to Ginn -and Company for “Winter’s Herald,” from Andrew’s “The Story of My -Four Friends”; to Frederick A. Stokes Company for “Lady White and -Lady Yellow,” from “Myths and Legends of Japan”; to the State Museum, -Albany, New York, for permission to reprint the legend “O-na-tah, -Spirit of the Corn,” published in the <i>Museum Bulletin</i>; to Houghton, -Mifflin Company for “The Sickle Moon,” by Abbie Farwell Brown; -“Autumn Among the Birds” and “Autumn Fashions” by Edith M. Thomas, -“The Nutcrackers of Nutcracker Lodge” by Harriet Beecher Stowe, and -“The Three Golden Apples” by Nathaniel Hawthorne; and to Duffield and -Company for “The Story of the Opal” by Ann de Morgan.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<table border="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents." cellpadding="0"> - <tbody><tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdc"><big><b>CONTENTS</b></big></td> - </tr><tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdc"><br />INTRODUCTION</td> - </tr><tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdc"><br />AUTUMN STORIES AND LEGENDS</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Each in His Own Tongue (selection)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>William Herbert Carruth</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_2"> 2</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="3">Nipon and the King of the Northland (Algonquin Legend)</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">  Retold from Leland and Prince—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Eleanor L. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_3"> 3</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="3">Prince Autumn (Translated from the Danish</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">  by Alexandre Teixeira de Mattos)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Carl Ewald</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">The Scarf of the Lady (adapted)<br /> -   (Translated from the French by Hermine de Nagy)</td> - <td class="tdr"><br /><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Sickle Moon (Tyrolean harvest legend)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Abbie Farwell Brown</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Winter’s Herald</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Jane Andrews</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Jack Frost (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Pumpkin Giant</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Mary Wilkins Freeman</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Lady White and Lady Yellow (Japanese Legend)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Frederick Hadland Davis</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Shet-up Posy</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Ann Trumbull Slosson</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Gay Little King</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Mary Stewart</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Story of the Opal</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Ann de Morgan</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Selection</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Celia Thaxter</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Lost: The Summer (poem)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Raymond Macdonald Alden</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">By the Wayside (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>William Cullen Bryant</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The King’s Candles (German legend)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Eleanor L. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">A Legend of the Golden-Rod—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Frances Weld Danielson</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Golden-Rod (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Anna E. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Little Weed</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Golden-Rod and Purple Aster (adapted)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Flora J. Cooke</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Wild Asters (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Silver-rod</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Edith M. Thomas</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Pimpernel, the Shepherd’s Clock (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">A Legend of the Gentian (Hungarian)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Ada M. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Queen Aster</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Louisa M. Alcott</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Weeds</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Carl Ewald</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Autumn Fires (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Robert Louis Stevenson</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdc"><br />AMONG THE TREES</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">To An Autumn Leaf (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Why the Autumn Leaves Are Red (Indian legend)—</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">  Retold and adapted by</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Eleanor Newcomb Partridge</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Anxious Leaf</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Henry Ward Beecher</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">How the Chestnut Burrs Became—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Ernest Thompson-Seton</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Merry Wind (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Mary Mapes Dodge</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Autumn Among the Birds</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Edith M. Thomas</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Kind Old Oak</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Selected</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Tree (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Björnstjerne Björnson</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Coming and Going</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Henry Ward Beecher</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">A Legend of the Willow Tree (Japanese)</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Autumn Fashions (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Edith M. Thomas</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Pomona’s Best Gift (Old English Song)</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Pomona (Greek myth retold from Ovid)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Ada M. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">In the Orchard (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>George Weatherby</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Johnny Appleseed</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Josephine Scribner Gates</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Red Apple (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Hamish Hendry</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Three Golden Apples</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Nathaniel Hawthorne</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">October: Orchard of the Year</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Selected</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">November</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdc"><br />WOODLAND ANIMALS</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Pretending Woodchuck</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Dr. Carl S. Patton</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Mrs. Bunny’s Dinner Party</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Anna E. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Nutcrackers of Nutcracker Lodge (adapted)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Harriet Beecher Stowe</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Bushy’s Bravery</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Ada M. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Nut Gatherers (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Hamish Hendry</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdc"><br />HARVEST FIELDS</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">When the Frost is on the Pumpkin—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>James Whitcomb Riley</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Origin of Indian Corn (Indian legend)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Eleanor L. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Song of Hiawatha</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Henry W. Longfellow</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">O-na-tah, the Spirit of the Corn Fields—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Harriet Converse</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Mondamin (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Henry W. Longfellow</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Discontented Pumpkin</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Ada M. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Bob White (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>George Cooper</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Little Pumpkin</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Emma Florence Bush</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Autumn (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Edmund Spenser</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdc"><br />CHEERFUL CHIRPERS</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The News (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Persis Gardiner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">How There Came To Be a Katy-did</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Patten Beard</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Old Dame Cricket (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Miss Katy-did and Miss Cricket (adapted)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Harriet Beecher Stowe</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Cricket (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>William Cowper</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdc"><br />ALL HALLOWE’EN</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Shadow March (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Robert Louis Stevenson</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Twinkling Feet’s Hallowe’en (adapted from a Cornwall legend)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Eleanor L. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Jack-o’-Lantern (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_298">298</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Elfin Knight (old ballad retold)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Eleanor L. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Courteous Prince (Scotch legend)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Eleanor L. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_307">307</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Jack-o’-Lantern Song</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_314">314</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdc"><br />A HARVEST OF THANKSGIVING STORIES</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Selection</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Henry Van Dyke</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Queer Little Baker Man</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Phila Butler Bowman</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_319">319</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">A Turkey for the Stuffing</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Katherine Grace Hulbert</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_327">327</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Pumpkin Pie (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Mary Mapes Dodge</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_333">333</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Mrs. November’s Party</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Agnes Carr</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_335">335</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Debut of Dan’l Webster</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Isabel Gordon Curtis</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_345">345</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Green Corn Dance</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Frances Jenkins Olcott</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_365">365</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Thanksgiving (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Amelie E. Barr</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_373">373</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Two Alms, or The Thanksgiving Day Gift</td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">  (Translated and adapted from the French)—</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Eleanor L. Skinner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_375">375</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">Thanksgiving Psalm</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Bible</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_380">380</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">The Crown of the Year (poem)</td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Celia Thaxter</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_381">381</a></td> - </tr> - </tbody> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>AUTUMN STORIES AND LEGENDS</h2> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> - -<h3>EACH IN HIS OWN TONGUE</h3> -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A haze on the far horizon,</span> -<span class="i2">The infinite, tender sky,</span> -<span class="i0">The rich, ripe tint of the cornfields,</span> -<span class="i2">And the wild geese sailing high;</span> -<span class="i0">And, all over upland and lowland</span> -<span class="i2">The charm of the golden-rod,——</span> -<span class="i0">Some of us call it Autumn,</span> -<span class="i2">And others call it—God.</span> -<span class="i10"><span class="smcap">William Herbert Carruth.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<h3>NIPON AND THE KING OF THE NORTHLAND</h3> -<p class="center space-above1 space-below1">(<span class="smcap">Algonquin Legend</span>)</p> - -<p>The Summer Queen whom the Indians called Nipon lived in the land of -sunshine where the life-giving beams of the mighty Sun shone all the -year round on the blossoming meadows and green forests. The maiden’s -wigwam faced the sunrise. It was covered with a vine which hung thick -with bell-shaped blossoms.</p> - -<p>The fair queen’s trailing green robe was woven from delicate fern -leaves and embroidered with richly coloured blossoms. She wore a -coronet of flowers and her long dusky braids were entwined with -sprays of fragrant honeysuckle. Her moccasins were fashioned from -water-lily leaves.</p> - -<p>Nipon was very busy in her paradise of flowers. Every day she -wandered through the green forests where she spoke words of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> -enouragement and praise to the great trees, or she glided over the -meadows and helped the flower buds to unfold into perfect blossoms.</p> - -<p>Sometimes the maiden’s grandmother, whose name was K’me-wan, the -Rain, came from afar to visit the land of Sunshine. The Summer Queen -always welcomed her and listened carefully to the words of warning -which K’me-wan solemnly gave before leaving.</p> - -<p>“Nipon, my child, heed what I say. In thy wanderings never go to the -Northland where dwells Poon, the Winter King. He is thy deadliest foe -and is waiting to destroy thee. This grim old Winter King hates the -fair beauty of the Summer Queen. He will cause thy green garments to -wither and fade and thy bright hair to turn white like his own frost. -All thy youth and strength he will change to age and weakness.”</p> - -<p>The Summer Maiden promised to heed her grandmother’s warning, and -for a long time she did not look in the direction of the Northland. -But one day when she sat in front of her sun-bathed wigwam a strange -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> -longing crept into her heart—a longing to look at the frozen -Northland where Poon the Winter King reigned. Slowly she turned her -eyes in the forbidden direction and there she saw a wonderful vision. -The far-away Northland was flooded with sunshine. She could see the -broad, shining lakes, the white mountain peaks touched with rosy -mists, and the winding rivers gleaming with light.</p> - -<p>“It is the most beautiful land I have ever seen,” said Nipon.</p> - -<p>She rose slowly and stood for some time looking at the enchanting -beauty of the scene before her. Then she said, “My heart is filled -with a strange longing. I shall go to visit the Northland, the Land -of Poon, King of Winter.”</p> - -<p>“My daughter, remember K’me-wan’s warning,” whispered a voice -and Nipon knew that her grandmother was speaking. “Go not to the -Northland where death awaits thee. Abide in the land of Sunshine.”</p> - -<p>“I can not choose,” said Nipon. “I must go to the Northland.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Heed my warning! Heed my warning!” whispered the faint voice of -K’me-wan, the Rain.</p> - -<p>“I can not choose,” repeated the Summer Queen. “I must go to the Northland.”</p> - -<p>In her delicate robe of leaves and her coronet of flowers Nipon left -the Land of Sunshine and began her long journey northward. For many -moons she traveled keeping her eyes fixed on the dazzling beauty of -the frost king’s land.</p> - -<p>One day she noticed that the shining mountains, lakes, and rivers in -the land of Poon moved onward before her. She stopped for a moment to -consider the marvel and again a faint voice whispered, “Turn back, my -child! Destruction awaits thee in the land of King Winter. Heed the -warning of K’me-wan.”</p> - -<p>But the willful Summer Queen closed her ears to the pleading voice -and proceeded on her journey. The beautiful vision no longer seemed -to move away from her. Surely before long she would win her heart’s -desire, she would reach the beautiful land of Poon.</p> - -<p>Suddenly fear seized the Summer Queen, for she felt that the sunshine -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> -was gradually fading away. A chill wind from the distant mountain -rent her frail garments and with sinking heart she saw the leaves of -her robe were turning yellow, the blossoms were fading and dying. A -cruel wind blew and tore to pieces her coronet of flowers. Then she -noticed that her dusky braids were turning white as the frost.</p> - -<p>“K’me-wan’s warning!” she cried. “How I wish I had heeded K’me-wan’s -warning! The Frost King is cruel. He will destroy me! O K’me-wan, -help me! Save me from destruction!”</p> - -<p>Soon after Nipon left for the Northland her grandmother knew what had -happened, for from her Skyland she saw that no smoke rose from the -Summer Queen’s wigwam. K’me-wan hastened to the land of Sunshine. -There she saw that the blossoms on the queen’s wigwam were beginning -to wither, the ground was strewn with fallen petals, and the leaves -of the vine had lost their shining green colour.</p> - -<p>“A grey mist covers the face of the sun and a change is gradually -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> -creeping over this beautiful land,” cried K’me-wan. “I’ll send my -gentlest showers to refresh the woods and meadows.”</p> - -<p>But the Rain-mother failed to bring back the colour to the Summer -Queen’s island.</p> - -<p>“The trees and flowers need warmth as well as moisture,” sighed -K’me-wan. “The leaves of the forest are beginning to turn orange, -crimson, and brown. Every day there are fewer flowers in the meadows -and along the banks of the brook. A great change is creeping over the -land of Sunshine.”</p> - -<p>And as she sat in Nipon’s wigwam, grieving, she heard the Summer -Queen’s cry of agony. She heard Nipon call out, “O K’me-wan! Save me -from destruction.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll send my bravest warriors to do battle with Poon,” declared -K’me-wan, standing and looking toward the Northland. “He shall match -his strength with mine!”</p> - -<p>Quickly she called together her strong warriors, South-wind, -West-wind, and Warm-breeze.</p> - -<p>“Go to the Northland, my warriors,” she commanded. “Use all your -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> -power to rescue Nipon from Poon, the Winter King. Fly to the Northland!”</p> - -<p>K’me-wan’s wind warriors fled like lightning to the land of Poon. -But the crafty Winter King was not taken by surprise. The mighty -North-wind, the biting East-wind, and the Frost-spirit, his strong -chieftains, he held in readiness to do battle for possession of the -Summer Queen. And when K’me-wan’s warriors drew near the Northland, -Poon gave his command.</p> - -<p>“Fly to meet our foes, my warriors! They come from the land of -Sunshine! Vanquish them!”</p> - -<p>And as he spoke his chieftains saw that Poon’s stalwart figure was -growing gaunt and thin, and great drops of sweat were dropping from -his brow.</p> - -<p>At Winter King’s command his giants flew to match their strength with -K’me-wan’s warriors.</p> - -<p>But the Snowflakes and Hailstones led by the Frost-spirit weakened -and fell before Warm-breeze and his followers, the Raindrops. The -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> -cold wind warriors of the North shook and roared as they matched -strength with the mightier giants from the land of Sunshine. Then, as -K’me-wan’s warriors pressed nearer and nearer to the Northland, Poon -the Winter King weakened and cried out in agony, “Set Nipon free or -I shall perish. My warriors are vanquished by the chieftains of the -land of Sunshine! Free the Summer Queen and end this strife!”</p> - -<p>At this command from Poon, his giant warriors grew silent and fled -back to the Northland, leaving K’me-wan’s chieftains in possession -of Nipon. Gently they led the weary Summer Queen back toward her own -land. They travelled for many moons before the beams of the great sun -were warm enough to restore her beauty.</p> - -<p>Only once on her journey back to her own land did Nipon stop. It was -when she reached a place enveloped in grey mists and dark clouds -where the wild lightning leaped and flashed. The wind blew and the -showers fell continually in this land of K’me-wan. Through the clouds -and rain Nipon traveled until she reached the wigwam of the ancient Rain-mother. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Forgive me, K’me-wan,” said the Summer Queen humbly.</p> - -<p>“My child, thou hast well nigh killed me,” moaned K’me-wan faintly. -“Thy disobedience has brought great suffering in my cherished island. -My giant warriors conquered or Poon with his cruel ice scepter would -have reigned king over all. Never again can I venture on such a struggle.”</p> - -<p>“Never again shall I disobey thee,” declared Nipon, the Summer Queen.</p> - -<p>“Hasten back to the land of Sunshine,” said K’me-wan, rising. “There -thou art sadly needed, for the leaves have changed their color and -the blossoms are almost gone. Hasten back and give them new life, my daughter.”</p> - -<p>Then Nipon bade farewell to the Rain-mother and departed for the land of -Sunshine. As she drew near her heart was filled with a wonderful joy and peace.</p> - -<p>“Welcome, Nipon,” laughed the warm sunbeams.</p> - -<p>“Welcome, Nipon,” sang the gentle breezes.</p> - -<p>“Welcome, our life-giving Summer Queen,” nodded the forest trees.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> - -<h3>PRINCE AUTUMN</h3> -<p class="center space-above1 space-below1"><span class="smcap">Carl Ewald</span></p> - -<p>On the top of the hills in the West stood the Prince of Autumn and -surveyed the land with his serious eyes.</p> - -<p>His hair and beard were dashed with gray and there were wrinkles on -his forehead. But he was good to look at, still and straight and -strong. His splendid cloak gleamed red and green and brown and yellow -and flapped in the wind. In his hand he held a horn.</p> - -<p>He smiled sadly and stood awhile and listened to the fighting and the -singing and the cries. Then he raised his head, put the horn to his -mouth and blew a lusty flourish:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Summer goes his all-prospering way,</span> -<span class="i2">Autumn’s horn is calling.</span> -<span class="i0">Heather dresses the brown hill-clay,</span> -<span class="i2">Winds whip crackling across the bay,</span> -<span class="i0">Leaves in the grove keep falling.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>All the trees of the forest shook from root to top, themselves not -knowing why. All the birds fell silent together. The stag in the -glade raised his antlers in surprise and listened. The poppy’s -scarlet petals flew before the wind.</p> - -<p>But high on the mountains and on the bare hills and low down in the -bog, the heather burst forth and blazed purple and glorious in the -sun. And the bees flew from the faded flowers of the meadow and hid -themselves in the heather-fields.</p> - -<p>But Autumn put his horn to his mouth again and blew:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Autumn lords it with banners bright</span> -<span class="i2">Of garish leaves held o’er him,</span> -<span class="i0">Quelling Summer’s eternal fight,</span> -<span class="i0">Heralding Winter, wild and white,</span> -<span class="i2">While the blithe little birds flee before him.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The Prince of Summer stopped where he stood in the valley and raised -his eyes to the hills in the West. And the Prince of Autumn took the -horn from his mouth and bowed low before him. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Welcome!” said Summer.</p> - -<p>He took a step towards him and no more, as befits one who is the greater. -But the Prince of Autumn came down over the hills and again bowed low.</p> - -<p>They walked through the valley hand in hand. And so radiant was -Summer that, wherever they passed, none was aware of Autumn’s -presence. The notes of his horn died away in the air; and one and all -recovered from the shudder that had passed over them. The trees and -birds and flowers came to themselves again and whispered and sang and -fought. The river flowed, the rushes murmured, the bees continued -their summer orgy in the heather.</p> - -<p>But, wherever the princes stopped on their progress through the -valley, it came about that the foliage turned yellow on the side -where Autumn was. A little leaf fell from its stalk and fluttered -away and dropped at his feet. The nightingale ceased singing, though -it was eventide; the cuckoo was silent and flapped restlessly through -the woods; the stork stretched himself in his nest and looked toward -the South. But the princes took no heed. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Welcome,” said Summer again. “Do you remember your promise?”</p> - -<p>“I remember,” answered Autumn.</p> - -<p>Then the Prince of Summer stopped and looked out over the kingdom -where the noise was gradually subsiding.</p> - -<p>“Do you hear them?” he asked. “Now do you take them into your gentle keeping.”</p> - -<p>“I shall bring your produce home,” said Autumn. “I shall watch -carefully over them that dream, I shall cover up lovingly them that -are to sleep in the mould. I will warn them thrice of Winter’s coming.”</p> - -<p>“It is well,” said Summer.</p> - -<p>They walked in silence for a time, while night came forth.</p> - -<p>“The honeysuckle’s petals fell when you blew your horn,” said Summer. -“Some of my children will die at the moment when I leave the valley. -But the nightingale and the cuckoo and the stork I shall take with me.”</p> - -<p>Again the two princes walked in silence. It was quite still, only the -owls hooted in the old oak. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You must send my birds after me,” said Summer.</p> - -<p>“I shall not forget,” replied Autumn.</p> - -<p>Then the Prince of Summer raised his hand in farewell and bade Autumn -take possession of the kingdom.</p> - -<p>“I shall go to-night,” he said. “And none will know save you. My -splendour will linger in the valley for a while. And by-the-by, when -I am far away and my reign is forgotten, the memory of me will revive -once more with the sun and the pleasant days.”</p> - -<p>Then he strode away in the night. But from the high tree-top came the -stork on his long wings; and the cuckoo fluttered out of the tall -woods; and the nightingale flew from the thicket with her full-grown young.</p> - -<p>The air was filled with the soft murmurings of wings.</p> - -<p>Autumn’s dominion had indeed begun on the night when Summer went -away, with a yellow leaf here and a brown leaf there, but none had -noticed it. Now it went at a quicker pace; and as time wore on, there -came even more colours and greater splendour. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> - -<p>The lime trees turned bright yellow and the beech bronze, but the -elder-tree even blacker than it had been. The bell-flower rang with -white bells, where it used to ring with blue, and the chestnut tree -blessed all the world with its five yellow fingers. The mountain ash -shed its leaves that all might admire its pretty berries; the wild -rose nodded with a hundred hips; the Virginia creeper broke over the -hedge in blazing flames.</p> - -<p>Then Autumn put his horn to his mouth and blew:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The loveliest things of Autumn’s pack</span> -<span class="i2">In his motley coffers lay;</span> -<span class="i0">Red mountain-berries</span> -<span class="i0">Hips sweet as cherries,</span> -<span class="i0">Sloes blue and black</span> -<span class="i2">He hung upon every spray.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And blackbird and thrush chattered blithely in the copsewood, which -gleamed with berries, and a thousand sparrows kept them company. The -wind ran from one to the other and puffed and panted to add to the -fun. High up in the sky, the sun looked gently down upon it all. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> - -<p>And the Prince of Autumn nodded contentedly and let his motley cloak -flap in the wind.</p> - -<p>“I am the least important of the four seasons and am scarcely lord -in my own land,” he said. “I serve two jealous masters and have to -please them both. But my power extends so far that I can give you a few -glad days.”</p> - -<p>Then he put his horn to his mouth and blew:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To the valley revellers hie!</span> -<span class="i2">They are clad in autumnal fancy dresses,</span> -<span class="i2">They are weary of green and faded tresses,</span> -<span class="i0">Summer has vanished, Winter is nigh——</span> -<span class="i2">Hey fol—de—rol—day for Autumn!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But, the night after this happened, there was tremendous disturbance -up on the mountain peaks, where the eternal snows had lain both in -Spring’s time and Summer’s. It sounded like a storm approaching. -The trees grew frightened, the crows were silent, the wind held its -breath. Prince Autumn bent forward and listened:</p> - -<p>“Is that the worst you can do?” shouted a hoarse voice through the darkness. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> - -<p>Autumn raised his head and looked straight into Winter’s great, cold eyes!</p> - -<p>“Have you forgotten the bargain?” asked Winter.</p> - -<p>“No,” replied Autumn. “I have not forgotten it.”</p> - -<p>“Have a care,” shouted Winter.</p> - -<p>The whole night through, it rumbled and tumbled in the mountains. -It turned so bitterly cold that the starling thought seriously of -packing up and even the red creeper turned pale.</p> - -<p>The distant peaks glittered with new snow.</p> - -<p>And the Prince of Autumn laughed no more. He looked out earnestly -over the land and the wrinkles in his forehead grew deeper.</p> - -<p>“It must be so then!” he said.</p> - -<p>Then he blew his horn.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Autumn’s horn blew a lusty chime;</span> -<span class="i0">For the second time, for the second time!</span> -<span class="i2">Heed well the call, complying.</span> -<span class="i0">Fling seed to earth!</span> -<span class="i0">Fill sack’s full girth!</span> -<span class="i0">Plump back and side!</span> -<span class="i0">Pad belt and hide!</span> -<span class="i2">Hold all wings close for flying!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Then suddenly a terrible bustle arose in the land, for now they all understood.</p> - -<p>“Quick,” said Autumn.</p> - -<p>The poppy and the bell-flower and the pink stood thin and dry as -sticks with their heads full of seed. The dandelion had presented -each one of his seeds with a sweet little parachute.</p> - -<p>“Come, dear Wind, and shake us!” said the poppy.</p> - -<p>“Fly away with my seeds, Wind,” said the dandelion.</p> - -<p>And the wind hastened to do as they asked.</p> - -<p>But the beech cunningly dropped his shaggy fruit on to the hare’s -fur; and the fox got one also on his red coat.</p> - -<p>“Quick, now,” said Autumn. “There’s no time here to waste.”</p> - -<p>The little brown mice filled their parlors from floor to ceiling -with nuts and beech-mast and acorns. The hedgehog had already eaten -himself so fat that he could hardly lower his quills. The hare and -fox and stag put on clean white woollen things, under their coats. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> -The starling and the thrush and the blackbird saw to their downy -clothing and exercised their wings for the long journey.</p> - -<p>The sun hid himself behind the clouds and did not appear for many days.</p> - -<p>It began to rain. The wind quickened its pace: it dashed the rain -over the meadow, whipped the river into foam and whistled through the -trunks in the forest.</p> - -<p>“Now the song is finished!” said the Prince of Autumn.</p> - -<p>Then he put his horn to his mouth and blew.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Autumn’s horn blew a lusty chime,</span> -<span class="i0">For the last time, for the last time!</span> -<span class="i2">Ways close when need is sorest:</span> -<span class="i0">Land-birds, fly clear!</span> -<span class="i0">Plunge, frogs, in mere!</span> -<span class="i0">Bee, lock your lair!</span> -<span class="i0">Take shelter, bear!</span> -<span class="i2">Fall, last leaf in the forest!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And then it was over.</p> - -<p>The birds flew from the land in flocks. The starling and the lapwing, -the thrush and the blackbird all migrated to the south.</p> - -<p>Every morning before the sun rose the wind tore through the forest, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> -and pulled the last leaves off the trees. Every day the wind blew -stronger, snapped great branches, swept the withered leaves together -into heaps, scattered them again and, at last, laid them like a soft, -thick carpet over the whole floor of the forest.</p> - -<p>The hedgehog crawled so far into a hole under a heap of stones -that he remained caught between two of them and could move neither -forwards nor backwards. The sparrow took lodgings in a deserted -swallow’s nest; the frogs went to the bottom of the pond for good, -settled in the mud, with the tips of their noses up in the water and -prepared for whatever might come.</p> - -<p>The Prince of Autumn stood and gazed over the land to see if it was -bare and waste so that Winter’s storms might come buffeting at will -and the snow lie wherever it pleased.</p> - -<p>Then he stopped before the old oak and looked at the ivy that -clambered right up to the top and spread her green leaves as if -Winter had no existence at all. And while he looked at it the -ivy-flowers blossomed! They sat right at the top and rocked in the wind! -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Now I’m coming,” roared Winter from the mountains. “My clouds are -bursting with snow; and my storms are breaking loose. I can restrain -them no longer.”</p> - -<p>The Prince of Autumn bent his head and listened. He could hear the -storm come rushing down over the mountains. A snowflake fell upon his -motley cloak ... and another ... and yet another....</p> - -<p>For the last time he put his horn to his mouth and blew:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou greenest plant and tardiest,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou fairest, rarest, hardiest,</span> -<span class="i2">Bright through unending hours!</span> -<span class="i0">Round Summer, Winter, Autumn, Spring,</span> -<span class="i0">Thy vigorous embraces cling.</span> -<span class="i0">Look! Ivy mine, ’tis <i>I</i> who sing,</span> -<span class="i2">’Tis <i>Autumn</i> wins thy flowers!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Then he went away in the storm.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE SCARF OF THE LADY</h3> -<p class="center space-above1 space-below1">(A French Harvest Legend)</p> - -<p class="center">Translated by Hermine de Nagy</p> - -<p>The Field of the Lady was the name which the peasants gave to a large -tract of land belonging to a rich estate. The lord of the castle had -given these fertile acres to his daughter and had told her to do as -she pleased with the grain which the field produced. Each year at -harvest time she invited the poor peasants of the neighbourhood to -come and glean in her field, and take home with them as much grain as -they needed for winter use.</p> - -<p>Sometimes when the gleaners were busily at work one of them would cry -out joyfully, “Ah, there comes the lady of the castle.” They could -see her coming in the distance, for she always wore a simple dress of -white wool, and over her head was thrown a scarf of white silk -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> -striped with many colours. She loved to come into the field while the -people were at work and speak words of encouragement and cheer to -them.</p> - -<p>One sultry afternoon there were many peasants gleaning in the field. -The lady of the castle had been with them for several hours. Suddenly -she looked up into the threatening sky and said, “My friends, see -what large clouds are gathering. I’m afraid we shall have a storm -before long. Let us stop gleaning for to-day and seek shelter.” The -peasants hastened away and the lady started toward the castle.</p> - -<p>As she drew near the green hedge which bordered the field she saw -coming toward her a beautiful young woman and a fair child whose hand -she held. The little boy’s golden hair fell in waves over his white -tunic.</p> - -<p>“You came to glean,” said the lady of the castle in her sweet voice, -full of welcome. “Come then, we’ll work together for a little while -before the rain falls.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said the young woman. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> - -<p>The three began to pick up the ripe ears and pile them in small -heaps. They had worked but a little while, however, when a gust of -wind swept over the field and great raindrops began to fall. The -thunder rumbled in the distance and streaks of lightning rent the sky.</p> - -<p>“Come, my friends,” said the lady of the castle. “We must seek -shelter. See, there near the wood is a great oak, thick with foliage. -Let us hasten to it and stand there until the storm is over.”</p> - -<p>In a short time they reached the tree and stood together under the -shelter of its great branches.</p> - -<p>With his chubby hand the child took hold of the end of his mother’s -veil and tried to cover his curly head with it.</p> - -<p>“You shall have my scarf,” said the lady of the castle, smiling.</p> - -<p>She slipped it off, wrapped it tenderly around the dear child’s head -and shoulders, and kissed his fair young brow.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the great clouds seemed to roll away. The lady of the castle -stepped out from the shelter of the tree to look at the sky. The -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> -storm had ceased and the birds were beginning to twitter in the -trees. She stood still, looking at the wonderful golden light which -flooded the harvest field. And in the calm silence there came -floating through the air the sweetest music she had ever heard. At -first it seemed far, far away. Then it came nearer and nearer until -the air was filled with harmonious voices chanting tenderly in the -purest angelic tones. She turned toward her companions and lo! they -had disappeared.</p> - -<p>In the distance there was a sound like the light fluttering of wings. -The lady of the castle looked toward the hedge where she had first -seen her mysterious companions. There she saw them again—the lovely -woman and the golden-haired child. They were rising softly, softly -upon fleecy clouds. Around them and mounting with them was a band of -angels chanting a joyful Hosanna!</p> - -<p>The marvelous vision rose slowly into the clear blue of the heavens. -Then on the wet ears of grain in the harvest field the lady of the -castle knelt in silent adoration, for she knew she had seen the -Virgin and the Holy Child. While she worshipped in breathless silence -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> -the heavenly choir halted and in clear, ringing tones the angels sang out:</p> - -<p>“Blessed be thou!”</p> - -<p>“Blessed be the good lady who is ever ready to help the poor and -unfortunate! Blessed be this Field of Alms.”</p> - -<p>The Virgin stretched forth her hands to bless the lady and the -harvest field. At the same time the Holy Child took from his head and -shoulders the silk scarf which the lady of the castle had wrapped -about him, and gave it to two rosy-winged cherubim. Away they -flew—one to the right, the other to the left, each holding an end -of the scarf which stretched as they flew into a marvelous rainbow -arch across the blue vault of the sky. The Virgin and the Holy Child, -followed by the angelic choir, rose slowly, slowly into the sky.</p> - -<p>Softly and gently as wood breezes the heavenly music died away and -the vision disappeared.</p> - -<p>The lady of the castle rose to her feet. A marvelous thing had -happened. The small heaps of grain gathered by the gleaners had -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> -changed into a harvest richer than the field had ever produced -before. Over all in the sky still shone the lovely rainbow arch—the -arch of promise across the Field of Alms.</p> - -<p>(Adapted.)</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE SICKLE MOON</h3> -<p class="center space-above1 space-below1">(Tyrolean Harvest Legend)</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Abbie Farwell Brown</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When of the crescent moon aware</span> -<span class="i2">Hung silver in the sky,</span> -<span class="i0">“See, Saint Nothburga’s sickle there!”</span> -<span class="i2">The Tyrol children cry.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is a quaint and pretty tale</span> -<span class="i2">Six hundred summers old,</span> -<span class="i0">When in the green Tyrolean vale,</span> -<span class="i2">The peasant folk is told.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The town of Eben nestled here</span> -<span class="i2">Is little known to fame,</span> -<span class="i0">Save as the legends make it dear,</span> -<span class="i2">In Saint Nothburga’s name.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For in this quiet country place,</span> -<span class="i2">Where a white church spire reared,</span> -<span class="i0">Nothburga dwelt, a maid of grace</span> -<span class="i2">Who loved the Lord and feared.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She was a serving little lass,</span> -<span class="i2">Bound to a farmer stern,</span> -<span class="i0">Who to and fro all day must pass</span> -<span class="i2">Her coarse black bread to earn.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She spun and knit the fleecy wool,</span> -<span class="i2">She bleached the linen white,</span> -<span class="i0">She drew the water-buckets full,</span> -<span class="i2">And milked the herd at night.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And more than this, when harvest-tide</span> -<span class="i2">Turned golden all the plain,</span> -<span class="i0">She took her sickle, curving wide,</span> -<span class="i2">And reaped the ripened grain.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All people yielded to the charm</span> -<span class="i2">Of this meek-serving maid,</span> -<span class="i0">Save the stern master of the farm,</span> -<span class="i2">Of whom all stood afraid.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For he was hard to humble folk,</span> -<span class="i2">And cruel to the poor,</span> -<span class="i0">A godless man, who evil spoke,</span> -<span class="i2">A miser of his store.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now it was on a Saturday</span> -<span class="i2">Near to the Sabbath time,</span> -<span class="i0">Which in those ages far away</span> -<span class="i2">Began at sunset-chime.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nothburga in the harvest gold</span> -<span class="i2">Was reaping busily,</span> -<span class="i0">Although the day was grown so old</span> -<span class="i2">That dimly could she see.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Close by her cruel master stood,</span> -<span class="i2">And fearsome was his eye;</span> -<span class="i0">He glowered at the maiden good,</span> -<span class="i2">He glowered at the sky.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For many rows lacked reaping, yet</span> -<span class="i2">The dark was falling fast,</span> -<span class="i0">And soon the round sun would be set</span> -<span class="i2">And working time be past.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Cling—clang!” The sunset-chime pealed out,</span> -<span class="i2">And Sunday had begun;</span> -<span class="i0">Nothburga sighed and turned about——</span> -<span class="i2">The reaping was not done.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She laid her curving sickle by,</span> -<span class="i2">And said her evening hymn,</span> -<span class="i0">Wide-gazing on the starless sky,</span> -<span class="i2">Where all was dark and dim.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But hark! A hasty summons came</span> -<span class="i2">To drown her whispered words,</span> -<span class="i0">An angry voice called out her name,</span> -<span class="i2">And scared the nestling birds.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“What ho, Nothburga, lazy one!</span> -<span class="i2">Bend to your task again,</span> -<span class="i0">And do not think the day is done</span> -<span class="i2">Till you have reaped this grain.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“But master,” spoke Nothburga low,</span> -<span class="i2">“It’s the Sabbath time;</span> -<span class="i0">We must keep holy hours now,</span> -<span class="i2">After the sunset-chime.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then in rage the master cried:</span> -<span class="i2">“The day belongs to me!</span> -<span class="i0">I’m lord of all the country side,</span> -<span class="i2">And hold the time in fee!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“No Sunday-thought shall spoil the gain</span> -<span class="i2">That comes a hundred fold</span> -<span class="i0">From reaping of my golden grain,</span> -<span class="i2">Which shall be turned to gold.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Nay, Master, give me gracious leave</span> -<span class="i2">The Lord’s will I must keep;</span> -<span class="i0">Upon the holy Sabbath day</span> -<span class="i2">My sickle shall not reap!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The master raised his heavy hand</span> -<span class="i2">To deal the maid a blow;</span> -<span class="i0">“Thou shalt!” he cried his fierce command,</span> -<span class="i2">And would have struck, when lo!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nothburga whirled her sickle bright</span> -<span class="i2">And tossed it in the sky!</span> -<span class="i0">A flash, a gleam of silver light,</span> -<span class="i2">As it went circling by,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there, beside a little star</span> -<span class="i2">Which had peeped out to see,</span> -<span class="i0">The sickle hung itself afar,</span> -<span class="i2">As swiftly as could be!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The master stared up, wondering;</span> -<span class="i2">Forgetting all his rage,</span> -<span class="i0">To see so strange and quaint a thing——</span> -<span class="i2">The marvel of the age.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she, the maid so brave and good,</span> -<span class="i2">Thenceforth had naught to fear,</span> -<span class="i0">But kept the Sabbath as she would,</span> -<span class="i2">And lived a life of cheer.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So when among the stars you see</span> -<span class="i2">The silver sickle flame,</span> -<span class="i0">Think how the wonder came to be,</span> -<span class="i2">And bless Nothburga’s name.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> - -<h3>WINTER’S HERALD</h3> -<p class="center space-above1 space-below1"><span class="smcap">Jane Andrews</span></p> - -<p>In the days of chivalry, mail-clad knights, armed with shield and -spear, rode through the land to defend the right and to punish the -wrong. Whenever they were to meet each other in battle at the great -tournaments, a herald was first sent to announce the fight and give -fair warning to the opponents, that each might be in all things -prepared to meet the other, and defend or attack wisely and upon his guard.</p> - -<p>So, dear children, you must know that Winter, who is coming clad in -his icy armour, with his spear, the keen sleet, sends before him a -herald, that we may not be all unprepared for his approach.</p> - -<p>It is an autumn night when this herald comes; all the warm September -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> -noons have slipped away, and the red October sunsets are almost gone; -still the afternoon light, shining through the two maples, casts a -crimson and yellow glow on the white wall of my little room, and -on the paths is a delicate carpet of spotted leaves over the brown groundwork.</p> - -<p>It is past midnight when the herald is called; and although his -knight is so fierce, loud, and blustering, he moves noiselessly forth -and carries his warning to all the country round. Through the little -birch wood he comes, and whispers a single word to the golden leaves -that are hanging so slightly on the slender boughs; one little shiver -goes through them, sends them fluttering all to the ground, and the -next morning their brown, shriveled edges tell a sad story.</p> - -<p>Through the birch wood he hurries and on to the bank of the brook -that runs through the long valley; for the muskrat, who has his home -under the shelving bank, must hear the news and make haste to arrange -his hole with winter comforts before the brook is frozen. While he -crosses the meadow the field mouse and the mole hear his warning and -lay their heads together to see what is best to be done. Indeed, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> -the mole, who himself can scarcely see at all, is always of opinion -that two heads are better than one in such cases.</p> - -<p>Beyond the brook is Farmer Thompson’s field of squashes. “I will not -hurt you to-night,” says the herald as he creeps among them; “only a -little nip here and a bite there, that the farmer may see to-morrow -morning that it is time to take you into the barn.” The turnips stand -only on the other side of the fence and cannot fail to know also that -the herald has come.</p> - -<p>But up in Lucy’s flower garden are the heliotropes and fuchsias, -tea roses and geraniums,—delicate, sensitive things, who cannot -bear a cold word, it must have been really quite terrible what he -said there; for before sunrise the beautiful plants hung black and -withered and no care from their mistress, no smiles or kind words, -could make them look up again. The ivy had borne it bravely, and -only showed on his lower leaves, which lay among the grass, a frosty -fringe, where the dew used to hang. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> - -<p>My two maples heard the summons and threw off their gay dresses, -which withered and faded as they fell in heaps on the sidewalk. The -next morning, children going to school scuffed ankle-deep among them -and laughed with delight. And the maples bravely answered the herald: -“Now let him come, your knight of the north wind and the storm and -the sleet; we have dropped the gay leaves which he might have torn -from us. Let him come; we have nothing to lose. His snows will only -keep our roots the warmer, and his winds cannot blow away the tiny -new buds which we cherish, thickly wrapped from the cold, to make new -leaves in the spring.” And the elm and the linden and horse-chestnut -sent also a like brave answer back by the herald.</p> - -<p>Over the whole village green went the whisperer, leaving behind him a -white network upon the grass; and before the sun was up to tangle his -beams in its meshes and pull it all to pieces, old widow Blake has -seen it from her cottage window and said to herself: “Well, winter is -coming; I must set up some warm socks for the boys to-day, and begin -little Tommy’s mittens before the week is out.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> - -<p>And Farmer Thompson stands at his great barn door, while yet the -eastern sky is red, and tells Jake and Ben that the squashes and -pumpkins and turnips must all be housed in cellar and barn before -night; for a frost like this is warning enough to any man to begin to -prepare for winter.</p> - -<p>Mr. Winslow, the gardener, is working all day with matting and straw, -tying up and packing warmly his tender shrubs and trees; and the -climbing rose that is trained against the west end of the piazza must -be made safe from the cold winds that will soon be creeping round there.</p> - -<p>What will your mother do when she sees the white message that the -herald has left in his frosty writing all over the lawn? Will she put -away the muslin frocks and little pink or blue calicoes and ginghams, -the straw hats, and Frank’s white trousers and summer jackets, just -as the trees threw aside their summer leaves?</p> - -<p>Not quite like the trees; for your clothes can’t be made new every -spring out of little brown buds, but must be put away in the great -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> -drawers and trunks of the clothes-press, to wait for you through the winter.</p> - -<p>And see how your mother will bring out the woolen stockings, warm -hoods and caps, mittens, cloaks and plaided dresses; and try on and -make over, that all things may be ready. For it is with such things -as these that she arms her little boys and girls to meet the knight -who is coming with north wind and storm.</p> - -<p>Old Margaret, who lives in the little brown house down at the corner, -although she cannot read a word from a book, reads the herald’s -message as well as your mother can. But here are her five boys, -barefooted and ragged, ever in summer clothes, and her husband lies -back with a fever.</p> - -<p>She can’t send back so brave an answer as your mother does. But your -mother, and Cousin George’s mother, and Uncle James can help her to -make a good, brave answer; for here is Frank’s last winter’s jacket, -quite too small for him, just right for little Jim; and father’s old -overcoat will make warm little ones for two of the other boys. And -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> -here are stout new shoes and woolen socks, and comfortable bedclothes -for the sick man. Margaret sends a brave answer now, although this -morning she was half ready to cry when she saw the message that -Winter had sent.</p> - -<p>Look about you, children, when the herald comes, and see what answers -the people are giving him; I have told you a few. You can tell me -many, if you will, before another year goes by.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> - -<h3>JACK FROST</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The door was shut as doors should be</span> -<span class="i2">Before you went to bed last night;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see,</span> -<span class="i2">And left your windows silver white.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He must have waited till you slept,</span> -<span class="i2">And not a single word he spoke,</span> -<span class="i0">But penciled o’er the panes and crept</span> -<span class="i2">Away before you woke.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now you can not see the trees</span> -<span class="i2">Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane</span> -<span class="i0">But there are fairer things than these</span> -<span class="i2">His fingers traced on every pane.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rocks and castles towering high;</span> -<span class="i2">Hills and dales and streams and fields,</span> -<span class="i0">And knights in armour riding by,</span> -<span class="i2">With nodding plumes and shining shields.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And here are little boats, and there</span> -<span class="i2">Big ships with sails spread to the breeze,</span> -<span class="i0">And yonder, palm trees waving fair</span> -<span class="i2">And islands set in silver seas.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And butterflies with gauzy wings;</span> -<span class="i2">And herds of cows and flocks of sheep;</span> -<span class="i0">And fruit and flowers and all the things</span> -<span class="i2">You see when you are sound asleep.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For creeping softly underneath</span> -<span class="i2">The door when all the lights are out,</span> -<span class="i0">Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe</span> -<span class="i2">And knows the things you think about.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He paints them on the window pane</span> -<span class="i2">In fairy lines with frozen steam;</span> -<span class="i0">And when you wake, you see again</span> -<span class="i2">The lovely things you saw in dream.</span> -<span class="i23"><span class="smcap">Gabriel Setoun.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE PUMPKIN GIANT</h3> -<p class="center space-above1 space-below1"><span class="smcap">Mary Wilkins Freeman</span></p> - -<p>A very long time ago, before our grandmother’s time, or our -great-grandmother’s, or our grandmothers’ with a very long string of -greats prefixed, there were no pumpkins; people had never eaten a -pumpkin-pie, or even stewed pumpkin; and that was the time when the -Pumpkin Giant flourished.</p> - -<p>There have been a great many giants who have flourished since the -world began, and, although a select few of them have been good -giants, the majority of them have been so bad that their crimes -even more than their size have gone to make them notorious. But the -Pumpkin Giant was an uncommonly bad one, and his general appearance -and his behaviour were such as to make one shudder to an extent that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> -you would hardly believe possible. The convulsive shivering caused -by the mere mention of his name, and, in some cases where the people -were unusually sensitive, by the mere thought of him even, more -resembled the blue ague than anything else; indeed was known by the -name of “the Giant’s Shakes.”</p> - -<p>The Pumpkin Giant was very tall; he probably would have overtopped -most of the giants you have ever heard of. I don’t suppose the Giant -who lived on the Bean-stalk whom Jack visited was anything to compare -with him; nor that it would have been a possible thing for the -Pumpkin Giant, had he received an invitation to spend an afternoon -with the Bean-stalk Giant, to accept, on account of his inability to -enter the Bean-stalk Giant’s door, no matter how much he stooped.</p> - -<p>The Pumpkin Giant had a very large, yellow head, which was also -smooth and shiny. His eyes were big and round, and glowed like coals -of fire; and you would almost have thought that his head was lit up -inside with candles. Indeed there was a rumour to that effect amongst -the common people, but that was all nonsense, of course; no one of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> -the more enlightened class credited it for an instant. His mouth, -which stretched half around his head, was furnished with rows of pointed -teeth, and he was never known to hold it any other way than wide open.</p> - -<p>The Pumpkin Giant lived in a castle, as a matter of course; it is not -fashionable for a giant to live in any other kind of a dwelling—why, -nothing would be more tame and uninteresting than a giant in a -two-story white house with green blinds and a picket fence, or even a -brown-stone front, if he could get into either of them, which he could not.</p> - -<p>The Giant’s castle was situated on a mountain, as it ought to have -been, and there was also the usual courtyard before it, and the -customary moat, which was full of bones! All I have got to say about -these bones is, they were not mutton bones. A great many details of -this story must be left to the imagination of the reader; they are -too harrowing to relate. A much tenderer regard for the feelings of -the audience will be shown in this than in most giant stories; we -will even go so far as to state in advance, that the story has a good -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> -end, thereby enabling readers to peruse it comfortably without unpleasant suspense.</p> - -<p>The Pumpkin Giant was fonder of little boys and girls than anything -else in the world; but he was somewhat fonder of little boys, and more -particularly of fat little boys.</p> - -<p>The fear and horror of this Giant extended over the whole country. -Even the King on his throne was so severely afflicted with the -Giant’s Shakes that he had been obliged to have the throne propped, -for fear it should topple over in some unusually violent fit. There -was good reason why the King shook; his only daughter, the Princess -Ariadne Diana, was probably the fattest princess in the whole world -at that date. So fat was she that she had never walked a step in the -dozen years of her life, being totally unable to progress over the -earth by any method except rolling. And a really beautiful sight it -was, too, to see the Princess Ariadne Diana, in her cloth-of-gold -rolling-suit, faced with green velvet and edged with ermine, with -her glittering crown on her head, trundling along the avenues of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> -royal gardens, which had been furnished with strips of rich carpeting -for her express accommodation.</p> - -<p>But gratifying as it would have been to the King, her sire, under -other circumstances, to have had such an unusually interesting -daughter, it now only served to fill his heart with the greatest -anxiety on her account. The Princess was never allowed to leave the -palace without a body-guard of fifty knights, the very flower of -the King’s troops, with lances in rest, but in spite of all this -precaution, the King shook.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile amongst the ordinary people who could not procure an -escort of fifty armed knights for the plump among their children, -the ravages of the Pumpkin Giant were frightful. It was apprehended -at one time that there would be very few fat little girls, and no -fat little boys at all, left in the kingdom. And what made matters worse, -at that time the Giant commenced taking a tonic to increase his appetite.</p> - -<p>Finally the King, in desperation, issued a proclamation that he would -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> -knight any one, be he noble or common, who should cut off the head -of the Pumpkin Giant. This was the King’s usual method of rewarding -any noble deed in his kingdom. It was a cheap method, and besides -everybody liked to be a knight.</p> - -<p>When the King issued his proclamation every man in the kingdom who -was not already a knight, straightway tried to contrive ways and -means to kill the Pumpkin Giant. But there was one obstacle which -seemed insurmountable: they were afraid, and all of them had the -Giant’s Shakes so badly, that they could not possibly have held a -knife steady enough to cut off the Giant’s head, even if they had -dared to go near enough for that purpose.</p> - -<p>There was one man who lived not far from the terrible Giant’s -castle, a poor man, his only worldly wealth consisting in a large -potato-field and a cottage in front of it. But he had a boy of -twelve, an only son, who rivaled the Princess Ariadne Diana in point -of fatness. He was unable to have a body-guard for his son; so -the amount of terror which the inhabitants of that humble cottage -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> -suffered day and night was heart-rending. The poor mother had been -unable to leave her bed for two years, on account of the Giant’s -Shakes; her husband barely got a living from the potato-field; half -the time he and his wife had hardly enough to eat, as it naturally -took the larger part of the potatoes to satisfy the fat little boy, -their son, and their situation was truly pitiable.</p> - -<p>The fat boy’s name was Aeneas, his father’s name was Patroclus, and -his mother’s Daphne. It was all the fashion in those days to have -classical names. And as that was a fashion as easily adopted by the -poor as the rich, everybody had them. They were just like Jim and -Tommy and May in these days. Why, the Princess’s name, Ariadne Diana, -was nothing more nor less than Ann Eliza with us.</p> - -<p>One morning Patroclus and Aeneas were out in the field digging -potatoes, for new potatoes were just in the market. The Early Rose -potato had not been discovered in those days; but there was another -potato, perhaps equally good, which attained to a similar degree of -celebrity. It was called the Young Plantagenet, and reached a very -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> -large size indeed, much larger than the Early Rose does in our time.</p> - -<p>Well, Patroclus and Aeneas had just dug perhaps a bushel of Young -Plantagenet potatoes. It was slow work with them, for Patroclus had -the Giant’s Shakes badly that morning, and of course Aeneas was not -very swift. He rolled about among the potato-hills after the manner -of the Princess Ariadne Diana; but he did not present as imposing an -appearance as she, in his homespun farmer’s frock.</p> - -<p>All at once the earth trembled violently. Patroclus and Aeneas looked -up and saw the Pumpkin Giant coming with his mouth wide open. “Get -behind me, O my darling son!” cried Patroclus.</p> - -<p>Aeneas obeyed, but it was of no use; for you could see his cheeks -each side his father’s waistcoat.</p> - -<p>Patroclus was not ordinarily a brave man, but he was brave in an -emergency; and as that is the only time when there is the slightest -need of bravery, it was just as well. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Pumpkin Giant strode along faster and faster, opening his mouth -wider and wider, until they could fairly hear it crack at the corners.</p> - -<p>Then Patroclus picked up an enormous Young Plantagenet and threw it -plump into the Pumpkin Giant’s mouth. The Giant choked and gasped, -and choked and gasped, and finally tumbled down and died.</p> - -<p>Patroclus and Aeneas, while the Giant was choking, had run to the -house and locked themselves in; then they looked out of the window; -when they saw the Giant tumble down and lie quite still, they knew -he must be dead. Then Daphne was immediately cured of the Giant’s -Shakes, and got out of bed for the first time in two years. Patroclus -sharpened the carving-knife on the kitchen stove, and they all went -out into the potato-field.</p> - -<p>They cautiously approached the prostrate Giant, for fear he might be -shamming, and might suddenly spring up at them and Aeneas. But no, he -did not move at all; he was quite dead. And, all taking turns, they -hacked off his head with the carving-knife. Then Aeneas had it to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> -play with, which was quite appropriate, and a good instance of the -sarcasm of destiny.</p> - -<p>The King was notified of the death of the Pumpkin Giant, and was -greatly rejoiced thereby. His Giant’s Shakes ceased, the props were -removed from the throne, and the Princess Ariadne Diana was allowed -to go out without her body-guard of fifty knights, much to her delight, -for she found them a great hindrance to the enjoyment of her daily outings.</p> - -<p>It was a great cross, not to say an embarrassment, when she was -gleefully rolling in pursuit of a charming red and gold butterfly, to -find herself suddenly stopped short by an armed knight with his lance -in rest.</p> - -<p>But the King, though his gratitude for the noble deed knew no bounds, -omitted to give the promised reward and knight Patroclus.</p> - -<p>I hardly know how it happened—I don’t think it was anything -intentional. Patroclus felt rather hurt about it, and Daphne would -have liked to be a lady, but Aeneas did not care in the least. He had -the Giant’s head to play with and that was reward enough for him. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> -There was not a boy in the neighbourhood but envied him his -possession of such a unique plaything; and when they would stand -looking over the wall of the potato-field with longing eyes, and -he was flying over the ground with the head, his happiness knew no -bounds; and Aeneas played so much with the Giant’s head that finally -late in the fall it got broken and scattered all over the field.</p> - -<p>Next spring all over Patroclus’s potato-field grew running vines, -and in the fall Giant’s heads. There they were all over the field, -hundreds of them! Then there was consternation indeed! The natural -conclusion to be arrived at when the people saw the yellow Giant’s -heads making their appearance above the ground was, that the rest of -the Giants were coming.</p> - -<p>“There was one Pumpkin Giant before,” said they; “now there will be -a whole army of them. If it was dreadful then what will it be in the -future? If one Pumpkin Giant gave us the Shakes so badly, what will a -whole army of them do?”</p> - -<p>But when some time had elapsed and nothing more of the Giants -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> -appeared above the surface of the potato-field, and as moreover the -heads had not yet displayed any sign of opening their mouths, the -people began to feel a little easier, and the general excitement -subsided somewhat, although the King had ordered out Ariadne Diana’s -body-guard again.</p> - -<p>Now Aeneas had been born with a propensity for putting everything -into his mouth and tasting it; there was scarcely anything in his -vicinity which could by any possibility be tasted, which he had not -eaten a bit of. This propensity was so alarming in his babyhood, that -Daphne purchased a book of antidotes; and if it had not been for her -admirable good judgment in doing so, this story would probably never -have been told; for no human baby could possibly have survived the -heterogeneous diet which Aeneas had indulged in. There was scarcely -one of the antidotes which had not been resorted to from time to time.</p> - -<p>Aeneas had become acquainted with the peculiar flavour of almost -everything in his immediate vicinity except the Giant’s heads; and he -naturally enough cast longing eyes at them. Night and day he wondered -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> -what a Giant’s head could taste like, till finally one day when -Patroclus was away he stole out into the potato-field, cut a bit out -of one of the Giant’s heads and ate it. He was almost afraid to, -but he reflected that his mother could give him an antidote; so he -ventured. It tasted very sweet and nice; he liked it so much that he -cut off another piece and ate that, then another and another, until -he had eaten two-thirds of a Giant’s head. Then he thought it was -about time for him to go in and tell his mother and take an antidote, -though he did not feel ill at all yet.</p> - -<p>“Mother,” said he, rolling slowly into the cottage, “I have eaten two-thirds -of a Giant’s head, and I guess you had better give me an antidote.”</p> - -<p>“O, my precious son!” cried Daphne, “how could you?” She looked in -her book of antidotes, but could not find one antidote for a Giant’s head.</p> - -<p>“O Aeneas, my dear, dear son!” groaned Daphne, “there is no antidote -for Giant’s head! What shall we do?” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then she sat down and wept, and Aeneas wept, too, as loud as he -possibly could. And he apparently had excellent reason to; for it did -not seem possible that a boy could eat two-thirds of a Giant’s head -and survive it without an antidote. Patroclus came home, and they -told him, and he sat down and lamented with them. All day they sat -weeping and watching Aeneas, expecting every moment to see him die. -But he did not die; on the contrary he had never felt so well in his life.</p> - -<p>Finally at sunset Aeneas looked up and laughed. “I am not going to -die,” said he; “I never felt so well; you had better stop crying. And -I am going out to get some more of that Giant’s head; I am hungry.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t, don’t!” cried his father and mother; but he went; for he -generally took his own way, very like most only sons. He came back -with a whole Giant’s head in his arms.</p> - -<p>“See here, father and mother,” cried he; “we’ll all have some of -this; it evidently is not poison, and it is good—a great deal better -than potatoes!”</p> - -<p>Patroclus and Daphne hesitated, but they were hungry, too. Since the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> -crop of Giant’s heads had sprung up in their field instead of -potatoes, they had been hungry most of the time; so they tasted.</p> - -<p>“It is good,” said Daphne; “but I think it would be better cooked.” -So she put some in a kettle of water over the fire, and let it boil -awhile; then she dished it up, and they all ate it. It was delicious. -It tasted more like stewed pumpkin than anything else; in fact it was -stewed pumpkin.</p> - -<p>Daphne was inventive; and something of a genius; and next day she -concocted another dish out of the Giant’s heads. She boiled them, and -sifted them, and mixed them with eggs and sugar and milk and spice; -then she lined some plates with puff paste, filled them with the -mixture, and set them in the oven to bake.</p> - -<p>The result was unparalleled; nothing half so exquisite had ever -been tasted. They were all in ecstasies, Aeneas in particular. They -gathered all the Giant’s heads and stored them in the cellar. Daphne -baked pies of them every day, and nothing could surpass the felicity -of the whole family. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> - -<p>One morning the King had been out hunting, and happened to ride by -the cottage of Patroclus with a train of his knights. Daphne was -baking pies as usual, and the kitchen door and window were both open, -for the room was so warm; so the delicious odour of the pies perfumed -the whole air about the cottage.</p> - -<p>“What is it smells so utterly lovely?” exclaimed the King, sniffing -in a rapture.</p> - -<p>He sent his page in to see.</p> - -<p>“The housewife is baking Giant’s head pies,” said the page, returning.</p> - -<p>“What?” thundered the King. “Bring out one to me!”</p> - -<p>So the page brought out a pie to him, and after all his knights had -tasted to be sure it was not poison, and the King had watched them -sharply for a few moments to be sure they were not killed, he tasted too.</p> - -<p>Then he beamed. It was a new sensation, and a new sensation is a -great boon to a king.</p> - -<p>“I never tasted anything so altogether super-fine, so utterly -magnificent in my life,” cried the King; “stewed peacocks’ tongues -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> -from the Baltic are not to be compared with it! Call out the -housewife immediately!”</p> - -<p>So Daphne came out trembling, and Patroclus and Aeneas also.</p> - -<p>“What a charming lad!” exclaimed the King, as his glance fell upon -Aeneas. “Now tell me about these wonderful pies, and I will reward -you as becomes a monarch!”</p> - -<p>Then Patroclus fell on his knees and related the whole history of the -Giant’s head pies from the beginning.</p> - -<p>The King actually blushed. “And I forgot to knight you, oh, noble and -brave man, and to make a lady of your admirable wife!”</p> - -<p>Then the King leaned gracefully down from his saddle, and struck -Patroclus with his jeweled sword and knighted him on the spot.</p> - -<p>The whole family went to live at the royal palace. The roses in the -royal gardens were uprooted, and Giant’s heads (or pumpkins, as they -came to be called) were sown in their stead; all the royal parks also -were turned into pumpkin-fields.</p> - -<p>Patroclus was in constant attendance on the King, and used to stand -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> -all day in his antechamber. Daphne had a position of great -responsibility, for she superintended the baking of the pumpkin pies, -and Aeneas finally married the Princess Ariadne Diana.</p> - -<p>They were wedded in great state by fifty archbishops; and all the -newspapers united in stating that they were the most charming and -well-matched young couple that had ever been united in the kingdom.</p> - -<p>The stone entrance of the Pumpkin Giant’s Castle was securely -fastened, and upon it was engraved an inscription composed by the -first poet in the kingdom, for which the King made him laureate, and -gave him the liberal pension of fifty pumpkin pies per year.</p> - -<p>The following is the inscription in full:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Here dwelt the Pumpkin Giant once.</span> -<span class="i1">He’s dead the nation doth rejoice,</span> -<span class="i1">For, while he was alive, he lived</span> -<span class="i1">By e——g dear, fat, little boys.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The inscription is said to remain to this day; if you were to go -there you would probably see it.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> - -<h3>LADY WHITE AND LADY YELLOW</h3> -<p class="center space-above1">(A Legend of Japan)</p> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Frederick Hadland Davis</span></p> -<p class="center space-below1">The sixteen petal chrysanthemum is one -of the crests of the Imperial family.</p> - -<p>Long ago there grew in a meadow a white and a yellow chrysanthemum -side by side. One day an old gardener chanced to come across them and -he took a great fancy to Lady Yellow. He told her that if she would -come along with him he would make her far more attractive; that he -would give her delicate food and fine clothes to wear.</p> - -<p>Lady Yellow was so charmed with what the old man said, that she -forgot all about the white sister and consented to be lifted up, -carried in the arms of the old gardener and to be placed in his garden.</p> - -<p>When Lady Yellow and her master had departed, Lady White wept -bitterly. Her own simple beauty had been despised; but what -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> -was far worse, she was forced to remain in the meadow alone, without -the companionship of her sister, to whom she had been devoted.</p> - -<p>Day by day Lady Yellow grew more fair in her master’s garden. No one -would have recognized the common flower of the field, but though her -petals were long and curled and her leaves so clean and well cared -for, she sometimes thought of Lady White alone in the field, and -wondered how she managed to make the long and lonely hours pass by.</p> - -<p>One day a village chief came to the old man’s garden in quest -of a perfect chrysanthemum that he might take to his lord for a -crest design. He informed the old man that he did not want a fine -chrysanthemum with long petals. What he wanted was a simple white -chrysanthemum with sixteen petals. The old man told the village chief -to see Lady Yellow, but this flower did not please him, and, thanking -the gardener, he took his departure.</p> - -<p>On his way home he happened to enter a field when he saw Lady White -weeping. She told him the sad story of her loneliness, and when she -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> -had finished her tale of woe the village chief informed her that he -had seen Lady Yellow and did not consider her half so beautiful as -her own white self. At these cheery words Lady White dried her eyes -and she nearly jumped off her little feet when this kind man told her -that he wanted her for his lord’s crest!</p> - -<p>In another happy moment the happy Lady White was being carried in a -palanquin. When she reached the Daimyo’s palace all warmly praised -her perfection of form. Great artists came from far and near, set -about her and sketched the flower with wonderful skill. She soon saw -her pretty white face on all the Daimyo’s most precious belongings. -She saw it on his armour and lacquer boxes, on his quilts and -cushions and robes. She was painted floating down a stream and in all -manner of quaint and beautiful ways. Every one acknowledged that the -white chrysanthemum with her sixteen petals made the most wonderful -crest in all Japan. While Lady White’s happy face lived forever -designed upon the Daimyo’s possessions, Lady Yellow met with a sad -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> -fate. She had bloomed for herself alone and had drunk in the -visitor’s praise as eagerly as she did the dew upon her finely -curled petals. One day, however, she felt a stiffness in her limbs -and a cessation of the exuberance of life. Her once proud head fell -forward, and when the old man found her he pulled her up and tossed -her upon a rubbish heap.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE SHET-UP POSY</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Ann Trumbull Slosson</span></p> -<p class="f90">Used by permission of Chas. Scribner and Sons.</p> - -<p>Once there was a posy. ’Twa’n’t a common kind o’ posy, that blows out -wide open, so’s everybody can see its outsides and its insides too. -But ’twas one of them posies like what grows down the road, back o’ -your pa’s sugar-house, Danny, and don’t come till way towards fall. -They’re sort o’ blue, but real dark, and they look’s if they was buds -’stead o’ posies—only buds opens out, and these doesn’t. They’re all -shet up close and tight, and they never, never, never opens. Never -mind how much sun they get, never mind how much rain or how much -drouth, whether it’s cold or hot, them posies stay shet up tight, -kind o’ buddy, and not finished and humly. But if you pick ’em open, -real careful, with a pin,—I’ve done it,—you find they’re -dreadful pretty inside. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> - -<p>You couldn’t see a posy that was finished off better, soft and nice, -with pretty little stripes painted on ’em, and all the little things -like threads in the middle, sech as the open posies has, standing up, -with little knots on their tops, oh, so pretty,—you never did! Makes -you think real hard, that does; leastways, makes me. What’s they -that way for? If they ain’t never goin’ to open out, what’s the use -o’ havin’ the shet-up part so slicked up and nice, with nobody never -seein’ it? Folks has different names for ’em, dumb foxgloves, blind -genshuns, and all that, but I allers call ’em the shet-up posies.</p> - -<p>“Well, ’twas one o’ that kind o’ posy I was goin’ to tell you about. -’Twas one o’ the shet-uppest and the buddiest of all on ’em, all -blacky-blue and straight up and down, and shet up fast and tight. -Nobody’d ever dream’t was pretty inside. And the funniest thing, it -didn’t know ’twas so itself! It thought ’twas a mistake somehow, -thought it had oughter been a posy, and was begun for one, but wasn’t -finished, and ’twas terr’ble unhappy. It knew there was pretty posies -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> -all ’round there, golden-rod and purple daisies and all; and their -inside was the right side, and they was proud of it, and held it -open, and showed the pretty lining, all soft and nice with the little -fuzzy yeller threads standin’ up, with little balls on their tip -ends. And the shet-up posy felt real bad; not mean and hateful and -begrudgin’, you know, and wantin’ to take away the nice part from -the other posies, but sorry, and kind o’ ’shamed.</p> - -<p>“Oh, deary me!” she says,—I most forgot to say ’twas a girl -posy—“deary me, what a humly, skimpy, awk’ard thing I be! I ain’t -more’n half made; there ain’t no nice, pretty lining inside o’ me, -like them other posies; and on’y my wrong side shows, and that’s -jest plain and common. I can’t chirk up folks like the golden-rod and -daisies does. Nobody won’t want to pick me and carry me home. I ain’t -no good to anybody, and I never shall be.”</p> - -<p>So she kep’ on, thinkin’ these dreadful sorry thinkin’s, and most -wishin’ she’d never been made at all. You know ’twa’n’t jest at fust -she felt this way. Fust she thought she was a bud, like lots o’ buds -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> -all ’round her, and she lotted on openin’ like they did. But when the -days kep’ passin’ by, and all the other buds opened out, and showed -how pretty they was, and she didn’t open, why, then she got terr’ble -discouraged; and I don’t wonder a mite. She’d see the dew a-layin’ -soft and cool on the other posies’ faces, and the sun a-shinin’ warm -on ’em as they held ’em up, and sometimes she’d see a butterfly come -down and light on ’em real soft, and kind o’ put his head down to -’em’s if he was kissin’ ’em, and she thought ’twould be powerful nice -to hold her face up to all them pleasant things. But she couldn’t.</p> - -<p>But one day, afore she’d got very old, ’fore she’d dried up or fell -off, or anything like that, she see somebody comin’ along her way. -’Twas a man, and he was lookin’ at all the posies real hard and -partic’lar, but he wasn’t pickin’ any of ’em. Seems’s if he was -lookin’ for somethin’ diff’rent from what he see, and the poor little -shet-up posy begun to wonder what he was arter. Bimeby she braced up, -and she asked him about it in her shet-up, whisp’rin’ voice. And says -he, the man says: “I’m a-pickin’ posies. That’s what I work at -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> -most o’ the time. ’Tain’t for myself,” he says, “but the one I work -for. I’m on’y his help. I run errands and do chores for him, and it’s -a partic’lar kind o’ posy he’s sent me for to-day.” “What for does he -want ’em?” says the shet-up posy. “Why, to set out in his gardin,” -the man says. “He’s got the beautif’lest gardin you never see, and I -pick posies for’t.” “Deary me,” thinks she to herself, “I jest wish -he’d pick me. But I ain’t the kind, I know.” And then she says, so -soft he can’t hardly hear her, “What sort o’ posies is it you’re -arter this time?” “Well,” says the man, “it’s a dreadful sing’lar -order I’ve got to-day. I got to find a posy that’s handsomer inside -than ’tis outside, one that folks ain’t took no notice of here, -’cause ’twas kind o’ humly and queer to look at, not knowin’ that -inside ’twas as handsome as any posy on the airth. Seen any o’ that -kind?” says the man.</p> - -<p>Well, the shet-up posy was dreadful worked up. “Deary dear!” she -says to herself, “now if they’d on’y finished me off inside! I’m the -right kind outside, humly and queer enough, but there’s nothin’ worth -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> -lookin’ at inside,—I’m certain sure o’ that.” But she didn’t say -this nor anything else out loud, and bimeby, when the man had waited, -and didn’t get any answer, he begun to look at the shet-up posy more -partic’lar, to see why she was so mum. And all of a suddent he says, -the man did, “Looks to me’s if you was somethin’ that kind yourself, ain’t ye?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, no, no!” whispers the shet-up posy. “I wish I was, I wish I -was. I’m all right outside, humly and awk’ard, queer’s I can be, but -I ain’t pretty inside,—oh! I most know I ain’t.” “I ain’t so sure -o’ that myself,” says the man, “but I can tell in a jiffy.” “Will -you have to pick me to pieces?” says the shet-up posy. “No, ma’am,” -says the man; “I’ve got a way o’ tellin’, the one I work for showed -me.” The shet-up posy never knowed what he done to her. I don’t know -myself, but ’twas somethin’ soft and pleasant, that didn’t hurt a -mite, and then the man he says, “Well, well, well!” That’s all he -said, but he took her up real gentle, and begun to carry her away. -“Where be ye takin’ me?” says the shet-up posy. “Where ye belong, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>” -says the man; “to the gardin o’ the one I work for,” he says. “I -didn’t know I was nice enough inside,” says the shet-up posy, very -soft and still. “They most gen’ally don’t,” says the man.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE GAY LITTLE KING</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Mary Stewart</span></p> - -<p>So gay it looked, that young maple tree standing in the centre of the -pasture with rows and rows of dark cedars and hemlocks growing all -around it! They towered above the little maple and yet seemed to bow -before it, as with their size and strength they shielded it from the -wind which tossed their branches. It was covered, this small tree, -with leaves of flaming crimson and gold which danced and fluttered -merrily in the sunshine.</p> - -<p>“Is it after all only a maple tree?” thought the little lad Jamie, -who lay upon the ground in the old pasture watching. Ever since the -frost in a single night had painted the leaves with splendour, that -young tree had been a real comrade to the cripple boy. Jamie had -hurt his back the year before, and this summer, while the other boys -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> -climbed mountains and swam streams, Jamie could only hobble upon -his crutches as far as the pasture. There he lay for hours upon the -grass watching the clouds drift across the sky and wishing he were -a cloud or a bird, so he could fly also. The days seemed very long, -and to make them pass more quickly Jamie made up stories about the -mountains in the distance, the stream which rippled at the foot -of the pasture and the dark evergreen trees which surrounded that -flaming maple. “They are dull old courtiers, and he is a gay little -king in his coronation robes,” thought the boy and then—he sat up -in astonishment and rubbed his eyes. Was he dreaming? No, it was all -real, the young maple was gone and in its place was a little king! A -crown of gleaming jewels was upon his head, he was dressed in robes -of flaming crimson and over all was flung a mantle of woven gold. And -the dark evergreens, where were they? There was no sign of them, and -around the king stood a throng of grave and solemn courtiers dressed -in green velvet, all gazing frowningly at the King. He was stamping -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> -his foot, Jamie heard the stamp, and then he heard the King cry in a -clear, boyish voice, “I won’t be a King! I won’t sit upon a throne -all day long and make laws and punish people and be bowed down to; I -want to be a little boy and have fun, I do!”</p> - -<p>At that moment a gust of wind blew the King’s mantle from his -shoulders; it looked like a handful of golden leaves flying through -the air, and the King himself—or was it only a branch of scarlet -leaves?—no, it was the little King who came scampering over the -grass toward Jamie. “Come,” he said gleefully, “we are going to run -away, you and I. We’re going to have the merriest day of our whole lives!”</p> - -<p>“But my crutches,” sighed Jamie. “See, I can’t run.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t you?” whispered the little King gently. “Close your eyes and -keep tight hold of my hand.”</p> - -<p>As Jamie shut his eyes he felt something very soft, like a bit of -thistle down against his cheek, and then as light as that same -thistle he felt himself rising from the ground, drifting, floating, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> -flying, up, up——“Now open your eyes,” said the little King’s -laughing voice. Jamie obeyed, and for a moment he was puzzled. Was he -a King, too, he wondered, for his clothes were of crimson velvet like -the lad’s beside him, or were they but leaves fluttering through the air?</p> - -<p>“Never mind what you are,” cried the King, reading his look of -bewilderment. “We can all be lots more things than we dream of until -the Spirit of Autumn takes hold of us. The folks below think us only -leaves, but we know better, and now, where shall we go? This is my -last gorgeous day, for to-night Autumn flies away from the cold breath -of Winter. Let’s fly to the spot you wish to see more than anything -else in the world.”</p> - -<p>“Flying like this is such fun that I don’t care where we go,” -answered Jamie, then suddenly both leaves—but let us say -boys—stopped drifting and gazed in wonder at the sight before them. -They were in the sunshine, but a shower was falling in the distance -and opposite them, across the sky, stretched a perfect rainbow. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Did you ever hear of the pot of gold at the rainbow’s foot?” asked -Jamie excitedly. “Let’s go there now and find it!”</p> - -<p>“All right,” answered the little King, “let’s go there, and if -we don’t find the pot of gold we may find something still more wonderful.”</p> - -<p>Through the air they flew toward the rainbow, whose colours were paling -a little in the center, but growing more and more glorious at the end.</p> - -<p>“Shut your eyes again and hold my hand tight,” said the King. “I must -fill your eyes with mist or you would be blinded by the sight you are -going to see. No boy has ever seen it before except in dreams.”</p> - -<p>For a moment Jamie shivered, they seemed to be passing through -a thick fog, and then—“Open your eyes,” cried the King. Jamie -looked——</p> - -<p>Picture to yourself a great golden hall filled with streams of -colours, each as radiant as the sunshine, and yet, seen through -spectacles of mist, so soft they could not dazzle your eyes. Each -great sheath of colour was moving, shifting and weaving itself in -and out among the others like the figure of a dancer, so quickly -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> -that it was almost impossible to catch it. And yet that was just what -hundreds of gay little fairies with butterfly wings and scarfs of -thistle down were trying to do. Each one carried a golden pot, and -as they caught one colour after another their captives rushed away, -leaving a bit of colour in the fairy’s hand. Hastily dropping that -bit into his golden pot with a merry, tinkling laugh, the fairy was -off again after another dancing, gleaming bit of rainbow.</p> - -<p>“So there are the pots of gold,” cried Jamie. “But what do the -fairies do with the rainbow’s colours?”</p> - -<p>Just then a very merry sprite came tearing past, his pot brimming -over with glowing crimson. “My colour is the favourite just now,” he -cried. “I’ve got one billion trees to paint and all that’s left over -goes to the cardinal flowers.” “Mine is just as popular,” sang out -another fairy, his pot overflowing with gold. “There are millions of -goldenrods for me to colour as well as the trees!” “And autumn loves -mine too,” chanted a delicate little sprite whose pot was filled with -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> -violet. “Think of all the asters without which your goldenrods would -be very tiresome.” “And mine,” rippled another, his pot filled with -blue like the sea. “Autumn always wants mine! The gentians are rare -because one blossom takes more colour than a thousand of spring’s -forget-me-nots.”</p> - -<p>Just then a flaming orange stream rushed past, and Jamie and the -little king made one grab at it.</p> - -<p>“Thieves! Robbers!” cried the colours in a whirl of fury. In a second -they were all dancing madly before the eyes of the terrified boys. -Then there was a crash as of thunder and the lads found themselves -lying upon the ground, wet, thick, gray mist all about them. The -glorious dance at the rainbow’s foot had vanished.</p> - -<p>“I suppose we deserved that,” sighed Jamie, “but I did want a -pocketful of colour stuff to show the boys.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, let’s fly out of this mist and have more fun!” cried the -little King. Up they floated into the sunshine and they found that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> -the winds had been busy while they were gone. Almost every tree stood -dark and bare—the air was full of brilliant, whispering leaves. -“Winter is surely coming soon,” said the little King. “Look at the -spot below us where I grew.” Beneath them, in the centre of the -pasture, stood the maple tree, only one crimson leaf still fluttering -from its branches.</p> - -<p>“When that leaf is gone, I’ll have to say good-night for many -months,” said the King. “Come, before that happens we’ll go to the -Cavern of the winds and see how Autumn plays upon them.”</p> - -<p>This time they flew upward, and now it was so cold that Jamie drew -his scarlet robes close about him. Through the first thin clouds they -flew; then right into a great cloud, looking like an enormous castle, -they floated. It was one huge hall, so vast that Jamie couldn’t see -the other end, but he could hear, far, far away beyond great arches, -the rumbling of a mighty organ. Crashing and thunderous it sounded -until the vast hall shook and echoed with the sound. “That is Autumn -playing upon the organ of the winds,” said the little King, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> -although he shouted in Jamie’s ear it sounded like a whisper above -the music. “When she touches the keys the winds fill the pipes and -go roaring off to carry away the leaves below,” he explained. “But -listen—she knows the leaves have almost all fallen and now she is -singing her good-night to them.”</p> - -<p>The crashing had ceased, and through the great hall echoed a slumber -song, as sweet as a thrush’s note at twilight, as tender as a wood-dove’s call.</p> - -<p>Jamie closed his eyes and thought of lapping waves, and sunsets, the -new moon rising and the first stars blossoming in the sky.</p> - -<p>Did he sleep there in the Winds’ Cavern with the Spirit of Autumn -singing good-night to her flaming world? He never knew. When he -opened his eyes he found himself standing upon the doorstep of his -own home! He was drawing something soft and white about him to keep -out the cold and he heard a whispered “Good-night, Comrade, until -next Autumn,” and a flutter as of leaves flying through the air, then -the house door opened and as he stood with the light of the blazing -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> -fire falling upon him he heard his mother’s voice:</p> - -<p>“Why, Jamie, you’re covered with snow! And, my boy, where are your crutches?”</p> - -<p>Into the house he ran, right into his mother’s outstretched arms, -although his crutches were still lying out on the pasture, buried -beneath the snow! And Jamie was well! Was it a gift from the Spirit -of Autumn to a little lad? Just another of her precious gifts given -with her flaming leaves, her wind’s music, her glorious flowers. Has -she not a gift for you, too, among all these? Open your eyes and your -ears and find your heart’s desire!</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">October’s touch paints all the maple leaves</span> -<span class="i0">With brilliant crimson, and his golden kiss</span> -<span class="i0">Lies on the clustered hazels; scarlet glows</span> -<span class="i0">The sturdy oak, and copper-hued the beech.</span> -<span class="i0">A russet gloss lingers in the elm;</span> -<span class="i0">The pensile birch is yellowing apace,</span> -<span class="i0">And many-tinted show the woodlands all,</span> -<span class="i0">With autumn’s dying slendours.</span> -<span class="i29">—<i>Selected.</i></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE STORY OF THE OPAL</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Ann de Morgan</span></p> -<p class="f90">The opal is the stone associated with the month of October.</p> - -<p>The sun was shining brightly one day, and a little Sunbeam slid down -his long golden ladder, and crept unperceived under the leaves of a -large tree. All the Sunbeams are in reality tiny Sun-fairies, who -run down to earth on golden ladders, which look to mortals like rays -of the Sun. When they see a cloud coming they climb their ladders -in an instant and draw them up after them into the Sun. The Sun is -ruled by a mighty fairy, who every morning tells his tiny servants, -the beams, where they are to shine, and every evening counts them on -their return, to see he has the right number. It is not known, but -the Sun and Moon are enemies, and that is why they never shine at -the same time. The fairy of the Moon is a woman, and all her beams -are tiny women, who come down on the loveliest little ladders, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> -like threads of silver. No one knows why the Sun and Moon quarrelled. Once -they were very good friends. But now they are bitter enemies, and the -Sunbeams and Moonbeams may not play together.</p> - -<p>One day a little Sunbeam crept into a tree, and sat down near a -Bullfinch’s nest, and watched the Bullfinch and its mate.</p> - -<p>“Why should I not have a mate also?” he said to himself. He was the -prettiest little fellow you could imagine. His hair was bright gold, -and he sat still, leaning one arm on his tiny ladder, and listening -to the chatter of the birds.</p> - -<p>“But I shall try to keep awake to-night to see her,” said a young Bullfinch.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense!” said its mother. “You shall do no such thing.”</p> - -<p>“But the Nightingale says she is so very lovely,” said a Wren, -looking out from her little nest in a hedge close by.</p> - -<p>“The Nightingale!” said the old Bullfinch, scornfully. “Every one -knows that the Nightingale was moonstruck long ago. Who can trust a word he says?” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Nevertheless, I should like to see her,” said the Wren.</p> - -<p>“I have seen her, and the Nightingale is right,” said a Wood-dove in -its soft, cooing tones. “I was awake last night and saw her; she is -more lovely than anything that ever came here before.”</p> - -<p>“Of whom were you talking?” asked the Sunbeam; and he shot across to -the Bullfinch’s nest. All the birds were silent when they saw him. -At last the Bullfinch said, “Only of a Moonbeam, your Highness. No -one your Highness would care about,” for the Bullfinch remembered the -quarrel between the Sun and Moon, and did not like to say much.</p> - -<p>“What is she like?” asked the Sunbeam. “I have never seen a Moonbeam.”</p> - -<p>“I have seen her, and she is as beautiful as an angel,” said the -Wood-dove. “But you should ask the Nightingale. He knows more about -her than any one, for he always comes out to sing to her.”</p> - -<p>“Where is the Nightingale?” asked the Sunbeam. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He is resting now,” said the Wren, “and will not say a word. But -later, as the Sun begins to set, he will come out and tell you.”</p> - -<p>“At the time when all decent birds are going to roost,” grumbled the Bullfinch.</p> - -<p>“I will wait till the Nightingale comes,” said the Sunbeam.</p> - -<p>So all day long he shone about the tree. As the sun moved slowly -down, his ladder dropped with it lower and lower, for it was fastened -to the Sun at one end; and if he had allowed the Sun to disappear -before he had run back and drawn it up, the ladder would have broken -against the earth, and the poor little Sunbeam could never have gone -home again, but would have wandered about, becoming paler and paler -every minute, till at last he died.</p> - -<p>But some time before the sun had gone, when it was still shining in -a glorious bed of red and gold, the Nightingale arose, began to sing -loud and clear.</p> - -<p>“Oh, is it you at last?” said the Sunbeam. “How I have waited for -you. Tell me quickly about this Moonbeam of whom they are all talking.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What shall I tell you of her?” sang the Nightingale. “She is more -beautiful than the rose. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever -seen. Her hair is silver, and the light of her eyes is far more -lovely than yours. But why should you want to know about her? You -belong to the Sun, and hate Moonbeams.”</p> - -<p>“I do not hate them,” said the Sunbeam. “What are they like? Show -this one to me some night, dear Nightingale.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot show her to you now,” answered the Nightingale; “for she -will not come out till long after the sun has set; but wait a few -days, and when the Moon is full she will come a little before the Sun -sets, and if you hide beneath a leaf you may look at her. But you -must promise not to shine on her, or you might hurt her, or break her ladder.”</p> - -<p>“I will promise,” said the Sunbeam, and every day he came back to the -same tree at sunset, to talk to the Nightingale about the Moonbeam, -till the Bullfinch was quite angry.</p> - -<p>“To-night I shall see her at last,” he said to himself, for the Moon -was almost full, and would rise before the Sun had set. He hid in the -oak-leaves, trembling with expectation. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> - -<p>“She is coming!” said the Nightingale, and the Sunbeam peeped -out from the branches, and watched. In a minute or two a tiny -silver ladder like a thread was placed among the leaves, near the -Nightingale’s nest, and down it came the Moonbeam, and our little -Sunbeam looked out and saw her.</p> - -<p>She did not at all look as he had expected she would, but he agreed -with the Nightingale that she was the loveliest thing he had ever -seen. She was all silver, and pale greeny blue. Her hair and eyes -shone like stars. All the Sunbeams looked bright, and hot, but she -looked as cool as the sea; yet she glittered like a diamond. The -Sunbeam gazed at her in surprise, unable to say a word, till all at -once he saw that his little ladder was bending. The sun was sinking, -and he had only just time to scramble back, and draw his ladder after him.</p> - -<p>The Moonbeam only saw his light vanishing, and did not see him.</p> - -<p>“To whom were you talking, dear Nightingale?” she asked, putting her -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> -beautiful white arms round his neck, and leaning her head on his bosom.</p> - -<p>“To a Sunbeam,” answered the Nightingale. “Ah, how beautiful he is! I -was telling him about you. He longs to see you.”</p> - -<p>“I have never seen a Sunbeam,” said the Moonbeam, wistfully. “I -should like to see one so much;” and all night long she sat close -beside the Nightingale, with her head leaning on his breast whilst he -sang to her of the Sunbeam; and his song was so loud and clear that -it awoke the Bullfinch, who flew into a rage, and declared that if it -went on any longer she would speak to the Owl about it, and have it -stopped. For the Owl was chief judge, and always ate the little birds -when they did not behave themselves.</p> - -<p>But the Nightingale never ceased, and the Moonbeam listened till the -tears rose in her eyes and her lips quivered.</p> - -<p>“To-night, then, I shall see him,” whispered the Moonbeam, as she -kissed the Nightingale, and bid him adieu. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And to-night he will see you,” said the Nightingale, as he settled -to rest among the leaves.</p> - -<p>All that next day was cloudy, and the Sun did not shine, but towards -evening the clouds passed away and the Sun came forth, and no sooner -had it appeared than the Nightingale saw our Sunbeam’s ladder placed -close to his nest, and in an instant the Sunbeam was beside him.</p> - -<p>“Dear, dear Nightingale,” he said, “you are right. She is more lovely -than the dawn. I have thought of her all night and all day. Tell me, -will she come again to-night? I will wait to see her.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, she will come, and you may speak to her, but you must not touch -her,” said the Nightingale; and then they were silent and waited.</p> - -<p>Underneath the oak-tree lay a large white Stone, a common white -Stone, neither beautiful nor useful, for it lay there where it had -fallen, and bitterly lamented that it had no object in life. It never -spoke to the birds, who scarcely knew it could speak; but sometimes, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> -if the Nightingale lighted upon it, and touched it with his soft -breast, or the Moonbeam shone upon it, it felt as if it would break -with grief that it should be so stupid and useless. It watched the -Sunbeams and Moonbeams come down on their ladders, and wondered that -none of the birds but the Nightingale thought the Moonbeam beautiful. -That evening, as the Sunbeam sat waiting, the Stone watched it -eagerly, and when the Moonbeam placed her tiny ladder among the -leaves, and slid down it, it listened to all that was said.</p> - -<p>At first the Moonbeam did not speak, for she did not see the Sunbeam, -but she came close to the Nightingale, and kissed it as usual.</p> - -<p>“Have you seen him again?” she asked. And, on hearing this, the -Sunbeam shot out from among the green leaves, and stood before her.</p> - -<p>For a few minutes she was silent; then she began to shiver and sob, -and drew nearer to the Nightingale, and if the Sunbeam tried to -approach her, she climbed up her ladder, and went farther still. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Do not be frightened, dearest Moonbeam,” cried he piteously; “I -would not, indeed, do you any harm, you are so very lovely, and I -love you so much.”</p> - -<p>The Moonbeam turned away, sobbing.</p> - -<p>“I do not want you to leave me,” she said, “for if you touch me I -shall die. It would have been much better for you not to have seen -me; and now I cannot go back and be happy in the Moon, for I shall be -always thinking of you.”</p> - -<p>“I do not care if I die or not, now that I have seen you; and see,” -said the Sunbeam sadly, “my end is sure, for the Sun is fast sinking, -and I shall not return to it, I shall stay with you.”</p> - -<p>“Go, while you have time,” cried the Moonbeam. But even as she spoke -the Sun sank beneath the horizon, and the tiny gold ladder of the -Sunbeam broke with a snap, and the two sides fell to earth and melted away.</p> - -<p>“See,” said the Sunbeam, “I cannot return now, neither do I wish it. -I will remain here with you till I die.”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” cried the Moonbeam. “Oh, I shall have killed you! What -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> -shall I do? And look, there are clouds drifting near the Moon; if one -of them floats across my ladder it will break it. But I cannot go -and leave you here;” and she leaned across the leaves to where the -Sunbeam sat, and looked into his eyes. But the Nightingale saw that -a tiny white cloud was sailing close by the Moon—a little cloud no -bigger than a spot of white wool, but quite big and strong enough to -break the Moonbeam’s little ladder.</p> - -<p>“Go, go at once. See! your ladder will break,” he sang to her; but -she did not notice him, but sat watching the Sunbeam sadly. For a -moment the moon’s light was obscured, as the tiny cloud sailed past -it; then the little silver ladder fell to earth, broken in two and -shrunk away, but the Moonbeam did not heed it.</p> - -<p>“It does not matter,” she said, “for I should never have gone back -and left you here, now that I have seen you.”</p> - -<p>So all night long they sat together in the oak tree, and the -Nightingale sang to them, and the other birds grumbled that he kept -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> -them awake. But the two were very happy, though the Sunbeam knew he -was growing paler every moment, for he could not live twenty-four -hours away from the Sun.</p> - -<p>When the dawn began to appear, the Moonbeam shivered and trembled.</p> - -<p>“The strong Sun,” she said, “would kill me, but I fear something even -worse than the Sun. See how heavy the clouds are! Surely it is going -to rain, and rain would kill us both at once. Oh, where can we look -for shelter before it comes?”</p> - -<p>The Sunbeam looked up, and saw that the rain was coming.</p> - -<p>“Come,” he said, “let us go;” and they wandered out into the forest, -and sought for a sheltering place, but every moment they grew weaker.</p> - -<p>When they were gone, the Stone looked up at the Nightingale, and said:</p> - -<p>“Oh, why did they go? I like to hear them talk, and they are so -pretty; they can find no shelter out there, and they will die at -once. See! in my side there is a large hole where it is quite dark, -and into which no rain can come. Fly after them and tell them to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> -come, that I will shelter them.” So the Nightingale spread his wings, -and flew, singing:</p> - -<p>“Come back, come back! The Stone will shelter you. Come back at once -before the rain falls.”</p> - -<p>They had wandered out into an open field, but when she heard the -Nightingale, the Moonbeam turned her head and said:</p> - -<p>“Surely that is the Nightingale singing. See! he is calling us.”</p> - -<p>“Follow me,” sang the bird. “Back at once to shelter in the Stone.” -But the Moonbeam tottered and fell.</p> - -<p>“I am grown so weak and pale,” she said, “I can no longer move.”</p> - -<p>Then the Nightingale flew to earth. “Climb upon my back,” he said, -“and I will take you both back to the Stone.” So they both sat upon -his back, and he flew with them to the large Stone beneath the tree.</p> - -<p>“Go in,” he said, stopping in front of the hole; and both passed into -the hole, and nestled in the darkness within the Stone.</p> - -<p>Then the rain began. All day long it rained, and the Nightingale sat -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> -in his nest half asleep. But when the Moon rose, after the sun had -set, the clouds cleared away, and the air was again full of tiny -silver ladders, down which the Moonbeams came, but the Nightingale -looked in vain for his own particular Moonbeam. He knew she could -not shine on him again, therefore he mourned, and sang a sorrowful -song. Then he flew down to the Stone, and sang a song at the mouth -of the hole, but there came no answer. So he looked down the hole, -into the Stone, but there was no trace of the Sunbeam or the -Moonbeam—only one shining spot of light, where they had rested. Then -the Nightingale knew that they had faded away and died.</p> - -<p>“They could not live away from the Sun and Moon,” he said. “Still, I -wish I had never told the Sunbeam of her beauty; then she would be here now.”</p> - -<p>When the Bullfinch heard of it she was quite pleased. “Now, at -least,” she said, “we shall hear the end of the Moonbeam. I am -heartily glad, for I was sick of her.”</p> - -<p>“How much they must have loved each other!” said the Dove. “I am glad -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> -at least that they died together,” and she cooed sadly.</p> - -<p>But through the Stone wherein the beams had sheltered, shot up -bright, beautiful rays of light, silver and gold. They coloured it -all over with every colour of the rainbow, and when the Sun or Moon -warmed it with their light it became quite brilliant. So that the -Stone, from being the ugliest thing in the whole forest, became the -most beautiful.</p> - -<p>Men found it and called it the Opal. But the Nightingale knew that it -was the Sunbeam and Moonbeam who, in dying, had suffused the Stone -with their mingled colours and light; and the Nightingale will never -forget them, for every night he sings their story, and that is why -his song is so sad.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In sapphire, emerald, amethyst,</span> -<span class="i0">Sparkles the sea by the morning kissed;</span> -<span class="i0">And the mist from the far-off valleys lie</span> -<span class="i0">Gleaming like pearl in the tender sky;</span> -<span class="i0">Soft shapes of cloud that melt and drift,</span> -<span class="i0">With tints of opal that glow and shift.</span> -<span class="i24"><span class="smcap">Celia Thaxter.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> - -<h3>LOST: THE SUMMER</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where has the summer gone?</span> -<span class="i0">She was here just a minute ago,</span> -<span class="i2">With roses and daisies</span> -<span class="i2">To whisper her praises——</span> -<span class="i0">And every one loved her so!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Has any one seen her about?</span> -<span class="i0">She must have gone off in the night!</span> -<span class="i2">And she took the best flowers</span> -<span class="i2">And the happiest hours,</span> -<span class="i0">And asked no one’s leave for her flight.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Have you noticed her steps in the grass?</span> -<span class="i0">The garden looks red where she went;</span> -<span class="i2">By the side of the hedge</span> -<span class="i2">There’s a golden-rod edge,</span> -<span class="i0">And the rose vines are withered and bent.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do you think she will ever come back?</span> -<span class="i0">I shall watch every day at the gate</span> -<span class="i2">For the robins and clover,</span> -<span class="i2">Saying over and over:</span> -<span class="i0">“I know she will come, if I wait.”</span> -<span class="i13"><span class="smcap">Raymond Macdonald Alden.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> - -<h3>BY THE WAYSIDE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On the hill the golden-rod,</span> -<span class="i2">And the aster in the wood,</span> -<span class="i0">And the yellow sunflower by the brook,</span> -<span class="i2">In autumn beauty stood.</span> -<span class="i13"><span class="smcap">William Cullen Bryant.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE KING’S CANDLES</h3> - -<p>Once upon a time there lived a good king who was driven from his -throne by an enemy. A few faithful knights and servants fled with his -majesty to a forest where they found shelter in deep, rocky caves.</p> - -<p>The flight from the king’s palace had been so hasty that the knights -and servants could bring only a few things for their king’s comfort. -It was in the early autumn and his majesty feared it would be -necessary to live in secret during the coming winter. You may be sure -the king was well pleased to find his knights had brought a few warm -blankets and robes. After he had praised his followers for their -thoughtfulness in providing for the winter, a young page stepped -forward and said, “Your Majesty, I did not bring clothing, but I -brought as many candles as I could carry.”</p> - -<p>“Candles,” laughed the king, “now pray tell me, lad, why you brought -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> -candles. You served me well in the palace by seeing that my throne -was properly lighted, but in our forest exile we shall have little -use for candles, I fear.”</p> - -<p>“Sire,” replied the page, “I thought that your majesty would wish to -hold council in the evenings, and that I could light your throne seat -with candles as was the custom in the palace.”</p> - -<p>“I fear my throne seat, as you call it, will be nothing more than a -rocky ledge for some time,” said the king. “See, there is one in the -inner cave which will serve. So long as the candles last, my faithful -lad, your king will not be obliged to hold council in darkness.”</p> - -<p>“So long as the candles last,” repeated the king’s page to himself. -“I hope our king’s soldiers, who are seeking help, will be able to -drive the usurper away before winter comes.”</p> - -<p>The king and his followers soon adapted themselves to life in exile. -During the daytime they hunted game which lurked in the thickets; in -the evening they gathered together in the deep cave and held council. -Then it was that the king sat on his rude throne lit by two candles. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> - -<p>The king’s page with sinking heart saw the candles grow fewer and -fewer until there were but two left. Then at last came an evening -when the lights were missing from the king’s throne. In a dark corner -of the cave the little page sat grieving because he could not see his -king’s face.</p> - -<p>It happened one morning that the lad wandered to the edge of the -woodland where the highway separated the richly coloured forest -trees from a stretch of meadowland where the white mist was slowly -lifting. On the roadside was an old woman carrying a large sack on -her bent shoulders. When she reached the place where the king’s page -was standing she set her sack on the ground and looked wistfully at -the meadow, then at the deep ditch which separated the field from the highway.</p> - -<p>“Shall I help you across the ditch?” asked the king’s page.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, my lad,” said the old woman. “Perhaps I’d better not go -across. It would be hard for me to reach the highway again. But I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> -should like a few of those tall mullein spikes. I’ve none in my bag -so fine as those growing in the meadow.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll gather some for you” said the king’s page.</p> - -<p>He leaped across the ditch, and soon filled his hands with the tall -mullein spikes.</p> - -<p>The old woman was delighted. She tucked them into her bag and said, -“They make such fine winter candles. Thank you, my lad.”</p> - -<p>“Winter candles!” exclaimed the king’s page.</p> - -<p>“Aye,” nodded the old woman. “Dip them in tallow, a thin coat will -do—and you have candles fit for a king. Thank you kindly.”</p> - -<p>“We are in sore need of candles where I live, but——” -the page stopped.</p> - -<p>“Use mullein spikes. They make candles fit for a king, I say,” and -the old woman picked up her sack.</p> - -<p>“But we have no tallow,” said the lad.</p> - -<p>“I can spare you a lump of tallow, my boy. Come along with me to my -cottage,” said the old woman.</p> - -<p>So the king’s page carried the sack of mullein spikes to the old -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> -woman’s cottage and she gave him a large lump of tallow. On his way -back he leaped across the ditch again and filled his arms with tall -mullein spikes. He hurried back to the cave, melted the tallow, and -dipped the weeds into the liquid fat.</p> - -<p>When the king and his party returned that evening to the cave, two -tall candles were standing on the rude throne.</p> - -<p>“See,” cried the king’s page, “we have a fresh supply of candles.”</p> - -<p>“Tell us where you got them,” said the surprised king.</p> - -<p>“They are made from spikes of the mullein weed,” explained the king’s -page. Then he told his majesty about the afternoon’s adventure.</p> - -<p>“The mullein weed shall have a new name,” declared the king. “It -shall be called the King’s Candles.”</p> - -<p>A few days later the king called his followers around his throne seat -and said, “A message has come to me declaring that the usurper has -been driven out of my country. Tomorrow we’ll hold a feast in the -palace, and the table shall be lighted by ‘King’s Candles. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>’”</p> - -<p>Every year since that far-off time when the reigning king holds an -autumn festival, the banquet table is lighted with mullein spikes -dipped in tallow, and they are called the “King’s Candles.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The mullein’s yellow candles burn</span> -<span class="i0">Over the heads of dry, sweet fern.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> - -<h3>A LEGEND OF THE GOLDEN-ROD</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Frances Weld Danielson</span></p> -<p class="f90">(From “Story-Telling Time.” Used by permission of Pilgrims Press.)</p> - -<p>Once there were a great many weeds in a field. They were very -ugly-looking weeds, and they didn’t seem to be the least bit of use -in the world. The cows would not eat them, the children would not -pick them, and even the bugs did not seem to like them very well.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see what we’re here for,” said one of the weeds. -“We are not any good.”</p> - -<p>“No good at all,” growled a dozen little weeds, “only to catch dust.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if that’s what we’re here for,” cried a very tall weed, “then -I say let’s catch dust! I suppose somebody’s got to do it. We can’t -all bear blueberries or blossom into hollyhocks.”</p> - -<p>“But it isn’t pleasant work at all,” whined a tiny bit of a weed. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> - -<p>“No whining allowed in this field,” laughed a funny little fat weed, -with a hump in his stalk. “We’re all going to catch dust, so let’s -see which one can catch the most. What do you say to a race?”</p> - -<p>The little fat weed spoke in such a jolly voice that the weeds all -cheered up at once, and before long they were as busy as bees, and -as happy as Johnnie-jump-ups. They worked so well stretching their -stalks and spreading out their fingers that before the summer was -half over they were able to take every bit of dust that flew up from -the road. In the field beyond, where the clover grew and the cows -fed, there was not any to be seen.</p> - -<p>One morning, toward the end of summer, the weeds were surprised to -see a number of people standing by the fence looking at them. Pretty -soon some children came and gazed at them. Then the weeds noticed -that people driving by called each other’s attention to them. They -were much surprised at this, but they were still more surprised when -one day some children climbed the fence and commenced to pick them. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> - -<p>“See,” cried a little girl, “how all the dust has been changed to gold!”</p> - -<p>The weeds looked at each other, and, sure enough, they were all -covered with gold-dust.</p> - -<p>“A fairy has done it,” they whispered one to the other.</p> - -<p>But the fairies were there on the spot, and declared they had had -nothing to do with it.</p> - -<p>“You did it yourselves,” cried the queen of the fairies. “You were -happy in your work, and a cheerful spirit always changes dust into -gold. Didn’t you know it?”</p> - -<p>“You’re not weeds any more, you’re flowers,” sang the fairies.</p> - -<p>“Golden-rod, golden-rod!” shouted the children.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> - -<h3>GOLDEN-ROD</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pretty, slender golden-rod,</span> -<span class="i2">Like a flame of light,</span> -<span class="i0">On the quiet, lonely way,</span> -<span class="i2">Glows your torch so bright.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With your glorious golden staff,</span> -<span class="i2">Gay in autumn hours,</span> -<span class="i0">Now you lead to wintry rest,</span> -<span class="i2">All the lovely flowers.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cheering with a joyous face,</span> -<span class="i2">All that pass you by,</span> -<span class="i0">How you light the meadows round,</span> -<span class="i2">With your head so high.</span> -<span class="i13"><span class="smcap">Anna E. Skinner.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE LITTLE WEED</h3> - -<p>“You’re nothing but a weed,” said the children in the fall. The -little weed hung its head in sorrow. No one seemed to think that a -weed was of any use.</p> - -<p>By and by the snow came and the cold winds blew. There were many -hungry little birds hunting for food.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Twit! Twit Twee!</span> -<span class="i0">See! See! See!”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="no-indent">sang a merry little bird one cold morning.</p> - -<p>“Here is a lovely weed full of nice brown seeds!” And he made a good -meal from those seeds that morning. Then three other little birds -came to share the feast.</p> - -<p>The little weed was so happy that she held her head up straight and tall again. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That is what I was meant for,” she said. “I am good for something. -Four hungry little birds had as many seeds as they wished for their -breakfast. Next year I’ll grow as many seeds as I can to feed many -more hungry little birds. Good-bye, little birds,” she called out to -the little feathery friends. “Come again next year. I’ll have another -dinner for you.”</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, little weed,” sang the birds. “We have had a fine meal and -we thank you very much. You’ll see us again next year. It is so hard -to get enough to eat during the cold weather, and we are grateful to -you for holding your seeds for us.”</p> - -<p>“It’s nice to find that one is of some use after all, isn’t it?” -called out the little weed to her neighbour in the next field.</p> - -<p class="author">—<i>Selected.</i></p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> - -<h3>GOLDEN-ROD AND PURPLE ASTER</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Flora J. Cooke</span></p> - -<p>Once upon a time a strange, wise woman lived in a little hut which -stood on the top of a hill. She looked so grim and severe that people -were afraid to go near her. It was said that she could change people -into anything she wished.</p> - -<p>One day two little girls who lived at the foot of the hill were -playing together. One was named Golden Hair and the other Blue Eyes. -After a while they sat down on the grassy hillside to rest.</p> - -<p>“I should like to do something to make everybody happy,” said Blue Eyes.</p> - -<p>“So should I,” said Golden Hair. “Let us ask the woman who lives on the hilltop -about it. She is very wise and can surely tell us just what to do.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Blue Eyes, and away they started at once.</p> - -<p>It was a long, long walk to the top of the hill. Many times the -little girls stopped to rest under the oak trees which shaded their pathway.</p> - -<p>They could find no flowers, but they made a basket of oak leaves and -filled it with berries for the wise woman.</p> - -<p>The birds were singing in the treetops, and the squirrels were -frisking about in the branches. Golden Hair and Blue Eyes stopped to -laugh and talk with them.</p> - -<p>The little girls walked on and on up the rocky pathway. After a while -the sun went down, the birds stopped their singing, and the squirrels -went to bed. The evening wind was resting. How still and cool it was -on the hillside!</p> - -<p>Presently the moon and stars came out. Then the frogs and toads -awoke, beetles and fireflies flew about and the night music began.</p> - -<p>Golden Hair and Blue Eyes were growing very tired, but on and on they -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> -climbed until at last they reached the hut on the hilltop where the -strange, wise woman lived.</p> - -<p>“See, she is standing at the gate,” said Golden Hair. “How stern she looks.”</p> - -<p>The little girls clung close together, and when they reached the gate -Golden Hair said bravely, “We know you are very wise and we came to -see if you would tell us how to make everyone happy.”</p> - -<p>“Please let us stay together,” said timid Blue Eyes.</p> - -<p>As she opened the gate for the children, the wise woman was seen to -smile in the moonlight. Golden Hair and Blue Eyes were never seen -again at the foot of the hill. The next morning beautiful, waving -golden-rod and purple asters grew all over the hillside.</p> - -<p>Some people say that these two bright flowers, which grow side by -side, could tell the secret if they would, of what became of the two -little girls on that moonlight night.</p> - -<p>(Adapted.)</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> - -<h3>WILD ASTERS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i15"><span class="smcap">Child</span></span> -<span class="i0">White and purple asters, watching by the brook,</span> -<span class="i0">Tell me where you got your starry eyes.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i14"><span class="smcap">Asters</span></span> -<span class="i0">Dearie, in their play the baby angels took</span> -<span class="i0">Blossoms from the garden of the skies.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tossed them downward to us over heaven’s wall,</span> -<span class="i0">And we caught and kept them,—that is all.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> - -<h3>SILVER-ROD</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Edith M. Thomas</span></p> - -<p>Who knows not Silver-rod, the lovely and reverend Golden-rod -beautified and sainted, looking moonlit and misty even in the -sunshine! In this soft canescent afterbloom beginning at the apex of -the flower cluster and gradually spreading downward, the eye finds -an agreeable relief from the recent dazzle of yellow splendour. I -almost forget that the herb is not literally in bloom, that is, no -longer ministered to by sunshine and dew. Is there not, perhaps, some -kind of bee that loves to work among these plumy blossoms gathering a -concentrated form of nectar, pulverulent <i>flower</i> of honey? I gently -stir this tufted staff, and away floats a little cloud of pappus, in -which I recognize the golden-and silver-rods of another year, if the -feathery seeds shall find hospitable lodgment in the earth. Two other -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> -plants in the wild herbarium deserve to be ranked with my -subject for grace and dignity with which they wear their seedy -fortunes: iron-weed, with its pretty daisy-shaped involucres; -and life-everlasting, which, having provided its own cerements -and spices, now rests embalmed in all the pastures; it is still -pleasantly odorous, and, as often as I meet it, puts me in mind of -an old-fashioned verse which speaks of the “actions of the just” and -their lasting bloom and sweetness. On a chill November day I fancy -that the air is a little softer in places where Silver-rod holds -sway and that there spirits of peace and patience have their special haunts.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>A white butterfly met a thistle-ball in the airy highway. Expressions -of mutual surprise were exchanged.</p> - -<p>“Hello! I thought you were one of us,” said the butterfly.</p> - -<p>“And I,” returned the thistle-ball, “took you for a white pea-blossom.”</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> - -<h3>PIMPERNEL, THE SHEPHERD’S CLOCK</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ll go and look at the Pimpernel</span> -<span class="i0">And see if she thinks the clouds look well.</span> -<span class="i2">For if the sun shine</span> -<span class="i2">And ’tis like to be fine,</span> -<span class="i2">I’ll go to the fair.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">So Pimpernel, what bode the clouds in the sky;</span> -<span class="i2">If fair weather, no maiden so merry as I.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now the Pimpernel flower had folded up</span> -<span class="i0">Her little gold star in her coral cup.</span> -<span class="i2">And unto the maid</span> -<span class="i2">A warning she said:</span> -<span class="i2">“Though the sun seems down</span> -<span class="i2">There’s a gathering frown</span> -<span class="i0">O’er the checkered blue of the clouded sky</span> -<span class="i0">So, tarry at home! for a storm is nigh!”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> - -<h3>A LEGEND OF THE GENTIAN</h3> -<p class="center space-above1">(Hungarian)</p> - -<p>Many years ago the poor people of Hungary suffered from a terrible -sickness which had afflicted them for a long time. Thousands of them -had been stricken and many had died, for nothing could be found to -cure them or relieve their sufferings in any way.</p> - -<p>At last the people appealed to their good King Ladislaw for help. -Messenger after messenger was sent to beg him to bring about some -relief. But the good king could do nothing, and he was obliged to -send the messengers away without help and without hope.</p> - -<p>One day the king sat thinking about the needs of his people. “What -can I do for my people?” he asked himself over and over again. “I -have sent them away without help and without hope. God alone knows -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> -what will help them. He will give me a sign. My arrow shall bring me -the message.” And the good king prayed that divine guidance would -direct an arrow shot into the air.</p> - -<p>His Majesty shot the arrow and watched where it fell. And, behold, it -pierced the root of a gentian!</p> - -<p>The king then sent his servants to gather many roots of this plant -and make from them a medicine for his suffering people. And the -cure was so wonderful that from that day his people have called the -gentian “The Herb of King Ladislaw.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Thou blossom bright with autumn dew,</span> -<span class="i0">And coloured with the heaven’s own blue,</span> -<span class="i0">That openest when, the quiet light,</span> -<span class="i0">Succeeds the keen and frosty night.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> - -<h3>QUEEN ASTER</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Louisa M. Alcott</span></p> - -<p>For many seasons the Golden-rods had reigned over the meadow, and no -one thought of choosing a king from any other family, for they were -strong and handsome, and loved to rule.</p> - -<p>But one autumn something happened which caused a great excitement -among the flowers. It was proposed to have a queen, and such a thing -had never been heard of before. It began among the Asters; for some -of them grew outside the wall beside the road, and saw and heard -what went on in the great world. These sturdy plants told the news -to their relations inside; and so the Asters were unusually wise and -energetic flowers, from the little white stars in the grass to the -tall sprays tossing their purple plumes above the mossy wall. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Things are moving in the great world, and it is time we made a -change in our little one,” said one of the roadside Asters, after a -long talk with a wandering wind. “Matters are not going well in the -meadow; for the Golden-rods rule, and they care only for money and -power, as their name shows. Now, we are descended from the stars, -and are both wise and good, and our tribe is even larger than the -Golden-rod tribe; so it is but fair that we should take our turn at -governing. It will soon be time to choose, and I propose our stately -cousin, Violet Aster, for queen this year. Whoever agrees with me, -say Aye.”</p> - -<p>Quite a shout went up from all the Asters; and the late Clovers and -Buttercups joined in it, for they were honest, sensible flowers, -and liked fair play. To their great delight the Pitcher-plant, or -Forefathers’ Cup, said “Aye” most decidedly, and that impressed all -the other plants; for this fine family came over in the <i>Mayflower</i>, -and was much honoured everywhere.</p> - -<p>But the proud Cardinals by the brook blushed with shame at the -idea of a queen; the Fringed Gentians shut their blue eyes that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> -they might not see the bold Asters; and Clematis fainted away in the -grass, she was so shocked. The Golden-rods laughed scornfully, and -were much amused at the suggestion to put them off the throne where -they had ruled so long.</p> - -<p>“Let those discontented Asters try it,” they said. “No one will vote -for that foolish Violet, and things will go on as they always have -done; so, dear friends, don’t be troubled, but help us elect our -handsome cousin who was born in the palace this year.”</p> - -<p>In the middle of the meadow stood a beautiful maple, and at its foot -lay a large rock overgrown by a wild grapevine. All kinds of flowers -sprang up here; and this autumn a tall spray of Golden-rod and a -lovely violet Aster grew almost side by side, with only a screen of -ferns between them. This was called the palace; and seeing their -cousin there made the Asters feel that their turn had come, and many -of the other flowers agreed with them that a change of rulers ought -to be made for the good of the kingdom. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> - -<p>So when the day came to choose, there was great excitement as the -wind went about collecting the votes. The Golden-rods, Cardinals, -Gentians, Clematis, and Bitter-sweet voted for the Prince, as they -called the handsome fellow by the rock. All the Asters, Buttercups, -Clovers, and Pitcher-plants voted for Violet; and to the surprise -of the meadow the Maple dropped a leaf, and the Rock gave a bit of -lichen for her also. They seldom took part in the affairs of the -flower people,—the tree living so high above them, busy with its own -music, and the rock being so old that it seemed lost in meditation -most of the time; but they liked the idea of a queen (for one was a -poet, the other a philosopher), and both believed in gentle Violet.</p> - -<p>Their votes won the day, and with loud rejoicing by her friends she -was proclaimed queen of the meadow and welcomed to her throne.</p> - -<p>“We will never go to Court or notice her in any way,” cried the -haughty Cardinals, red with anger.</p> - -<p>“Nor we! Dreadful, unfeminine creature! Let us turn our backs and be -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> -grateful that the brook flows between us,” added the Gentians, -shaking their fringes as if the mere idea soiled them.</p> - -<p>Clematis hid her face among the vine leaves, feeling that the palace -was no longer a fit home for a delicate, high-born flower like -herself. All the Golden-rods raged at this dreadful disappointment, -and said many untrue and disrespectful things of Violet. The Prince -tossed his yellow head behind the screen, and laughed as if he did -not mind, saying carelessly:</p> - -<p>“Let her try; she never can do it, and will soon be glad to give up -and let me take my proper place.”</p> - -<p>So the meadow was divided: one half turned its back on the new queen; -the other half loved, admired, and believed in her; and all waited to -see how the experiment would succeed. The wise Asters helped her with -advice; the Pitcher-plant refreshed her with the history of the brave -Puritans who loved liberty and justice, and suffered to win them; the -honest Clovers sweetened life with their sincere friendship, and the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> -cheerful Buttercups brightened her days with kindly words and deeds. -But her best help came from the rock and the tree,—for when she -needed strength she leaned her delicate head against the rough -breast of the rock, and courage seemed to come to her from the wise -old stone that had borne the storms of a hundred years; when her -heart was heavy with care or wounded by unkindness, she looked up -to the beautiful tree, always full of soft music, always pointing -heavenward, and was comforted by these glimpses of a world above her.</p> - -<p>The first thing she did was to banish the evil snakes from her -kingdom; for they lured the innocent birds to death, and filled many -a happy nest with grief.</p> - -<p>The next task was to stop the red and black ants from constantly -fighting; for they were always at war, to the great dismay of more -peaceful insects. She bade each tribe keep in its own country, and -if any dispute came up, to bring it to her, and she would decide it -fairly. This was a hard task; for the ants loved to fight, and would -go on struggling after their bodies were separated from their heads, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> -so fierce were they. But she made them friends at last, and every one -was glad.</p> - -<p>Another reform was to purify the news that came to the meadow. The -wind was telegraph-messenger; but the birds were reporters, and some -of them very bad ones. The larks brought tidings from the clouds, -and were always welcome; the thrushes from the wood, and all loved -to hear their pretty romances; the robins had domestic news, and -the lively wrens bits of gossip and witty jokes to relate. But the -magpies made such mischief with their ill-natured tattle and evil -tales, and the crows criticised and condemned every one who did not -believe and do just as they did; so the magpies were forbidden to go -gossiping about the meadow, and the gloomy black crows were ordered -off the fence where they liked to sit cawing dismally for hours at a time.</p> - -<p>Every one felt safe and comfortable when this was done, except the -Cardinals, who liked to hear their splendid dresses and fine feasts -talked about, and the Golden-rods, who were so used to living in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> -public that they missed the excitement, as well as the scandal of the -magpies and the political and religious arguments and quarrels of the crows.</p> - -<p>A hospital for sick and homeless creatures was opened under the big -burdock leaves; and there several belated butterflies were tucked up -in their silken hammocks to sleep till spring, a sad lady-bug, who -had lost all her children, found comfort in her loneliness, and many -crippled ants sat talking over their battles, like old soldiers, in -the sunshine.</p> - -<p>It took a long time to do all this, and it was a hard task, for -the rich and powerful flowers gave no help. But the Asters worked -bravely, so did the Clovers and Buttercups and the Pitcher-plant kept -open house with the old-fashioned hospitality one so seldom sees -nowadays. Everything seemed to prosper, and the meadow grew more -beautiful day by day. Safe from their enemies, the snakes, birds came -to build in all the trees and bushes, singing their gratitude so -sweetly that there was always music in the air. Sunshine and shower -seemed to love to freshen the thirsty flowers and keep the grass -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> -green, till every plant grew strong and fair, and passers-by stopped -to look, saying with a smile:—</p> - -<p>“What a pretty little spot this is!”</p> - -<p>The wind carried tidings of these things to other colonies, and -brought back messages of praise and good-will from other rulers, glad -to know the experiment worked so well.</p> - -<p>This made a deep impression on the Golden-rods and their friends, for -they could not deny that Violet had succeeded better than any one -dared to hope; and the proud flowers began to see that they would -have to give in, own they were wrong, and become loyal subjects of -this wise and gentle queen.</p> - -<p>“We shall have to go to Court if ambassadors keep coming with such -gifts and honours to Her Majesty; for they wonder not to see us -there, and will tell that we are sulking at home instead of shining -as <i>we</i> only can,” said the Cardinals, longing to display their red -velvet robes at the feasts which Violet was obliged to give in the -palace when kings came to visit her. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Our time will soon be over, and I’m afraid we must humble ourselves -or lose all the gaiety of the season. It is hard to see the good old -ways changed; but if they must be, we can only gracefully submit,” -answered the Gentians, smoothing their delicate blue fringes, eager -to be again the belles of the ball.</p> - -<p>Clematis astonished every one by suddenly beginning to climb the -maple-tree and shake her silvery tassels like a canopy over the -Queen’s head.</p> - -<p>“I cannot live so near her and not begin to grow. Since I must cling -to something, I choose the noblest I can find, and look up, not down, -forevermore,” she said; for like many weak and timid creatures, she -was easily guided, and it was well for her that Violet’s example had -been a brave one.</p> - -<p>Prince Golden-rod had found it impossible to turn his back entirely -upon Her Majesty, for he was a gentleman with a really noble heart -under his yellow cloak; so he was among the first to see, admire, and -love the modest, faithful flower who grew so near him. He could not -help hearing her words of comfort or reproof to those who came to her -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> -for advice. He saw the daily acts of charity which no one else -discovered; he knew how many trials came to her, and how bravely she -bore them.</p> - -<p>“She had done more than ever we did to make the kingdom beautiful and -safe and happy, and I’ll be the first to own it, to thank her and -offer my allegiance,” he said to himself, and waited for a chance.</p> - -<p>One night when the September moon was shining over the meadow, and -the air was balmy with the last breath of summer, the Prince ventured -to serenade the Queen on his wind-harp. He knew she was awake; for he -had peeped through the ferns and seen her looking at the stars with -her violet eyes full of dew, as if something troubled her. So he sang -his sweetest song, and Her Majesty leaned nearer to hear it; for she -much longed to be friends with the gallant Prince, because both were -born in the palace and grew up together very happily till coronation -time came.</p> - -<p>As he ended she sighed, wondering how long it would be before he told -her what she knew was in his heart. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> - -<p>Golden-rod heard the soft sigh, and forgetting his pride, he pushed -away the screen, and whispered, while his face shone and his voice -showed how much he felt.</p> - -<p>“What troubles you, sweet neighbour? Forget and forgive my -unkindness, and let me help you if I can,—I dare not say as Prince -Consort, though I love you dearly; but as a friend and faithful -subject, for I confess that you are fitter to rule than I.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke the leaves that hid Violet’s golden heart opened wide -and let him see how glad she was, as she bent her stately head and -answered softly.</p> - -<p>“There is room upon the throne for two: share it with me as King, and -let us rule together.”</p> - -<p>What the Prince answered only the moon knows; but when morning came -all the meadow was surprised and rejoiced to see the gold and purple -flowers standing side by side, while the maple showered its rosy -leaves over them, and the old rock waved his crown of vine-leaves as he said: -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> - -<p>“This is as it should be; love and strength going hand in hand, and -justice making the earth glad.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">The lands are lit</span> -<span class="i0">With all the autumn blaze of golden-rod,</span> -<span class="i0">And everywhere the purple asters nod</span> -<span class="i0">And bend and wave and flit.</span> -<span class="i10"><span class="smcap">Helen Hunt Jackson.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE WEEDS</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Carl Ewald</span></p> - -<p>It was a beautiful, fruitful season. Rain and sunshine came by turns -just as it was best for the corn. As soon as ever the farmer began to -think that things were rather dry, you might depend upon it that next -day it would rain. And when he thought that he had had rain enough, -the clouds broke at once, just as if they were under his command.</p> - -<p>So the farmer was in good humour, and he did not grumble as he -usually does. He looked pleased and cheerful as he walked over the -field with his two boys.</p> - -<p>“It will be a splendid harvest this year,” he said. “I shall have my -barns full, and shall make a pretty penny. And then Jack and Will -shall have some new trousers, and I’ll let them come with me to market.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> - -<p>“If you don’t cut me soon, farmer, I shall sprawl on the ground,” -said the rye, and she bowed her heavy ear quite down towards the earth.</p> - -<p>The farmer could not hear her talking, but he could see what was in -her mind, and so he went home to fetch his scythe.</p> - -<p>“It is a good thing to be in the service of man,” said the rye. “I -can be quite sure that all my grain will be cared for. Most of it -will go to the mill: not that that proceeding is so very enjoyable, -but it will be made into beautiful new bread, and one must put up -with something for the sake of honour. The rest the farmer will save, -and sow next year in his field.”</p> - -<p>At the side of the field, along the hedge, and the bank above the -ditch, stood the weeds. There were dense clumps of them—thistle and -burdock, poppy and harebell, and dandelion; and all their heads were -full of seed. It had been a fruitful year for them also, for the sun -shines and the rain falls just as much on the poor weed as on the rich corn. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> - -<p>“No one comes and mows <i>us</i> down and carries us to a barn,” said the -dandelion, and he shook his head, but very cautiously, so that the -seeds should not fall before their time. “But what will become of all -our children?”</p> - -<p>“It gives me a headache to think of it,” said the poppy. “Here I -stand with hundreds and hundreds of seeds in my head, and I haven’t -the faintest idea where I shall drop them.”</p> - -<p>“Let us ask the rye to advise us,” answered the burdock.</p> - -<p>And so they asked the rye what they should do.</p> - -<p>“When one is well off, one had better not meddle with other people’s -business,” answered the rye. “I will give you only one piece of -advice: take care you don’t throw your stupid seed on to the field, -for then you will have to settle accounts with <i>me</i>.”</p> - -<p>This advice did not help the wild flowers at all, and the whole day -they stood pondering what they should do. When the sun set they shut -up their petals and went to sleep; but the whole night through they -were dreaming about their seed, and next morning they had found a plan. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> - -<p>The poppy was the first to wake. She cautiously opened some little -trap-doors at the top of her head, so that the sun could shine right -in on the seeds. Then she called to the morning breeze, who was -running and playing along the hedge.</p> - -<p>“Little breeze,” she said, in friendly tones, “will you do me a service?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed,” said the breeze. “I shall be glad to have something to do.”</p> - -<p>“It is the merest trifle,” said the poppy. “All I want of you is to -give a good shake to my stalk, so that my seeds may fly out of the trap-doors.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said the breeze.</p> - -<p>And the seeds flew out in all directions. The stalk snapped, it is -true; but the poppy did not mind about that.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye,” said the breeze, and would have run on farther.</p> - -<p>“Wait a moment,” said the poppy. “Promise me first that you will not -tell the others, else they might get hold of the same idea, and then -there would be less room for my seeds.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I am mute as the grave,” answered the breeze, running off.</p> - -<p>“Ho! ho!” said the harebell. “Haven’t you time to do me a little, -tiny service?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the breeze, “what is it?”</p> - -<p>“I merely wanted to ask you to give me a little shake,” said the -harebell. “I have opened some trap-doors in my head, and I should -like to have my seed sent a good way off into the world. But you -mustn’t tell the others, or else they might think of doing the same thing.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! of course not,” said the breeze, laughing. “I shall be as dumb -as a stone wall.” And then she gave the flower a good shake and went -on her way.</p> - -<p>“Little breeze, little breeze,” called the dandelion, “whither away -so fast?”</p> - -<p>“Is there something the matter with you too?” asked the breeze.</p> - -<p>“Nothing at all,” answered the dandelion. “Only I should like a few -words with you.”</p> - -<p>“Be quick then,” said the breeze, “for I am thinking seriously of -lying down and having a rest.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You cannot help seeing,” said the dandelion, “what trouble we are in -this year to get all our seeds put out in the world; for, of course, -one wishes to do what one can for one’s children. What is to happen -to the harebell and the poppy and the poor burdock I really don’t -know. But the thistle and I have put our heads together, and we have -hit on a plan. Only we must have you to help us.”</p> - -<p>“That makes <i>four</i> of them,” thought the breeze, and she could not -help laughing out loud.</p> - -<p>“What are you laughing at?” asked the dandelion. “I saw you -whispering just now to the harebell and poppy; but if you breathe a -word to them, I won’t tell you anything.”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course not,” said the breeze. “I am mute as a fish. What is -it you want?”</p> - -<p>“We have set up a pretty little umbrella on the top of our seeds. It -is the sweetest little plaything imaginable. If you will only blow a -little on me, the seeds will fly into the air and fall down wherever -you please. Will you do so?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” said the breeze. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> - -<p>And hush! it went over the thistle and the dandelion and carried all -the seeds with it into the cornfield.</p> - -<p>The burdock still stood and pondered. Its head was rather thick, and -that was why it waited so long. But in the evening a hare leapt over -the hedge.</p> - -<p>“Hide me! Save me!” he cried. “The farmer’s dog Trusty is after me.”</p> - -<p>“You can creep behind the hedge,” said the burdock, “then I will hide you.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t look able to do that,” said the hare, “but in time of need -one must help oneself as one can.” And so he got in safely behind the hedge.</p> - -<p>“Now you may repay me by taking some of my seeds with you over into -the cornfield,” said the burdock; and it broke off some of its many -heads and fixed them on the hare.</p> - -<p>A little later Trusty came trotting up to the hedge.</p> - -<p>“Here’s the dog,” whispered the burdock, and with one spring the hare -leapt over the hedge and into the rye. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Haven’t you seen the hare, burdock?” asked Trusty. “I see I have -grown too old to go hunting. I am quite blind in one eye, and I have -completely lost my scent.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have seen him,” answered the burdock; “and if you will do me -a service, I will show you where he is.”</p> - -<p>Trusty agreed, and the burdock fastened some heads on his back, and -said to him:</p> - -<p>“If you will only rub yourself against the stile there in the -cornfield, my seeds will fall off. But you must not look for the hare -there, for a little while ago I saw him run into the wood.” Trusty -dropped the burrs on the field and trotted to the wood.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ve sent my seeds out in the world all right,” said the -burdock, laughing as if much pleased with itself; “but it is -impossible to say what will become of the thistle and the dandelion -and the harebell and the poppy.”</p> - -<p>Spring had come round once more, and the rye stood high already.</p> - -<p>“We are pretty well off on the whole,” said the rye plants. “Here we -stand in a great company, and not one of us but belongs to our own -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> -noble family. And we don’t get in each other’s way in the very least. -It is a grand thing to be in the service of man.”</p> - -<p>But one fine day a crowd of little poppies, and thistles and -dandelions, and burdocks and harebells poked up their heads above -ground, all amongst the flourishing rye.</p> - -<p>“What does <i>this</i> mean?” asked the rye. “Where in the world are <i>you</i> -sprung from?”</p> - -<p>And the poppy looked at the harebell and asked: “Where did <i>you</i> come from?”</p> - -<p>And the thistle looked at the burdock and asked: “Where in the world -have <i>you</i> come from?”</p> - -<p>They were all equally astonished, and it was an hour before they had -explained. But the rye was the angriest, and when she had heard all -about Trusty and the hare and the breeze she grew quite wild.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be in such a passion, you green rye,” said the breeze, who had -been lying behind the hedge and hearing everything. “I ask no one’s -permission, but do as I like; and now I’m going to make you bow to me.”</p> - -<p>Then she passed over the young rye, and the thin blades swayed -backwards and forwards. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You see,” she said, “the farmer attends to his rye, because that is -<i>his</i> business. But the rain and the sun and I—we attend to all of -you without respect of persons. To our eyes the poor weed is just as -pretty as the rich corn.”</p> - -<p>(Abridged.)</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> - -<h3>AUTUMN FIRES</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the other gardens</span> -<span class="i2">And all up the vale</span> -<span class="i0">From the autumn bonfires</span> -<span class="i2">See the smoke trail!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pleasant summer over</span> -<span class="i2">And all the summer flowers;</span> -<span class="i0">The red fire blazes,</span> -<span class="i2">The gray smoke towers.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sing a song of seasons!</span> -<span class="i2">Something bright in all!</span> -<span class="i0">Flowers in the summer!</span> -<span class="i2">Fires in the fall!</span> -<span class="i5"><span class="smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> - -<h2>AMONG THE TREES</h2> - -<h3>TO AN AUTUMN LEAF</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wee shallop of shimmering gold!</span> -<span class="i2">Slip down from your ways in the branches</span> -<span class="i0">Some fairy will loosen your hold——</span> -<span class="i2">Wee shallop of shimmering gold.</span> -<span class="i0">Spill dew on your bows and unfold</span> -<span class="i2">Silk sails for the fairest of launches!</span> -<span class="i0">Wee shallop of shimmering gold;</span> -<span class="i2">Slip down from your ways in the branches.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - -<h3>WHY THE AUTUMN LEAVES ARE RED</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Emelyn Newcomb Partridge</span></p> - -<p>Long, long ago no one but animals lived upon the earth and sometimes -they would hold great Councils. The Bear would be there,—the Bear, -with his sharp claws, and his shiny coat, and his big, big growl; -and the Deer, who was so proud of his antlers, for they came out of -his head like trees; and all the animals, and all the birds would be -present at the great Council. Little Turtle would go there, too. She -was so small that she did not like to speak to anyone. But, she often wished:</p> - -<p>“Oh, if <i>only</i> I could do some good deed! What <i>could</i> such a little -creature as I do? Anyway,” she thought, “I’ll be on the watch,—and -it may be that some time there will be a chance for me to do <i>something</i> for my people.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> - -<p>Little Turtle never forgot about that good deed she had planned to -perform. One day the opportunity came to her. She was at the Council, -and the animals were saying:</p> - -<p>“It is so dark here, we have only the Snowlight to see by. It is -gloomy, too. Couldn’t we make a light and place it up in Skyland?” -they asked.</p> - -<p>Little Turtle said: “Please let me go up to Skyland? I am -sure that I can make a light shine up there.”</p> - -<p>They said that she might go, and they called Dark Cloud to carry -Little Turtle there. Dark Cloud came.</p> - -<p>Little Turtle saw that Thunder and Lightning were in Dark Cloud; and -when she reached Skyland, she made the Sun from Lightning, and placed -him in the Sky.</p> - -<p>The Sun could not move, because he had no life, and all the world -underneath was too hot to live upon.</p> - -<p>“What shall we do?” the animals asked one another. Someone said:</p> - -<p>“We must give the Sun life and spirit, and then he will move about in the sky.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> - -<p>So they gave him life and spirit, and he moved about in the sky. Mud -Turtle dug a hole through the earth for the Sun to travel through. -Little Turtle made a wife for him out of some of the Lightning from -Dark Cloud. She was the Moon. Their little children were the stars -that played all over Skyland.</p> - -<p>All this time, Little Turtle was taking care of Skyland. The animals -below called her, She Who Takes Care of Skyland. And she was very -happy, because she was doing her <i>good deed</i>.</p> - -<p>Some of the animals became jealous of Little Turtle,—especially the -Deer, who was so proud of his antlers. One day, Deer said to Rainbow:</p> - -<p>“Rainbow, please take me up to Skyland where Little Turtle lives.”</p> - -<p>Rainbow did not know whether it would be quite right to take Deer up -to Little Turtle’s house, but he said:</p> - -<p>“In the winter, when I rest upon the big mountain by the lake, then I -will take you.”</p> - -<p>This made the Deer glad. He did not tell anyone about the promise of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> -Rainbow. All winter long, he waited and watched near the big mountain -for Rainbow to come; but Rainbow did not come to him. In the spring, -one day, Deer saw Rainbow beside the lake.</p> - -<p>“Rainbow,” he asked, “why did you not keep your promise to me?” -Rainbow made him another promise.</p> - -<p>“Come to me by the lake, when you see me in the thick fog,” he said.</p> - -<p>The Deer kept this promise a secret, too; because he hoped to go to -Skyland alone. Day after day, he waited beside the lake. One day, -when the thick fog was rising from the lake,—Deer saw the beautiful Rainbow.</p> - -<p>Rainbow made an arch from the lake to the big mountain. Then a -shining light fell about the Deer, and he saw a straight path shining -with all the colours of the Rainbow. It led through a great forest.</p> - -<p>“Follow the beautiful path through the great forest,” Rainbow said.</p> - -<p>The Deer entered the shining pathway, and it led him straight to the -house of Little Turtle in Skyland. And the Deer went about Skyland everywhere. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> - -<p>When the great Council met, Deer was not there. “The Deer is not come -to the Council, where is the Deer?” they asked.</p> - -<p>Hawk flew about the air everywhere, and could not find Deer in the -air. Wolf searched the deep woods, and could not find Deer in the forests.</p> - -<p>When Dark Cloud brought Little Turtle to the Council, Little Turtle -told them how Rainbow had made a path for Deer to climb to Skyland. -“There it is now,” said Little Turtle.</p> - -<p>The animals looked over the lake, and they saw, there, the beautiful -pathway. They had never seen it before.</p> - -<p>“Why did not Deer wait for us? All of us should have gone to Skyland -together,” they said.</p> - -<p>Now, Brown Bear determined to follow that pathway the very next time -he should see it.</p> - -<p><i>One day</i> when he was all alone, near the lake, he saw the shining -path that led through the great forest. Soon he found himself in -Skyland. The first person he met was the Deer. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Why did you leave us? Why did you go to the land of Little Turtle -without us? Why did you not wait for us?” he asked the Deer.</p> - -<p>The Deer shook his antlers angrily. “What right have <i>you</i> to -question me? No one but the Wolf may question why I came. I will kill -you for your impertinence.”</p> - -<p>The Deer arched his neck; he poised his antlered head; his eyes -blazed with fury.</p> - -<p>The Bear was not afraid. He stood up; his claws were sharp and -strong; his hoarse growls sounded all over Skyland.</p> - -<p>The battle of the Deer and the Bear shook Skyland. The animals looked -up from the earth.</p> - -<p>“Who will go? Who will go to Skyland and forbid the Deer to fight?”</p> - -<p>“I will go,” said the Wolf. “I can run faster than anyone.” So Wolf -ran along the shining pathway, and in a little while he had reached -the place of the battle. Wolf made Deer stop fighting. Deer’s antlers -were covered with blood, and when he shook them, great drops fell -down, down through the air, and splashed against all the leaves of -the forest. And the leaves became a beautiful red. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> - -<p>So, in the autumn, when you see the leaves turning red, you may know -that it is because in the long ago, the Deer and the Bear fought a -great battle in Skyland, in the land of Little Turtle who was doing her good deed.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE ANXIOUS LEAF</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Henry Ward Beecher</span></p> - -<p>Once upon a time a little leaf was heard to sigh and cry, as leaves -often do when a gentle wind is about. And the twig said, “What is the -matter, little leaf?” And the leaf said, “The wind just told me that -one day it would pull me off and throw me down to lie on the ground!” -The twig told it to the branch on which it grew, and the branch told -it to the tree. And when the tree heard it, it rustled all over, and -sent back word to the leaf, “Do not be afraid; hold on tightly, and -you shall not go till you want to.” And so the leaf stopped sighing, -but went on nestling and singing. Every time the tree shook itself -and stirred up all its leaves, the branches shook themselves, and -the little twig shook itself, and the little leaf danced up and down -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> -merrily, as if nothing could ever pull it off. And so it grew all -summer long until October. And when the bright days of autumn came, -the little leaf saw all the leaves around becoming very beautiful. -Some were yellow, and some scarlet, and some striped with both -colours. Then it asked the tree what it meant. And the tree said, -“All these leaves are getting ready to fly away, and they have put on -these beautiful colours because of joy.” Then the little leaf began -to want to go, and grew very beautiful in thinking of it, and when -it was very gay in colour, it saw that the branches of the tree had -no colour in them, and so the leaf said, “O branches, why are you -lead colour and we golden?” “We must keep on our workclothes, for -our life is not done; but your clothes are for holiday, because your -tasks are over.” Just then a little puff of wind came, and the leaf -let go without thinking of it, and the wind took it up, and turned -it over and over, and whirled it like a spark of fire in the air, -and then it fell gently down under the fence among hundreds of other -leaves, and began to dream—a dream so beautiful that perhaps it -will last forever.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> - -<h3>HOW THE CHESTNUT BURRS BECAME</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Ernest Thompson Seton</span></p> - -<p>In the woods of Poconic there once roamed a very discontented -Porcupine. He was forever fretting. He complained that everything was -wrong, till it was perfectly scandalous and the Great Spirit, getting -tired of his grumbling, said:</p> - -<p>“You and the world I have made don’t seem to fit. One or the other -must be wrong. It is easier to change you. You don’t like the trees, -you are unhappy on the ground, and think everything is upside down, -so I’ll turn you inside out and put you in the water.”</p> - -<p>This was the origin of the Shad.</p> - -<p>After Manitou had turned the old Porcupine into a Shad the young ones -missed their mother and crawled up into a high tree to look for her -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> -coming. Manitou happened to pass that way and they all chattered -their teeth at him, thinking themselves safe. They were not wicked, -only ill-trained, some of them, indeed, were at heart quite good, -but, oh, so ill-trained, and they chattered and groaned as Manitou -came nearer. Remembering then that he had taken their mother from -them, he said, “You look very well up there, you little Porkys, so -you had better stay there for always, and be part of the tree.”</p> - -<p>This was the origin of the chestnut burrs. They hang like a lot -of little porcupines on the tree-crotches. They are spiny, and -dangerous, utterly without manners and yet most of them have a good -little heart inside.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE MERRY WIND</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The merry wind came racing</span> -<span class="i2">Adown the hills one day,</span> -<span class="i0">In gleeful frolic chasing</span> -<span class="i2">The rustling leaves away.</span> -<span class="i0">In clouds of red and yellow,</span> -<span class="i2">He whirled the leaves along,</span> -<span class="i0">And then the jolly fellow</span> -<span class="i2">He sang a cheery song.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The merry wind was weary</span> -<span class="i2">At last of fun and play;</span> -<span class="i0">His voice grew faint and eerie,</span> -<span class="i2">And softly died away.</span> -<span class="i0">Far off a crow was calling</span> -<span class="i2">And in the mellow sun</span> -<span class="i0">The painted leaves kept falling</span> -<span class="i2">And fading, one by one.</span> -<span class="i10"><span class="smcap">Mary Mapes Dodge.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> - -<h3>AUTUMN AMONG THE BIRDS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i1">[Enter a little Snipe, crying]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Peet-weet! Peet-weet!</span> -<span class="i4">I’ve such cold feet,</span> -<span class="i4">And nothing to eat!</span> -<span class="i4">The creek is so high</span> -<span class="i4">That I can’t keep dry</span> -<span class="i4">Except when I fly!</span> -<span class="i8">Peet-weet!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i7">[A Kildeer]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Kildee! Kildee! Kildee!</span> -<span class="i4">This is no place for me!</span> -<span class="i4">The southland I must seek——</span> -<span class="i8">Kildee!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i7">[A Bobolink]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Link-a-link! Link-a-link!</span> -<span class="i4">My diet has made me weak;</span> -<span class="i4">The fields of rice must be so nice.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">[To the Kildeer]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">I’ll go with you, I think——</span> -<span class="i12">Link-a-link!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i1">[A Red-Shouldered Blackbird]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Bobaree! Bobaree!</span> -<span class="i4">A frost you’ll see——</span> -<span class="i4">You’ll see to your sorrow,</span> -<span class="i4">If you wait until to-morrow——</span> -<span class="i8">Bobaree!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">[A Chipping-Bird]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Chip-chip! Chip-chip! Chip-chip!</span> -<span class="i4">I’ll give November the slip!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">[A House-Wren]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Sh! Sh! Sh!</span> -<span class="i4">Every one loves the Wren!</span> -<span class="i4">Wait, and just once again</span> -<span class="i4">I’ll go, and, as still as a mouse,</span> -<span class="i4">Peep into the little house</span> -<span class="i4">They built for my use alone,</span> -<span class="i4">With a door and a porch like their own!</span> -<span class="i12">—Sh!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i1">[A Maryland Yellow-Throat Interrupting]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Witches here! Witches here!</span> -<span class="i4">And no wonder—so late in the year!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i1">[A Flock of Wild Geese Flying Over]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">On! On! On!</span> -<span class="i4">Why should we longer stay?</span> -<span class="i4">On! Ere the peep of day</span> -<span class="i4">We should be leagues away,</span> -<span class="i4">Quite out of sight of land!</span> -<span class="i4">Our old gray Commodore</span> -<span class="i4">Will guide our gallant band</span> -<span class="i4">With the daintiest food in store!</span> -<span class="i4">To a pleasant southern shore,</span> -<span class="i8">On! On! On!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">[A Flock of Swallows Rising]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Zip! Zip! You may count on the Swallow!</span> -<span class="i6">We hear, and anear we will be;</span> -<span class="i4">The rest, if they like, may follow</span> -<span class="i6">O’er land and o’er sea.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">[A Bluebird to Her Mate]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Weary! Oh, weary! Oh, weary!</span> -<span class="i4">It’s a long, long, long way, dearie!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">[A Robin]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Quip! Quip! Cheer up! Cheer up!</span> -<span class="i4">But I think we ought first to sup;</span> -<span class="i4">With such a long journey ahead,</span> -<span class="i4">Pilgrims should be well fed——</span> -<span class="i12">Quip! Quip!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">[A Highlander Shouts from the Top of a Dead Tree]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">A-wick-wick! wick-wick! wick-wick! wick! Yare-op!</span> -<span class="i4">If all this senseless chatter you would stop,</span> -<span class="i4">And listen, an announcement I would make:</span> -<span class="i4">Old Father Crane will soon be here to take</span> -<span class="i4">All you small folks upon his back—Wick-wick!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i11">Chorus of Small Birds</span> -<span class="i1">[Chippy, Wren, Yellow-bird, Pewee, Kinglet, etc.]:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Peet-weet! Zit! Zit! Cheeree! Ittee! Be Quick!</span> -<span class="i29"><span class="smcap">Edith M. Thomas.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE KIND OLD OAK</h3> - -<p>It was almost time for winter to come. The little birds had all gone -far away, for they were afraid of the cold. There was no green grass -in the fields, and there were no pretty flowers in the gardens. Many -of the trees had dropped all their leaves. Cold winter, with its snow -and ice, was coming.</p> - -<p>At the foot of an old oak tree, some sweet little violets were still -in blossom. “Dear old oak,” said they, “winter is coming: we are -afraid that we shall die of the cold.”</p> - -<p>“Do not be afraid, little ones,” said the oak, “close your yellow -eyes in sleep, and trust to me. You have made me glad many a time -with your sweetness. Now I will take care that the winter shall do -you no harm.”</p> - -<p>So the violets closed their pretty eyes and went to sleep; they knew -that they could trust the kind old oak. And the great tree softly -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> -dropped red leaf after red leaf upon them until they were all covered over.</p> - -<p>The cold winter came, with its snow and ice, but it could not harm -the little violets. Safe under the friendly leaves of the old oak -they slept, and dreamed happy dreams until the warm rains of spring -came and waked them again.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“No more the summer floweret charms,</span> -<span class="i2">The leaves will soon be sere,</span> -<span class="i0">And autumn folds his jeweled arms</span> -<span class="i2">Around the dying year.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE TREE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tree’s early leaf-buds were bursting their brown;</span> -<span class="i0">“Shall I take them away?” said the Frost, sweeping down.</span> -<span class="i8">“No, dear, leave them alone</span> -<span class="i8">Till the blossoms have grown,”</span> -<span class="i0">Prayed the tree, while it trembled from rootlet to crown.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tree bore its blossoms, and all the birds sung:</span> -<span class="i0">“Shall I take them away?” said the Wind, as it swung.</span> -<span class="i8">“No, dear, leave them alone</span> -<span class="i8">Till berries here have grown,”</span> -<span class="i0">Said the tree, while the leaflets all quivering hung.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tree bore its fruit in the midsummer glow:</span> -<span class="i0">Said the girl, “May I gather thy berries or no?”</span> -<span class="i8">“Yes, dear, all thou canst see;</span> -<span class="i8">Take them; all are for thee,”</span> -<span class="i0">Said the tree, while it bent its laden boughs low.</span> -<span class="i24"><span class="smcap">Björnstjerne Björnson.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> - -<h3>COMING AND GOING</h3> - -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Henry Ward Beecher</span></p> - -<p>There came to our fields a pair of birds that had never built a nest -nor seen a winter. How beautiful was everything! The fields were full -of flowers, and the grass was growing tall, and the bees were humming -everywhere. Then one of the birds began singing, and the other bird -said, “Who told you to sing?” And he answered, “The flowers told me, -and the bees told me, and the winds and leaves told me, and the blue -sky told me, and you told me to sing.” Then his mate answered, “When -did I tell you to sing?” And he said, “Every time you brought in -tender grass for the nest, and every time your soft wings fluttered -off again for hair and feathers to line the nest.” Then his mate -said, “What are you singing about?” And he answered, “I am singing -about everything and nothing. It is because I am so happy that I sing.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> - -<p>By and by five little speckled eggs were in the nest, and his mate -said, “Is there anything in all the world as pretty as my eggs?” Then -they both looked down on some people that were passing by and pitied -them because they were not birds.</p> - -<p>In a week or two, one day, when the father-bird came home, the -mother-bird said, “Oh, what do you think has happened?” “What?” “One -of my eggs has been peeping and moving!” Pretty soon another egg -moved under her feathers, and then another and another, till five -little birds were hatched! Now the father-bird sang louder and louder -than ever. The mother-bird, too, wanted to sing, but she had no time, -and so she turned her song into work. So hungry were these little -birds that it kept both parents busy feeding them. Away each one -flew. The moment the little birds heard their wings fluttering among -the leaves, five yellow mouths flew open wide, so that nothing could -be seen but five yellow mouths! -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Can anybody be happier?” said the father-bird to the mother-bird. -“We will live in this tree always, for there is no sorrow here. It is -a tree that always bears joy.”</p> - -<p>Soon the little birds were big enough to fly, and great was their -parents’ joy to see them leave the nest and sit crumpled up upon the -branches. There was then a great time! The two old birds talking and -chatting to make the young ones go alone! In a little time they had -learned to use their wings, and they flew away and away, and found -their own food, and built their own nests, and sang their own songs of joy.</p> - -<p>Then the old birds sat silent and looked at each other, until the -mother-bird said, “Why don’t you sing?” And he answered, “I can’t -sing—I can only think and think.” “What are you thinking of?” “I am -thinking how everything changes: the leaves are falling off from this -tree, and soon there will be no roof over our heads; the flowers are -all going; last night there was a frost; almost all the birds are -flown away. Something calls me, and I feel as if I would like to fly far away.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Let us fly away together!”</p> - -<p>Then they rose silently, and, lifting themselves far up in the air, -they looked to the north: far away they saw the snow coming. They -looked to the south: there they saw flowers and green leaves! All day -they flew; and all night they flew and flew, till they found a land -where there was no winter—where flowers always blossom, and birds -always sing.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> - -<h3>A LEGEND OF THE WILLOW TREE</h3> -<p class="center space-above1">(Japanese Legend Retold)</p> - -<p>Once upon a time a humble willow tree with gnarled and twisted -branches grew near a tall and stately companion called the bamboo -tree. Many people who passed by stopped to admire the shapely bamboo, -but no one seemed to notice the old willow tree.</p> - -<p>One morning when the sun shone brightly after a soft rain a timid -little plant with a delicate stem sprang up between the two trees, -and looked pleadingly toward the straight, strong trunk of the -bamboo. But the bamboo tossed her plumy foliage and said haughtily, -“Do not look to me for help. I shall not let you cling around my trunk.”</p> - -<p>“Let me take hold of you until I grow a little stronger,” begged the -little plant. But the bamboo drew away and said, “Keep away. I can -not allow you to cling to my beautiful branches.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then the kind old willow tree whispered through her leaves, “Do not -be discouraged, little one. The sun is shining, and the soft rain -will come to refresh you. Come to me if you like, and grip your -little green fingers into my bark. Do not be afraid. In the shade of -my branches you shall be protected. Come.”</p> - -<p>The tiny plant still looked longingly toward the handsome bamboo. -But at last she crept over the grass to the old willow, and began -to twine around the sheltering branches. Up, up, the slender vine -climbed to the very top of the tree. There it tossed out so many -lovely green shoots that the people who passed stopped to enjoy its -beauty. And when the early fall days came large buds appeared on the vine.</p> - -<p>The bamboo looked at the swelling buds and said, “I wonder what those -ugly knobs on the vine mean. Perhaps she has brought some disease -which may affect all the trees of the country.”</p> - -<p>The willow made no answer to the bamboo, but in her kindly way she -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> -whispered to the vine, “Do not feel hurt, I know what the swelling buds mean.”</p> - -<p>There was a gentle rain at night, and in the morning the sun shone -radiantly in a clear sky. The green buds which covered the vine burst -forth into beautiful, sweet-scented blossoms. From crown to foot -the old willow tree stood bedecked with glorious colour. The owner -of the land called his friends to see the wonder. They looked in -amazement at the richly coloured blossoms. Then the master called his -labourers, and told them to clear a space about the willow tree.</p> - -<p>“Cut down the bamboo tree that we may see the beauty of the vine.”</p> - -<p>“It is a very fine bamboo tree, master,” said the head servant.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is, indeed,” declared the master, “but there are many other -bamboo trees equally fine, whereas no one has ever seen a vine with -such a wealth of lovely blossoms.”</p> - -<p>So the labourers cut down the haughty bamboo tree, and left the -willow and the flowering vine to be admired by many, many people.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> - -<h3>AUTUMN FASHIONS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">The Maple owned that she was tired of always wearing green,</span> -<span class="i3">She knew that she had grown, of late, too shabby to be seen!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">The Oak and Beech and Chestnut then deplored their shabbiness,</span> -<span class="i3">And all, except the Hemlock sad, were wild to change their dress.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">“For fashion-plate we’ll take the flowers,” the rustling Maple said,</span> -<span class="i3">“And like the Tulip I’ll be clothed in splendid gold and red!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">“The cheerful Sunflower suits me best,” the lightsome Beech replied;</span> -<span class="i3">“The Marigold my choice shall be,” the Chestnut spoke with pride.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">The sturdy Oak took time to think—“I hate such glaring hues;</span> -<span class="i3">The Gillyflower, so dark and rich, I for my model choose.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">So every tree in all the grove, except the Hemlock sad,</span> -<span class="i3">According to its wish ere long in brilliant dress was clad.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">And here they stayed through all the soft and bright October days;</span> -<span class="i3">They wished to be like flowers—indeed, they look like huge bouquets!</span> -<span class="i45"><span class="smcap">Edith M. Thomas.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> - -<h3>POMONA’S BEST GIFT</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here stands a good old apple tree</span> -<span class="i0">Stand fast at root,</span> -<span class="i0">Bear well, at top;</span> -<span class="i0">Every little twig</span> -<span class="i0">Bear an apple big;</span> -<span class="i0">Every little bough</span> -<span class="i0">Bear an apple now;</span> -<span class="i0">Hats full, caps full;</span> -<span class="i0">Threescore sacks full!</span> -<span class="i0">Hullo, boys, hullo!</span> -<span class="i14">—<i>Old English Song.</i></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> - -<h3>POMONA</h3> - -<p>In the far-off days, when the children of sunny Italy saw the -hillside vineyards rich with purple grapes, and the branches of the -orchards bending with the weight of luscious fruit, they clapped -their hands and cried gleefully, “See Pomona’s Gifts.” They offered -grateful thanks to the wood nymph whose thoughtful care brought the -precious fruit to a bountiful harvest.</p> - -<p>Carrying a curved knife in her right hand, the faithful Pomona glided -swiftly up the hillside, and primed the low-bending vines of all rank -shoots. By cutting away all withered branches, she kept her orchards -green and trim, and thus helped the trees to bring forth richest fruit.</p> - -<p>So happy was this nymph in her work that she gave no attention to the -numerous suitors who hoped to win her. Many a time a madcap satyr -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> -desiring to attract Pomona’s attention danced in vain near her -orchards. Pan played entrancingly on his reed pipes, but the nymph -gave no heed to his music.</p> - -<p>Among the many admirers of Pomona was a youth named Vertumnus, -who presided over gardens and the changing seasons. How often he -patiently planned to meet this charming nymph while she was tending -her fruit and vines, but his advances were always met with a coy -indifference which puzzled him. At last he determined to appear in -various disguises in order to see if he could attract her attention, -and discover if she cared for him. One day he took the form of a -plowman, whip in hand, as if he had come from unyoking the tired oxen -in a neighboring field. At another time he assumed the guise of a -woodman carrying a pruning knife and ladder, then again he appeared -in the garb of a hardy reaper carrying a basket filled with golden -grain. But no matter what disguise he took—plowman, woodman, reaper, -fruit-gatherer, soldier, fisherman—he failed to win any attention -from the nymph, whose interest was centered on the precious orchards and vineyards. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> - -<p>One day when Pomona was carefully examining the ripening fruit an old -woman leaning on a staff appeared before her and said, “Thy patient -care will earn a precious harvest. Never have I seen such marvelous -fruit. Tell me, fair nymph, does some strong youth help thee attend -to the orchards and vineyards?”</p> - -<p>The maiden shook her head and replied, “There is no youth who is -constant enough to love the orchards and vineyards as dearly as Pomona.”</p> - -<p>But the old woman drew near to her and said, “There is one youth -whose constancy can not be questioned, but thou hast scorned his -advances. Many times has he told thee how gladly he would be thy -helpmate, for nothing in nature delights him so much as the golden -harvest of luscious fruit.”</p> - -<p>“Thou meanest Vertumnus,” said the nymph. Then she added, “He is, -indeed, worthy of thy praise.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly the old woman straightened her bent figure and threw off her -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> -disguise. There before Pomona stood the handsome form of Vertumnus, -who no longer felt any doubt about the nymph’s love.</p> - -<p>In the autumn sunshine under the trees, whose boughs were bending -with the ripening fruit, Pomona and Vertumnus plighted their troth, -and agreed to share in the labour of bringing to perfection the gifts -of orchards and vineyards.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> - -<h3>IN THE ORCHARD</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O the apples rosy-red,</span> -<span class="i2">O the gnarled trunks grey and brown,</span> -<span class="i0">Heavy branchéd overhead;</span> -<span class="i2">O the apples rosy-red,</span> -<span class="i0">O the merry laughter sped,</span> -<span class="i2">As the fruit is showered down!</span> -<span class="i0">O the apples rosy-red,</span> -<span class="i2">O the gnarled trunks grey and brown.</span> -<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">George Weatherby.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> - -<h3>JOHNNY APPLESEED</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Josephine Scribner Gates</span></p> - -<p>Once there was a man who was very, very poor. He had been a farmer, -and no one raised such fine crops as he did. By and by, in some way, -he lost his farm, and was left all alone.</p> - -<p>He had always wanted to do some grand thing, something that would -make many people happy, but what could he do? He had no money. All he -had was a small boat.</p> - -<p>As he trudged along one day, he saw some old sacks lying under a -tree. As he looked at them he had a splendid thought. A thought that -seemed to have wings, and came flying from far away. Oh, it was a -beautiful thought, and seemed to be singing a little song in his -heart, as he picked up the sacks and placed them in his boat, jumped -in himself and floated away. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> - -<p>As he rowed down the stream, the man watched the shore with keen -eyes. When he saw an apple orchard he rowed to land, tied his boat, -hastened to the homes near the orchards and asked for work.</p> - -<p>He cut wood, carried water, and did all sorts of odd chores. In -payment for this work he asked for food, and what else do you suppose?</p> - -<p>The people were so surprised at what he asked for they could hardly -believe him. He asked that he might have the seeds from the apples on -the ground under the trees—only the seeds.</p> - -<p>Of course they gladly gave him such a simple thing, and as he cut the -fruit the neighbour children swarmed about him.</p> - -<p>From one place to another he went, always adding to his store of seeds.</p> - -<p>Some generous farmers gave him also cuttings of peach, pear, and plum -trees, and grape vines.</p> - -<p>Day after day, day after day, he cut up the fruit, while the children -sat at his feet, and listened to thrilling tales of what he had seen -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> -in his travels. Of the Indians with their gay blankets and feathers, -of their camps where they lived in the forests.</p> - -<p>Of their dances and war paint; their many-coloured, beaded necklaces -and jingling, silver chains and bracelets. Of their beady-eyed babies -strapped to boards.</p> - -<p>Of the wolves which came out at night to watch him as he sat by his -fire; of the beautiful deer who ran across his patch.</p> - -<p>He sang funny songs for the children, and taught them all sorts of games.</p> - -<p>When it came time to go on, they begged him to stay. Never before had -they been so amused, but on he went, and when his bags were full, -and he had a goodly store of food, he started on to carry out the -splendid thought. Oh, it was a grand thing he was going to do.</p> - -<p>The little boat went on and on, till houses were no more to be seen. -Splendid forests lined the banks here and there. Then he paused, for -this was what he was seeking—a place where no one lived.</p> - -<p>He landed and went about with a bag of seeds, and when he reached -an open place in a forest, he planted seeds and cuttings of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> -trees and vines; then wove a brush fence about them to keep the deer -away. He then hastened back to his boat and drifted on.</p> - -<p>In many, many places he landed and planted seeds, and all the -orchards of the Ohio and Mississippi Valley we owe to this man.</p> - -<p>Years after when settlers came looking for a place to live, they -chose these spots where, to their great surprise, they found all -sorts of trees loaded with fruit.</p> - -<p>This man’s name was John Chapman, but he was nicknamed Johnny Appleseed.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> - -<h3>RED APPLE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The big Sky-man that makes the Moons,</span> -<span class="i2">Stuck one into our Apple tree;</span> -<span class="i0">I saw it when I went to Bed;</span> -<span class="i0">The Tree was black; the Moon was red,</span> -<span class="i2">And round as round could be.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-day I went to get that Moon,</span> -<span class="i2">For I can climb the Apple-tree;</span> -<span class="i0">The Moon was gone. But in its stead</span> -<span class="i0">I found an Apple round and red,</span> -<span class="i2">And nice as nice could be.</span> -<span class="i17"><span class="smcap">Hamish Hendry.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Nathaniel Hawthorne</span></p> - -<p>Did you ever hear of the golden apples that grew in the garden of the -Hesperides? Ah, those were such apples as would bring a great price -by the bushel if any of them could be found growing in the orchards -of nowadays! But there is not, I suppose, a graft of that wonderful -fruit on a single tree in the wide world. Not so much as a seed of -these apples exists any longer.</p> - -<p>And, even in the old, old, half-forgotten times, before the garden of -the Hesperides was overrun with weeds, a great many people doubted -whether there could be real trees that bore apples of solid gold upon -their branches. All had heard of them, but nobody remembered to have -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> -seen any. Children, nevertheless, used to listen openmouthed to -stories of the golden apple-tree, and resolved to discover it when -they should be big enough. Adventurous young men, who desired to do -a braver thing than any of their fellows, set out in quest of this -fruit. Many of them returned no more: none of them brought back the -apples. No wonder that they found it impossible to gather them! It is -said that there was a dragon beneath the tree with a hundred terrible -heads, fifty of which were always on the watch while the other fifty slept.</p> - -<p>It was quite a common thing with young persons, when tired of too -much peace and rest, to go in search of the garden of the Hesperides. -And once the adventure was undertaken by a hero, who had enjoyed -very little peace or rest since he came into the world. At the time -of which I am going to speak he was wandering through the pleasant -land of Italy, with a mighty club in his hand, and a bow and quiver -slung across his shoulders. He was wrapt in the skin of the biggest -and fiercest lion that ever had been seen, and which he himself had -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> -killed; and though, on the whole, he was kind and generous and -noble, there was a good deal of the lion’s fierceness in his heart. -As he went on his way he continually inquired whether that were the -right road to the famous garden. But none of the country people knew -anything about the matter, and many looked as if they would have -laughed at the question if the stranger had not carried so very big a club.</p> - -<p>So he journeyed on and on, still making the same inquiry, until at -last he came to the brink of a river, where some beautiful young -women sat twining wreaths of flowers.</p> - -<p>“Can you tell me, pretty maidens,” asked the stranger, “whether this -is the right way to the garden of the Hesperides?”</p> - -<p>On hearing the stranger’s question, they dropped all their flowers on -the grass, and gazed at him with astonishment.</p> - -<p>“The garden of the Hesperides!” cried one. “We thought mortals had -been weary of seeking it after so many disappointments. And pray, -adventurous traveler, what do you want there?” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> - -<p>“A certain king, who is my cousin,” replied he, “has ordered me to -get him three of the golden apples.”</p> - -<p>“And do you know,” asked the damsel who had first spoken, “that a -terrible dragon with a hundred heads keeps watch under the golden apple-tree?”</p> - -<p>“I know it well,” answered the stranger calmly. “But from my cradle -upward it has been my business, and almost my pastime, to deal with -serpents and dragons.”</p> - -<p>The young women looked at his massive club, and at the shaggy lion’s -skin which he wore, and, likewise, at his heroic limbs and figure, -and they whispered to each other that the stranger appeared to be one -who might reasonably expect to perform deeds far beyond the might of others.</p> - -<p>“Go back!” cried they all; “go back to your own home! Your mother, -beholding you safe and sound, will shed tears of joy; and what can -she do more should you win ever so great a victory? No matter for the -golden apples! No matter for the king, your cruel cousin! We do not -wish the dragon with the hundred heads to eat you up.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> - -<p>The stranger seemed to grow impatient at these remonstrances. He -carelessly lifted his mighty club, and let it fall upon a rock that -lay half-buried in the earth near by. With the force of that idle -blow the great rock was shattered all to pieces.</p> - -<p>“Do you not believe,” said he, looking at the damsels with a smile, -“that such a blow would have crushed one of the dragon’s hundred heads?”</p> - -<p>“But the dragon of the Hesperides, you know,” observed one of the -damsels, “has a hundred heads!”</p> - -<p>“Nevertheless,” replied the stranger, “I would rather fight two such -dragons than a single hydra.”</p> - -<p>The traveler proceeded to tell how he chased a very swift stag for a -twelvemonth together, without ever stopping to take breath, and had -at last caught it by the antlers and carried it home alive. And he -had fought with a very odd race of people, half-horses and half-men, -and had put them all to death, from a sense of duty, in order that -their ugly figures might never be seen any more. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Do you call that a wonderful exploit?” asked one of the young -maidens, with a smile. “Any clown in the country has done as much.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you may have heard of me before,” said he modestly. -“My name is Hercules.”</p> - -<p>“We have already guessed it,” replied the maidens, “for your -wonderful deeds are known all over the world. We do not think it -strange any longer that you should set out in quest of the golden -apples of the Hesperides. Come, sisters, let us crown the hero with flowers!”</p> - -<p>Then they flung beautiful wreaths over his stately head and mighty -shoulders, so that the lion’s skin was almost entirely covered with -roses. They took possession of his ponderous club, and so entwined it -about with the brightest, softest, and most fragrant blossoms that -not a finger’s breadth of its oaken substance could be seen. Lastly, -they joined hands and danced around him, chanting words which became -poetry of their own accord, and grew into a choral song in honor of -the illustrious Hercules. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Dear maidens,” said he, when they paused to take breath, “now that -you know my name, will you not tell me how I am to reach the garden -of the Hesperides?”</p> - -<p>“We will give you the best directions we can,” replied the damsels. -“You must go to the seashore and find out the Old One, and compel him -to inform you where the golden apples are to be found.”</p> - -<p>“The Old One!” repeated Hercules, laughing at this odd name. “And -pray, who may the Old One be?”</p> - -<p>“Why, the Old Man of the Sea, to be sure,” answered one of the -damsels. “You must talk with this Old Man of the Sea. He is a -seafaring person, and knows all about the garden of Hesperides, -for it is situated in an island, which he is often in the habit of visiting.”</p> - -<p>Hercules then asked whereabouts the Old One was most likely to be met -with. When the damsels had informed him he thanked them for all their kindness.</p> - -<p>But before he was out of hearing one of the maidens called after him.</p> - -<p>“Keep fast hold of the Old One when you catch him!” cried she. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Do not be astonished at anything that may happen. Only hold him -fast, and he will tell you what you wish to know.”</p> - -<p>Hercules again thanked her, and pursued his way.</p> - -<p>“We will crown him with the loveliest of our garlands,” said they, -“when he returns hither with the three golden apples after slaying -the dragon with a hundred heads.”</p> - -<p>Hercules traveled constantly onward over hill and dale, and through -the solitary woods.</p> - -<p>Hastening forward without ever pausing or looking behind, he, by and -by, heard the sea roaring at a distance. At this sound he increased -his speed, and soon came to a beach where the great surf-waves -tumbled themselves upon the hard sand in a long line of snowy foam. -At one end of the beach, however, there was a pleasant spot where -some green shrubbery clambered up a cliff, making its rocky face look -soft and beautiful. A carpet of verdant grass, largely intermixed -with sweet-smelling clover, covered the narrow space between the -bottom of the cliff and the sea. And what should Hercules espy there -but an old man fast asleep. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> - -<p>But was it really and truly an old man? Certainly, at first sight, -it looked very like one, but on closer inspection it rather seemed -to be some kind of a creature that lived in the sea. For on his legs -and arms there were scales such as fishes have; he was web-footed and -web-fingered, after the fashion of a duck; and his long beard, being -of a greenish tinge, had more the appearance of a turf of seaweed -than of an ordinary beard. Hercules, the instant he set eyes on this -strange figure, was convinced that it could be no other than the Old -One who was to direct him on his way.</p> - -<p>Thanking his stars for the lucky accident of finding the old fellow -asleep, Hercules stole on tiptoe toward him, and caught him by the -arm and leg.</p> - -<p>“Tell me,” cried he, before the Old One was well awake, “which is the -way to the garden of the Hesperides?”</p> - -<p>The Old Man of the Sea awoke in a fright But his astonishment could -hardly have been greater than that of Hercules the next moment. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> -For, all of a sudden, the Old One seemed to disappear out of his -grasp, and he found himself holding a stag by the fore and hind -leg! But still he kept fast hold. Then the stag disappeared, and -in its stead there was a seabird, fluttering and screaming, while -Hercules clutched it by the wing and claw. But the bird could not -get away. Immediately afterward there was an ugly three-headed dog, -which growled and barked at Hercules, and snapped fiercely at the -hands by which he held him! But Hercules would not let him go. In -another minute, instead of the three-headed dog, what should appear -but Geryones, the six-legged man-monster, kicking at Hercules with -five of his legs in order to get the remaining one at liberty! But -Hercules held on. By and by no Geryones was there, but a huge snake -like one of those which Hercules had strangled in his babyhood, only -a hundred times as big. But Hercules was no whit disheartened, and -squeezed the great snake so tightly that he soon began to hiss with pain. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> - -<p>You must understand that the Old Man of the Sea, though he generally -looked so like the wave-beaten figurehead of a vessel, had the power -of assuming any shape he pleased. When he found himself so roughly -seized by Hercules, he had been in hopes of putting him into such -surprise and terror by these magical transformations that the hero -would be glad to let him go. If Hercules had relaxed his grasp, the -Old One would certainly have plunged down to the very bottom of the sea.</p> - -<p>But as Hercules held on so stubbornly, and only squeezed the Old One -so much the tighter at every change of shape, and really put him to -no small torture, he finally thought it best to reappear in his own figure.</p> - -<p>“Pray what do you want with me?” cried the Old One as soon as he -could take breath.</p> - -<p>“My name is Hercules!” roared the mighty stranger, “and you will -never get out of my clutch until you tell me the nearest way to the -garden of the Hesperides.”</p> - -<p>When the old fellow heard who it was that had caught him, he saw with -half an eye that it would be necessary to tell him everything that he -wanted to know. Of course he had often heard of the fame of Hercules, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> -and of the wonderful things that he was constantly performing in -various parts of the earth, and how determined he always was to -accomplish whatever he undertook. He, therefore, made no more -attempts to escape, but told the hero how to find the garden of the -Hesperides.</p> - -<p>“You must go on thus and thus,” said the Old Man of the Sea, “till -you come in sight of a very tall giant who holds the sky on his -shoulders. And the giant, if he happens to be in the humour, will -tell you exactly where the garden of the Hesperides lies.”</p> - -<p>Thanking the Old Man of the Sea, and begging his pardon for having -squeezed him so roughly, the hero resumed his journey. He met with a -great many strange adventures, which would be well worth your hearing -if I had leisure to narrate them as minutely as they deserve.</p> - -<p>Hercules continued his travels. He went to the land of Egypt, where -he was taken prisoner, and would have been put to death if he had not -slain the king of the country and made his escape. Passing through -the deserts of Africa, and going as fast as he could, he arrived -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> -at last on the shore of the great ocean. And here, unless he could -walk on the crests of the billows, it seemed as if his journey must -needs be at an end.</p> - -<p>Nothing was before him save the foaming, dashing, measureless ocean. -But suddenly, as he looked toward the horizon, he saw something, a -great way off, which he had not seen the moment before. It gleamed -very brightly, almost as you may have beheld the round, golden disk -of the sun when it rises or sets over the edge of the world. It -evidently drew nearer, for at every instant this wonderful object -became larger and more lustrous. At length it had come so nigh that -Hercules discovered it to be an immense cup or bowl made either of -gold or burnished brass. How it had got afloat upon the sea is more -than I can tell you. There it was at all events, rolling on the -tumultuous billows, which tossed it up and down, and heaved their -foamy tops against its sides, but without ever throwing their spray -over the brim.</p> - -<p>“I have seen many giants in my time,” thought Hercules, “but never -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> -one that would need to drink his wine, out of a cup like this.”</p> - -<p>And, true enough, what a cup it must have been! It was as large—as -large—but, in short, I am afraid to say how immeasurably large it -was. To speak within bounds, it was ten times larger than a great -mill-wheel, and, all of metal as it was, it floated over the heaving -surges more lightly than an acorn-cup adown the brook. The waves -tumbled it onward until it grazed against the shore within a short -distance of the spot where Hercules was standing.</p> - -<p>As soon as this happened he knew what was to be done.</p> - -<p>It was just as clear as daylight that this marvelous cup had been set -adrift by some unseen power, and guided hitherward in order to carry -Hercules across the sea on his way to the garden of the Hesperides. -Accordingly, he clambered over the brim, and slid down on the inside. -The waves dashed with a pleasant and ringing sound against the -circumference of the hollow cup; it rocked lightly to and fro, and -the motion was so soothing that it speedily rocked Hercules into an agreeable slumber. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> - -<p>His nap had probably lasted a good while, when the cup chanced to -graze against a rock, and, in consequence, immediately resounded and -reverberated through its golden or brazen substance a hundred times -as loudly as ever you heard a church-bell. The noise awoke Hercules, -who instantly started up and gazed around him, wondering whereabouts -he was. He was not long in discovering that the cup had floated -across a great part of the sea, and was approaching the shore of what -seemed to be an island. And on that island what do you think he saw?</p> - -<p>No, you will never guess it—not if you were to try fifty thousand -times! It positively appears to me that this was the most marvelous -spectacle that had ever been seen by Hercules in the whole course of -his wonderful travels and adventures. It was a greater marvel than -the hydra with nine heads, which kept growing twice as fast as they -were cut off; greater than the six-legged man-monster; greater than -anything that was ever beheld by anybody before or since the days of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> -Hercules, or than anything that remains to be beheld by travelers in -all time to come. It was a giant!</p> - -<p>But such an intolerably big giant! A giant as tall as a mountain; so -vast a giant that the clouds rested about his midst like a girdle, -and hung like a hoary beard from his chin, and flitted before his -huge eyes so that he could neither see Hercules nor the golden cup -in which he was voyaging. And, most wonderful of all, the giant held -up his great hands and appeared to support the sky, which, so far as -Hercules could discern through the clouds, was resting upon his head! -This does really seem almost too much to believe.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the bright cup continued to float onward, and finally -touched the strand. Just then a breeze wafted away the clouds from -before the giant’s visage, and Hercules beheld it, with all its -enormous features—eyes each of them as big as yonder lake, -a nose a mile long, and a mouth the same width.</p> - -<p>Poor fellow! He had evidently stood there a long while. An ancient -forest had been growing and decaying around his feet, and oak trees -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> -of six or seven centuries old had sprung from the acorns, and forced -themselves between his toes. The giant now looked down from the far -height of his great eyes, and, perceiving Hercules, roared out:</p> - -<p>“Who are you, down at my feet, there? And whence do you come in that -little cup?”</p> - -<p>“I am Hercules!” thundered back the hero. “And I am seeking for the -garden of the Hesperides!”</p> - -<p>“Ho! ho! ho!” roared the giant, in a fit of immense laughter. “That -is a wise adventure, truly!”</p> - -<p>“And why not?” cried Hercules. “Do you think I am afraid of the -dragon with a hundred heads?”</p> - -<p>Just at this time, while they were talking together, some black -clouds gathered about the giant’s middle and burst into a tremendous -storm of thunder and lightning, causing such a pother that Hercules -found it impossible to distinguish a word. Only the giant’s -immeasurable legs were to be seen, standing up into the obscurity of -the tempest, and now and then a momentary glimpse of his whole figure -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> -mantled in a volume of mist. He seemed to be speaking most of -the time, but his big, deep, rough voice chimed in with the -reverberations of the thunder-claps and rolled away over the hills -like them.</p> - -<p>At last the storm swept over as suddenly as it had come. And there -again was the clear sky, and the weary giant holding it up, and the -pleasant sunshine beaming over his vast height and illuminating it -against the background of the sullen thunder-clouds. So far above the -shower had been his head that not a hair of it was moistened by the raindrops.</p> - -<p>When the giant could see Hercules still standing on the seashore, he -roared out to him anew:</p> - -<p>“I am Atlas, the mightiest giant in the world! And I hold the sky -upon my head!”</p> - -<p>“So I see,” answered Hercules. “But can you show me the way to the -garden of the Hesperides?”</p> - -<p>“What do you want there?” asked the giant.</p> - -<p>“I want three of the golden apples,” shouted Hercules, “for my -cousin, the king.”</p> - -<p>“There is nobody but myself,” quoth the giant, “that can go to the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> -garden of the Hesperides and gather the golden apples. If it were not -for this little business of holding up the sky, I would make half a -dozen steps across the sea and get them for you.”</p> - -<p>“You are very kind,” replied Hercules. “And cannot you rest the sky -upon a mountain?”</p> - -<p>“None of them are quite high enough,” said Atlas, shaking his head. -“But if you were to take your stand on the summit of that nearest one -your head would be pretty nearly on a level with mine. You seem to be -a fellow of some strength. What if you should take my burden on your -shoulders while I do your errand for you?”</p> - -<p>“Is the sky very heavy?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“Why, not particularly so at first,” answered the giant, shrugging -his shoulders, “but it gets to be a little burdensome after a -thousand years.”</p> - -<p>“And how long a time,” asked the hero, “will it take you to get the -golden apples?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that will be done in a few moments!” cried Atlas. “I shall take -ten or fifteen miles at a stride, and be at the garden and back -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> -again before your shoulders begin to ache.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then,” answered Hercules, “I will climb the mountain behind -you, and relieve you of your burden.”</p> - -<p>The truth is, Hercules had a kind heart of his own, and considered -that he should be doing the giant a favour by allowing him this -opportunity for a ramble. And, besides, he thought that it would be -still more for his own glory if he could boast of upholding the sky -than merely to do so ordinary a thing as to conquer a dragon with a -hundred heads. Accordingly, the sky was shifted from the shoulders of -Atlas, and placed upon those of Hercules.</p> - -<p>When this was safely accomplished, the first thing that the giant -did was to stretch himself. Next, he slowly lifted one of his feet -out of the forest, that had grown up around it, then the other. Then -all at once he began to caper and leap and dance for joy at his -freedom, flinging himself nobody knows how high into the air, and -floundering down again with a shock that made the earth tremble. Then -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> -he laughed—“ho! ho! ho!”—with a thunderous roar that was echoed -from the mountains far and near. When his joy had a little subsided, -he stepped into the sea—ten miles at the first stride, which brought -him mid-leg deep; and ten miles at the second, when the water came -just above his knees; and ten miles more at the third, by which he -was immersed nearly to his waist. This was the greatest depth of the sea.</p> - -<p>Hercules watched the giant until the gigantic shape faded entirely -out of view. And now Hercules began to consider what he should do in -case Atlas should be drowned in the sea, or if he were to be stung to -death by the dragon with the hundred heads, which guarded the golden -apples of the Hesperides. If any such misfortune were to happen, how -could he ever get rid of the sky? And, by the by, its weight began -already to be a little irksome to his head and shoulders.</p> - -<p>“I really pity the poor giant,” thought Hercules. “If it wearies me -so much in ten minutes, how it must have wearied him in a thousand years!”</p> - -<p>I know not how long it was before, to his unspeakable joy, he beheld -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> -the huge shape of the giant, like a cloud, on the far-off edge of the -sea. At his nearer approach Atlas held up his hand in which Hercules -could perceive three magnificent golden apples as big as pumpkins, -and all hanging from one branch.</p> - -<p>“I am glad to see you again,” shouted Hercules when the giant was -within hearing. “So you have got the golden apples?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, certainly,” answered Atlas, “and very fair apples they -are. I took the finest that grew on the tree, I assure you. Ah, it is -a beautiful spot, that garden of the Hesperides! Yes, and the dragon -with a hundred heads is a sight worth any man’s seeing. After all, -you had better have gone for the apples yourself.”</p> - -<p>“No matter,” replied Hercules. “You have had a pleasant ramble, and -have done the business as well as I could. I heartily thank you for -your trouble. And now, as I have a long way to go, and am rather in -haste, and as the king, my cousin, is anxious to receive the golden -apples, will you be kind enough to take the sky off my shoulders again?” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Why, as to that,” said the giant, chucking the golden apples into -the air twenty miles high or thereabouts, and catching them as they -came down—“as to that, my good friend, I consider you a little -unreasonable. Cannot I carry the golden apples to the king, your -cousin, much quicker than you could? As his majesty is in such a -hurry to get them, I promise you to take my longest strides. And, -besides, I have no fancy for burdening myself with the sky just now.”</p> - -<p>Here Hercules grew impatient, and gave a great shrug of his -shoulders. It being now twilight, you might have seen two or three -stars tumble out of their places. Everybody on earth looked upward in -affright, thinking that the sky might be going to fall next.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that will never do!” cried Giant Atlas with a great roar of -laughter. “I have not let fall so many stars within the last five -centuries. By the time you have stood there as long as I did you will -begin to learn patience.”</p> - -<p>“What!” shouted Hercules, very wrathfully, “do you intend to make me -bear this burden forever?” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> - -<p>“We will see about that one of these days,” answered the giant. “At -all events, you ought not to complain if you have to bear it the next -hundred years, or perhaps the next thousand. I bore it a good while -longer, in spite of the backache. Well, then, after a thousand years, -if I happen to feel in the mood, we may possibly shift about again. -Posterity will talk of you, I warrant it.”</p> - -<p>“Pish! a fig for its talk!” cried Hercules, with another hitch of his -shoulders. “Just take the sky upon your head one instant, will you? I -want to make a cushion of my lion’s skin for the weight to rest upon. -It really chafes me, and will cause unnecessary inconvenience in so -many centuries as I am to stand here.”</p> - -<p>“That’s no more than fair, and I’ll do it,” quoth the giant. “For -just five minutes, then, I’ll take back the sky. Only for five -minutes, recollect. I have no idea of spending another thousand years -as I spent the last. Variety is the spice of life, say I.”</p> - -<p>Ah, the thick-witted old rogue of a giant! He threw down the golden -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> -apples, and received back the sky from the head and shoulders of -Hercules upon his own, where it rightly belonged. And Hercules picked -up the three golden apples that were as big or bigger than pumpkins, -and straightway set out on his journey homeward, without paying the -slightest heed to the thundering tones of the giant, who bellowed -after him to come back. Another forest sprang up around his feet and -grew ancient there, and again might be seen oak-trees of six or seven -centuries old, that had waxed thus aged betwixt his enormous toes.</p> - -<p>And there stands the giant to this day, or, at any rate, there stands -a mountain as tall as he, and which bears his name; and when the -thunder rumbles about its summit we may imagine it to be the voice of -Giant Atlas bellowing after Hercules.</p> - -<p class="author">—<i>Abridged.</i></p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> - -<h3><i>OCTOBER</i>—ORCHARD OF THE YEAR!</h3> - -<p>Bend thy boughs to the earth, redolent of glowing fruit! Ripened -seeds shake in their pods. Apples drop in the stillest hours. Leaves -begin to let go when no wind is out, and swing in long waverings to -the earth, which they touch without sound, and lie looking up, till -winds rake them, and heap them in fence corners. When the gales come -through the trees, the yellow leaves trail, like sparks at night -behind the flying engine. The woods are thinner so that we can see -the leaves plainer, as we lie dreaming on the yet warm moss of the -singing spring. The days are calm. The nights are tranquil. The -year’s work is done. She walks in gorgeous apparel, looking upon her -long labour, and her serene eye saith, “It is good.”</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> - -<h3>NOVEMBER</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Trees bare and brown,</span> -<span class="i2">Dry leaves everywhere</span> -<span class="i0">Dancing up and down,</span> -<span class="i2">Whirling through the air.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Red-cheeked apples roasted,</span> -<span class="i2">Popcorn almost done,</span> -<span class="i0">Toes and chestnuts toasted,</span> -<span class="i2">That’s November fun.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> - -<h2>WOODLAND ANIMALS</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No sound was in the woodlands</span> -<span class="i0">Save the squirrel’s dropping shell</span> -<span class="i0">And the yellow leaves among the boughs,</span> -<span class="i0">Low rustling as they fell.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At last after watching and waiting,</span> -<span class="i0">Autumn, the beautiful came,</span> -<span class="i0">Stepping with sandals silver,</span> -<span class="i0">Decked with her mantle of flame.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE PRETENDING WOODCHUCK</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Carl S. Patton</span></p> - -<p>Among the wild animals I have not known was a family of woodchucks -who lived in a hollow log on the edge of a farm in New York State. -Not that they cared much whether it was New York State or some other -state. I mentioned it only that the details of this story may be -verified by anyone who is inclined to doubt them. It was New York State.</p> - -<p>Now here was a thing that distinguished this family to start with, -from all other families of the neighbourhood—they lived in a -hollow log. All their relatives and friends lived in the ground. -I don’t know how this family got started to living in the rotten -log. But I do happen to know that though there were a great many -warm discussions about the relative merits of a house in a log, and -a house in the ground, and though many ground houses in the best -locations and with all modern improvements were offered to this -family, they stuck to the house in the log. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> - -<p>The house certainly did have one advantage; it had two doors. And -not only that, the log was part of an old fence, and the fence ran -between the garden and the cornfield. So in the summer when the -garden stuff was fine, all you had to do was to walk down the hallway -of the log, until you came to the left-hand door, and there you were -right in the garden. But when fall came and the garden was dried up, -but the corn was stacked in shocks or husked and put into the crib, -all you had to do was to go down the hallway, to the door that turned -to the right, and there you were in the cornfield. Quite aside from -these advantages, who would live in a house with one door in it when -he could just as well have one with two?</p> - -<p>The log-house family consisted of father, mother, and four children. -The youngest of these—the favourite of the family, was named Monax. -His mother had heard that the scientific name for woodchuck was -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> -Arctomys Monax, and being of a scientific turn of mind, she was much -taken with this name. But no woodchuck in her neighbourhood had two -names. So she took the last of the two and called her son Monax.</p> - -<p>Monax had never been out in the world. He had been down to the two -doors, and had looked out, but that was all. But he had been well -instructed at home. He knew about men, and how they would sometimes -shoot at woodchucks; and about dogs, and about the corn-crib; -and for a long time he had known all about garden vegetables and -corn. He was certainly a promising boy, even his father and mother -acknowledged it, but he had one weak point—he could not learn which -was his right hand and which was his left.</p> - -<p>In the fall Monax’ father was laid up with rheumatism. He was a -terrible old fellow to groan and carry on when he was sick, and his -wife had to stand by him every minute. The house had to be fixed for -winter, and the other children were at work on this. Saturday came -and someone had to go to market. Who was there to go except Monax? So -it was decided that Monax should go. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Woodchuck gave him his instructions. She always gave everybody -their instructions. Mr. Woodchuck was, like many of us, quite an -important man, away from home. “You go out at the right-hand door,” -said Mrs. Woodchuck to Monax; “mind me, at the right-hand door. You -go through the cornfield ’till you come to the big rock in the -middle of it. Then you turn to the right again.” She paused a moment, -and a look of hesitancy or misgiving came into her face. “Do you -really know,” she said solemnly, “do you really know your right hand -from your left?” “Yes,” said Monax. “Hold up your right one,” said -his mother. Monax’ mind was in a whirl. He tried to imagine himself -with his back to the cornfield door, where he stood when he had his -last lesson on the subject. If he could only get that clearly in his -mind, he could remember which hand he held up then. But he was too -excited to think. So he held up one hand; he hadn’t the slightest -idea which it was. “Certainly,” said his mother, “certainly. Your -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> -father said it was not safe to let you go, because you did not -know your right hand from your left. But he under-rates you. He -under-rates all the children.” She spoke almost petulantly. Then her -mind seemed to be relieved, and she proceeded with her instructions. -“Through the cornfield,” she said, “’till you come to the big rock; -then you go to the right ’till you come to the edge of the field. -You will see a couple of men in the cornfield. But do not be afraid -of them; they are only scarecrows. Even if one of them has a gun, -it is only a wooden one, and they can’t hurt you. Go right ahead. -At the edge of the cornfield, by the maple tree, you turn to the -right again—always to the right. Then you will see the barn. Go in -and look around there. Keep away from the horses and don’t mind the -odour. If you find a basket of corn on the barn floor, help yourself -and come home. If you don’t you will have to go a little farther. -Just to the right of the barn a few yards—always to the right—is -the corn-crib. That is where your father and I get most of the -supplies for the family. You climb up into the old wagon-box that -stands on the scaffolding, and jump from that into the crib. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> -Getting out is much easier and after that all you have to do is -to come home. You needn’t hurry especially. I sha’n’t be worried -about you, because there are no dogs there—the dog lives away over -on the other side of the fence beyond the garage—and I know the -scarecrows will not hurt you.”</p> - -<p>So Monax started out. Down the hall he went, pondering his -instructions. If Mrs. Woodchuck had not gone back to tie another -piece of red flannel around Mr. Woodchuck’s rheumatic knee, she might -have observed that Monax moved slowly, as if in deep thought. But she -observed nothing, and so said nothing.</p> - -<p>Monax was in deep thought. He was trying to decide which was his -right hand and which was his left. If he could only be sure of either -one of them he could guess at the other one. He had to know before he -got to the first of the two doors. Why were anybody’s two hands so -much alike? How could anyone be sure which was which? He stopped and -held up one, then the other; they looked just alike. He struck one of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> -them against the wall; then the other, they felt just alike. He -couldn’t stop long about it; if his mother caught him at it, she -would probably suspect what was the matter with him, and his little -journey into the world would be stopped before it began.</p> - -<p>He came to the first door, and a sudden inspiration came to him. He -never knew how it was, but he felt perfectly confident which was his -right hand. It seemed perfectly simple, somehow. It was this one. So -he turned out into the garden.</p> - -<p>He didn’t see any corn-shocks. But he was not surprised at that. His -mother had said maybe they would have been hauled away by this time. -He looked ahead. Yes, there was the big stone. It did look a good -deal like a cement horse-block. “But then,” he said to himself, “they -make stone these days so that you can hardly tell it from cement.” He -looked for the two scarecrows. If they were there he would know he -was right. And there they were. They were awfully good imitations of -men. One of them was walking about just a little. As he went by them, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> -he noticed that neither of them had a gun, but he heard one of them -say to the other, “Ever eat ’em?” “The young uns,” said the other, -“are pretty good; old ones too tough.” Monax was much interested, -but he was not frightened. On a page of the “Scientific American,” -which his mother brought home a few weeks before, he had read about -the talking pictures that Mr. Edison had invented. He hadn’t read of -the talking scarecrows, but he had no doubt there were such. “You -never can tell what these men will invent next,” he said as he moved -leisurely by.</p> - -<p>At the big stone he turned—this way—he said to himself. “It is -surprising how sure I am about my right hand now.” He came to the -edge of the field. There, just as his mother had said, was the barn. -It looked more like a garage than a barn. But styles change. Anyway, -there it was to the right, just as his mother had told him. “If you -are sure of your direction everything else takes care of itself,” he -said. “The location is right.”</p> - -<p>He went into the barn. He noticed the odour; something like gasoline. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> -He looked for the horses; none there. He glanced about for the basket -of corn. All he saw, instead, was a bunch of waste lying on top of a -big red tank. Where the horses ought to have been was an automobile. -“Probably they have changed it over from a barn to a garage since -mother was here,” he said; “if you are going to keep up with the -times these days you can’t stay in the house; you’ve got to get out -where things are doing.” It was no use to look for corn there. He had -had no instructions to bring home gasoline. His mother used ammonia -instead. So he took his time to look around the barn, and then moved -leisurely out. Just a few yards to the right again, as his mother had -said, was the corn-crib. He had never seen one before, and this one -looked small to him. It looked more like a dog-house to him. But the -location was right again—“always to the right,” his mother said.</p> - -<p>The old wagon box wasn’t there. But at the back end of the corn-crib -there was a board tacked up from the crib to the tree. That was -probably one end of the scaffold that had held the wagon box. Of -course they wouldn’t leave the wagon box there all the fall. Probably -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> -they were using it to haul corn, at that very moment, to that very crib.</p> - -<p>Meantime Mrs. Woodchuck was growing very worried at home—for Monax -had taken more time for his journey than his mother thought he would. -Mr. Woodchuck’s knee was very bad, and whenever he had rheumatism he -was more pessimistic than usual. “I tell you,” said he, “that boy -will never get home. He doesn’t know his right hand from his left.” -“I tell you he does,” said Mrs. Woodchuck; “I tried him on it just -before he went.” “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Mr. Woodchuck stuck to -his position, “if he had turned out that left-hand door, into the -garden and had gone to the garage instead of the barn. There is -one thing sure; if he tries to get corn out of that dog kennel, he -will find out his mistake.” Mr. Woodchuck’s lack of sympathy always -irritated his wife.</p> - -<p>“Keep still,” she said, “you will give me nervous prostration again -if you keep saying such things.”</p> - -<p>Monax had climbed up onto the board. He paused to look around a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> -moment. Then thinking that he must not be quite so leisurely, he -jumped quickly through the little window just under the roof.</p> - -<p>Then things began to happen so fast that Monax could hardly keep -track of them. For what Monax had really done was just what his -father said he probably would do. He had turned to the left every -time, where he ought to have turned to the right. He had gone through -the garden instead of the cornfield, past the cement horse-block -instead of the big stone, mistaken the garage for the barn, and now, -worst luck of all, he had jumped into the dog kennel instead of into -the corn-crib.</p> - -<p>The old dog had been after the sheep and cows, and was fast asleep on -the floor of his kennel. Still, he didn’t propose to lie there and -be jumped on by a woodchuck—not in his own kennel. And Monax—well, -perhaps he wasn’t surprised when, instead of landing on top of a -crib of corn he fell clear to the bottom, and felt his feet touching -something furry that moved. But it didn’t have time to move much. -Monax felt that a crisis had arrived in his career, and it was time -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> -to act. He didn’t wait to look for the door of the kennel; he didn’t -want to try any more new routes. He just rebounded off the back of -the dog like a rubber ball from the pavement. Up he went, breaking -the woodchuck record for the high jump, back through the window, onto -the board, down to the ground quick as a flash. The dog was after -him, but Monax was six feet ahead. Away he went, past the barn; the -auto was just backing out; it came over Monax that it wasn’t a barn -after all. He dodged under the machine; the dog had to run around it; -three feet more gained. He went by the big stone at full speed,—it -looked more than ever to him like a cement horse-block. Past the two -scarecrows; he could see that they had moved quite a little since he -passed them coming out, and one of them had a gun now. Bang, it went; -he felt the shot pass through his tail, and it increased his speed -to forty miles. He didn’t have much time to reflect, but it did come -over him that those were not scarecrows, but men, and that what he -had overheard them say a half hour before about the “young uns being -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> -good to eat” might possibly have had some reference to himself. On -he sped, through the garden; it was perfectly plain now that it had -never been a cornfield, and on like a flash through the garden door -into the log-house, and into his father’s room—fluttering, trembling, -and more dead than alive.</p> - -<p>“Did you turn to the right?” asked his mother.</p> - -<p>“I did—on the way back,” said Monax.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> - -<h3>MRS. BUNNY’S DINNER PARTY</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Anna E. Skinner</span></p> -<p class="f90">Reprinted from “The Churchman.”</p> - -<p>“Are you ready, my dear?” said Mr. Bobtail, looking at his large -watch. “Mrs. Bunny will expect us to come in good time to her dinner party.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be ready in a few minutes, Mr. Bobtail. I wonder how many -are invited. We always meet fine people at Mrs. Bunny’s house.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Bobtail brought out her little gray silk bonnet, and Mr. -Bobtail’s best birch cane.</p> - -<p>“Come,” she said, “it is a good half hour’s walk to Bramble Hollow. -Shall we go around by the way of Cabbage-Patch Lane?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, my dear, let us take a short cut through the meadow.”</p> - -<p>Off they started arm in arm across the sunlit fields.</p> - -<p>“See, there are Mr. and Mrs. Frisk gathering nuts,” said Mr. Bobtail. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> -“Jack Frost shook the trees last night. There are plenty lying on the ground.”</p> - -<p>“Good morning. How are all the little Friskies?” called Mrs. Bobtail.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how do you do! They are quite well, thank you,” said Mrs. Frisk.</p> - -<p>“The nuts are fine this fall, Mr. Frisk,” said Mr. Bobtail, shaking -hands with his friend.</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed. We have gathered a great many for our winter store. But -you see we dare not stop long in this open field.” Mr. Frisk dropped -his voice and glanced about in all directions. Then he added, “This -is hunting season, you know.”</p> - -<p>“What! Do you mean you are afraid of hunters?” asked Mr. Bobtail in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Indeed, we are,” said Mrs. Frisk, coming a little nearer. “From our -cosy home up in the hollow of this tree we saw two hunters crossing -the field this morning. When their dogs sniffed about the ground and -barked up the tree, we held our breath in fear.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” added Mr. Frisk, “and in a short time we heard ‘bang! bang!’ I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> -tell you we didn’t venture down to gather nuts for several hours.”</p> - -<p>“How dreadful! And we are on our way to Mrs. Bunny’s dinner party,” -said Mrs. Bobtail, looking in all directions; “do you think we had -better go on, my dear?”</p> - -<p>“Of course! Of course! I’ve never had the least fear of a gun! Let -hunters bang away as much as they please, they will never frighten -me.” Mr. Bobtail straightened up as he spoke, and tossed back his -head. “Come, Mrs. Bobtail. Good day, my friends.”</p> - -<p>“Good day. We hope you will have a pleasant time,” said Mr. Frisk.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t Mr. Bobtail wonderfully brave?” said Mrs. Frisk, looking after -her friends.</p> - -<p>When they came near Bramble Hollow, Mr. and Mrs. Bobtail met some -of their friends. There were Mr. and Mrs. Pinkeye, Mr. and Mrs. Longears, -Mr. and Mrs. Cottontail,—all on their way to the dinner party.</p> - -<p>Mr. and Mrs. Bunny were waiting for their guests. The little Bunnies -had been told how to behave. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Now, my dears,” their mother had said, “you may play out-of-doors -while we are at dinner. When we have finished I’ll call you. Now no -matter how hungry you are don’t dare peep in at the windows. And if -anything happens to frighten you slip into the kitchen and wait there -quietly until I come.”</p> - -<p>Away scampered four happy little Bunnies.</p> - -<p>At noon all the guests had reached Bramble Hollow. Mr. and Mrs. Bunny -welcomed them, and in a little while all were seated around the table -laughing and talking merrily.</p> - -<p>“What fine salad this is, Mrs. Bunny,” said Mrs. Longears. “The -cabbage hearts are very sweet this fall.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Bunny nodded pleasantly and said, “Do have some lettuce, Mr. -Bobtail. I’m sure your long walk must have made you hungry.”</p> - -<p>“I hope you will like our carrots,” said Mr. Bunny, helping himself -to another. “Come, Mrs. Cottontail, let me help you to another -serving of turnip tops.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Thank you, Mr. Bunny. What a pleasant home you have here in Bramble -Hollow. Do hunters ever wander into this quiet corner?”</p> - -<p>“Well, yes. They stroll through the hollow sometimes.”</p> - -<p>“Dear me,” said Mrs. Cottontail.</p> - -<p>“Our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Frisk, were telling us that they saw two -hunters crossing the fields this morning,” said Mrs. Bobtail.</p> - -<p>“This morning!” cried some of the guests, pricking up their ears.</p> - -<p>“Come, come, my friends,” said Mr. Bobtail, laughing, “I see I shall -have to quiet you. I never could see why so many rabbits are afraid -of a gun! I have often stayed quietly under a hedge while a hunter -fired shots as near to me as——”</p> - -<p>“Bang! bang! bang!”</p> - -<p>Four little Bunnies leaped through the window, and jumped right over -the table, upsetting many of the dishes.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bobtail darted off his chair at the same time, and rushed to a -corner of the kitchen, where he stayed, shaking with fear. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> - -<p>The other guests did not move or speak for several minutes. Then -Mrs. Bunny caught sight of Mr. Bobtail in the corner. “Come out, Mr. -Bobtail,” she called, “I’m sure the hunters have gone into the next field.”</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE NUTCRACKERS OF NUTCRACKER LODGE</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Harriet Beecher Stowe</span></p> - -<p>Mr. and Mrs. Nutcracker were as respectable a pair of squirrels as -ever wore gray brushes over their backs. They lived in Nutcracker -Lodge, a hole in a sturdy old chestnut tree overhanging a shady dell. -Here they had reared many families of young Nutcrackers, who were -models of good behavior in the forest.</p> - -<p>But it happened in the course of time that they had a son named -Featherhead, who was as different from all the other children of the -Nutcracker family as if he had been dropped out of the moon into -their nest. He was handsome enough, and had a lively disposition, -but he was sulky and contrary and unreasonable. He found fault with -everything his respectable papa and mama did. Instead of helping with -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> -up nuts and learning other lessons proper to a young squirrel,—he -sneered at all the good old ways and customs of the Nutcracker Lodge, -and said they were behind the times. To be sure he was always on hand -at meal times, and played a very lively tooth on the nuts which his -mother had collected, always selecting the best for himself. But he -seasoned his nibbling with much grumbling and discontent.</p> - -<p>Papa Nutcracker would often lose his patience, and say something -sharp to Featherhead, but Mamma Nutcracker would shed tears, and beg -her darling boy to be a little more reasonable.</p> - -<p>While his parents, brothers, and sisters were cheerfully racing up -and down the branches laying up stores for the winter, Featherhead -sat apart, sulking and scolding.</p> - -<p>“Nobody understands me,” he grumbled. “Nobody treats me as I deserve -to be treated. Surely I was born to be something of more importance -than gathering a few chestnuts and hickory-nuts for the winter. I am -an unusual squirrel.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Depend upon it, my dear,” said Mrs. Nutcracker to her husband, “that -boy is a genius.”</p> - -<p>“Fiddlestick on his genius!” said old Mr. Nutcracker; “what does he <i>do</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing, of course, but they say that is one of the marks of -genius. Remarkable people, you know, never come down to common life.”</p> - -<p>“He eats enough for any two,” said old Nutcracker, “and he never -helps gather nuts.”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear, Parson Too-Whit, who has talked with Featherhead, says -the boy has very fine feelings,—so much above those of the common crowd.”</p> - -<p>“Feelings be hanged,” snapped old Nutcracker. “When a fellow eats -all the nuts that his mother gives him, and then grumbles at her, I -don’t believe much in his fine feelings. Why doesn’t he do something? -I’m going to tell my fine young gentleman that if he doesn’t behave -himself I’ll tumble him out of the nest neck and crop, and see if -hunger won’t do something toward bringing down his fine airs.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear,” sobbed Mrs. Nutcracker, falling on her husband’s neck -with both paws, “do be patient with our darling boy.”</p> - -<p>Now although the Nutcrackers belonged to the fine old race of the -Grays, they kept on the best of terms with all branches of the -squirrel family. They were very friendly to the Chipmunks of Chipmunk -Hollow. Young Tip Chipmunk, the oldest son, was in all respects a -perfect contrast to Master Featherhead. Tip was lively and cheerful, -and very alert in getting food for the family. Indeed, Mr. and Mrs. -Chipmunk had very little care, but could sit at the door of their -hole and chat with neighbours, quite sure that Tip would bring -everything out right for them, and have plenty laid up for winter.</p> - -<p>“What a commonplace fellow that Tip Chipmunk is,” sneered Featherhead -one day. “I shall take care not to associate with him.”</p> - -<p>“My dear, you are too hard on poor Tip,” said Mrs. Nutcracker. “He is -a very good son, I’m sure.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t doubt he’s good enough,” said Featherhead, “but he’s so -common. He hasn’t an idea in his skull above his nuts and Chipmunk -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> -Hollow. He is good-natured enough, but, dear me, he has no manners! -I hope, mother, you won’t invite the Chipmunks to the Thanksgiving -dinner—these family dinners are such a bore.”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear Featherhead, your father thinks a great deal of the -Chipmunks—they are our relatives you know,” said Mother Nutcracker.</p> - -<p>“So are the High-Flyers our relatives. If we could get them to come -there would be some sense to it. But of course a flying squirrel -would never come to our house if a common chipmunk is a guest. It -isn’t to be expected,” said Featherhead.</p> - -<p>“Confound him for a puppy,” said old Nutcracker. “I wish good, -industrious sons like Tip Chipmunk <i>were</i> common.”</p> - -<p>But in the end Featherhead had his way, and the Chipmunks were not -invited to Nutcracker Lodge for Thanksgiving dinner. However, they -were not all offended. Indeed, Tip called early in the morning to pay -his compliments of the season, and leave a few dainty beechnuts. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He can’t even see that he is not wanted here,” sneered Featherhead.</p> - -<p>At last old papa declared it was time for Featherhead to choose some business.</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do, my boy?” he asked. “We are driving now a -thriving trade in hickory nuts, and if you would like to join us——”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said Featherhead, “the hickory trade is too slow for me. -I was never made to grub and delve in that way. In fact I have my own plans.”</p> - -<p>To be plain, Featherhead had formed a friendship with the Rats of Rat -Hollow—a race of people whose honesty was doubtful. Old Longtooth -Rat was a money-lender, and for a long time he had had his eye on -Featherhead as a person silly enough to suit the business which was -neither more nor less than downright stealing.</p> - -<p>Near Nutcracker Lodge was a large barn filled with corn and grain, -besides many bushels of hazelnuts, chestnuts and walnuts. Now old -Longtooth told Featherhead that he should nibble a passage into the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> -loft, and set up a commission business there—passing out nuts and -grain as Longtooth wanted them. He did not tell Featherhead a certain -secret—namely, that a Scotch terrier was about to be bought to keep -rats from the grain.</p> - -<p>“How foolish such drudging fellows as Tip Chipmunk are!” said -Featherhead to himself. “There he goes picking up a nut here and a -grain there, whereas I step into property at once.”</p> - -<p>“I hope you are honest in your dealings, my son,” said old Nutcracker.</p> - -<p>Featherhead threw his tail saucily over one shoulder and laughed. -“Certainly, sir, if honesty means getting what you can while it is -going, I mean to be honest.”</p> - -<p>Very soon Featherhead seemed to be very prosperous. He had a splendid -hole in the midst of a heap of chestnuts, and he seemed to be rolling -in wealth. He lavished gifts on his mother and sisters; he carried -his tail very proudly over his back. He was even gracious to Tip Chipmunk.</p> - -<p>But one day as Featherhead was lolling in his hole, up came two boys -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> -with the friskiest, wiriest Scotch terrier you ever saw. His eyes -blazed like torches. Featherhead’s heart died within him as he heard -the boys say, “Now we’ll see if we can catch the rascal that eats our grain.”</p> - -<p>Featherhead tried to slink out of the hole he had gnawed to come in -by, but found it stopped.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you are there, are you, Mister?” cried the boy. “Well, you don’t -get out, and now for a chase.”</p> - -<p>And sure enough poor Featherhead ran with terror up and down through -the bundles of hay. But the barking terrier was at his heels, and -the boys shouted and cheered. He was glad at last to escape through -a crack, though he left half of his fine brush behind him—for -Master Wasp, the terrier, made a snap at it just as Featherhead was -squeezing through. Alas! all the hair was cleaned off so that it was -as bare as a rat’s tail.</p> - -<p>Poor Featherhead limped off, bruised and beaten, with the dog -and boys still after him, and they would have caught him if Tip -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> -Chipmunk’s hole had not stood open to receive him. Tip took the best -of care of him, but the glory of Featherhead’s tail had gone forever. -From that time, though, he was a sadder and a wiser squirrel than he -ever had been before.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> - -<h3>BUSHY’S BRAVERY</h3> - -<p>Mr. Squirrel was disappointed when he peeped his head out of his -hollow tree early one morning. Not one nut was to be seen on the ground.</p> - -<p>“Jack Frost did not come last night. I see no nuts anywhere. It will -take a long time to get all we need from the tree, I fear,” he said -to Mrs. Squirrel, who was standing close beside him.</p> - -<p>“But Jack Frost will come to our tree,” she said. “He never fails. -See, there’s Mrs. Bushytail out early. She seems to be looking -around, too. Perhaps Jack Frost has shaken them down for her. Let’s -run down and see.”</p> - -<p>Away frisked Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel as fast as their legs could take -them, to see what Jack Frost had done for their neighbour. But, no, -he had not visited Mrs. Bushytail’s tree. She had looked all over -the ground, and there wasn’t a nut in sight. She couldn’t explain it herself. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Let us wait until to-morrow morning,” said Mrs. Squirrel, “he will -be sure to come to-night. Then what fun Bushy and Frisky will have -gathering them. They will have to work hard to get enough for our -winter store. Boys love nuts, too,” she added with a sigh. “But we -will wait.”</p> - -<p>Morning came and frosty Jack had been there in earnest, for the nuts -lay all over the ground.</p> - -<p>“Now to work,” said Father Squirrel. “Come, Bushy and Frisky.”</p> - -<p>It was a busy day for Mr. Squirrel’s family. They well knew how -many, many nuts are needed for the winter’s store, and Mr. Squirrel -kept telling Bushy and Frisky that they would have to work hard, and -perhaps until the sun went down that day.</p> - -<p>But alas for those little squirrels. “Boys love nuts, too,” Mrs. -Squirrel had said over and over again, and when a rustle was heard in -the bushes behind the trees, and the sound of boys’ voices came loud -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> -and clear, these little workers had to take to their heels, and whisk -up the hollow tree. There they stayed trembling with fear. In a few -minutes Bushy, a little braver than the rest, ventured to peep out of -a small hole. Frisky stood just back of him.</p> - -<p>“Boys—three of them—and they all have bags!”</p> - -<p>Poor Bushy and Frisky. If there was one thing that these little -squirrels loved to do more than another it was to gather nuts—and -now their chance was spoiled, for the boys were really there, and -would be sure to take every nut they could find.</p> - -<p>“They’re working hard,” said Bushy.</p> - -<p>“Will they leave any for us?” asked Frisky, not even daring to peep out.</p> - -<p>“Sh! Listen, Frisky. I heard one of the boys say that there are some -nuts under the other tree. Two of the boys are going there now. It’s -Mrs. Bushytail’s tree. But look, Frisky, they have left two of the bags.”</p> - -<p>“Where, Bushy?”</p> - -<p>“One of the boys is sitting on one of them. He is cracking nuts, I think.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And the other bag, Bushy?”</p> - -<p>“The other one is close by our tree,” and before any one could say a -word, Bushy was out of the hole, down the tree, and close to the big -bag. Mrs. Squirrel tried to call him back, but it was of no use. Up -and down the bag he ran, first to the top and then to the sides. But -he could not get in—the bag was tied tight. But Bushy’s teeth were sharp.</p> - -<p>“Dear, dear,” said his mother, “here come the boys back, and they -will surely see Bushy—dear, dear.”</p> - -<p>Bushy caught sight of the boys coming toward the tree for their bags, -and with a whisk and a scamper he was up the tree again and into his -hole in no time.</p> - -<p>“Dear, dear Bushy,” said his mother. “What a fright you gave us all. -Just see those boys. There’s no telling what would have happened if -they had seen you.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Squirrel’s family watched the boys pick up their bags, throw them -over their shoulders and go away.</p> - -<p>“Why, Tom, look at your bag,” said one of the boys. “It has a hole in -it. You must have lost ever so many nuts along the way.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> - -<p>“A hole?” asked Tom in surprise, as he lifted the bag from his -shoulder. “So it has—and a pretty big one, too. I wonder how it ever -came there. It wasn’t there when I started.”</p> - -<p>The boys were gone, and Mr. Squirrel’s family ventured out once more.</p> - -<p>“It’s of no use, I fear,” began Mrs. Squirrel; “those boys were good -workers and—dear me, here are nuts sprinkled all along the road. -What does it mean?” asked Mrs. Squirrel.</p> - -<p>“It is strange,” said Mr. Squirrel. “I really thought those boys had -found them all, but perhaps boys’ eyes are not so sharp as we think.”</p> - -<p>Bushy kept on gathering the nuts and smiling to himself. How sly he -was. Not one of the family seemed to guess the truth. It was only -when he and Frisky were going to bed that night that Frisky dared to -whisper, “Bushy, did you put that hole in that bag?”</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> - -<h3>NUT GATHERERS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark! how they chatter</span> -<span class="i2">Down the dusk Road,</span> -<span class="i0">See them come patter,</span> -<span class="i2">Each with his Load.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What have you sought, then,</span> -<span class="i2">Gay little Band?</span> -<span class="i0">What have you brought, then,</span> -<span class="i2">Each in his Hand?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No need to ask it;</span> -<span class="i2">No need to tell;</span> -<span class="i0">In Bag and in Basket</span> -<span class="i2">Your nuts show well!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nuts from the wild-wood;</span> -<span class="i2">Sweet Nuts to eat;</span> -<span class="i0">Sweetest in Childhood</span> -<span class="i2">When life is sweet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There they go patter,</span> -<span class="i2">Each with his Load;</span> -<span class="i0">Hark! how they chatter</span> -<span class="i2">Down the dusk Road.</span> -<span class="i11"><span class="smcap">Hamish Hendry.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> - -<h2>IN HARVEST FIELDS</h2> - -<h3>WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUMPKIN’</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the frost is on the punkin’ and the fodder’s in the shock,</span> -<span class="i0">And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,</span> -<span class="i0">And the clackin’ of the guiney’s, and the cluckin’ of the hens,</span> -<span class="i0">And the rooster’s hallylcoyer as he tiptoes on the fence,</span> -<span class="i0">O, it’s then’s the time a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,</span> -<span class="i0">With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,</span> -<span class="i0">As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,</span> -<span class="i0">When the frost is on the punkin’ and the fodder’s in the shock.</span> -<span class="i37"><span class="smcap">James Whitcomb Riley.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> - -<h3>ORIGIN OF INDIAN CORN</h3> - -<p>Once upon a time an Indian chief sat alone in his wigwam thinking -about the needs of his tribe. For more than a year food had been very -scarce, and they were suffering from a scanty fare of roots, herbs, -and berries. Many of the people had come to him in their misery.</p> - -<p>“We ask you to help us, brave chief,” they cried. “Will you not -entreat the Great Spirit to send us some of the food from the Happy -Hunting Grounds where it is so plentiful? See how weak and thin our -young braves are. Help us or we shall die.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go into the depths of the forest,” said the chief. “There I’ll -live until the Great Spirit tells me how to relieve the misery of my people.”</p> - -<p>He left his wigwam and walked far into the forest, where he waited -for several days before the Great Spirit spoke these words to him:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> - -<p>“In the moon of rains take thy family and go to the stretch of land -which joins this forest. Wait there until I send thee a message.”</p> - -<p>The chief went back to the Indian village, and told what he had heard -from the Great Spirit. And in the Moon of Rains he called together -his honoured wife, his fleet-footed sons, and his graceful daughter, -and said, “Follow me to the stretch of land beyond the forest.”</p> - -<p>When they reached the great plain, they stood in a group waiting for -a message from the Great Spirit. For three suns they stood patiently -without once changing their positions.</p> - -<p>The Indians of the tribe grew anxious to know what had happened to -their chief and his family, and some of them slipped through the wood -to the plain where they knew he had been directed to go. There they -saw the group of figures standing with their hands uplifted, and -their eyes closed. The Indians were filled with awe.</p> - -<p>“The Great Spirit is talking to them,” they whispered, as they went -back to their wigwams. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> - -<p>In a few days they returned to the plain. A marvelous sight met -their eyes. Instead of the chief and his family standing like images -of sleep, they saw wonderful green plants, tall and straight, with -broad, flat leaves, and in place of uplifted hands they beheld ears -of corn with silken fringe.</p> - -<p>“The Great Spirit has called our chief and his family to the ‘Happy -Hunting Grounds,’” they said, “and has sent us this food as a symbol -of their sacrifice.”</p> - -<p>They saved some of the kernels and planted them in the fields, and -each year when they reaped a golden harvest they remembered the brave -chief whose thoughtful care brought them the rich blessing of the Indian corn. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sing, O Song of Hiawatha,</span> -<span class="i0">Of the happy days that followed,</span> -<span class="i0">In the land of the Ojibways,</span> -<span class="i0">In the pleasant land and peaceful!</span> -<span class="i0">Sing the mysteries of Mondamin,</span> -<span class="i0">Sing the Blessing of the Cornfields!</span> -<span class="i15"><span class="smcap">Henry W. Longfellow.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> - -<h3>O-NA-TAH: THE SPIRIT OF THE CORN-FIELDS</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Harriet Converse</span></p> - -<p>O-na-tah is the spirit of the corn, and patroness of the fields. -The sun touches her dusky face with the blush of the morning, and -her dark eyes grow soft as the gleam of the stars that float on -dark streams. Her night-black hair flares in the breeze like the -wind-driven cloud that unveils the sun. As she walks the air, draped -in her maize, its blossoms plume to the sun, and its fringing tassels -play with the rustling leaves in whispering promises to the waiting -fields. Night follows O-na-tah’s dim way with dews, and Day guides -the beams that leap from the sun to her path. And the great Mother -Earth loves O-na-tah, who brings to her children their life-giving grain. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> - -<p>At one time O-na-tah had two companions, the Spirit of the Bean and -the Spirit of the Squash. In the olden time when the bean, corn, and -squash were planted together in the hill these three plant spirits -were never separated. Each was clothed in the plant which she -guarded. The Spirit of the Squash was crowned with the flaunting gold -trumpet blossom of its foliage. The Spirit of the Bean was arrayed in -the clinging leaves of its winding vine, its velvety pods swinging to -the breeze.</p> - -<p>One day when O-na-tah had wandered astray in search of the lost dew, -Hah-gweh-da-et-gab captured her, and imprisoned her in his darkness -under the earth. Then he sent one of his monsters to blight her -fields and the Spirit of Squash and the Spirit of Bean fled before -the blighting winds that pursued them. O-na-tah languished in the -darkness, lamenting her lost fields. But one day a searching sun ray -discovered her, and guided her safely back to her lands.</p> - -<p>Sad indeed was O-na-tah when she beheld the desolation of her -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> -blighted fields, and the desertion of her companions, Spirit of -Squash and Spirit of Bean. Bewailing the great change, she made a vow -that she would never leave her fields again.</p> - -<p>If her fields thirst now, she can not leave them to summon the dews. -When the Flame Spirit of the Sun burns the maize O-na-tah dare not -search the skies for Ga-oh to implore him to unleash the winds and -fan her lands. When great rains fall and blight her fields the voice -of O-na-tah grows faint and the Sun can not hear. Yet faithful she -watches and guards, never abandoning her fields till the maize is ripe.</p> - -<p>When the maize stalk bends low O-na-tah is folding the husks to the -pearly grains that the dew will nourish in their screening shade, as -they fringe to the sun.</p> - -<p>When the tassels plume, O-na-tah is crowning the maize with her -triumph sign, and the rustling leaves spear to the harvest breeze.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> - -<h3>MONDAMIN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Summer passed and Shawondasee</span> -<span class="i0">Breathed his sighs o’er all the landscape,</span> -<span class="i0">From the South-land sent his ardours,</span> -<span class="i0">Wafted kisses warm and tender;</span> -<span class="i0">And the maize-field grew and ripened,</span> -<span class="i0">Till it stood in all the splendour</span> -<span class="i0">Of its garments green and yellow,</span> -<span class="i0">Of its tassels and its plumage,</span> -<span class="i0">And the maize-ears full of shining</span> -<span class="i0">Gleamed from bursting sheaths of verdure.</span> -<span class="i0">Then Nokomis, the old woman,</span> -<span class="i0">Spake, and said to Minnehaha,</span> -<span class="i0">“’Tis the Moon when leaves are falling,</span> -<span class="i0">All the wild rice has been gathered,</span> -<span class="i0">And the maize is ripe and ready;</span> -<span class="i0">Let us gather in the harvest,</span> -<span class="i0">Let us wrestle with Mondamin,</span> -<span class="i0">Strip him of his plumes and tassels,</span> -<span class="i0">Of his garments green and yellow.”</span> -<span class="i0">And the merry Laughing Water</span> -<span class="i0">Went rejoicing from the wigwam,</span> -<span class="i0">With Nokomis, old and wrinkled,</span> -<span class="i0">And they called the women round them,</span> -<span class="i0">Called the young men and the maidens,</span> -<span class="i0">To the harvest of the cornfields,</span> -<span class="i0">To the husking of the maize-ear.</span> -<span class="i12"><span class="smcap">Henry W. Longfellow.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE DISCONTENTED PUMPKIN</h3> - -<p>Jack Frost visited Farmer Crane’s field one night, and the next -morning the gold of the pumpkins shone more brilliantly than ever -through their silver coverings.</p> - -<p>“It is of no use,” said one large pumpkin to another lying beside it. -“It is of no use. I was never made to be cut up for pumpkin pies. I -feel I was put here for something higher.”</p> - -<p>“Why, what do you mean?” said the other. “You never seemed -dissatisfied before. You quite take my breath away.”</p> - -<p>“Well, to tell the truth, I do not like the thought of being cut up -and served on a table like an ordinary pumpkin. See how large I am, -and what a glorious colour. Tell me, did you ever see a pumpkin more beautiful?”</p> - -<p>“You are beautiful, indeed, but I never thought of being made for -anything but pies. Do tell me of what other use can one be?” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well, I have always thought that I am not like the other pumpkins in -this field, and when Farmer Crane pointed me out as the finest one he -had, I heard him say, ‘That would be a fine one for a fair.’ It was -not till then that I really knew for what I was intended.”</p> - -<p>“I do remember,” answered the other. “Yes, I do remember hearing -about some pumpkins’ being taken to a county fair once, but I never -heard how they liked it. As for myself, I should be proud to be made -into delicious pies and served on a beautiful plate.”</p> - -<p>“How can you be satisfied with that thought? But there is Farmer -Crane now. He is gathering some of the <i>smaller</i> pumpkins to make -pies with, I think.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he knows best what you are made for,” answered the other.</p> - -<p>Farmer Crane was soon at their side, and was looking from one to the other.</p> - -<p>“What fine pies they will make. I had better take them now, I think,” -he said, and they were quickly added to the golden heap already on the wagon. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> - -<p>How happy they all were—all but one that lay on the top of the large pile.</p> - -<p>“It is hard to be thrown in with these ordinary pumpkins. If I could -only slip off by myself. Perhaps there is at least a place at the -bottom of the wagon where I can be alone.”</p> - -<p>It was a long way from the top of the pile to the bed of the wagon, -but it was very little trouble to slip away from the rest. It would -take only a second, and then he could be away from the others. But -alas! the discontented pumpkin slipped a little too far, and I’m -sorry to say, soon lay on the frozen ground, a shattered heap.</p> - -<p>“Dear me,” said the pumpkins in one breath; “see, that fine fellow -has slipped off, and is broken to pieces. What a feast the cows and -pigs will have.”</p> - -<p>“It is too bad,” said one.</p> - -<p>“And he was so anxious to be taken to a fair,” added another. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hurrah for the tiny seed!</span> -<span class="i0">Hurrah for the flower and vine!</span> -<span class="i0">Hurrah for the golden pumpkin;</span> -<span class="i0">Yellow and plump and fine!</span> -<span class="i0">But better than all beginnings,</span> -<span class="i0">Sure, nobody can deny,</span> -<span class="i0">Is the end of the whole procession——</span> -<span class="i0">This glorious pumpkin pie!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> - -<h3>BOB WHITE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see you on the zig zag rails,</span> -<span class="i2">You cheery little fellow!</span> -<span class="i0">While purple leaves are whirling down,</span> -<span class="i2">And scarlet, brown or yellow.</span> -<span class="i0">I hear you when the air is full</span> -<span class="i2">Of snow-down of the thistle;</span> -<span class="i0">All in your speckled jacket trim,</span> -<span class="i2">“Bob White! Bob White!” you whistle.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tall amber sheaves, in rustling rows,</span> -<span class="i2">Are nodded there to greet you,</span> -<span class="i0">I know that you are out for play——</span> -<span class="i2">How I should like to meet you!</span> -<span class="i0">Though blithe of voice, so shy you are,</span> -<span class="i2">In this delightful weather;</span> -<span class="i0">What splendid playmates, you and I,</span> -<span class="i2">Bob White, would make together.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, you are gone! but far away</span> -<span class="i2">I hear your whistle falling,</span> -<span class="i0">Ah! maybe it is hide and seek,</span> -<span class="i2">And that’s why you are calling.</span> -<span class="i0">Along those hazy uplands wide</span> -<span class="i2">We’d be such merry rangers;</span> -<span class="i0">What! silent now and hidden, too?</span> -<span class="i2">Bob White, don’t let’s be strangers.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perhaps you teach your brood the game,</span> -<span class="i2">In yonder rainbowed thicket,</span> -<span class="i0">While winds are playing with the leaves,</span> -<span class="i2">And softly creaks the cricket.</span> -<span class="i0">“Bob White! Bob White!” again I hear</span> -<span class="i2">That blithely whistled chorus,</span> -<span class="i0">Why should we not companions be?</span> -<span class="i2">One Father watches o’er us!</span> -<span class="i17"><span class="smcap">George Cooper.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE LITTLE PUMPKIN</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Emma Florence Bush.</span></p> - -<p>Once there was a little pumpkin that grew on a vine in a field. All -day long the sun shone on him, and the wind blew gently around him. -Sometimes the welcome rain fell softly upon him, and as the vine -sent her roots deep down into the earth and drew the good sustenance -from it, and it flowed through her veins, the little pumpkin drank -greedily of the good juice, and grew bigger and bigger, and rounder -and rounder, and firmer and firmer.</p> - -<p>By and by he grew so big he understood all that the growing things -around him were saying, and he listened eagerly.</p> - -<p>“I came from the seed of a Jack-o’-lantern,” said this vine to a -neighbour, “therefore I must grow all Jack-o’-lanterns.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> - -<p>“So did I,” said a neighbour, “but no Jack-o’-lanterns for me. It is -too hard a life. I am going to grow just plain pumpkins.”</p> - -<p>When the little pumpkin heard he was supposed to be a -Jack-o’-lantern, he grew very worried, for he could not see that he -was in any way different from any ordinary pumpkin, and if Mother -Vine expected him to be a Jack-o’-lantern, he did not want to -disappoint her.</p> - -<p>At last he grew so unhappy over it that the dancing little sunbeams -noticed it. “What is the matter, little pumpkin?” they cried. “Why do -you not hold up your head and look around as you used to do?”</p> - -<p>“Because,” answered the little pumpkin, sadly, “I have to be a -Jack-o’-lantern, and I don’t know how. All I know about is how to be -a little yellow pumpkin.”</p> - -<p>Then the merry little breezes laughed and laughed until they shook -the vine so that all the pumpkins had to tighten their hold not to -be shaken off. “Oh, little pumpkin!” they cried, “why worry about -what you will have to do later? Just try with all your might to be a -little yellow pumpkin, and believe that if you do the best you can, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> -everything will be all right. We know a secret, a beautiful secret, -and some day we will tell it to you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, tell me now!” cried the little pumpkin, but the sunbeams and -breezes laughed together, and chuckled,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh no, oh no, oh no!</span> -<span class="i0">Just grow and grow and grow,</span> -<span class="i0">And some day you will know.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The little pumpkin felt comforted. “After all,” he thought, “perhaps -if I cannot be a Jack-o’-lantern I can be a good pumpkin, and I am so -far down on the vine perhaps Mother Vine won’t notice me.” He looked -around, and saw that all his brothers and sisters were only little -pumpkins, too.</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear,” he cried, “are we going to disappoint Mother Vine? -Aren’t any of us going to be Jack-o’-lanterns?” Then all his little -brothers and sisters laughed, and said, “What do we care about being -Jack-o’-lanterns? All we care about is to eat the good juice, and grow and grow.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> - -<p>At last came the cold weather, and all the little pumpkins were now -big ones, and a beautiful golden yellow. The biggest and yellowest of -all was the little pumpkin who had tried so hard all summer to grow -into a Jack-o’-lantern. He could not believe Mother Vine did not see -him now, for he had grown so big that every one who saw him exclaimed -about him, and Mother Vine did not seem at all disappointed, she just -kept at work carrying the good food that kept her pumpkin children well fed.</p> - -<p>At last one frosty morning, a crowd of children came to the field. -“The pumpkins are ready,” they cried. “The pumpkins are ready; and -we are going to find the biggest and yellowest and nicest to make a -Jack-o’-lantern for the Thanksgiving party. All the grandmothers and -grandfathers and aunts and uncles will see it, and we are going to -eat the pies made from it.”</p> - -<p>They looked here and there, all over the field, and pushed aside the -vines to see better. All at once they saw the little pumpkin. “Oh!” -they cried, “What a perfect Jack-o’-lantern! So big and firm and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> -round and yellow! This shall be the Jack-o’-lantern for our -Thanksgiving party, and it is so large there will be pie enough for every one.”</p> - -<p>Then they picked the pumpkin and carried him to the barn. Father -cut a hole in the top around the stem, lifted it off carefully and -scooped out the inside, and the children carried it to mother in the -kitchen. Then father made eyes and a nose and mouth, and fitted a big -candle inside. “Oh, see the beautiful Jack-o’-lantern!” they cried.</p> - -<p>The little pumpkin waited in the barn. “At last I am a -Jack-o’-lantern,” he said. After a time it grew dark, and father -came and carried him into the house, and lighted the candle, and put -him right in the middle of the table, and all the grandmothers and -grandfathers, and aunts and uncles, cried, “Oh, what a beautiful, -big, round, yellow Jack-o’-lantern!”</p> - -<p>Then the little pumpkin was happy, for he knew Mother Vine would have -been proud of him, and he shone—shone—SHONE, until the candle was -all burned out.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> - -<h3>AUTUMN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then came the Autumn all in yellow clad,</span> -<span class="i0">As though he joyèd in his plenteous store,</span> -<span class="i0">Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad</span> -<span class="i0">That he had banished hunger, which to-fore</span> -<span class="i0">Had by the body oft him pinchèd sore:</span> -<span class="i0">Upon his head a wreath, that was enroll’d</span> -<span class="i0">With ears of corn of every sort, he bore;</span> -<span class="i0">And in his hand a sickle he did hold,</span> -<span class="i0">To reap the ripen’d fruits the which the earth had yold.</span> -<span class="i37"><span class="smcap">Edmund Spenser.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHEERFUL CHIRPERS</h2> -<h3>THE NEWS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The katydids say it as plain as can be</span> -<span class="i0">And the crickets are singing it under the trees;</span> -<span class="i0">In the asters’ blue eyes you may read the same hint,</span> -<span class="i0">Just as clearly as if you had seen it in print.</span> -<span class="i0">And the corn sighs it, too, as it waves in the sun,</span> -<span class="i0">That autumn is here and summer is done.</span> -<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Persis Gardiner.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> - -<h3>HOW THERE CAME TO BE A KATY-DID</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Patten Beard</span></p> - -<p>From “The Bluebird’s Garden.” Used by special permission of the -author and the Pilgrim Press.</p> - -<p>Long, long, long ago—so long that this story has had time to grow -into a garden legend—two green grasshoppers went out, one fine day, -to play with a cricket. They played tag, and I’m on gypsyland. At -last they decided to have a game of hide-and-seek.</p> - -<p>The goal was a blade of grass, and they counted out to see who should -be goal man. It fell to the little cricket, Katy-did. She was to hide -her eyes behind the grassblade, and count up to one hundred by tens, -while the two grasshoppers went off to hide.</p> - -<p>So the cricket hid her face so that she could not see, and began: -“Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, one hundred! Coming!” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> - -<p>Though there were plenty of good places in which to hide in the -garden, one green grasshopper had been slow to suit himself. He had -not yet hidden when the little cricket turned about and caught him.</p> - -<p>And he began, “You didn’t count up to a hundred! I didn’t have time -to hide! You should have hollered, ‘Coming!’ It’s no fair! I’m not -going to play any more—you didn’t count up to a hundred!”</p> - -<p>At this, the other grasshopper came out of hiding. “She did count up -to a hundred,” he said, “Katy did!”</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">She didn’t”</span> -<span class="i6">She did!”</span> -<span class="i6">She didn’t!”</span> -<span class="i6">Katy did, did, did!”</span> -<span class="i6">Katy didn’t, didn’t, didn’t!”</span> -<span class="i6">Did, did, did!”</span> -<span class="i6">Didn’t, didn’t, didn’t!”</span> -<span class="i6">Katy did!”</span> -<span class="i6">Katy didn’t!”</span> -<span class="i6">She did!”</span> -<span class="i6">She didn’t!”</span> -<span class="i6">Katy did!”</span> -<span class="i6">Katy didn’t!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></div></div> - -<p>To this very, very day, you can hear the dispute still going on in -the garden, and the game of tag has never yet been finished. Ever -since that time the grasshoppers who started the discussion have been -called katydids, and the whole garden is full of the controversy. You -can hear hundreds of little voices keeping it up, though nothing is -ever decided. So it goes on eternally, Katy did—Katy didn’t, did, -did, did, didn’t, didn’t, she did, she didn’t—for nobody has ever -yet settled a dispute by contradiction. By this time, too, everyone -has forgotten what the quarrel was about.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> - -<h3>OLD DAME CRICKET</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Old Dame Cricket, down in a thicket,</span> -<span class="i0">Brought up her children nine,——</span> -<span class="i2">Queer little chaps, in glossy black caps</span> -<span class="i0">And brown little suits so fine.</span> -<span class="i2">“My children,” she said,</span> -<span class="i2">“The birds are abed:</span> -<span class="i0">Go and make the dark earth glad!</span> -<span class="i2">Chirp while you can!”</span> -<span class="i2">And then she began,——</span> -<span class="i0">Till, oh, what a concert they had!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">They hopped with delight,</span> -<span class="i2">They chirped all night,</span> -<span class="i0">Singing, “Cheer up! cheer up! cheer!”</span> -<span class="i2">Old Dame Cricket,</span> -<span class="i2">Down in the thicket,</span> -<span class="i0">Sat awake till dawn to hear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">“Nice children,” she said,</span> -<span class="i2">“And very well bred.</span> -<span class="i0">My darlings have done their best.</span> -<span class="i2">Their naps they must take:</span> -<span class="i2">The birds are awake;</span> -<span class="i0">And they can sing all the rest.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> - -<h3>MISS KATY-DID AND MISS CRICKET</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Harriet Beecher Stowe</span></p> - -<p>Miss Katy-Did sat on the branch of a flowering azalia in her best -suit of fine green and silver, with wings of point-lace from mother -nature’s finest web.</p> - -<p>Her gallant cousin, Colonel Katy-Did, had looked in to make her a -morning call.</p> - -<p>“Certainly I am a pretty creature,” she said to herself when the -gallant Colonel said something about being dazzled by her beauty.</p> - -<p>“The fact is, my dear Colonel,” said Miss Katy, “I am thinking of -giving a party, and you must help me make out the lists.”</p> - -<p>“My dear, you make me the happiest of Katy-Dids.”</p> - -<p>“Now,” said Miss Katy, drawing an azalia leaf towards her, “let us -see—whom shall we have? The Fireflies are a little unsteady, but -they are so brilliant, everybody wants them—and they belong to the higher circles.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Yes, we must have the Fireflies,” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Well, then—and the Butterflies and the Moths, now there’s the -trouble. There are so many Moths, and they’re so dull. Still if you -have the Butterflies you can’t leave out the Moths.”</p> - -<p>“Old Mrs. Moth has been ill lately. That may keep two or three of the -Misses Moth at home,” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“I thought she was never sick,” said Miss Katy-Did.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I understand she and her family ate up a whole fur cape last -month, and it disagreed with them.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, how can they eat such things as worsted and fur?” then sneered -Miss Katy-Did.</p> - -<p>“By your fairy-like delicacy one can see that you couldn’t eat such -things,” smiled the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Mamma says she doesn’t know what keeps me alive. Half a dewdrop and -a little bit of the nicest part of a rose-leaf often lasts me for a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> -day. But to our list. Let’s see,—the Fireflies, Butterflies, Moths. -The Bees must come, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“The Bees are a worthy family,” nodded the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Yes, but dreadfully humdrum. They never talk about anything but -honey and housekeeping.”</p> - -<p>“Then there are the Bumble Bees.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I dote on them,” said Miss Katy-Did. “General Bumble is one of -the most dashing, brilliant fellows of the day.”</p> - -<p>“He’s shockingly fat!” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Yes, he is a little stout,” nodded Miss Katy-Did, “but he is very -elegant in his manners,—something soldierly and breezy about him.”</p> - -<p>“If you invite the Bumble Bees, you must have the Hornets.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, they are spiteful,—I detest them.”</p> - -<p>“Nevertheless, one must not offend the Hornets, and how about the -Mosquitoes?” asked the Colonel.</p> - -<p>“They are very common. Can’t one cut them?” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I think not, my dear Miss Katy. Young Mosquito is connected with -some of our leading papers, and he carries a sharp pen. It will never -do to offend him.”</p> - -<p>“And I suppose one must ask all his dreadful relations, too,” sighed -Miss Katy.</p> - -<p>At this moment they saw Miss Keziah Cricket coming. She carried her -workbag on her arm, and she asked for a subscription to help a poor -family of Ants who had just had their house hoed up by some one who -was clearing the garden walks.</p> - -<p>“How stupid of the Ants,” said Katy, “not to know better than to put -their house in a garden-walk.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, they are in great trouble,” said Miss Cricket. “Their stores are -all destroyed, and their father killed—cut quite in two by a hoe.”</p> - -<p>“How very shocking! I don’t like to hear such disagreeable things. -But I have nothing to give. Mamma said yesterday she didn’t know how -our bills were to be paid,—and there’s my green satin with point -lace yet to come home,” said Miss Katy, shrugging her shoulders. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> - -<p>Little Miss Cricket hopped briskly off. “Poor, extravagant little -thing,” she said to herself.</p> - -<p>“Shall you invite the Crickets?” said Colonel Katy-Did.</p> - -<p>“Why, Colonel, what a question! I invite the Crickets? No, indeed.”</p> - -<p>“And shall you ask the Locusts or the Grasshoppers?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly. The Locusts, of course—a very old and fine family, and -the Grasshoppers are pretty well, and ought to be asked. But one must -draw the line somewhere—and the Crickets! Why, I can’t think of them.”</p> - -<p>“I thought they were very nice, respectable people,” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Oh, perfectly nice and respectable,—but——”</p> - -<p>“Do explain, my dear Katy.”</p> - -<p>“Why, their <i>colour</i>, to be sure. Don’t you see?”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said the colonel. “That’s it, is it? And tell me, please, who -decides what colour shall be the reigning colour?”</p> - -<p>“What a question! The only true colour—the only proper one—is <i>our</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> -colour to be sure. A lovely pea green is the shade on which to found -an aristocratic distinction. Of course, we are liberal; we associate -with the Moths, who are gray; with the Butterflies, who are blue and -gold coloured; with the Grasshoppers, yellow and brown; and society -would become dreadfully mixed if it were not fortunately ordered -that the Crickets are as black as jet. The fact is that a class to -be looked down upon is necessary to all elegant society, and if the -Crickets were not black we could not keep them down. Everybody knows -they are often a great deal cleverer than we are. They have a vast -talent for music and dancing; they are very quick at learning, and -would be getting to the very top of the ladder if we allowed them to -climb. Now, so long as we are green and they are black, we have a -superiority that can never be taken from us. Don’t you see now?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I see exactly,” said the colonel. “Now that Keziah Cricket, -who just came in here, is quite a musician, and her old father plays -the violin beautifully; by the way, we might engage him for our orchestra.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> - -<p>And so Miss Katy’s ball came off. It lasted from sundown till -daybreak, so that it seemed as if every leaf in the forest were -alive. The Katy-Dids, and the Mosquitoes, and the Locusts, and a full -orchestra of Crickets made the air perfectly vibrate.</p> - -<p>Old Parson Too-Whit was shocked at the gaieties, which were kept up -by the pleasure-loving Katy-Dids night after night.</p> - -<p>But about the first of September the celebrated Jack Frost epidemic -broke out. Poor Miss Katy, with her flimsy green satin, and point -lace, was one of the first victims, and fell from the bough in -company with a sad shower of last year’s leaves.</p> - -<p>The worthy Cricket family, however, avoided Jack Frost by moving -in time to the chimney corner of a nice little cottage that had -been built in the wood. There good old Mr. and Mrs. Cricket, with -sprightly Miss Keziah and her brothers and sisters, found a warm and -welcome home. When the storm howled without, and lashed the poor, -naked trees, the crickets on the warm hearth would chirp out cheery -welcome to the happy family in the cottage.</p> - -<p>(Adapted.)</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE CRICKET</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little cricket, full of mirth,</span> -<span class="i0">Chirping on my kitchen hearth;</span> -<span class="i0">Wheresoever be thine abode,</span> -<span class="i0">Always harbinger of good.</span> -<span class="i0">Pay me for thy warm retreat</span> -<span class="i0">With a song more soft and sweet;</span> -<span class="i0">In return thou shalt receive</span> -<span class="i0">Such a strain as I can give.</span> -<span class="i15"><span class="smcap">William Cowper.</span></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> - -<h2>ALL HALLOWE’EN</h2> - -<h3>SHADOW MARCH</h3> -<p class="f90">Used by special permission of Charles Scribner and Sons.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All around the house is the jet black night,</span> -<span class="i0">It stares through the window-pane,</span> -<span class="i0">It creeps in the corners hiding from the light</span> -<span class="i0">And it moves with the moving flame.</span> -<span class="i0">Now my little heart goes a-beating like a drum,</span> -<span class="i0">With the breath of the bogie in my hair,</span> -<span class="i0">While all around the candle the crooked shadows come</span> -<span class="i0">And go marching along up the stair.</span> -<span class="i0">The shadow of the baluster, the shadow of the light,</span> -<span class="i0">The shadow of the child that goes to bed,</span> -<span class="i0">All the wicked shadows come a tramp, tramp, tramp,</span> -<span class="i0">With the black night overhead.</span> -<span class="i12"><span class="smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> - -<h3>TWINKLING FEET’S HALLOWE’EN</h3> - -<p>One Hallowe’en a band of merry pixies were dancing round and round -a bright green ring in the meadow. In the center stood the Little -Fiddler, playing his gayest music, and keeping time with his head -and one tiny foot. The faster he played, the merrier the little -creatures danced. What sport it was to twirl and twist in time with -the fairy music, which the jolly little elf brought out from his tiny -instrument. No wonder the pixies laughed until their sides ached. And -so, indeed, did their little musician. Sometimes he was obliged to -stop playing for a few seconds in order to catch his breath.</p> - -<p>Now there was one pixie named Twinkling Feet who was the best dancer -in the ring, and he could cut such queer little capers that his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> -companions fairly shrieked with laughter when they looked at him. -Suddenly he thought what sport it would be to play a trick on all the -little dancers. Very slyly he tripped his partner, and the two fell -down in the grass, dragging with them one pixie after another until -all in the circle were sprawling on the ground. There they lay for -several seconds, a wriggling mass of green coats and red caps. It was -some time before they could pick themselves up. Many of them laughed -heartily at the mishap, but a few were so badly bruised that they -were obliged to slip away and bathe their shins in the evening dew.</p> - -<p>“Who tripped first in the ring?”</p> - -<p>“Who made us fall on our stumjackets?”</p> - -<p>“Who spoiled our Hallowe’en dance?” asked one little pixie after another.</p> - -<p>“Twinkling Feet and I fell first,” said the best dancer’s partner. “I -don’t know what made us tangle our feet, do you?” he asked, laughing -and turning to his companion.</p> - -<p>But Twinkling Feet’s little brown face was so drawn and sober that -his partner asked quickly, “Why, what <i>is</i> the matter with you?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said the little elf. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Why, <i>do look</i> at him,” cried another pixie.</p> - -<p>“Does anything hurt you?” asked several little creatures together.</p> - -<p>“I feel very queer,” said Twinkling Feet.</p> - -<p>“Have you what mortals call ‘pain?’” asked his partner.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what that is, but I feel very, very queer. Please ask -the Little Fiddler if he knows what is the matter with me.”</p> - -<p>The group of pixies that had gathered around Twinkling Feet -moved away in order to let the elfin musician come close to the -queer-looking pixie. The little Fiddler gazed steadily at him, shook -his white head, and said slowly, “A frightful thing has happened. -Twinkling Feet has lost his laugh!”</p> - -<p>“Lost his laugh!” shrieked all the other little elfs.</p> - -<p>“He has lost his laugh!” repeated the Fiddler Pixie.</p> - -<p>“Lost my laugh,” moaned Twinkling Feet. “Oh, please tell me what to do.”</p> - -<p>“There is nothing to do but go and search for it. You can not dance -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> -in a pixie ring without your laugh, and mark what I say, you must -find it before midnight.”</p> - -<p>“But what if I <i>can’t</i> find it?” cried the frightened elf.</p> - -<p>“Then you’ll be a pixie <i>without a laugh</i>—that is all,” -declared the Little Fiddler.</p> - -<p>At these awful words every pixie’s face grew sober. They looked at -each other very solemnly and said, “A pixie without a laugh! How terrible!”</p> - -<p>Then one after another they cried out. “Search for it, Twinkling -Feet. Perhaps you’ll find it before midnight. Start now. Think how -sad it will be if you are never able to dance in the ring again.”</p> - -<p>“Where shall I go, Fiddler Pixie?” asked Twinkling Feet.</p> - -<p>“Well, you might ask Jack-o’-Lantern,” said the musician. “He’s been -flitting about in the meadow all the evening. See, there he goes over -by the brook.”</p> - -<p>Away ran the little pixie as fast as his legs could carry him. It was -no easy matter to come close enough to Jack-o’-Lantern to make him -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> -hear. Twinkling Feet was almost ready to give up the chase when the -little man stopped, poked his head out of his lantern, and called, -“Do you wish to speak to me?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you know me?” cried the pixie. “I’m Twinkling Feet.”</p> - -<p>“Why, what has happened to you?” asked Jack. “You’re the queerest -looking chap I ever saw.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve lost my laugh. Please tell me, Jack-o’-Lantern, have you seen it?”</p> - -<p>“Lost your laugh!” repeated the lantern man, looking very serious. -“No wonder I didn’t know you. I’m very sorry to say I’ve seen nothing -of your laugh.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know anyone who could help me, Jack?” asked Twinkling Feet. -“Oh do help me find it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, let me see. You might ask Jolly Little Witch. Her eyes are -very sharp. She’s in the ragweed meadow, looking for a good riding -stalk. As soon as she finds one I’m going to light her to the village -where she will make plenty of merriment at the children’s party. It’s -Hallowe’en, you know. Come, jump into my lantern, and I’ll take you to her.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> - -<p>Twinkling Feet hopped into the little lantern, and away they went -to the ragweed field. When they drew near the Jolly Little Witch -called out, “I’ve found a good ragweed stalk, Jack, but I’ve lost my -goggles. Come, perhaps you can help me find them. I can’t go to the -village without my goggles. Why, who is that in the lantern with you?”</p> - -<p>“A pixie who wants to ask you something,” said Jack-o’-Lantern, -opening the door to let Twinkling Feet out. Then the lantern man -hurried away to search for the witch’s goggles.</p> - -<p>“Please, Jolly Little Witch, I’ve lost my laugh,” said Twinkling Feet.</p> - -<p>“Lost your laugh! and on Hallowe’en! Well, no wonder I didn’t know -you. You’re the queerest looking pixie I ever saw. Tell me how you -happened to lose your laugh?”</p> - -<p>But Twinkling Feet did not answer her question. He said meekly, -“Have you seen it?”</p> - -<p>“No, my little fellow. I’m sorry to say I’ve not seen your laugh,” -said the Jolly Little Witch. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> - -<p>“A pixie can’t dance without his laugh,” sighed Twinkling Feet.</p> - -<p>“No, of course he can’t. Dear, dear! How sorry I am for you,” said -the little witch, shaking her head.</p> - -<p>“And if a pixie loses anything on Hallowe’en, he must find it before -midnight or give it up forever.”</p> - -<p>“I could have helped you on any other night, but you see I always -spend Hallowe’en in the village with the children. I shall be late -to-night if I don’t find those goggles.” And again she began to search for them.</p> - -<p>The pixie looked at her for a moment. Then he asked, “Do the children -laugh a good deal on Hallowe’en?”</p> - -<p>“Why, my little man, it’s the time in all the year when they laugh -most. To-night there is to be a witch’s party. I shall secretly join -the children, and play all sorts of tricks for their amusement. What -a nuisance it is that I’ve lost those goggles.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll help you search for them, Jolly Little Witch,” said the pixie. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> -“I suppose I must give up my laugh, for I don’t know anyone else to -ask about it. Please tell me what your goggles look like.”</p> - -<p>“They are two round glass windows, which I wear over my eyes when I -ride through the air,” said the little Witch.</p> - -<p>Away started the pixie to search for them. He looked carefully around -every ragweed stalk in the meadow, but he could see nothing which -looked like “two round glass windows.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps one cannot find <i>anything</i> which has been lost on -Hallowe’en,” he said to himself.</p> - -<p>Slowly he walked back to the place where he had left the Jolly Little -Witch. When he reached her he stared sharply at something on top of her head.</p> - -<p>“Please tell me more about your goggles,” said Twinkling Feet. “Are -they like the two glass windows across the front of your hat?”</p> - -<p>“Across the front of my hat!” exclaimed the witch, putting her -hands up to find out what the little elf meant. Then she burst out -laughing, and said, “Well, well! What strange things do happen on -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> -Hallowe’en! Come, Jack-o’-Lantern! Come! The pixie has found my -goggles. They were on top of my head all the time!”</p> - -<p>And turning to Twinkling Feet she said, “You shall go with us to the -village, and see the merriment if you like. I’m sure Jack will carry -you in his lantern.”</p> - -<p>“Of course I will,” said the lantern man. “And while you are playing -tricks at the children’s party, I’ll carry him anywhere he wishes to -go. It is a long while before midnight.”</p> - -<p>“I want to see the children, and hear them laugh,” said Twinkling Feet.</p> - -<p>The Jolly Little Witch pulled her goggles down on her nose, and -mounted her ragweed stalk. The pixie hopped into the lantern, and -away through the air the three sailed.</p> - -<p>When they drew near the village, the little Witch lowered herself to -the ground.</p> - -<p>“Meet me here before the party is over, Jack-o’-Lantern,” she said. -“I shall leave before the children take off their masks. In the meantime, -let Twinkling Feet see the fun the children will have on the way to the party.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> - -<p>Away she ran up the village street to a corner where she joined a -group of jolly little boys and girls on their way to the party. They -wore black dresses, high, pointed hats with narrow brims, and funny -little masks. Not a word did anyone speak, but the sound of their -merry laughter reached Twinkling Feet’s ears.</p> - -<p>He slipped out of the lantern, and ran toward the group of children -as fast as he could go. Before he reached them, however, the tiniest -bit of a creature, turning somersaults faster than anyone could -count, came bounding to him. It climbed up the pixie’s little body, -and disappeared into his mouth. Twinkling Feet burst into the -merriest laugh, and ran back to Jack-o’-Lantern, crying out, “I’ve -found it! I’ve found my laugh! My dear little laugh! Oh, how happy -I am! Jack-o’-Lantern, please take me back to the pixie ring. I’ve -found my dear little laugh!”</p> - -<p>He hopped into the little man’s lantern, and away over the fields -they flew. As they drew near the green ring where the pixies were -still dancing, the delighted elf called out, “I’ve found my laugh! -I’ve found my dear little laugh!” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Welcome back, Twinkling Feet,” answered the dancers.</p> - -<p>He hopped out of the lantern, and joined the other merry pixies. When -they stopped dancing for a little while, the Fiddler Pixie slipped up -to the Twinkling Feet, and whispered slyly, “Always watch your laugh -carefully while you are dancing.”</p> - -<p class="author">—<i>Cornish Legend, Adapted.</i></p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> - -<h3>JACK-O’-LANTERN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here comes a Jack-o’-lantern</span> -<span class="i2">To frighten you to-night;</span> -<span class="i0">Made from a hollow pumpkin</span> -<span class="i2">With a candle for its light.</span> -<span class="i0">Go off! You Jack-o’-lantern!</span> -<span class="i2">You can not frighten me,</span> -<span class="i0">You’re nothing but a pumpkin</span> -<span class="i2">As any one can see!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE ELFIN KNIGHT</h3> - -<p>The autumn wind blew sharp and shrill around the turrets of a grey -stone castle. But indoors the fire crackled merrily in my lady’s -bower where an old nurse was telling a tale of Elfland to Janet, the -fairest of Scotch maidens.</p> - -<p>When the story was finished, Janet’s merry laugh echoed through the -halls. The old nurse nodded her head earnestly and said, “’Tis well -known, my lassie, that the people of Elfland revel in the hills and -hollows of Scotland. Come close, and I’ll tell you a secret.”</p> - -<p>Janet leaned forward, and the old woman whispered, “An Elfin Knight, -named Tam Lin, haunts the moorland on the border of your father’s -estate. No maiden dares venture near the enchanted place, for if she -should fall under the spell of this Elfin Knight she would be obliged -to give him a precious jewel for a ransom.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> - -<p>“One glimpse of the Elfin Knight would be worth the rarest gem I -have,” laughed Janet. “How I wish I could see him!”</p> - -<p>“Hush-sh!” said her nurse tremblingly. “Nay, nay, my lady! Mortals -should have nothing to do with the people of Elfland. By all -means shun the moorland at this time of the year, for to-morrow is -Hallowe’en—the night when the fairies ride abroad.”</p> - -<p>But the next morning Janet bound her golden braids about her head, -kilted up her green kirtle, and tripped lightly to the enchanted -moorland. When she came near she saw lovely flowers blooming as gaily -as if it were mid-summer time. She stooped to gather some of the -roses when suddenly she heard the faintest silvery music. She glanced -around, and there, riding toward her, was the handsomest knight she -had ever seen. His milk-white steed, which sped along lighter than -the wind, was shod in silver shoes, and from the bridle hung tiny silver bells. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> - -<p>When the knight came near, he sprang lightly from his horse and said, -“Fair Janet, tell me why you pluck roses in Elfland?”</p> - -<p>The maiden’s heart beat very fast, and the flowers dropped from her -hands, but she answered proudly, “I came to see Tam Lin, the Elfin Knight.”</p> - -<p>“He stands before you,” said the knight. “Have you come to free him -from Elfland?”</p> - -<p>At these words Janet’s courage failed, for she feared he might cast -a spell over her. But when the knight saw how she trembled, he said, -“Have no fear, Lady Janet, and you shall hear my story. I am the son -of noble parents. One day, when I was a lad of nine years, I went -hunting with my father. Now it chanced that we became separated from -each other, and ill-luck attended me. My good horse stumbled, and -threw me to the ground where I lay stunned by the fall. There the -Fairy Queen found me, and carried me off to yonder green hill. And -while it is pleasant enough in fairyland, yet I long to live among -mortals again.”</p> - -<p>“Then why do you not ride away to your home?” asked Janet. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Ah, that I can not do unless some fair maiden is brave enough to -help me. In three ways she must prove her courage. First she must -will to meet me here in the enchanted moorland. That you have done,” -declared the knight. Then he stopped, and looked pleadingly at Janet. -All her fear vanished, and she asked, “In what other ways must the -maiden show her courage?”</p> - -<p>“She must banish all fear of him. That, too, you have done,” said the -knight.</p> - -<p>“Tell me the third way, Tam Lin, for I believe I am the maid to free you.”</p> - -<p>“Only my true love can prove her courage in the third way, fair Janet.”</p> - -<p>And the maiden answered, “I am thy true love, Tam Lin.”</p> - -<p>“Then heed what I say, brave lady. To-night is Hallowe’en. At the -midnight hour, the Fairy Queen and all her knights will ride abroad. -If you dare win your true love, you must wait at Milescross until the -Fairy Queen and her Elfin Knights pass. I shall be in her train.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> - -<p>“But how shall I know you among so many knights, Tam Lin?” then asked -Lady Janet.</p> - -<p>“I shall ride in the third group of followers. Let the first and -second companies of the Fairy Queen pass, and look for me in the -third. There will be only three knights in this last company; one -will ride on a black horse, one on a brown, and the third on a -milk-white steed,” said the knight, pointing to his horse. “My right -hand will be gloved, Janet,” he continued, “but my left hand will -hang bare at my side. By these signs you will know me.”</p> - -<p>“I shall know you without fail,” nodded Janet.</p> - -<p>“Wait, calmly, until I am near you, then spring forward and seize me. -When the fairies see you holding me they will change my form into -many shapes. Do not fear, but hold me fast in your arms. At last I -shall take my human form. If you have courage enough to do this, you -will free your true love from the power of the fairies.”</p> - -<p>“I have courage enough to do all that you say,” declared Janet. -Then they sealed this promise with a kiss, and parted. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> - -<p>Gloomy was the night, and eerie was the way to Milescross. But Janet -threw her green mantle about her shoulders, and sped to the enchanted -moorland. All the way she said to herself over and over, “On this -Hallowe’en at midnight I shall free my true love, Tam Lin, from Elfland.”</p> - -<p>At Milescross she hid herself and waited. How the wind from the sea -moaned across the moorland! Presently she heard a merry tinkling -sound of far-off music, and in the distance she saw a twinkling light -dancing forward. Janet could hear her heart beat, but there she -stood, undaunted. The Fairy Queen and her train were riding forth. In -the lead of her first merry company of knights and maids of honour -rode the beautiful queen, whose jeweled girdle and crown flashed in -the darkness. The second group passed quickly, and now came three -knights in a third group. One rode on a black horse, one on a brown, -and there came the milk-white steed last of all. Janet could see that -one hand of the rider was gloved, and one hung bare at his side. Then -up leaped the maiden. Quickly she seized the bridle of the milk-white -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> -steed, pulled the rider from his horse, and threw her green mantle -around him. There was a clamour among the Elfin Knights, and the -Fairy Queen cried out, “Tam Lin! Tam Lin! Some mortal has hold of Tam -Lin, the bonniest knight in my company!”</p> - -<p>Then the strangest things happened. Instead of Tam Lin, Janet held in -her arms a bearded lion, which struggled mightily to get away. But -she remembered the knight’s warning. “Hold me fast, and fear me not.”</p> - -<p>The next moment she held a fire-breathing dragon, which almost -slipped from her, but she tightened her grasp, and thought of Tam -Lin’s words. The dragon changed to a burning bush, and the flames -leaped up on all sides, but Janet stood still and felt no harm. Then -in her arms she held a branching tree, filled with blossoms. And at -last Tam Lin, her own true love, stood there.</p> - -<p>When the Fairy Queen saw that none of her enchantments could -frighten Janet, she cried out angrily, “The maiden has won a stately -bridegroom who was my bonniest knight. Alas! Tam Lin is lost to Elfland.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> - -<p>On into the darkness rode the fairy train. Tam Lin and Lady Janet -hastened back to the grey stone castle. There, in a short time, a -wedding feast was prepared, and Tam Lin, who was really a Scottish -Earl, and Lady Janet, the bravest maid in Scotland, were married.</p> - -<p class="author">—<i>Old Ballad Retold.</i></p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE COURTEOUS PRINCE</h3> - -<p>Once upon a time a bonnie Prince fell in love with a lassie who was -nobly born, but was not his equal in rank. The king was sorely vexed, -because his son looked with favour on this maiden, and his majesty -determined to part the lovers. He sent the high chancellor of the -court to an old witch for advice. After thinking the matter over for -nine days, the old woman muttered the following answer:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The lassie will I charm away</span> -<span class="i0">’Till courtesy doth win the day.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>“I’m not quite sure what the old hag means,” said the king. “But if -she’ll get this maiden out of the Prince’s sight, I can arrange for -his marriage with some one of his own rank.”</p> - -<p>In a few days the lassie disappeared, and the Prince could find no -trace of her. He was very sad, indeed, and declared if he could not -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> -marry his own true love he would remain single all his life.</p> - -<p>It happened one fine day near the end of October that the young -Prince and a party of nobles went hunting. The hounds were soon on -the track of a fine deer, which was so wily and fleet of foot that -the nobles, one by one, lost track of the quarry, and dropped out of -the chase. The young Prince, who was a famous rider, continued the -hunt alone. Miles and miles over the low hills he galloped until at -last in the depths of a wooded glen the exhausted deer was brought to -bay by the hounds, and dispatched by the Prince.</p> - -<p>Not until after the prize was won did the royal hunter realize how -dusky it was in the glen, and how threatening the evening sky looked. -He felt sure he was too far from the palace to retrace his journey; -besides, he had lost all trace of direction. He threw the quarry over -his steed’s back, whistled to his hounds, and rode slowly down the -wooded valley, wondering where he could lodge for the night. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Little sign of hospitality in this lonely place,” he mused. “Perhaps -I’d better make the best of it, and find shelter in one of the rocky hollows.”</p> - -<p>On he rode in the gathering darkness. A turn in the valley brought -him to a stretch of moorland, and a little distance away he saw the -dark outline of an old, deserted hunting hall.</p> - -<p>“A cheerless looking inn,” thought the Prince. “No doubt one will -have to play host as well as guest here. However, I have my trusty -hounds and noble steed for company, and the quarry will furnish a -good meal for all of us.”</p> - -<p>He leaped from his horse and walked up to the old ruin. With very -little effort he broke open the door. The creaking of its rusty -hinges made strange echoings throughout the hall. The Prince led his -horse into one of the small rooms, then with his hounds he went into -the large dining hall, where he lit a fire on the great hearth, and -proceeded to cook some venison for supper.</p> - -<p>While he was waiting for the meat on the spit to roast, he listened -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> -to the rising wind, which moaned about the gloomy old ruin, and -rattled the doors and windows unceasingly. The good steed, in the -adjoining room, pawed the floor restlessly, and every few moments the -hounds stretched their heads straight up into the air, and whined in -a most uncanny way.</p> - -<p>As he mused before the fire, the Prince thought, “This is All -Hallowe’en, the night when ghosts and witches hold their revels. -Nevertheless, I’d rather be in this deserted hall than on the -storm-swept moorland.”</p> - -<p>He took the roasted meat from the fire, and prepared to eat his -supper. Suddenly a fierce blast of wind burst open a large door at -the far end of the hall, and into the room stalked a tall, ghostly -woman. Her lank figure was clothed in grey garments, which trailed -for yards on the floor. Her long, grey hair hung loose down her back. -By the light of the flickering fire the Prince could see her hollow -eyes and wan features. He was a brave man, but this ghostly creature -filled him with dread and horror. The hounds dropped their bones of -venison, and crept close to their master, who was unable to utter a word. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> - -<p>Slowly down the hall the grey ghost glided to the Prince, and -pointing a long, bony finger at him, she asked in a hollow voice, -“Art thou a courteous knight?”</p> - -<p>In a trembling voice the Prince answered, “I will serve thee. What -dost thou wish?”</p> - -<p>“Go ye to the moorland, and pluck enough heather to make a bed in the -turret-room for me,” said the phantom-like figure.</p> - -<p>It was a strange request to make, but the Prince was relieved to have -any excuse to get out of her sight. He sprang quickly to his feet, -and hurried out to face the stormy night in search of heather. He -plucked as much as he could carry in his plaid, and returned to the -hall where the ghostly visitor was waiting for him. She led the way -down the room, and up a half-ruined staircase to the turret-room. -Here the Prince spread a heather bed for her, and covered it with his -plaid. When it was finished she pointed to the door, and dismissed him.</p> - -<p>“May you sleep well,” said the Prince courteously. Then, cold and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> -weary, he descended to the hall, and lay down to sleep in front of -the dying embers of the fire.</p> - -<p>When he awakened the bright sun was shining in the windows.</p> - -<p>The Prince lost no time in making ready to depart, for he remembered -quite well the ghostly visitor of the past night.</p> - -<p>“No doubt she departed before the crowing of the cock,” he said. “I -wonder if she left my bonnie plaid in the turret room. The autumn air -is keen and biting. I’ll go and see.”</p> - -<p>He ran quickly up the ruined staircase. To his surprise when he -reached the top, the door of the chamber opened, and there before him -stood his lost sweetheart.</p> - -<p>“How camest thou here?” gasped the Prince. “And where is the grey ghost.”</p> - -<p>“Last night I was the grey ghost,” she said.</p> - -<p>“And thou wilt change thy form again to-night?” he asked in horror.</p> - -<p>“Never again,” said the maiden. “In order to part us a wicked witch -threw a spell over me—a spell which changed me into the awful -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> -shape thou sawest last night. But thou hast broken her wicked charm.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me how,” said the Prince, whose face was beaming with happiness.</p> - -<p>“The witch’s charm could not be broken until some knight should serve -me, even though my form was horrible. By thy courtesy thou hast -broken the spell,” said the maiden.</p> - -<p>So the Prince and his true love rode away, and were happily married, -and when the king heard of his son’s adventure in the hunting hall he -said, “Now I know what that old witch meant by her prophecy.”</p> - -<p class="author">Scotch legend.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p> - -<h3>JACK-O’-LANTERN SONG</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon one wild and windy night——</span> -<span class="i2">Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo——</span> -<span class="i0">We Jacks our lanterns all did light;</span> -<span class="i2">The wind—it surely knew—FOR——</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whistle and whistle—and whist! Now list!</span> -<span class="i2">Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo——</span> -<span class="i0">Whirling and twirling, with turn and twist,</span> -<span class="i2">The wind—it softly blew.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was the creepiest, scariest night——</span> -<span class="i2">Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo,</span> -<span class="i0">We held our breath, then lost it quite;</span> -<span class="i2">The wind—it surely knew—FOR——</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whistle and whistle—and whist! Now list!</span> -<span class="i2">Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo——</span> -<span class="i0">Whirling and twirling, with turn and twist,</span> -<span class="i2">The wind—it loudly blew.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It rose in all its main and might</span> -<span class="i2">Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo——</span> -<span class="i0"><i>It blew out every single light</i>;</span> -<span class="i2">The Wind—it surely knew—FOR——</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whistle and whistle—and whist! Now list!</span> -<span class="i2">Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo——</span> -<span class="i0">Whirling and twirling, with turn and twist,</span> -<span class="i2">That wind—it <i>laughed</i>—<i>Ho-oh</i>!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p> -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> - -<h2>A HARVEST OF THANKSGIVING STORIES</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">These are things I prize</span> -<span class="i4">And hold of dearest worth:</span> -<span class="i4">Light of the sapphire skies,</span> -<span class="i4">Peace of the silent hills,</span> -<span class="i0">Shelter of forests, comfort of the grass,</span> -<span class="i0">Music of birds, murmur of little rills,</span> -<span class="i0">Shadow of clouds that swiftly pass,</span> -<span class="i4">And, after showers,</span> -<span class="i4">The smell of flowers</span> -<span class="i0">And of the good brown earth,——</span> -<span class="i0">And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth.</span> -<span class="i4">So let me keep</span> -<span class="i0">These treasures of the humble heart</span> -<span class="i0">In true possession, owning them by love.</span> -<span class="i18"><span class="smcap">Henry Van Dyke.</span></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">(<i>Selection from God of the Open Air.</i>)</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Used by permission and special arrangement</span> -<span class="i6">with Chas. Scribner and Sons.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE QUEER LITTLE BAKER MAN</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Phila Butler Bowman</span></p> - -<p>All the children were glad when the Little Baker came to town and -hung the sign above his queer little brown shop,</p> - -<p class="center">“Thanksgiving Loaves to Sell.”</p> - -<p>Each child ran to tell the news to another child until soon the -streets echoed with the sound of many running feet, and the clear -November air was full of the sound of happy laughter, as a crowd of -little children thronged as near as they dared to the Little Baker’s -shop, while the boldest crept so close that they could feel the heat -from the big brick oven, and see the gleaming rows of baker’s pans.</p> - -<p>The Little Baker never said a word. He washed his hands at the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> -windmill water spout and dried them, waving them in the crisp air. -Then he unfolded a long, spotless table, and setting it up before his -shop door, he began to mold the loaves, while the wondering children -grew nearer and nearer to watch him.</p> - -<p>He molded big, long loaves, and tiny, round loaves; wee loaves filled -with currants, square loaves with queer markings on them, fat loaves -and flat loaves, and loaves in shapes such as the children had never -seen before, and always as he molded he sang a soft tune to these words:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Buy my loaves of brown and white,</span> -<span class="i0">Molded for the child’s delight.</span> -<span class="i0">Who forgets another’s need,</span> -<span class="i0">Eats unthankful and in greed;</span> -<span class="i0">But the child who breaks his bread</span> -<span class="i0">With another, Love has fed.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>By and by the children began to whisper to each other.</p> - -<p>“I shall buy that very biggest loaf,” said the Biggest Boy. “Mother -lets me buy what I wish. I shall eat it alone, which is fair if I pay for it.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh,” said the Tiniest Little Girl, “that would be greedy. You could -never eat so big a loaf alone.”</p> - -<p>“If I pay for it, it is mine,” said the Biggest Boy, boastfully, “and -one need not share what is his own unless he wishes.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said the Tiniest Little Girl, but she said it more softly this -time, and she drew away from the Biggest Boy, and looked at him with -eyes that had grown big and round.</p> - -<p>“I have a penny,” she said to the Little Lame Boy, “and you and I can -have one of those wee loaves together. They have currants in them, so -we shall not mind if the loaf is small.”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed,” said the Little Lame Boy, whose face had grown wistful -when the Biggest Boy had talked of the great loaf. “No, indeed, but -you shall take the bigger piece.”</p> - -<p>Then the little Baker Man raked out the bright coals from the great -oven into an iron basket, and he put in the loaves, every one, while -the children crowded closer with eager faces. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> - -<p>When the last loaf was in, he shut the oven door with a clang so loud -and merry that the children broke into a shout of laughter.</p> - -<p>Then the Queer Little Baker Man came and stood in his tent door, and -he was smiling, and he sang again a merry little tune to these words:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Clang, clang, my oven floor,</span> -<span class="i0">My loaves will bake as oft before,</span> -<span class="i0">And you may play where shines the sun</span> -<span class="i0">Until each loaf is brown and done.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Then away ran the children, laughing, and looking at the door of the -shop where the Queer Little Baker stood, and where the raked-out -coals, bursting at times, cast long, red lights against the brown -wall, and as they ran they sang together the Queer Little Baker’s merry song:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Clang, clang, my oven floor,</span> -<span class="i0">The loaves will bake as oft before.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Then some played at hide-and-seek among the sheaves of ungarnered -corn, and some ran gleefully through the heaped-up leaves of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> -russet and gold for joy to hear them rustling. But some, eager, -returned home for pennies to buy a loaf when the Queer Little Baker -should call.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The loaves are ready, white and brown,</span> -<span class="i0">For every little child in town,</span> -<span class="i0">Come buy Thanksgiving loaves and eat,</span> -<span class="i0">But only Love can make them sweet.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Soon all the air was filled with the sound of the swift running feet, -as the children flew like a cloud of leaves blown by the wind in -answer to the Queer Little Baker’s call. When they came to his shop -they paused, laughing and whispering, as the Little Baker laid out -the loaves on the spotless table.</p> - -<p>“This is mine,” said the Biggest Boy, and laying down a silver coin -he snatched the great loaf, and ran away to break it by himself.</p> - -<p>Then came the Impatient Boy, crying: “Give me my loaf. This is mine, -and give it to me at once. Do you not see my coin is silver? Do not -keep me waiting.”</p> - -<p>The Little Baker never said a word. He did not smile, he did not -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> -frown, he did not hurry. He gave the Impatient Boy his loaf and -watched him, as he, too, hurried away to eat his loaf alone.</p> - -<p>Then came others, crowding, pushing with their money, the strongest -and rudest gaining first place, and snatching each a loaf they ran -off to eat without a word of thanks, while some very little children -looked on wistfully, not able even to gain a place. All this time the -Queer Little Baker kept steadily on laying out the beautiful loaves -on the spotless table.</p> - -<p>A Gentle Lad came, when the crowd grew less, and giving all the -pennies he had he bought loaves for all the little ones; so that by -and by no one was without a loaf. The Tiniest Little Girl went away -hand in hand with the Little Lame Boy to share his wee loaf, and both -were smiling, and whoever broke one of those smallest loaves found it -larger than it had seemed at first.</p> - -<p>But now the biggest Boy was beginning to frown.</p> - -<p>“This loaf is sour,” he said angrily.</p> - -<p>“But is it not your own loaf,” said the Baker, “and did you not -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> -choose it yourself, and choose to eat it alone? Do not complain of -the loaf since it is your own choosing.”</p> - -<p>Then those who had snatched the loaves ungratefully and hurried away, -without waiting for a word of thanks, came back.</p> - -<p>“We came for good bread,” they cried, “but those loaves are sodden -and heavy.”</p> - -<p>“See the lad there with all those children. His bread is light. Give -us, too, light bread and sweet.”</p> - -<p>But the Baker smiled a strange smile. “You chose in haste,” he said, -“as those choose who have no thought in sharing. I can not change -your loaves. I can not choose for you. Had you, buying, forgotten -that mine are Thanksgiving loaves? I shall come again; then you can -buy more wisely.”</p> - -<p>Then these children went away thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>But the very little children and the Gentle Lad sat eating their -bread with joyous laughter, and each tiny loaf was broken into many -pieces as they shared with each other, and to them the bread was as -fine as cake and as sweet as honey. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then the Queer Little Baker brought cold water and put out the -fire. He folded his spotless table, and took down the boards of his -little brown shop, packed all into his wagon, and drove away singing -a quaint tune. Soft winds rustled the corn, and swept the boughs -together with a musical chuckling. And where the brown leaves were -piled thickest, making a little mound, sat the Tiniest Little Girl -and the Little Lame Boy, eating their sweet currant loaf happily together.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> - -<h3>A TURKEY FOR THE STUFFING</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Katherine Grace Hulbert</span></p> - -<p>It always made Ben feel solemn to watch the river in a storm. To-day -it was grey, and rough and noisy, and the few boats, which went down -toward Lake Huron, pitched about so that their decks slanted first -one way, then another, and their sides were coated with ice.</p> - -<p>“Gran’ma, what day’s to-day?” he asked at last, turning from the -stormy river to glance about their warm, comfortable little room.</p> - -<p>“Wednesday, Benny,” answered the small old woman who crouched over the stove.</p> - -<p>“Then to-morrow will be Thanksgiving day, and the Rosses are going -to have a turkey,” said Ben, excitedly. “What are we going to have, Gran’ma?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Moxon looked over her glasses at her grandson’s small, thin -figure in its patched and faded clothes, and at his bright, eager face.</p> - -<p>“Sonny, dear, what do you think Gran’ma has for Thanksgiving?” -she asked gently. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p> - -<p>The expectant look faded from Ben’s face, and he winked hard to keep -the tears from running over. He did not need to be told how bare of -dainties their cupboard was, for everything there he had brought -with his own hands. Bacon and smoked fish enough for all winter were -stored away; flour, potatoes, and a few other vegetables were there.</p> - -<p>“Tell me about a real Thanksgiving dinner,” the small boy begged -after the first disappointment had been bravely put away. Mrs. -Moxon took off her spectacles, and leaned back cautiously in her -broken-rockered chair.</p> - -<p>“I remember one Thanksgiving when your pa was alive, we had a dinner -fit for a king. There was a ten-pound turkey, with bread stuffing. I -put the sage and onions into the stuffing with my own hands.”</p> - -<p>“We could have some stuffing,” interrupted Ben, eagerly.</p> - -<p>“So we could, sonny, so we could. It takes you to think of things,” -and Mrs. Moxon affectionately patted the little brown hand on her -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> -knee. “It never would ’a’ come to me that we might have turkey -stuffing even if we didn’t have any turkey.”</p> - -<p>Ben beamed with delight at this praise. “And was there anything else -besides the turkey and the stuffing, Gran’ma?”</p> - -<p>“Land, yes, child. There was turnips, and mashed potatoes and -mince pie, and your pa got two pounds of grapes, though grapes was -expensive at that time o’ year. Yes, nobody could ask for a better -dinner than that was.”</p> - -<p>“We could have one just like it, all but the turkey and the mince pie -and the grapes,” said Ben hopefully.</p> - -<p>“So we can, and will, too, child,” answered the old woman. “Trust -you for making the best of things,” and the two smiled at each other happily.</p> - -<p>Next morning Ben watched his grandmother add an egg, some sage and -chopped onion to a bowlful of dry bread, pour boiling water over it, -and put the mixture in the oven.</p> - -<p>“Your father said I made the best turkey stuffing he ever ate,” she -said with satisfaction. “We’ll see how it comes out, Benny.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I can’t hardly wait till dinner-time,” Ben said, with an excited -skip. “I b’lieve I’ll go down to the beach, and pick up driftwood for -a while. You call me when the things are most cooked, Gran’ma.”</p> - -<p>The storm of the day before had left many a bit of board or end of a -log on the beach that would be just the thing for Mrs. Moxon’s stove. -Ben worked so hard that he did not notice a big barge that was coming -slowly down the river, towing two other boats behind it, until he -heard a voice ask:</p> - -<p>“Hullo, kid! What makes you work so hard on Thanksgiving day?”</p> - -<p>Then he straightened up, to see the boat’s captain standing near its -pilot house, and shouting through a great trumpet.</p> - -<p>“I’m waiting for dinner to cook,” Ben answered in his piping voice.</p> - -<p>“Can’t hear you!” roared the captain. “Run home and get your horn, -and talk to me.”</p> - -<p>Ben ran up the little hill to Mrs. Ross’s, and borrowed her trumpet, -or megaphone. One’s voice sounds much louder when these are used, and -they are to be found at every house on the shores of the St. Mary’s, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> -boats, and those on the land, often want to say, “How do you do?” to -each other. It was all Ben could do to hold the great tin trumpet on -straight, for it was nearly as long as he was.</p> - -<p>“I’m waiting for dinner to cook,” the boy shouted again, and this -time the captain heard him.</p> - -<p>“Going to have turkey, I suppose?” the captain asked.</p> - -<p>“No, but we’re going to have turkey stuffing,” answered Ben with pride.</p> - -<p>“Turkey stuffing, but no turkey! If that isn’t the best I ever -heard!” The captain had dropped his trumpet, and doubled up with -sudden laughter. Luckily Ben did not hear. “What else are you going -to have?” he called when he had repeated the joke about him. “Mince -pie without any mince meat?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir!” Ben’s voice was shrill, but clear. “My father had mince -pie for Thanksgiving dinner once, though.”</p> - -<p>“Did, did he?” The captain dropped his trumpet again. “That boy’s all -right,” he said to the first mate. “He’s too plucky to be laughed at. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> -I’m going to send him some turkey for his stuffing, Morgan. Tell the -cook to get ready half a turkey and a mince pie, and say, Morgan, -have him send up one of those small baskets of grapes. We’ll tie them -to a piece of plank, and they’ll float ashore all right. Tell the -cook to hurry, or we’ll be too far downstream for the boy to get the -things.” Then he raised his trumpet again.</p> - -<p>“Say, kid, can you row that boat that’s tied to your dock?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you hurry out into the river, and I’ll put off a float with -some things for your Thanksgiving dinner. You’re going to have some -turkey for that stuffing.”</p> - -<p>You may be sure Ben lost no time in pushing the rowboat off into the -stream, where the end of a plank and its delicious load were soon -bobbing up and down on the water. How he did smack his lips when he -lifted them into the boat, and how pleased he was for grandma!</p> - -<p>“First the stuffing, and then the turkey! My, ain’t I lucky?” He did -not know that the captain had said he was plucky, and that luck is -very apt to follow pluck.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p> - -<h3>PUMPKIN PIE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through sun and shower the pumpkin grew,</span> -<span class="i0">When the days were long and the skies were blue.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And it felt quite vain when its giant size</span> -<span class="i0">Was such that it carried away the prize</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At the County Fair, when the people came,</span> -<span class="i0">And it wore a ticket and bore a name.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas for the pumpkin’s pride! One day</span> -<span class="i0">A boy and his mother took it away.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was pared and sliced and pounded and stewed,</span> -<span class="i0">And the way it was treated was hard and rude.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was sprinkled with sugar and seasoned with spice,</span> -<span class="i0">The boy and his mother pronounced it nice.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was served in a paste, it was baked and browned,</span> -<span class="i0">And at last on a pantry shelf was found.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And on Thursday John, Mary, and Mabel</span> -<span class="i0">Will see it on aunty’s laden table.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the pumpkin grew ’neath a summer sky</span> -<span class="i0">Just to turn at Thanksgiving into pie!</span> -<span class="i19"><span class="smcap">Mary Mapes Dodge.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> -<h3>MRS. NOVEMBER’S DINNER PARTY<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h3> - -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">By Agnes Carr</span></p> - -<p>The Widow November was very busy indeed this year. What with -elections and harvest homes, her hands were full to overflowing; for -she takes great interest in politics, besides being a social body, -without whom no apple bee or corn husking is complete.</p> - -<p>Still, worn out as she was, when her thirty sons and daughters -clustered round, and begged that they might have their usual family -dinner on Thanksgiving day, she could not find it in her hospitable -heart to refuse, and immediately invitations were sent to her eleven -brothers and sisters, old Father Time, and Mother Year, to come with -all their families and celebrate the great American holiday. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then what a busy time ensued! What a slaughter of unhappy barnyard -families—turkeys, ducks, and chickens! What a chopping of apples -and boiling of doughnuts! What a picking of raisins and rolling of -pie crust, until every nook and corner of the immense storeroom was -stocked with “savoury mince and toothsome pumpkin pies,” while so -great was the confusion that even the stolid redhued servant, Indian -Summer, lost his head, and smoked so continually he always appeared -surrounded by a blue mist, as he piled logs upon the great bonfires -in the yard, until they lighted up the whole country for miles around.</p> - -<p>But at length all was ready; the happy days had come, and all the -little Novembers, in their best “bib and tucker,” were seated in a -row, awaiting the arrival of their uncles, aunts, and cousins, while -their mother, in russet-brown silk trimmed with misty lace, looked -them over, straightening Guy Fawkes’ collar, tying Thanksgiving’s -neck ribbon, and settling a dispute between two little presidential -candidates as to which should sit at the head of the table. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p> - -<p>Soon a merry clashing of bells, blowing of horns, and mingling of -voices were heard outside, sleighs and carriages dashed up to the -door, and in came, “just in season,” Grandpa Time, with Grandma Year -leaning on his arm, followed by all their children and grandchildren, -and were warmly welcomed by the hostess and her family.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how glad I am we could all come to-day!” said Mr. January, in -his crisp, clear tones, throwing off his great fur coat, and rushing -to the blazing fire. “There is nothing like the happy returns of -these days.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, indeed,” simpered Mrs. February, the poetess. “If I had had -time I should have composed some verses for the occasion; but my son -Valentine has brought a sugar heart, with a sweet sentiment on it, to -his cousin Thanksgiving. I, too, have taken the liberty of bringing a -sort of adopted child of mine, young Leap Year, who makes us a visit -every four years.”</p> - -<p>“He is very welcome, I am sure,” said Mrs. November, patting Leap Year -kindly on the head. “And, Sister March, how have you been since we last met?” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh! we have had the North, South, East, and West Winds all at our -house, and they have kept things breezy, I assure you. But I really -feared we should not get here to-day; for when we came to dress I -found nearly everything we had was lent; so that must account for our -shabby appearance.”</p> - -<p>“He! he! he!” tittered little April Fool. “What a sell!” And he shook -until the bells on his cap rang; at which his father ceased for a -moment showering kisses on his nieces and nephews, and boxed his ears -for his rudeness.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Aunt May! do tell us a story,” clamoured the younger children, -and dragging her into a corner she was soon deep in such a moving -tale that they were all melted to tears, especially the little -Aprils, who cry very easily.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Mrs. June, assisted by her youngest daughter, a “sweet -girl graduate,” just from school, was engaged in decking the -apartment with roses and lilies and other fragrant flowers that she -had brought from her extensive gardens and conservatories, until the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> -room was a perfect bower of sweetness and beauty; while Mr. July -draped the walls with flags and banners, lighted the candles, and -showed off the tricks of his pet eagle, Yankee Doodle, to the great -delight of the little ones.</p> - -<p>Madam August, who suffers a great deal with the heat, found a seat -on a comfortable sofa, as far from the fire as possible, and waved a -huge feather fan back and forth, while her thirty-one boys and girls, -led by the two oldest, Holiday and Vacation, ran riot through the -long rooms, picking at their Aunt June’s flowers, and playing all -sorts of pranks, regardless of tumbled hair and torn clothes, while -they shouted, “Hurrah for fun!” and behaved like a pack of wild colts -let loose in a green pasture, until their Uncle September called -them, together with his own children, into the library, and persuaded -them to read some of the books with which the shelves were filled, or -play quietly with the game of Authors and the Dissected Maps.</p> - -<p>“For,” said Mr. September to Mrs. October, “I think Sister August -lets her children romp too much. I always like improving games for mine, -although I have great trouble in making Equinox toe the line as he should.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That is because you are a schoolmaster,” laughed Mrs. October, -shaking her head, adorned with a wreath of gaily tinted leaves; “but -where is my baby?”</p> - -<p>At that moment a cry was heard without, and Indian Summer came -running in to say that little All Hallows had fallen into a tub of -water while trying to catch an apple that was floating on top, and -Mrs. October, rushing off to the kitchen, returned with her youngest -in a very wet and dripping condition, and screaming at the top of -his lusty little lungs. He could only be consoled by a handful of -chestnuts, which his nurse, Miss Frost, cracked open for him.</p> - -<p>The little Novembers, meanwhile, were having a charming time with -their favourite cousins, the Decembers, who were always so gay and -jolly, and had such a delightful papa. He came with his pockets -stuffed full of toys and sugarplums, which he drew out from time -to time, and gave to his best-loved child, Merry Christmas, to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> -distribute amongst the children, who gathered eagerly around their -little cousin, saying:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Christmas comes but once a year,</span> -<span class="i0">But when she comes she brings good cheer.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>At which Merry laughed gaily, and tossed her golden curls, in which -were twined sprays of holly and clusters of brilliant scarlet berries.</p> - -<p>At last the great folding-doors were thrown open. Indian summer -announced that dinner was served, and a long procession of old and -young was quickly formed, and led by Mrs. November and her daughter -Thanksgiving, whose birthday it was. They filed into the spacious -dining-room, where stood the long table, groaning beneath its weight -of good things, while four servants ran continually in and out -bringing more substantials and delicacies to grace the board and -please the appetite. Winter staggered beneath great trenchers of -meat and poultry, pies, and puddings; Spring brought the earliest -and freshest vegetables; Summer, the richest creams and ices; while -Autumn served the guests with fruit, and poured the sparkling wine. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p> - -<p>All were gay and jolly, and many a joke was cracked as the contents -of each plate and dish melted away like snow before the sun, and the -great fires roared in the wide chimneys as though singing a glad -Thanksgiving song.</p> - -<p>New Year drank everybody’s health, and wished them “many returns of -the day,” while Twelfth Night ate so much cake he made himself quite -ill, and had to be put to bed.</p> - -<p>Valentine sent mottoes to all the little girls, and praised their -bright eyes and glossy curls. “For,” said his mother, “he is a sad -flatterer, and not nearly so truthful, I am sorry to say, as his -brother, George Washington, who never told a lie.”</p> - -<p>At which Grandfather Time gave George a quarter, and said he should -always remember what a good boy he was.</p> - -<p>After dinner the fun increased, all trying to do something for the -general amusement. Mrs. March persuaded her son, St. Patrick, to -dance an Irish Jig, which he did to the tune of the “Wearing of the Green,” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> -which his brothers, Windy and Gusty, blew and whistled on their fingers.</p> - -<p>Easter sang a beautiful song, the little Mays, “tripped the light -fantastic toe” in a pretty fancy dance, while the Junes sat by so -smiling and sweet it was a pleasure to look at them.</p> - -<p>Independence, the fourth child of Mr. July, who is a bold little -fellow, and a fine speaker, gave them an oration he had learned at -school; and the Augusts suggested games of tag and blindman’s buff, -which they all enjoyed heartily.</p> - -<p>Mr. September tried to read an instructive story aloud, but was -interrupted by Equinox, April Fool, and little All Hallows, who -pinned streamers to his coat tails, covered him with flour, and would -not let him get through a line; at which Mrs. October hugged her tricksy -baby, and laughed until she cried, and Mr. September retired in disgust.</p> - -<p>“That is almost too bad,” said Mrs. November, as she shook the popper -vigorously in which the corn was popping and snapping merrily; “but, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> -Thanksgiving, you must not forget to thank your cousins for all they -have done to honour your birthday.”</p> - -<p>At which the demure little maiden went round to each one, and -returned her thanks in such a charming way it was quite captivating.</p> - -<p>Grandmother Year at last began to nod over her teacup in the chimney corner.</p> - -<p>“It is growing late,” said Grandpa Time.</p> - -<p>“But we must have a Virginia Reel before we go,” said Mr. December.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, yes!” cried all the children.</p> - -<p>Merry Christmas played a lively air on the piano, and old and young took -their positions on the polished floor with grandpa and grandma at the head.</p> - -<p>Midsummer danced with Happy New Year, June’s Commencement with -August’s Holiday, Leap Year with May Day, and all “went merry as a -marriage bell.”</p> - -<p>The fun was at its height when suddenly the clock in the corner -struck twelve. Grandma Year motioned all to stop, and Grandfather -Time, bowing his head, said softly, “Hark! my children, Thanksgiving -Day is ended.”</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"> -<span class="label">[1]</span></a> -From <i>Harper’s Young People</i>, November, 1883.</p></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE DEBUT OF “DAN’L WEBSTER”</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Isabel Gordon Curtis</span></p> -<p class="f90">Used by permission of <i>St. Nicholas</i>.</p> - -<p>“I guess you can get the ell roof shingled now, ’most any old time,” -cried Homer Tidd. He bounced in at the kitchen door. A blast of icy -wind followed him.</p> - -<p>“Gracious! shet the door, Homer, an’ then tell me your news.” His -mother shivered and pulled a little brown shawl tighter about her -shoulders. The boy planted himself behind the stove and laid his -mittened hands comfortably around the pipe. “Oh, I’ve made a great -deal, Mother.” Homer’s freckled face glowed with satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“What?” asked Mrs. Tidd.</p> - -<p>“Did you see the man that jest druv out o’ the yard?”</p> - -<p>“No, I didn’t, Homer.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> -“Well, ’twas Mr. Richards—the Mr. Richards o’ Finch & Richards, the -big market folks over in the city.”</p> - -<p>“Has he bought your Thanksgivin’ turkeys?”</p> - -<p>“He hain’t bought ’em for Thanksgivin’.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what are you so set up about, boy?”</p> - -<p>“He’s rented the hull flock. He’s to pay me three dollars a day for -them, then he’s goin’ to buy them all for Christmas.”</p> - -<p>“Land sakes! Three dollars a day.” Mrs. Tidd dropped one side of a -pan of apples she was carrying, and some of them went rolling about -the kitchen floor.</p> - -<p>Homer nodded.</p> - -<p>“For how long?” she asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>“For a week.” Homer’s freckles disappeared in the crimson glow of -enthusiasm that overspread his face.</p> - -<p>“Eighteen dollars for nothin’ but exhibitin’ a bunch o’ turkeys! -Seems to me some folks must have money to throw away.” Mrs. Tidd -stared perplexedly over the top of her glasses.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you all about it, Mother.” Homer took a chair and planted -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> -his feet on the edge of the oven. “Mr. Richards is goin’ to have a -great Thanksgivin’ food show, an’ he wants a flock o’ live turkeys. -He’s been drivin’ round the country lookin’ for some. The postmaster -sent him here. He told him about Dan’l Webster’s tricks.”</p> - -<p>“They don’t make Dan’l any better eatin’,” objected his mother.</p> - -<p>“Maybe not. But don’t you see? Well!”</p> - -<p>Homer’s laugh was an embarrassed one. “I’m goin’ to put Dan’l an’ -Gettysburg through their tricks right in the store window.”</p> - -<p>“You ben’t?” and the mother looked in rapt admiration at her clever son.</p> - -<p>“I be!” answered Homer, triumphantly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, boy, jest what I think o’ it,” said his mother, -slowly. “’Tain’t exactly a—a gentlemanly sort o’ thing to do; be it?”</p> - -<p>“I reckon I ben’t a gentleman, Mother,” replied Homer, with his jolly laugh.</p> - -<p>“Tell me all about it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I was feedin’ the turkeys when Mr. Richards druv in. He said -he heered I had some trick turkeys, an’ he’d like to see ’em. Lucky -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> -enough, I hadn’t fed ’em; they was awful hungry, an’ I tell you they -never did their tricks better.”</p> - -<p>“What did Mr. Richards say?”</p> - -<p>“He thought it was the most amazin’ thing he’d ever seen in his life. -He said he wouldn’t have believed turkeys had enough gumption in them -to learn a trick o’ any kind.”</p> - -<p>“Did you tell him how you’d fussed with them ever since they was -little chicks?”</p> - -<p>“I did. He wuz real interested, an’ he offered me three dollars to -give a show three times a day. He’s got a window half as big as this -kitchen. He’ll have it wired in, an’ the turkeys’ll stay there at -his expense. Along before Christmas he’ll give me twenty-two cents a -pound for ’em.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I vow, Homer, it’s pretty good pay.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Richards give me a commutation on the railroad. He’s to send -after the turkeys an’ bring ’em back, so I won’t have any expense.”</p> - -<p>Homer rose and sauntered about the kitchen, picking up the apples -that had rolled in all directions over the floor. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p> - -<p>A week before Thanksgiving, the corner in front of Finch & Richard’s -great market looked as it was wont to look on circus day: only the -eyes of the crowds were not turned expectantly up Main Street; they -were riveted on a window in the big store. Passers-by tramped out -into the snowy street when they reached the mob at the corner. The -front of the store was decorated with a fringe of plump turkeys. One -window had held a glowing mountain of fruit and vegetables arranged -by someone with a keen eye to colour—monstrous pumpkins, splendid -purple cabbages, rosy apples and russet pears, green and purple -grapes, snowy stalks of celery, and corn ears yellow as sunshine. -Crimson beets neighboured with snowy parsnips, scarlet carrots, and -silk-wrapped onions. Egg-plants, gleaming like deep-hued amethysts, -circled about magnificent cauliflowers, while red and yellow bananas -made gay mosaic walks through the fruit mountain. Wherever a crack or -a cranny had been left was a mound of ruby cranberries, fine raisin -bunches, or brown nuts. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was a remarkable display of American products; yet, after the -first “Ah” of admiration, people passed on to the farther window, -where six plump turkeys, supremely innocent of a feast-day fête, -flapped their wings or gobbled impertinently when a small boy laid -his nose flat against the window. Three times a day the crowd -grew twenty deep. It laughed and shouted and elbowed one another -good-naturedly, for the Thanksgiving spirit was abroad. Men tossed -children up on their stalwart shoulders, then small hands clapped -ecstatically, and small legs kicked with wild enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>The hero of the hour was a freckled, redhaired boy, who came -leaping through a wire door with an old broom over his shoulders. -Every turkey waited for him eagerly, hungrily! They knew that each -old, familiar trick—learned away back in chickhood—would earn a -good feed. When the freckled boy began to whistle, or when his voice -rang out in a shrill order, it was the signal for Dan’l Webster, for -Gettysburg, for Amanda Ann, Mehitable, Nancy, or Farragut to step to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> -the center of the stage and do some irresistibly funny turn with a -turkey’s bland solemnity. None of the birds had attacks of stage -fright—their acting was as self-possessed as if they were in the old -farm yard with no audience present but Mrs. Tidd to lean smiling over -the fence with a word of praise, and the coveted handful of golden corn.</p> - -<p>With every performance the crowd grew more dense, the applause more -uproarious, and the Thanksgiving trade at Finch & Richard’s bigger -than it had been in years. Each night Homer took the last train home, -tired but happy, for three crisp greenbacks were added to the roll in -his small, shabby wallet.</p> - -<p>Two days before Thanksgiving, Homer, in his blue overalls and faded -sweater, was busy at work. The gray of the dawn was just creeping -into the east, while the boy went hurrying through his chores. There -was still a man’s work to be done before he took the ten o’clock -train to town; besides, he had promised to help his mother about the -house. His grandfather, an uncle, an aunt, and three small cousins -were coming to eat their Thanksgiving feast at the old farmhouse. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> -Homer whistled gaily, while he bedded the creatures with fresh straw. -The whistle trailed into an indistinct trill; the boy felt a pang of -loneliness as he glanced into the turkey-pen. There was nobody there -but old Mother Salvia. Homer tossed her a handful of corn. “Poor old -lady, I s’pose you’re lonesome, ain’t you, now? Never mind; when -spring comes you’ll be scratchin’ around with a hull raft of nice -little chickies at your heels. We’ll teach them a fine trick or two, -won’t we, old Salvia?”</p> - -<p>Salvia clucked over the corn appreciatively.</p> - -<p>“Homer, Homer, come here quick.”</p> - -<p>Down the frozen path through the yard came Mrs. Tidd, with the little -brown shawl wrapped tightly about her head. She fluttered a yellow -envelope in her hand.</p> - -<p>“Homer boy, it’s a telegraph come. I can’t read it; I’ve mislaid my glasses.”</p> - -<p>Homer was by her side in a minute, tearing open the flimsy envelope.</p> - -<p>“It’s from Finch & Richards, Mother,” he cried excitedly. “They say, -‘Take the first train to town without fail.’” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What do you s’pose they want you for?” asked Mrs. Tidd, with a very -anxious face.</p> - -<p>“P’r’aps the store’s burned down,” gasped Homer. He brushed one rough -hand across his eyes. “Poor Dan’l Webster an’ Gettysburg! I didn’t -know anybody could set so much store by turkeys.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe ’t ain’t nothin’ bad, Homer,” Mrs. Tidd laid her hand upon -his shoulder. “Maybe they want you to give an extra early show or -somethin’.” She suggested it cheerfully.</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” echoed Homer. “But, Mother, I’ve got to hurry to catch that -7:30 train.”</p> - -<p>“Let me go with you, Homer.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t need to,” cried the boy. “It probably ain’t nothin’ serious.”</p> - -<p>“I’m goin’,” cried Mrs. Tidd decisively; “you don’t s’pose I could -stay here doin’ nothin’ but waitin’ an’ wond’rin’?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Tidd and Homer caught a car at the city depot. Five minutes -later they stood in front of Finch & Richards’ big market.</p> - -<p>“Mother,” whispered the boy, as he stepped off the car, “Mother, my -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> -turkeys! They’re not there! Something’s happened. See the crowd.”</p> - -<p>They pushed their way through a mob that was peering in at the -windows, and through the windows of locked doors. The row of plump -turkeys was not hung this morning under the big sign; the magnificent -window display of fruit and vegetables had been ruthlessly demolished.</p> - -<p>“What do you s’pose can have happened?” whispered Mrs. Tidd, while -they waited for a clerk to come hurrying down the store and unlock the door.</p> - -<p>Homer shook his head.</p> - -<p>Mr. Richards himself came to greet them.</p> - -<p>“Well, young man,” he cried, “I’ve had enough of your pesky bird -show. There’s a hundred dollars’ worth of provisions gone, to -say nothing of the trade we are turning away. Two days before -Thanksgiving, of all times in the year!”</p> - -<p>“Good land!” whispered Mrs. Tidd. Her eyes were wandering about the -store. It was scattered from one end to the other with wasted food. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> -Sticky rivers trickled here and there across the floor. A small army -of clerks was hard at work sweeping and mopping.</p> - -<p>“Where’s my turkeys?” asked Homer.</p> - -<p>“Your turkeys, confound them!” snarled Mr. Richards. “They’re safe -and sound in their crate in my back store, all but that blasted old -gobbler you call Dan’l Webster. He’s doing his stunts on a top shelf. -We found him there tearing cereal packages into shreds. For mercy’s -sake, go and see if you can’t get him down. He has almost pecked the -eyes out of every clerk who has tried to lay a finger on him. I’d -like to wring his ugly neck.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Richard’s face grew red as the comb of Dan’l Webster himself.</p> - -<p>Homer and his mother dashed across the store. High above their heads -strutted Dan’l Webster with a slow, stately tread. Occasionally he -peered down at the ruin and confusion below, commenting upon it with -a lordly, satisfied gobble.</p> - -<p>“Dan’l Webster,” called Homer, coaxingly, “good old Dan’l, -come an’ see me.”</p> - -<p>The boy slipped cautiously along to where a step-ladder stood. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Dan’l,” he called persuasively, “wouldn’t you like to come home, Dan’l?”</p> - -<p>Dan’l perked down with pleased recognition in his eyes. Homer crept -up the ladder. He was preparing to lay a hand on one of Dan’l’s black -legs when the turkey hopped away with a triumphant gobble, and went -racing gleefully along the wide shelf. A row of bottles filled with -salad-dressing stood in Dan’l’s path. He cleared them out of the way -with one energetic kick. They tumbled to a lower shelf; their yellow -contents crept in a sluggish stream toward the mouth of a tea-box.</p> - -<p>“I’ll have that bird shot!” thundered Mr. Richards. “That’s all there -is about it.”</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute, sir,” pleaded Mrs. Tidd. “Homer’ll get him.”</p> - -<p>Dan’l Webster would neither be coaxed nor commanded. He wandered -up and down the shelf, gobbling vociferously into the faces of the -excited mob.</p> - -<p>“Henry, go and get a pistol,” cried Mr. Richards, turning to one of his clerks. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Homer,”—Mrs. Tidd clutched the boy’s arm,—“why don’t you make -b’lieve you’re shootin’ Dan’l? Maybe he’ll lie down, so you can git him.”</p> - -<p>Homer called for a broom. He tossed it, gun fashion, across his -shoulder, and crept along slowly, sliding a ladder before him to the -spot where the turkey stood watching with intent eyes. He put one -foot upon the lowest step, then he burst out in a spirited whistle. -It was “Marching through Georgia.” The bird stared at him fixedly.</p> - -<p>“Bang!” cried Homer, and he pointed the broom straight at the -recreant turkey.</p> - -<p>Dan’l Webster dropped stiff. A second later Homer had a firm grasp of -the scaly legs. Dan’l returned instantly to life, but the rebellious -head was tucked under his master’s jacket. Dan’l Webster thought he -was being strangled to death.</p> - -<p>“There!” cried Homer, triumphantly. He closed the lid of the poultry -crate, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “There! I guess -you won’t get out again.”</p> - -<p>He followed Mr. Richards to the front of the store to view the devastation. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Who’d have thought turkeys could have ripped up strong wire like -that?” cried the enraged market man, pointing to the shattered door.</p> - -<p>“I guess Dan’l began the mischief,” said Homer soberly; “he’s awful strong.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry I ever laid eyes on Dan’l!” exclaimed Mr. Richards. “I’ll -hate to see Finch. He’ll be in on the 4.20 train. He’s conservative; -he never had any use for the turkey show.”</p> - -<p>“When did you find out that they—what had happened?” -asked Homer timidly.</p> - -<p>“At five o’clock. Two of the men got here early. They telephoned -me. I never saw such destruction in my life. Your turkeys had -sampled most everything in the store, from split peas to molasses. -What they didn’t eat they knocked over or tore open. I guess they -won’t need feeding for a week. They’re chuckful of oatmeal, beans, -crackers, peanuts, pickles, toothpicks, prunes, soap, red herrings, -cabbage—about everything their crops can hold.”</p> - -<p>“I’m awfully sorry,” faltered Homer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> -“So am I,” said Mr. Richards resolutely. “Now, the best thing you can -do is to take your flock and clear out. I’ve had enough of performing turkeys.”</p> - -<p>Homer and his mother waited at the depot for the 11 o’clock train. -Beside them stood a crate filled with turkeys that wore a well-fed, -satisfied expression. Somebody tapped Homer on the shoulder.</p> - -<p>“You’re the boy who does the stunts with turkeys, aren’t you?” asked -a well-dressed man with a silk hat, and a flower in his buttonhole.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” answered the boy, wonderingly.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been hunting for you. That was a great rumpus you made at Finch -& Richards’. The whole town’s talking about it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” answered Homer again, and he blushed scarlet.</p> - -<p>“Taking your turkeys home?”</p> - -<p>Homer nodded.</p> - -<p>“I’ve come to see if we can keep them in town a few days longer.”</p> - -<p>The boy shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want any more turkey shows.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Not if the price is big enough to make it worth your while?”</p> - -<p>“No!” said Homer sturdily.</p> - -<p>“Let us go into the station and talk it over.”</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>On Thanksgiving afternoon the Colonial Theater, the best vaudeville -house in the city, held a throng that was dined well, and was happy -enough to appreciate any sort of fun. The children—hundreds of -them—shrieked with delight over every act. The women laughed, -the men applauded with great hearty hand-claps. A little buzz of -excitement went round the house when, at the end of the fourth turn, -two boys, instead of setting up the regulation big red number, -displayed a brand new card. It read: “Extra Number—Homer Tidd and -his Performing Turkeys.” A shout of delighted anticipation went up -from the audience. Every paper in town had made a spectacular story -of the ruin at Finch & Richards’. Nothing could have been so splendid -a surprise. Everybody broke into applause, everybody except one -little woman who sat in the front row of the orchestra. Her face was -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> -pale, her hands clasped, and unclasped each other tremulously. -“Homer, boy,” she whispered to herself.</p> - -<p>The curtain rolled up. The stage was set for a realistic farmyard -scene. The floor was scattered with straw, an old pump leaned over -in one corner, hay tumbled untidily from a barn-loft, a coop with -a hen and chickens stood by the fence. From her stall stared a -white-faced cow; her eyes blinked at the glare of the footlights. The -orchestra struck up a merry tune; the cow uttered an astonished moo; -then in walked a sturdy lad with fine, broad shoulders, red hair, -and freckles. His boots clumped, his blue overalls were faded, his -sweater had once been red. At his heels stepped six splendid turkeys, -straight in line, every one with its eyes on the master. Homer never -knew how he did it. Two minutes earlier he had said to the manager, -desperately: “I’ll cut an’ run right off as soon as I set eyes on -folks.” Perhaps he drew courage from the anxious gaze in his mother’s -eyes. Hers was the only face he saw in the great audience. Perhaps it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> -was the magnificent aplomb of the turkeys that inspired him. They -stepped serenely, as if walking out on a gorgeously lighted stage was -an every-day event in their lives. Anyhow, Homer threw up his head, -and led the turkey march round and round past the footlights, till -the shout of applause dwindled into silence. The boy threw back his -head and snapped his fingers. The turkeys retreated to form in line -at the back of the stage.</p> - -<p>“Gettysburg,” cried Homer, pointing to a stately, plump hen. -Gettysburg stepped to the center of the stage. “How many kernels of -corn have I thrown you, Getty?” he asked.</p> - -<p>The turkey turned to count them, with her head cocked reflectively on -one side. Then she scratched her foot on the floor.</p> - -<p>“One, two, three, four, five!”</p> - -<p>“Right. Now you may eat them, Getty.”</p> - -<p>Gettysburg wore her new-won laurels with an excellent grace. She -jumped through a row of hoops, slid gracefully about the stage on a -pair of miniature roller-skates; she stepped from stool to chair, -from chair to table, in perfect time with Homer’s whistle, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> -and a low strain of melody from the orchestra. She danced a stately -jig on the table, then, with a satisfied cluck, descended on the -other side to the floor. Amanda Ann, Mehitable, Nancy, and Farragut -achieved their triumphs in a slow dance made up of dignified hops -and mazy turns. They stood in a decorous line awaiting the return -of their master, for Homer had dashed suddenly from the stage. He -reappeared, holding his head up proudly. Now he wore the blue uniform -and jaunty cap of a soldier boy; a gun leaned on his shoulder.</p> - -<p>The orchestra put all its vigor, patriotism, and wind into “Marching -through Georgia.”</p> - -<p>Straight to Homer’s side when they heard his whistle, wheeled the -turkey regiment, ready to keep step, to fall in line, to march -and countermarch. Only one feathered soldier fell. It was Dan’l -Webster. At a bang from Homer’s rifle he dropped stiff and stark. -From children here and there in the audience came a cry of horror. -They turned to ask in frightened whispers if the turkey was “truly -shooted.” As if to answer the question, Dan’l leaped to his feet. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> -Homer pulled a Stars and Stripes from his pocket, and waved it -enthusiastically; then the orchestra dashed into “Yankee Doodle.” It -awoke some patriotic spirit in the soul of Dan’l Webster. He left his -master, and, puffing himself to his stateliest proportions, stalked -to the footlights to utter one glorious, soul-stirring gobble. The -curtain fell, but the applause went on and on and on! At last, out -again across the stage came Homer, waving “Old Glory.” Dan’l Webster, -Gettysburg, Amanda Ann, Nancy, Mehitable and Farragut followed in -a triumphal march. Homer’s eyes were bent past the footlights, -searching for the face of one little woman. This time the face was -one radiant flush, and her hands were adding their share to the -deafening applause.</p> - -<p>“Homer, boy,” she said fondly. This time she spoke aloud, but nobody -heard it. An encore for the “Extra Turn” was so vociferous, it almost -shook the plaster from the ceiling.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE GREEN CORN DANCE</h3> -<p class="center space-above1"><span class="smcap">Frances Jenkins Olcott</span></p> - -<p>The first Thanksgiving Dinner in America, where was it eaten? Why, of -course, we think of its being eaten in old Plymouth Town, when the -Pilgrim Fathers spread their board with fish, wild turkey, geese, -ducks, venison, barley bread, Indian maize, and other good things, -and invited the Indian King Massasoit and his braves to the feast. It -was a time of rejoicing and thanksgiving for the fine harvest God had -given the Pilgrims.</p> - -<p>But that was not the first Thanksgiving Dinner eaten in America! For -many, many years before the Pilgrims came to this land, Thanksgiving -Dinners had been given. The Red Men, the first owners of America, -held their Thanksgiving Festivals every autumn. These -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> were in -celebration of the ripening of the corn, and in honour of their -Manitos, as they called their gods. For, until the white men came, -the Indians never heard of the all-good “Great Spirit” of Heaven. -They held other feasts, too, among them a New Year one, a Maple Sugar -Feast, a Strawberry Festival, a Bean Dance, and a Corn-gathering Feast.</p> - -<p>Even to-day, some Indians keep their heathen Thanksgiving at the time -of the ripening of the corn. It is called the Green Corn Dance. Many -Indians are Christians, but numbers still worship the Manitos of the -sun, moon, stars, wind, rain, thunder, and other things in Nature. -Though some of these heathen Red Men speak reverently of the Great -Spirit, they seem scarcely to understand who He is, and confuse Him -with their Manitos, as may be seen in the hymn that introduces the -Feather Dance.</p> - -<p>Among some tribes of the Iroquois Family, in New York State, the -Green Corn Dance is still celebrated. And this is how a visitor saw -the dance at the Cattaraugus Reservation. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span></p> - -<p>As the time for the Festival approached, certain men and women of -the tribe, called the “Keepers of the Faith,” began to prepare for -the dance. Every morning at sunrise, the women went to the cornfield -and picked a few ears, and took them to the Head Man at the Council -House. When he decided that the corn was sufficiently ripe, the Feast -was called.</p> - -<p>Summons were sent to the Indians at the Tonawanda and Allegany -Reservations, bidding all meet at sunrise on the tenth of September, -in the Council House of the Cattaraugus Reservation.</p> - -<p>On the morning of the feast, the men, “Keepers of the Faith,” arose -at sunrise, and built a fire, on which they threw an offering of -tobacco and corn, and they prayed to the Great Spirit to bless the -tribes. They then extinguished the fire, and later the women “Keepers -of the Faith” built another in the same spot.</p> - -<p>Then the people began to arrive, all in their best clothes. While -they were waiting for the ceremonies to begin, the young men played -ball, and the girls walked about, talking with each other. Meanwhile, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> -the women “Keepers of the Faith,” hastened to prepare soup and -succotash, which were soon boiling in large kettles suspended over -huge, flaming logs.</p> - -<p>After a little while the people began to move toward the Council -House, a long, low, wooden building, with a door at the northeast -end, and another at the southwest. The people entered in two lines, -the women through one door, and the men through the other. All took -their seats on benches arranged on three sides of the room. In the -centre of the room sat the singers, and the musicians with their -turtle-shell rattles.</p> - -<p>When all was quiet, the speaker began the ceremonies by a prayer -to the Great Spirit, while the men, with bowed, uncovered -heads,—Indians do not kneel,—listened reverently.</p> - -<p>After the prayer was finished, the speaker, lifting his voice, -addressed the Indians.</p> - -<p>“My friends,” he said, “we are here to worship the Great Spirit. As -by our old custom, we give the Great Spirit His dance, the Great -Feather Dance. We must have it before noon. The Great Spirit sees -to everything in the morning, afterwards he rests. He gives us -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> -land and things to live on, so we must thank Him for His ground, and -for the things it brought forth. He gave us the thunder to wet the -land, so we must thank the thunder. We must thank Ga-ne-o-di-o<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> -that we know he is in the happy land. It is the wish of the Great -Spirit that we express our thanks in dances as well as prayer. The -cousin clans are here from Tonawanda; we are thankful to the Great -Spirit to have them here, and to greet them with the rattles and -singing. We have appointed one of them to lead the dances.”</p> - -<p>When the speaker finished, there was a pause, then a shout outside -the Council House told that the Feather Dancers were coming. They -entered the room, a long, gracefully swaying line of fifty men, clad -in Indian costume, gay with colour and nodding plumes, and with bells -adorning their leggings. Slowly and majestically they entered, and -stood for a moment near the entrance. Then the speaker began in a -high voice, the hymn of thanksgiving to the Great Spirit, while the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> -dancers, in single file, commenced walking slowly around the room, -keeping step with the beating of the musicians’ rattles.</p> - -<p>Each verse of the hymn thanked the Great Spirit for some -benefit,—for water, for the animals, for the trees, for the light, -for the fruits, for the stars, and among other good things, for the -“Supporters,” the three Manito-sisters, the guardians of the Corn, -Bean, and Squash.</p> - -<p>After each verse, the dancers quickened their steps, and danced -rapidly around the room. When the hymn was finished, the speaker -ordered the real dance to start. Then, still in single file, the -dancers began the great Feather Dance.</p> - -<p>Erect in body, yet gracefully swaying, they moved around and -around the Council House, keeping time with the rhythmic beat of -the rattles, that sounded now slow and now fast. Lifting each foot -alternately from the floor, every dancer brought his heel down with -such force that all the legging-bells rang in time with the music. At -times the movement grew very swift, and the many lithesome twistings -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> -and bendings of the dancers, their shouts to one another, and the -cries of the spectators, filled all with keen excitement. During the -slower movements, some of the women arose, and joined the dance, -forming an inner circle.</p> - -<p>Then the dancers sang a weird chant, in company with the singers, -“Ha-ho!—Ha-ho!—Ha-ho!” they sang; then all present joined in the -quick refrain, “Way-ha-ah! Way-ha-ah! Way-ha-ah!” ending in a loud, -guttural shout, as the dancers bowed their heads, “Ha-i! Ha-i!”</p> - -<p>When the noon hour came, the great Feather Dance was over, and two -huge kettles were brought in to the Council House, one full of soup, -and the other of succotash. One of the men “Keepers of the Faith,” -said a prayer of thanksgiving, in which all joined, and the food was -poured into vessels brought by the women. It was then carried to the -homes, where the Indians enjoyed eating it by their own firesides.</p> - -<p>The feast was over for that day, but it lasted two days more, during -which the tribes gambled, danced, ate, and beat their drums. The -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> -visitor who saw this Green Corn Festival, wrote afterward about the -closing scene, the great Snake Dance:</p> - -<p>“The nodding plumes, the tinkling bells, the noisy rattles, the beats -of the high-strung drums, the shuffling feet and weird cries of the -dancers, and the approving shouts of the spectators, all added to the -spell of a strangeness that seemed to invest the quaint old Council -House with the supernaturalness of a dream!</p> - -<p>“As the sun neared its setting, the dancers stopped in a quiet order, -and the speaker of the day bade farewell to the clans ... and, after -invoking the blessing of the Great Spirit, declared the Green Corn -Festival of 1890 ended.”</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"> -<span class="label">[2]</span></a> A prophet of the Indians.</p></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THANKSGIVING</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Have you cut the wheat in the blowing fields,</span> -<span class="i2">The barley, the oats, and the rye,</span> -<span class="i0">The golden corn and the pearly rice?</span> -<span class="i2">For the winter days are nigh.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“We have reaped them all from shore to shore,</span> -<span class="i0">And the grain is safe on the threshing floor.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Have you gathered the berries from the vine,</span> -<span class="i2">And the fruit from the orchard trees?</span> -<span class="i0">The dew and the scent from the roses and thyme,</span> -<span class="i2">In the hive of the honeybees?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The peach and the plum and the apple are ours,</span> -<span class="i0">And the honeycomb from the scented flowers.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The wealth of the snowy cotton field</span> -<span class="i2">And the gift of the sugar cane,</span> -<span class="i0">The savoury herb and the nourishing root——</span> -<span class="i2">There has nothing been given in vain.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“We have gathered the harvest from shore to shore,</span> -<span class="i0">And the measure is full and brimming o’er.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Then lift up the head with a song!</span> -<span class="i2">And lift up the hand with a gift!</span> -<span class="i0">To the ancient Giver of all</span> -<span class="i2">The spirit in gratitude lift!</span> -<span class="i0">For the joy and the promise of spring,</span> -<span class="i2">For the hay and the clover sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">The barley, the rye, and the oats,</span> -<span class="i2">The rice, and the corn, and the wheat,</span> -<span class="i0">The cotton, and sugar, and fruit,</span> -<span class="i2">The flowers and the fine honeycomb,</span> -<span class="i0">The country so fair and so free,</span> -<span class="i2">The blessings and glory of home.”</span> -<span class="i22"><span class="smcap">Amelia E. Barr.</span></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE TWO ALMS<br /><small>OR</small><br />THE THANKSGIVING DAY GIFT</h3> - -<p class="f90">Translated by special permission from Guerber’s Contes et Legendes, -I<sup>ère</sup> Partie.<br />Copyright by American Book Company.</p> - -<p>Once upon a time a poor old beggar woman stood shivering by the side -of a road which led to a prosperous village. She hoped some traveler -would be touched by her misery, and would give her a few pennies with -which to buy food and fuel.</p> - -<p>It had been snowing since early morning, and a sharp east wind made -the evening air bitterly cold. At the sound of approaching footsteps -the old woman’s face brightened with expectancy, but the next moment -her eager expression changed to disappointment, for the traveler -passed without giving her anything.</p> - -<p>“Poor old woman,” he said to himself. “This is a bitter cold night to -be begging on the roadside. It is, indeed. I am truly sorry for her.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span></p> - -<p>And as his footsteps became fainter, the beggar woman whispered, “I -must not give up. Perhaps the next traveler will help me.”</p> - -<p>In a little while she heard the sound of wheels. It happened to be -the carriage of the mayor, who was on his way to a Thanksgiving -banquet. When his excellency saw the miserable old woman, he ordered -the carriage to stop, lowered the window, and took a piece of money -from his pocket.</p> - -<p>“Here you are, he called, holding out a coin.</p> - -<p>The woman hurried to the window as fast as she could. Before she -reached it, however, the mayor noticed that he had taken a gold piece -instead of a silver one out of his pocket.</p> - -<p>“Wait a moment,” he said. “I’ve made a mistake.”</p> - -<p>He intended to exchange the coin for one of less value, but he caught -his sleeve on the window fastening, and dropped the gold piece in the snow. -The woman had come up to the carriage window, and he noticed that she was blind. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I’ve dropped the money, my good woman,” he said, “but it lies near -you there in the snow. No doubt you’ll find it.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, sir, thank you,” said the beggar, kneeling down to search -for the coin.</p> - -<p>On rolled the mayor to the banquet. “It was foolish to give her -gold,” he thought, “but I’m a rich man, and I seldom make such a mistake.”</p> - -<p>That night after the banquet when the mayor sat before a blazing fire -in his comfortable chair, the picture of the beggar woman, kneeling -in the snow, and fumbling around for the gold piece, came before his eyes.</p> - -<p>“I hope she will make good use of my generous gift,” he mused. “It -was entirely too much to give, but no doubt I shall be rewarded for -my charity.”</p> - -<p>The first traveler hurried on his way until he came to the village -inn, where a great wood fire crackled merrily in the cheery dining -room. He took off his warm coat, and sat down to wait for dinner to -be served. But he could not forget the picture of the old beggar -woman standing on the snowy roadside. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span></p> - -<p>Suddenly he rose, put on his coat, and said to the host, “Prepare -dinner for two. I shall be back presently.”</p> - -<p>He hastened back to the place where he had seen the poor old woman, -who was still on her knees in the snow searching for the mayor’s gold piece.</p> - -<p>“My good woman, what are you looking for?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“A piece of money, sir. The gentleman who gave it to me dropped it in -the snow.”</p> - -<p>“Do not search any longer,” said the traveler, “but come with me to -the village inn. There you may warm yourself before the great fire, -and we shall have a good dinner. Come, you shall be my Thanksgiving guest.”</p> - -<p>He helped her to her feet, and then, for the first time, he saw that -she was blind. Carefully he took her arm, and led her along the road -to the inn.</p> - -<p>“Sit here and warm yourself,” he said, placing her gently in a comfortable -chair. In a few moments he led her to the table, and gave her a good dinner. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span></p> - -<p>On that Thanksgiving Day an angel took up her pen, and struck out all -account of the gold piece from the book where the mayor recorded his -good deeds. Another angel wrote in the traveler’s book of deeds an -account of the old beggar woman’s Thanksgiving dinner at the village -inn.—Adapted.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span></p> - -<h3>A THANKSGIVING PSALM</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.</span> -<span class="i0">Serve the Lord with gladness:</span> -<span class="i0">Come unto his presence with singing.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Know ye that the Lord he <i>is</i> God;</span> -<span class="i0">It is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;</span> -<span class="i0">We are his people and the sheep of his pasture.</span> -<span class="i0">Enter into his gates with thanksgiving</span> -<span class="i0">And into his courts with praise,</span> -<span class="i0">Be thankful unto him, <i>and</i> bless his name.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting:</span> -<span class="i0">And his truth endureth to all generations.</span> -<span class="i30">—<i>Psalm C.</i></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE CROWN OF THE YEAR</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, happy morning of autumn sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet ripe and rich with summer’s heat.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Near me each humble flower and weed——</span> -<span class="i0">The dock’s rich umber, gone to seed,</span> -<span class="i0">The hawk-bit’s gold, the bayberry’s spice,</span> -<span class="i0">One late wild rose beyond all price;</span> -<span class="i0">Each is a friend and all are dear,</span> -<span class="i0">Pathetic signs of the waning year.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The painted rose-leaves, how they glow!</span> -<span class="i0">Like crimson wine the woodbines show;</span> -<span class="i0">The wholesome yarrow’s clusters fine,</span> -<span class="i0">Like frosted silver dimly shine;</span> -<span class="i0">And who thy quaintest charm shall tell,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou little scarlet pimpernel?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the mellow, golden autumn days,</span> -<span class="i0">When the world is zoned in their purple haze,</span> -<span class="i0">A spirit of beauty walks abroad,</span> -<span class="i0">That fills the heart with peace of God;</span> -<span class="i0">The spring and summer may bless and cheer,</span> -<span class="i0">But autumn brings us the crown o’ the year.</span> -<span class="i21"><span class="smcap">Celia Thaxter.</span></span> -</div></div></div> -<hr class="r25" /> -<div class="transnote bbox"> -<p class="f120 space-above1">Transcriber's Notes:</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="indent">Antiquated spellings have been preserved.</p> -<p class="indent">Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations - in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered.</p> -</div> -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Topaz Story Book, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TOPAZ STORY BOOK *** - -***** This file should be named 51734-h.htm or 51734-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/7/3/51734/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Paul Marshall 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 print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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